by John Bowers
“On the level?”
“On the level.”
Matheny leaned forward and reached for Nick’s hand. They shook.
“I don’t know a whole lot to tell,” he said. “Shipments come in here from Missibama and Texiana, and only a few of ‘em stop here. They sell women all over the Outback. The Outback is four million square miles, and there’s settlements everywhere, so that ought to give yew an idea. We git a shipment here every two or three months. Men come in from all around to git a look at ‘em, and whoever gits there first gits his pick.”
“Is there advance notice when a shipment is due?”
Matheny nodded. “Usually three or four days in advance, the word will go out. Yew see the same men comin’ in all the time. Women don’t last long out here—they die from the environment, or the abuse, or some men just kill them. Others get traded. Men git tired of a woman they might sell her to someone else, or if she’s a real looker she might become high stakes in a card game. It’s barbaric, is what it is.”
Nick felt his stomach churn with anger. He understood Matheny’s attitude toward the practice, and was gratified that he had actually found someone in this hellhole with a conscience.
“How old are the slaves you’ve seen?”
Matheny shook his head. “Any age and every age. I’ve seen old ladies looked like grandmothers, and little girls as young as twelve. And everything in between.”
“Do you have any idea where they come from?”
“The women? No. They all arrive in those hovervans, anywhere from twenty to sixty in a load. Usually two or three men with ‘em. Young fellers, hard lookin’, like the kind the Federation used to exile here. All muscle and attitude, not a humane bone in their bodies. Mean bastards.”
“I’m looking for thirteen girls that disappeared from the Kline Corners area over the past year. Teenagers, all Spanics.”
Matheny shrugged. “Lots of girls that age get caught up in the net. No idea where they came from.”
“Do you know of any girls like that in the area now? Around Paradise Gulch?”
Matheny thought for a moment, scratching his chin.
“I think Ted Strong has a couple. He operates the water well, just over that ridge yonder.” Matheny pointed. “He buys five or six girls at a time, no matter how many he’s already got. Don’t know if he sells ‘em or eats ‘em, but he’s always got a harem hangin’ around, and he always buys more.”
“Anybody else?”
“Booger Jones has one.”
Nick’s mouth popped open. “Booger Jones?”
“Yeah. He runs the chuck tent back the way you come from.”
“I know. I met him a little while ago. He has a woman, but she’s middle aged. Maria.”
“Right. Maria’s been with Booger ten years at least, but I don’t think he fucks her any more. She’s a first-class cook and he makes her work, but he keeps a younger girl for his bed.”
Nick frowned. Maria had denied any knowledge of younger girls, yet she had admitted to being a slave herself. Had she been afraid to tell Nick, in case Booger found out?
“How long has it been since the last slave transport came through?” he asked.
Matheny considered, frowning as he ticked something off on his fingers.
“Better’n two months,” he said. He looked at Nick. “Could be another one comin’ in any time.”
Nick glanced around. Matheny’s tent was pitched thirty yards away, with various equipment scattered around it.
“Do you have a comm unit?” he asked.
“Shore do. Don’t use it much, but ever’body needs one in this country.”
Nick wrote his porta-phone number on a card and handed it to him.
“You said the word usually goes out a few days before the transport comes in. Will you give me a call the next time that happens?”
“Damn right I will!” Matheny pocketed the card.
“And this conversation stays between you and me. Right?”
“Yes, sir. As far as I’m concerned, you was never here.”
Nick grinned and shook the man’s hand again.
“Thank you, Mr. Matheny.”
He walked back down the slope and turned back toward his hovercar. The heat was blistering his skin, but he felt a sense of purpose. He walked steadily, making plans in his head, but by the time he reached the car his energy was spent. If he was going to save the planet, or even a tiny part of it, he needed to rest. He climbed into the car, started the auxiliary engine to get the A/C going, then used the car’s computer to log onto SiriusNet. He checked his message box for Kline Corners, then spent fifteen minutes checking out a hunch. Satisfied, he shut down the computer and reclined the seat.
Two minutes later he was asleep.
Chapter 11
When dealing with a criminal element, you may sometimes have to use deception. Be convincing.
Page 207, U.F. Marshal Handbook
Ted Strong’s operation was the closest thing to industry Nick had seen in Paradise Gulch. Located across the ridge from Matheny’s stope, it covered several acres. Nick saw several heavy pumps and fifteen or twenty large tanks with overhead piping complexes. At a glance one might think it was a small refinery, but Booger Jones had said that water was Paradise Gulch’s primary source of income. Few places in the Outback had a ready source of water, and whoever controlled such a source could become very rich indeed.
Ted Strong actually had buildings.
Both suns were down when Nick’s hovercar cleared the ridge and settled onto a hard-baked parking area. He stuck his badge in his pocket and stepped out of the car, tilted his hat back, and looked around.
Two or three small hovertankers were parked near the main storage units, and he saw two men filling one of them. Lights were on in the nearest building, which was apparently the office. A painted sign above the front door declared STRONG ENTERPRISES. Enjoying the relative cool of the dusk, Nick walked toward the front door.
A woman was sitting at a desk, writing something on a paper pad. She looked up in surprise when Nick stepped inside, perhaps surprised to see anyone arrive after sunset. She was Spanic, he noted, maybe nineteen. Wearing a low-cut dress that was still in fashion, her face tastefully painted with cosmetics, she looked like a city girl. Nick doffed his hat and rotated it in his hands.
“Howdy, Ma’am.”
She smiled, her dark eyes reflecting amusement.
“Can I help you?” she asked with no trace of accent.
“Yes’m. Is Mr. Strong around?”
She cocked her head. “I haven’t seen you before. Are you looking for water?”
Nick fidgeted. “I might be, if the price is right. Is Mr. Strong around?”
Still smiling at his apparent discomfort, she nodded and touched a button on the desk.
“Mr. Strong, customer up front.”
A moment later a garbled reply squirted from a wall speaker.
“Take a seat,” the girl said. “He’ll be here shortly.”
“Thank yew, Ma’am.”
Nick settled into a wooden chair against the wall and looked around. The office was cluttered and shopworn, like a construction office. Dust covered the floor. Tattered paper calendars on the wall tracked both solar and Sirian dates. The whole place looked weathered and abused, but the girl at the desk could have been a fashion model.
“Might I ask what yore name is, Ma’am?” Nick ventured after a moment.
Her smile widened. “I am Yolanda. And you are?”
“Nick,” he said. “Nick Jones.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jones.”
A door slammed in the back of the building and a moment later a short, dusty man strode into the room. He ignored Yolanda and made straight for Nick, who got awkwardly to his feet.
Strong was short, no more than five feet eight, but painfully handsome. His face would have drawn ratings on any holonews network. His wavy dark hair was showing just the first threads of grey, and his short bu
t muscular body looked as fit as a wrestler. His handshake was like a vise.
“Ted Strong!” he boomed in a pleasing bass voice. “How can I help you?”
Nick stood, his hands rotating his hat faster. He glanced at Yolanda and licked his lips.
“Can we talk outside?” he asked nervously.
“Sure.” Strong pushed open the front door and Nick followed him out. Insects whizzed around the light above the sign and Nick glanced in all directions before coming to the point.
“My name is Nick Jones,” he said haltingly. “I just moved into the area, up at Dusty Springs, and I’m gonna try my hand at prospecting.”
Strong nodded patiently. “And you’re looking for water?”
“Well…yeah. But not just that. I, uh…” Nick glanced over his shoulder again. “I mean, I’m all alone, yew know, and it gets kind of lonely at night. Yew know? I know there are women can be had if a man looks in the right place, and…well, somebody said yew might be able to help me out.”
Strong’s smile faded. “You want me to help you find a girl friend?”
“No! No, nothing like that.” Nick cleared his throat and stared at the ground. “I’m not lookin’ to get married, or anything. I just…well, I need someone to take the edge off…if yew know what I mean.”
Strong nodded soberly. “You’re looking for a slave.”
Nick flinched at the sound of the word.
“Look, I don’t want to get yew in trouble or anything. I mean, if it’s against the law, then forget it. I don’t want to deal with no police or anything.”
Strong stared at him a minute, then laughed out loud. “Are you new to Sirius?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. Came in from Terra couple of weeks ago.”
“I thought so.” Strong slapped him on the shoulder. “This ain’t Terra, friend. This here is Sirius, soon to become a confederacy. Slavery is one hundred percent legal here, so you can relax on that score. There’s nothing unique about you. Every man has the same needs, and in this country, about the only way to deal with it is to buy yourself a girl.
“Now I’m not a slave dealer. I sell water. I make more money doing that than all the prospectors around here put together.”
Nick let his disappointment show, his shoulders slumping.
“I was told…”
“Who told you that?”
Nick shrugged. “Two or three people, up at Dusty Springs. Said yew buy women in bulk. Figured yew might have a spare one to sell.”
Strong was still grinning. “As a matter of fact, I do have a few spares. Like I said, I’m not a slave dealer, but I am a businessman. Slave transports don’t arrive very often, and a lot of men aren’t able to be there when they do. So I buy a few extras, and when someone shows up needing a woman, I’m able to help him out for a modest profit.”
Nick grinned in relief. “So yew do have some?”
“A few. Were you looking for anything in particular?”
Nick nodded toward the building. “That girl at the desk would be perfect.”
Strong laughed again. “Yolanda? Sorry, friend, she’s all mine.”
“Too bad. I was hoping to find a young one. Not too young, yew understand…maybe a teenager. I expect to keep her a long time.”
“Well, let me show you what I have. How much money do you have?”
“Don’t have much with me, but I have money in SiriusBank. I can spare about twenty thousand.”
“Hm. That’s not enough for the age you’re looking for, but we might be able to work something out. Come on.”
Strong began walking, Nick at his side. They rounded the office building and strode past the water tanks and the throbbing pumps. The far end of the property was fenced; a second fence inside the outer enclosure surrounded a long, low building that resembled a bunkhouse. Strong unlocked the gate with his thumbprint and led Nick inside.
“This isn’t really necessary,” he said, “because in this country there’s nowhere to run. A girl alone would die out there in less than a day, but when they first get here they’re scared and desperate and sometimes they try to get away. I have a lot of money tied up in them, so I keep them locked up.”
He touched his thumb to a sensor on the outside door and it slid open. He led Nick inside. They stood in a short hallway not more than eight feet long; at the end was a second door, also locked.
“These doors won’t open at the same time,” Strong explained. “Sort of like an airlock. Reduces the chance of escape.” He thumbed the sensor on the second door and it slid open, admitting them to a large living room with several couches and chairs. Nick smelled perfume, exotic and unsettling. The door closed behind him as he followed Strong inside.
“This is the dormitory. Complete with sanitation and a fully stocked kitchen. Everything they need to keep them happy and healthy.”
A girl in her early twenties was seated in a lounge chair, a databook in her lap. She glanced up at the two men, her lips parting slightly. Nick saw fear in her dark eyes.
“Susie!” Strong snapped, “get the others in here! We have a visitor.”
The girl leaped out of the chair and dashed down a hallway. Nick heard a chatter of Spanic phrases, a scramble of bare feet, and moments later six girls appeared, rushing to line up in the middle of the room. Two of the girls appeared to have been asleep—their hair was tousled and they blinked against the light. All were skimpily dressed, most of them in negligees. Nick eyed them closely, trying to judge their ages. At least four looked no older than fifteen.
They all trembled slightly as Strong approached them.
“Girls,” he said pleasantly, “smile! This is Mr. Jones. He’s looking for a lady friend.”
Six pairs of dark eyes turned to study Nick. Two or three girls managed to smile, the rest attempted an approximation of it. For just an instant he felt an overpowering pity at their expressions, like trapped animals waiting for slaughter. He let his tongue slide across his lips for Strong’s benefit.
“They sure are pretty,” he murmured.
“Damn right they are. Go ahead, Nick, check them out.” Strong laughed. “You’re allowed to touch them. If you find one you like, take her to bed, make sure she’s right for you.”
Nick swallowed and took a tentative step forward; this was the tricky part. The nearest girl appeared to be the youngest. She stood rigid as he stopped next to her, trembling so slightly he could barely detect it. He touched her long, dark hair with his fingers, saw her lips part at the contact, and she closed her eyes.
“Tu eres muy bonita,” he said softly.
Her eyes popped open and locked onto him, wide and frightened. Her lips formed the response, but she made no sound.
“Thank you.”
“¿De donde vienes?” he whispered.
Her eyes flickered toward Strong, and she began to shake visibly.
“No sé.”
Of course that was a lie. Everybody knew where they came from, but this one didn’t know? She was more terrified than he’d realized.
He walked around her, inspecting her from all sides.
“Have these girls been abused?” he asked Strong.
“Depends on your description of abuse,” Ted grinned. “If you mean have they been deflowered, the answer is yes. I’ve tried them all out, and I can vouch for every one.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Nick explained. “I’m not gonna find scars on any of ‘em, am I?”
“If you do, it won’t be because of anything I’ve done to them. You put scars on a girl and the price drops right out of sight. Can’t even get your investment back.”
“This one seems pretty scared. I was just wondering why.”
Strong approached the girl and lifted her chin, leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips.
“She’s not afraid of me, as you can see. Probably afraid of you. She has no idea how you will treat her. Isn’t that right, honey?”
The girl smiled weakly and lowered her eyes.
Ni
ck turned to another girl, then another, making cursory inspections. He was careful not to touch them in intimate places, but went through the motions.
“You want to see them naked?” Strong offered.
Nick shook his head. “Only if I decide to buy one. Don’t need to scare them more than they already are. How much yew askin’?”
“For which one?”
“Any of ‘em. They’re all beauties, far as I can tell.”
Strong grinned. Three of the girls were rather plain, certainly not ugly, but not exactly beauty pageant quality.
“Man, you are lonely!”
Nick stopped his inspection and met Strong’s gaze.
“How much?” he repeated.
“Well, you said you could spare twenty thousand. That’s what I paid for the cheapest one, so that leaves no profit for me. This one—” He pointed at the first girl. “I’m asking forty for her, thirty-five for these two, and thirty for the others.”
“That’s fifty percent more than I’ve got. Why’d yew even show ‘em to me?”
Strong grinned amiably.
“As I said, I’m a businessman. I know you have more than twenty thousand, but you’d be a fool to walk in here and announce that. I knew we’d get down to horse trading, and the best way to pry your wallet loose is to let you see the merchandise, even try it out if you want to. So…which one do you want?”
Nick took a moment to study each of the girls again. He recognized two of them—the files Ron Gates had left behind contained holos of the missing girls; the pretty one he’d first inspected was Constanza Valenzuela, and one of the others was Julia Gato. Feeling his pulse rate quicken, he turned back to Strong and smiled.
“I’ll take ‘em all.”
* * *
The girls all exchanged startled glances as Nick faced Ted Strong. Strong himself was at a loss for words, momentarily.
“All of ‘em?” he echoed dumbly. Then he laughed. “See, I knew you had more than twenty thousand. I’ll make you a deal—a hundred and fifty thousand for the lot. That’s twenty-five percent off the individual price.”
Nick smiled.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t say I would buy them. I said I’ll take them.”