by Carl Weber
“To help you find out what happened to your sister.”
She turned to the screen. “But Marie doesn’t know anything about my sister.”
“I realize that,” I replied. “I used the information from your passport and backtracked it to the date and entry point that you entered the U.S.”
“And what did you find?” I couldn’t tell if she was mad or impressed, but at least she looked curious.
“That there were a hundred other girls that entered the United States via San Francisco from Korea that day. Some of them were students, but most were brought into the country under an old GI war babies clause. Your passport was issued under that clause. From what I’ve read, they use fake adoption agencies and stuff like that to get underaged sex workers into the United States, then disperse them throughout the country.”
“Yes, I remember that day. They told us not to speak English to anyone, only Korean, and if we told anybody that we had family or that we were prostitutes, they would beat us.”
“Beat you?” I repeated loud enough to get some stares from others in our section.
“Yes, I’ve been beaten many times, Nevada,” she said sadly.
“Marie doesn’t beat you, does she?” I whispered.
She shook her head. “No, Marie isn’t holding me captive like these people did. I’m free to come and go as I please. She’s my boss, not my master. She’s also a good person, Nevada.”
“You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that.”
“I can see it on your face,” she replied, then turned back to my computer screen. “Now, what else did you find out about my sister?”
I took a deep breath. “Well, actually, I think I found her. Is this her?”
I pulled up the photo of the young woman I’d discovered.
She leaned closer and studied the photo for a second, and I watched her shoulders slump with disappointment. “No, that isn’t my sister.”
“Are you sure? It has to be. She’s the only black and Asian girl in the same age range that came into San Francisco that week.” I felt deflated. I had thought for sure that was her sister.
“Nevada, my sister isn’t biracial. She’s fully Korean.” Kia looked like she was about to cry. “I appreciate you trying to help me, though.”
“Hey, I’m sorry.” I felt like crawling under the table. “I know you probably think I’m an idiot.”
“No, you’re my friend, and you tried to help me, and I really appreciate it.” She leaned on me.
“I still think I can find your sister. I just have to pull all the entry records for South Korean nationals entering the country the same day as you,” I explained, and Kia lifted her head. “I’m just going to need your help to identify her.”
“I can do that.” She was surprisingly upbeat. “Okay, let’s do it.”
“There is one thing, though,” I said, kind of backtracking.
“What’s that?”
I looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, and then leaned in close to whisper, “I have to break into Homeland Security to do it, and it’s . . . a felony.”
She looked a little scared.
“I can mask my IP and all that stuff—it’s how I got the picture of the other girl I thought was your sister—but there’s a chance they might detect me and track us here to the library. I’m not saying it will happen, but I have to warn you.”
“I don’t want to get you in any trouble, Nevada.”
“I’m just a kid. Not much they’re going to do to me with all the lawyers my family has. But you’re nineteen. They’ll use you as a scapegoat and make it seem like you manipulated me. I’ll take the blame, I swear I will, but I can’t promise what my mom will do. She’s a pretty influential woman when she wants to be.”
She took a second to think, and then asked, “How good are you at this? What’s our chances of getting caught?”
“Less than fifteen percent. We’re not breaking into the Pentagon, and there’s probably a hundred computers on the library’s server right now. I can make it look like it’s one of them.”
“Those are pretty good odds . . . and it’s not like I’ve never been arrested before.” She put her hand on my forearm and gave it a little squeeze. “Let’s go for it. Just don’t take too many chances.”
“Ah, sure.” I turned back to my laptop and began typing. Her comment about being arrested almost threw me off my game, but a few minutes later, I was searching all entrants into the United States via San Francisco the day of Kia’s arrival. “I’m in, but we only have about ten minutes before they realize we’re in their system. Now it’s up to you.”
I slid my computer over, and Kia stared at the screen as I typed commands to scroll through the entrants.
She was about five minutes in, and I was getting nervous; then she let out a little yelp and pointed at the screen. “Oh my God, Nevada, that’s her. That’s my sister, but that’s not her name.”
I took a picture of the screen with my phone and quickly exited the site, relieved to be done with the hack.
“So, what do we do now?” I could hear her excitement.
“We do a nationwide search on Mi-Cha Lee.” I began entering the information from her sister’s passport. Several hits came up in my search, but all of them were for much older women.
“Nothing,” I said. “dammit.”
“It’s okay. She’s probably dead,” Kia whispered sadly.
“I refuse to believe that,” I replied. Then a thought came to me. I slapped my forehead for not having thought of it sooner. “Hold up. Didn’t you just say you’d been arrested?”
She nodded.
“For prostitution?”
She nodded again, this time with her head down like she was embarrassed.
“Hey, stay with me here. I’m not judging you. I think I’m on to something,” I reassured her.
She looked up.
“Did your sister get arrested too?”
“Yes,” she said, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “In Colorado and Florida during vice raids.”
“Let me check something else,” I said, going into a different database and doing another search. My mind was moving as fast as my fingers, which flew across the keyboard.
A few minutes later, I turned the computer around and showed her an unflattering mugshot. “Is that you?”
She gave me a look that said, you know it is.
I turned the computer back to myself and began typing.
“Look at this. This woman was arrested the same day as you in Broward County, Florida for prostitution. Her name isn’t Mi-Cha. It’s Myesha. But she’s in the same age range, and she’s Asian. She may have given them a fake name.”
“That’s what they told us to do. Let me see.” Kia slid closer to look at the mugshot of the beautiful Korean girl. She gasped and covered her mouth. “That’s my sister.”
I continued to type and found four more arrest records in Florida, all of them after Kia and her sister had split. I showed them to Kia.
“So, is she still in Florida?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. She was bonded out the next day. She hasn’t been arrested in Florida since.”
“They may have moved her out of state,” Kia said, deflated.
“Where did they take you after Florida?” I asked her.
“Georgia, South Carolina, Maryland, then D.C. They never kept us in one place more than a week or so. We worked mainly in Asian massage parlors and motels. Sometimes they’d rent us out to American brothels for a week or two at a time,” Kia explained. “She could be anywhere.”
“But at least we know she’s not dead.”
“This is true.” Kia nodded.
“We’re going to find her, Kia.” I held her hand. “If I have to do a search on every state and county in America, we are going to find her. I’m not giving up.”
She looked at me with tears in her eyes. “Thank you. I’m truly grateful that you did this for me, Nevada. I truly am. You’ve li
fted a lot of the burden off my shoulders. No one has ever been this nice to me and not wanted anything.”
She slowly leaned toward me, and I felt my body doing the same. I closed my eyes and held my breath.
“Nevada Duncan!”
I jerked my head away from Kia and looked around. My mother was walking toward us, her face a deep shade of red, and everyone in the library was staring.
“Uh, hey, Mom.” My voice cracked slightly, and I released Kia’s hand.
“Well, at least you’re really at the library this time. What are you doing? Who is this?” She looked at Kia.
“Um, this is Kia. She’s my, uh, I’m tutoring her,” I said as I nudged Kia subtly under the table.
“Hi, Miss Duncan.” Kia smiled.
I groaned and shook my head. “Zuniga,” I whispered.
Kia quickly corrected herself. “Uh, I mean Miss Zuniga. So nice to meet you.” She reached out her hand, but my mother looked down at it and wrinkled her nose up like it was diseased or something.
“She goes to your school?” My mother asked me.
“Yeah.”
Her eyes went to Kia, and she looked down her glasses judgmentally. “Then why does she have a GED book in front of her?”
KD
20
One by one, the guests began trickling in, all men. Some looked excited to be there; others, not so much, despite the open bar, seafood buffet, and good old-fashioned Texas BBQ. Even the reluctant ones perked up, though, when thirty or so of the finest women money could buy strolled in wearing silky attire that left little to the imagination. From that point on, it was a fuck festival.
“Well, Daddy, you’ve got a happy crowd, and they all showed up,” Tyler said as we watched from the warehouse catwalk. Most of our guests had disappeared into private rooms we’d built just for this occasion.
“Hell, I knew they’d all show up, son. I had no worries at all about that. They know better than to turn down an invite from KD Shrugs. The real question is are they gonna buy into what we’re selling?” I gestured with my eyes to an apparatus hanging in a corner near the ceiling. “You got all the cameras working?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Including the ones in the tents and rooms?”
“Every single one of them.”
“Good. Some o’ these fellas won’t be hard to convince at all.” I pointed to a group of men in the corner, huddled around a table. “It’s those fools right there that we have to pull out all the stops on.”
“Why aren’t they talking to the women?” Tyler asked, staring down at them.
“Because they’re smart. They’ve seen their share of scandal, and they don’t want no part of it unless there’s something in it for them. They came here for one reason, and that’s because I asked them to.” I elbowed him and adjusted the black velvet cowboy hat and vest that I’d bought for the occasion. “Come on. Let’s get down there and show these some-bitches what the future holds.”
We proceeded down the catwalk to mingle with the guests.
“Good to see you made it, Harold. Herman. Jensen. You too, Congressman Bell,” I said to the four men in the corner of the room, huddled around a bar height table. “I hope y’all are having a fine time. Y’all need a refill?” I motioned for a statuesque redhead whose nipples damn near covered her perky breasts. “Honey, these fellas need a drink—and some special attention.”
“No problem.” She smiled flirtatiously and opened her sheer blouse a little wider so they could get a full view. “What would you gentlemen like?”
“Nothing,” Herman said, lifting a half full glass. “We’re fine.”
She gave them a disappointed look and walked away.
I looked at the other two and said, “You boys gonna let him speak for you and spoil your fun? I’m sure you want something.”
“I can speak for myself, KD,” the congressman replied, glaring at me. “I wanna know why the hell we’re here.”
“To get your dick sucked, Congressman. What the fuck’s it look like?” Why was it always this arrogant prick giving me the hardest time when it was his ass who would benefit the most?
“KD, I’m a United States congressman now.” He leaned in and spoke seriously. “I don’t get my dick sucked in front of five dozen people.”
“You know, I didn’t even think about that—considering all the times I’ve seen you get your dick sucked over the years,” I whispered back. “But I can set something up for you a little more private if you’d like.”
“I’d rather get down to the true nature of our business,” he replied.
“All right then, suit yourself. I figured I’d let you enjoy yourselves first, but if you prefer business before pleasure, I can understand that too. Why don’t we go for a walk, gentlemen?”
“This better be fucking good,” Wesley grumbled.
“This is gonna be better than good, trust me.” I smiled as I led them through the crowd and out the door. We all loaded onto a golf cart then drove to another, larger building a half mile farther on the ranch.
“What the hell is this?” Harold asked.
“This, boys, is Building Six. Everything I was trying to do before I got locked up and more,” I said, punching a keypad and opening the door to the building.
“Good evening, Mr. Shrugs.” Elizabeth greeted me with a smile when we stepped inside. She was wearing a white lab coat, sitting at a desk and typing into a computer. “How’s your party?”
“Evening, Lizbeth. It’s goin’ great. These here gentlemen are guests. I brought them over to show what we have going on.”
Elizabeth nodded politely. “Nice to meet you, gentlemen.”
“Come on, fellas,” I said as we walked past. “That’s Elizabeth. She’s our head nurse and nutritionist. She kinda helps me run the place along with a few other key people.”
“Nurse? Nutritionist? What for?” Jensen turned back to look at her again.
“If you stop looking at her tits and come on, you’ll see,” I told him.
I opened the next door we came to and walked in. The large room looked like a state-of-the-art fitness center. Women of various ethnicities were using the ellipticals, treadmills, rowing machines, and weight benches throughout the room. A trainer walked throughout the mirrored room, giving instructions to the mixed group of ladies who all wore black shorts and T-shirts with ID wristbands.
I led them through that room without comment and took them into a smaller room, where another group was in the middle of a yoga session. The girls turned and greeted me happily.
“Señor Sheriff!”
“Meester KD!”
“Ni Hao!”
I waved. “Hello, ladies. Don’t let us disturb you.”
Out of nowhere, Celeste jumped up and ran over to me, breasts flopping everywhere. She grabbed me tight, pushing those huge tits up against me.
“Mister KD,” she said in that sexy-ass accent, kissing me on the cheek. “You are the greatest man I have ever met.”
“Well, thank you, darlin’. I think you’re pretty special too,” I replied, and she ran back to her yoga mat. I turned to see the four men behind me wearing looks of confusion and concern.
I whispered, “Sorry. They act like I’m a celebrity ’round here. You know how the moolies and spics can get. Hero worshipping.”
“KD, what the . . .” Old Herman could not finish his sentence.
“Come on, fellas. There’s a lot more to see,” I said.
We went back through the gym, where the hero worshipping continued. Then I showed them the makeshift dorm rooms with bunk beds, and the game room that had board games, video games, computers, and books.
“What the fuck is this, a college dormitory?” Wesley finally asked.
“The body can’t work out twenty-four/seven. It’s got to relax and regenerate,” I replied without answering his question.
We entered a large kitchen, and I introduced them to the chef, who was in the middle of preparing dinner.
/> “Chef Gaines, what’s on the menu, sir?” I clapped my hand on his shoulder.
“Well, sir, tonight we’re having Cornish game hens, sweet potatoes, carrots, and corn.” He smiled proudly.
“Make sure they get some greens too,” I said.
“Yes, sir. We make sure they eat salad twice a day, along with their vitamin supplements.”
“Good, good. Keep up the good work there,” I said, then led the men into the dining area. The women in this space were like the others—all various ethnicities, same attire, and enthused to see me. I concluded the tour by showing them the spa-like bathrooms and sauna, small swimming pool, and a medical exam room.
“Well, boys, what do you think so far?” I asked when we returned to the front of the warehouse and headed toward Building 5.
“Looks like you’ve created a goddamn Club Med for the fucking immigrants and niggers. That’s what I think,” Jensen spat, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why not just give them guns and have them kill us all? It’ll be faster.” His reaction didn’t surprise me considering he was a grand dragon for the Louisiana KKK.
“Relax, Jensen. Have a little faith.” I chuckled. “I haven’t completely lost my mind. I can promise you that.”
“KD, you made me fly all the way from DC to show me this? Hell, you’re treating these motherfuckers better than the Democrats, and they can’t even fucking vote.” Wesley had a scowl on his face.
I laughed loudly. “Gentlemen, obviously y’all don’t see the value of what I’m doing here.”
“And what the fuck is that?” Jensen asked, not amused in the slightest.
“More importantly, what the fuck does it have to do with me?” Wesley demanded to know.
“It has everything to do with you, Congressman. You’re the one who inspired this whole damn thing. You just don’t see the big picture yet, but you will once you enter Building Five,” I said smugly, looking up at the building across from us. “Wesley, you’re not just going to be governor of New Mexico if you come on board and work with us. Your ass might just have enough political clout to become President of the United States. And the rest of us will be laughing our way to the fucking bank in the process.”