Knight of Paradise Island

by J. L. Campbell

  As the trucks rolled out, Daron focused on his phone. “Time to get rolling,” he said. “I’m scanning all the units in case there’s been a change of plan.”

  Nicco faced forward and got them moving. They cruised along the asphalt, getting themselves into position. The truck was headed from the outskirts of Hanan along an isolated stretch of road that led into the desert. Their destination was ten miles away, just over the border in Nadaum. When the behemoth of a vehicle crept over the horizon, Nicco cruised along, timing the approach of the laden haulage unit.

  The air inside the SUV was tense as they waited for him to be close enough to make his move. When he came within a hundred yards of the truck, Nicco spun the SUV into its path, then back to his side of the road, giving the impression that he was either drunk or ill.

  The speed of the oncoming vehicle didn’t vary.

  Nicco repeated his maneuver, while Ryan squinted hard at the oncoming vehicle. By this time, the cab of the eighteen wheeler was visible. The driver leaned over the steering wheel, staring through the windscreen, clearly concerned.

  “I don’t have enough room to do that again without getting us all killed,” Nicco said in a matter-of-fact tone, despite the urgency of their situation. “We’ll need those wheel shredders.”

  “Say no more.” Daron leaned out the window and with a backhanded swing, tossed a handful of the metallic items that burst open on contact with the asphalt.

  The truck was now upon them with nowhere to go except over the shredders.

  A mixture of curiosity and fright filled the eyes of the driver. The wheels made loud popping sounds as they rolled over the metal shards.

  Daron directed another handful under the body of the container as it passed them. The muted explosions continued as Nicco slammed the brake and they all jumped out of the SUV.

  Daron and Dro approached the doors with guns drawn.

  “Get out with your hands up,” Dro yelled. “Both of you.”

  For a moment there was no movement, then the door opened.

  Dro stepped back as the driver stumbled out of his seat. The man on the passenger side jumped down and stuck his hands in the air.

  “We have only meat,” the driver said, his gaze darting toward Bashir, Nicco, Ryan, and Angela, who surrounded them.

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Dro said, with one hand outstretched. The 9mm Sig Sauer in his other hand didn’t waver. “Give me the keys to the back.”

  “I cannot do that.” The short man sweated profusely under the blinding sunlight.

  Daron herded the passenger closer to the driver, while Dro cocked his gun. “Either you let us into the truck or I give you a taste of what this baby can do. Trust me, you won’t like it.”

  With shaking hands, the driver handed him the key ring. “Those will not help you. We do not have the keys or the combination. When we get to the destination, the people there open the freezer and remove the meat.”

  The young man bobbed his head as if the frantic motions would save his life. In deeply accented English, he said, “We cannot get inside. It is the company policy.”

  Daron and Dro exchanged a glance. “All these precautions for something as simple as food tells me there’s more here than can be seen with the naked eye,” Daron said with a smirk.

  Nicco and Angela went into a huddle near the SUV. Daron joined them seconds later, leaving Bashir, Dro, and Ryan to deal with the men from the truck.

  Dro directed them to the side of the road with his gun.

  “You are going to get us fired,” the driver yelled. “This unit is refrigerated, and we need to go before everything is rotten.”

  “You left the engine running, so it’s all good,” Ryan said dryly. “We’ll try not to keep you long.”

  Bashir pursed his lips while his eyes twinkled.

  Daron, Nicco, and Angela left the SUV and approached the back of the truck, where Daron attached an oblong silver object near the electronic lock. When it started beeping, he waved them back with one hand. “This won’t affect the cooler operations, but it’s loud. Cover your ears,” he warned Bashir and Ryan.

  With a bang, the doors flew open.

  Dro and Ryan climbed into the back. Pallets loaded with white boxes lined both sides of the forty-foot container. When they had gone halfway down the length of the body, Dro and Ryan exchanged a look. Although there was nothing to prove the women were inside, adrenaline rushed through Ryan’s body. He tapped one container. Though it felt solid under his hand, he had the uncomfortable thought that some of these foam boxes might be transporting body parts encased in ice. He turned his mind away from that scenario. He had learned that positive thoughts encouraged him and assisted with good outcomes.

  They were now deep inside the container and stood in a wide space between the boxes and the cab, which made little sense to either of them. The same curiosity he felt was reflected in Dro’s eyes. Ryan tapped on what seemed to be a solid wall, then laid the palm of his hand on the metal. It was freezing cold.

  He angled his head closer, certain he heard movement. He rapped harder on the surface. The noise from the other side increased, as if someone was letting him know they were inside. Ryan and he shared a knowing look, then turned their attention to the sheet of metal. They searched for the lever that would give them access to the hidden compartment.

  “Can you hear me?” Ryan asked, raising his voice

  A titter of excitement rose beyond the wall, plus a jumble of indistinct words that neither he nor Dro could decipher.

  “I think that’s a yes,” Dro answered as a grin lit his eyes. “And I believe I’ve found the hinge.”

  The panel slid toward them, and they moved out of the way. The door opened to reveal a group of women all standing side by side along the walls of the narrow metal box, wearing the hospital gowns they had been given the day before. The compartment had been built so that they couldn’t sit or move close together. Fear clouded their eyes as they shivered, their hands confined in front of them with handcuffs.

  The blast of frigid air angered Ryan, who wanted to have a face to face with whoever locked them inside without adequate protection from the cold. Then a darker thought hit him. These women were in a refrigerated truck, with barely any clothing, and at a temperature level that would kill them. This set-up would preserve their organs until they made it to their destination.

  “We’re not here to hurt you,” Ryan said in a soothing tone.

  “That is what those two drivers said before they were killed and those other men lumped us into another van,” a Black woman with a British accent said indignantly. She glared at Dro and Ryan, as if she was the protector of the group.

  “We understand and respect your feelings.” Dro held up both hands. “As we speak, the police, the Sheikh, his wife, and other officials are on their way.”

  “And if you don’t feel you can trust them,” Ryan added, “the media is aware of your situation. That puts a spotlight on what has happened to all of you.”

  Their Kings’ plan to expose the kidnappings was intended to put the perpetrators at a disadvantage. The trafficking of women and harvesting their organs were too important to pretend they weren’t happening. The Kings’, as experts brought in to clean up the crimes, would have to share their findings. In support, the Sheikh had scheduled a press briefing to take place immediately after they finished the operation. They all agreed that once they found the women, it would be time to lean harder on those doing the dirty work for the people at the top of the chain of operation.

  The women shuffled their bare feet and whispered to each other, as if unsure they could trust the two men.

  “I’ll be back in a second,” Dro said as he walked away.

  Ryan held his position outside the doorway, sickened by the fact that the women preferred to stay in the cold, rather than trust another man—even if he didn’t look like the ones who kidnapped them. When the phone vibrated against his leg, he put a hand over it and slid it out o
f his pocket. Only Aziza could be calling him at this time. He’d told her the operation could take anywhere from two to three hours, but she insisted that she needed to know the minute they found the women.

  After he explained that the extraction might mean hand-to-hand combat and an intensive clean-up operation, Aziza insisted that he talk to her as soon as was humanly possible. She hadn’t given an inch. Her face flashed across the screen, and he smiled. This time, her stubbornness was helpful. He now had a way to convince the women that Dro and he were legit.

  “Did you find them?” Aziza asked.

  What about a hello, he wanted to ask, but this wasn’t the time for jokes. “D’you mind if I put you on speaker, Aziza?”

  “Why?”

  “We just found the women, but after what happened they’re not about to trust us.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  He tapped the button, then Aziza said, “Ahaba, are you there?”

  A teenager stepped forward, her eyes filled with relief. “Aziza, is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Hey, everybody.”

  They greeted her in a chorus, then went silent with their gazes glued to the cellular.

  “I know you have no reason to trust anybody, but these are good men. They will help you. Just like they helped me.”

  The females exchanged wary glances, but Ryan understood their reaction.

  After studying him for a moment, the slender girl in front of him said, “Okay, we will trust these two.”

  “Thank you,” he said to Aziza.

  “I’m so glad you found them. It would have been hard getting past this tragedy if those men had succeeded with this crime. “

  The nearby wail of a police siren and Dro’s hand on his shoulder, told him it was time to get the women out of the container.

  “Where did they keep you last night?” he asked.

  “In di back of di meat factory, in a nasty, stinkin’ room,” a woman with a Jamaican accent answered.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Thank you,” he said as he turned aside. “Zee, I gotta go. I’ll see you when we finish here.”

  “I’ll be waiting. I love you, Ryan.”

  For no reason he could name, his throat clogged. Then he swallowed and put a smile in his voice. “I love you, too, Zee.”

  Dro gave him an approving nod and headed back the way he’d come.

  After slipping the phone back into his pocket, Ryan led the group through the acre of boxes. When they made it to the door of the unit, Angela was waiting with a stack of blankets. Each woman wrapped herself in the thick fabric.

  Again, Ryan wondered what kind of men would shut women inside a refrigerated container without giving them a means to stay warm. But, if they considered them merchandise, they wouldn’t care what became of them as long as they reached the buyers alive.

  Amanda Maharaj arranged for a mobile medical unit on location. While a doctor examined the women, the police fielded questions from the media, who descended on the scene.

  The two policemen they met early in the week didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves. The assistant commissioner looked at his watch, as if he had important business to conduct elsewhere, while the commissioner did his best to avoid looking at the container or the women.

  By that time, the police had already taken the driver and his assistant into custody for questioning. Among the team, they decided Bashir and Ryan would travel with the women and field questions from them. Daron, Dro, Nicco, and Angela left with the police in a speeding convoy headed to the meat packing plant. When they completed that part of the operation, the plan was to have another go at the man they were holding at the warehouse before releasing him to the police. The Sheikh had promised them immunity over the kidnappings during their assignment.

  Ryan knew it would be some time before he saw Aziza, but the fact that she was safe made all the difference. He hoped the rest of the operation and the debriefing wouldn’t consume the entire day because he couldn’t let another one pass before having a serious discussion with Aziza.

  Their future depended on it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Julene’s face went slack when Aziza greeted her. When she could speak, she pulled Aziza into a hug. “OMG! I am so happy to see you.” She stepped away but held on to her with both hands. “I thought Deirdre said you weren’t coming back. I prayed so many times that you—”

  Aziza bypassed Julene’s obvious joy with a question. “Why was she so sure I wouldn’t return?”

  Julene pressed both hands to her eyes. “It’s just that she was with you that night and because this has happened to others, she figured you wouldn’t turn up alive.”

  “Well, here I am. Can I come inside?”

  Aziza only asked because Julene had met her at the door when it opened.

  “Of course.” Julene backed away and moved into their living room.

  As always, whenever she was off work, Julene dressed in sweat bottoms and a tank top. Her caramel complexion and abundance of loose curls gave people the impression that she was related to Aziza. The major difference between them was that Aziza stood almost a foot taller. They had gotten along since the moment they met. At the time, nearly a year ago, the hotel placed them together in the fully-furnished housing units they provided for workers at lower than commercial rental rates.

  Aziza guided Sunita inside. “I have company.”

  Showing her a dimpled smile, Julene waved one hand. “Sure, I don’t mind.”

  Julene plopped down on the oversized brown sofa. “What happened to you?” she asked, “And who’s this little angel?”

  Aziza wasn’t sure how to answer and didn’t want to have to extract herself from an uncomfortable conversation. She sat, and Sunita did the same. “I’m just watching her for a few days,” she said while her gaze wandered around the living area. Only a week had passed and yet the cozy apartment felt foreign despite the familiar furnishings, like the huge metal clock that graced one wall. She’d bought it in a souk just outside of the city because of the unusual design.

  “So are you coming back to work?” Julene asked, totally focused on Aziza.

  “I doubt it,” Aziza said. “After the experience I’ve had, I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”

  “So, were you really kidnapped? That’s what I heard around the hotel, but knowing you, I wondered if it was true. We all know you can take care of yourself.” She paused for a few seconds then added, “It’s so ironic that you hardly ever go out and then when you did, you ended up missing.”

  “I’m giving God thanks because this could have ended differently.” The enormity of being sold as a sex slave or killed for her organs swept over Aziza and silenced her for a moment. “Were it not for Ryan’s cousin, plus the strings he pulled, I might have ended up dead.”

  Leaning forward, Julene said, “Although people talk about women of our kind disappearing, I’ve not been in contact with anyone who has been unlucky like that.” She pulled at one of her curls as she continued, “The hotel questioned all of us, but aside from reporting you missing to the police, I don’t know if they did more than that, and aside from one interview on Tuesday, the police have not spoken with me again. Did they even inform your family?”

  “They didn’t have to do that. I’m usually in contact with my mother and when she didn’t hear from me on her birthday last Saturday, she started calling my phone.”

  A cool breeze wafted through the window and teased Aziza’s skin. Such a tiny observation, but it made her glad to be alive.

  “So, if you end up not staying, they’ll pair me up with another roommate.” Julene sounded despondent.

  “I’ll tell you for sure what I’m doing in another couple of days,” Aziza said, although she knew this chapter of her life was closed. The news would filter down from personnel, eventually. Julene loved to talk, so staying quiet about her decision gave Aziza some level of privacy.

  “For now, I’ll just grab some of my things. I
’m staying at the hotel with Ryan, so you know where to reach me.”

  She squeezed Sunita’s shoulder and they stood. The first thing Aziza did when they entered the bedroom was to open the drapes to let in more light. The street below was busy, as always, but the view was beautiful. Hanan was still a wonderful place, despite her misfortune. She packed a small bag and gathered her toiletries, plus her digital camera. The pictures held memories of her time in the country before disaster hit her. Everything else she needed rested with Ryan.

  She had now been out of the suite for close to two hours, and a pang of anxiety squeezed her stomach and cast a shadow over her mood. Her gaze went to Sunita, who stood with both hands pressed to the glass. She was such a well-behaved child. Too well behaved. In her limited English, she had told Aziza she was happy to escape from El Zalaam.

  Aziza listened in horror while Sunita shared that she was from neighboring Nadaum, and her father had sent her to the El Zalaam because their family had ten children and needed the money. She spent a year in El Zalaam, and though she was stoic as she told her story, Aziza knew the child would need therapy. No one walked away unscathed from being a sexual plaything. Not even a child this young.

  With a light pitch to her voice, she said, “Let’s go, Sunita.”

  The girl turned from the window and stood by the bed, gazing at the row of teddy bears lined up in front of the pillows. The longing in her eyes caught Aziza unawares. She took so much for granted, and Sunita’s wonder with every new experience made it obvious she’d never had much.

  “Would you like one?” Aziza asked.

  Sunita’s eyes shone when she looked at Aziza. “Yes, please.”

  “Choose the one you like most,” Aziza said.

  Sunita leaned against the mattress and picked up a fat brown and cream bear. She held it up. “This one.”

  Picking up her bag, Aziza said, “Take another one.”