by Katy Rose
I hand him my phone silently while keeping a lookout for passersby. I notice a camera at the end of the building. Shit. It makes for a sweep around, and I see we are in a darkened area. I flatten myself against the building and watch the camera point in our direction before it lazily sweeps back around. “Kaleb, we got to go.”
“I’m done. Let’ go.” He jumps down, and we walk the opposite way of the car around the building before going into an adjacent building. Loud music crashes around us as a rave ensues. Bodies are pressed tightly together, the smell of sweat and pheromones permeate the air. There is a band on stage with a blonde singer who is screaming into the microphone about being your last chance. I stare at her. She seems so carefree and relaxed up there. She must have felt me staring somehow because her eyes connect with mine. Noise fades as we stare unabashedly at one another. Kaleb’s hand on my arm is the only thing that brings me back to reality.
“We have to get back to the car soon, but do you want a drink?” He yells over the music. I look back to see the singer still staring. Nodding minutely, I perch myself on an empty stool by the makeshift bar and watch the room. There are so many different types of people I feel my heart calm down a bit before it begins beating in time with the beat of the song. She slows it down a little, and her voice wraps me in a safe blanket. I take in the room, those sitting or leaning back like me, the stage and the others that have made their way against the stage. There is a mosh pit off to the right of the stage. People are shoving, and elbows are flying. Normally I would have been right there in the center of it, but not tonight. I don’t need to leave blood trace evidence here until we are ready to be caught. Throwing back my whiskey, I look to the stage as the song comes to a close. She yells her thanks for coming out and hops off the stage. I notice Kaleb has found some redhead and disappeared. Rolling my eyes, I order another whiskey sour.
“Make that two Joel.” The blonde singer yells from right behind me. Turning I take her in from closer. Mismatched eyes, tight jeans with chains and a low-cut corset that had been slashed and painted to look like it is bloody. Her tattoos are what catch my attention, though. They are art. A scene of mismatched characters that span one arm, across her chest and down the other. It shouldn’t go together but on her somehow, they fit perfectly. I remember that I changed after the train switch into some tight jeans and an overly cut up DC shirt from when Kaleb went through his skater phase. My red lace bralette shows through the sides, and I feel myself getting a little self-conscious. It is strange to wonder what someone thinks of me and to worry that she might find me somewhat lacking. It makes me hate this blonde woman a little.
“Nice hair.” She lifts a lavender strand of my freshly washed hair. Smirking at her, I pull out of her grasp and hand her one of the glasses.
“Nice voice.” I take a deep pull of whiskey and study her while she studies me back. I am about to ask her name when I feel an arm come around my neck.
“Let’s roll Kora.” He starts leading me toward the door of the rave without even sparing the blonde a glance. I turn back looking at her again, and the blonde looks at me and then up at Kaleb. I mouth brother to her and laugh when she waves me off. With a wink of her eye, she disappears into her crowd of fans and friends as I get draged out into the street.
“Who was that Kora?” Kaleb asks as we get in the car.
Shrugging I look out the window. “I have no idea. But she is someone.”
“Someone you want to get to know?” He tries to ask slyly.
“Maybe. What did you get on video? Anything good?” I attempt to change the subject.
Kaleb barks out a laugh while shaking his head. “Nice subject change.” He drops his phone in my lap as he cuts a left onto the bridge.
I pull up his video and what I see on the phone churns my stomach. There are girls, a lot of them in cages. Some are in little outfits, but most are naked or very close. A few of them have collars on. Mr. Carmichael is standing there holding what looks to be a cattle prod screaming at the girls. What the fuck is this? “Pull over! Now!” The car veers off to the edge of the road where I yank the door open and fall onto my knees, emptying my stomach on the sidewalk.
My throat and eyes are burning so bad I feel the tears welling up and slide down my cheeks. Snot is running down from my nose, and I feel it setting right above my lip. I look up at the hand outstretched with a napkin. Grateful I smile at the stranger. The man looks down at me, nods at Kaleb, and walks away.
Gently Kaleb helps me up and into the car. We ride the rest of the way home in silence. I have no idea what we are going to do about this warehouse of girls, but we will take this shit down before we do anything else. I need a hot shower and some alone time. The images going around and around in my head are making me dry heave. It was a sick twisted kennel for child trafficking.
A couple of hours later it is almost four in the morning. I haven’t been able to get tonight’s events out of my head at all. I tried cleaning, meditating, and finally drawing, but nothing was helping. I could still see the young girls looking terrified. I finally drift off to sleep, mostly because I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. A sketch of mismatched eyes lays open on the floor beneath my bed.
Mr. Carmichael came home to find his wife dead and the little note we left him. Thanks to the tiny cameras I placed around the house and the external college server, I had a front-row seat to the show. He didn’t get home until close to six am. Walking in he passed her and went upstairs. It wasn’t until he tried to wake her that he realized she was cold to the touch. I found it amusing that he didn’t immediately call the police. He yelled at her dead body for a good thirty minutes about having no respect for him and his work schedule. Then he went through the house collecting things before he left in his Audi. He was back in an hour and then called the police.
“Carla Carmichael was forty-nine years young. She was pronounced DOA at Mercy Hospital of a drug and alcohol overdose. She enjoyed being a socialite and helping with many children's charities.” Kora throws down the obituary section of the newspaper and raises an eyebrow. It has been three days since I killed Carla, and already her husband is the epitome of a perfect widower. It is vomit-inducing. “This is absolutely disgusting. He gets to be pitied while harming kids. Kids! Kaleb, she helped with children’s charities! We can not only kill him. I want him and Preston Walker to suffer. Please tell me we can formulate a plan to torture them.”
Kora is beside herself with anger. I can’t blame her; I am as well. Fortunately, my diabolical brain has come up with a plan. “Well, as soon as you hack into the security system, we can put my ingenious plan into action.”
“Why are we hacking into that building’s security system again? Oh, and I put the notes on Walker and Carmichaels’ cars. The other packages will be delivered on Tuesday while we are in class.” Kora digs out her laptop and pulls up the building's IP address for the internal cameras of the warehouse where all the kids are being held. We check on them daily, even though it makes us sick because we will free them, and they will get retribution.
“Because we need to scope out all the shadowed places we can hide and how we might gain the element of surprise. It is pure elementary Watson.” I use my best Sherlock Holmes voice in her. She must not be amused because she snorts. While she pulls up what we need, I walk around her studio. She is painting still, but it is darker. Plus, the lead singer from Aut0n0my Wreckage seems to have become a muse for her. Her portrait of mixed matched eyes and blonde strands in the corner gives it away.
“I’m in. Now, what exactly do you want to see? I can focus in on that.” Kora catches me staring at her portrait and looks away quickly before I can question her. Hm. I guess I will let it go for now. She hasn’t shown interest in many people. I think Collin was a relationship of convenience. He had coke; she liked coke. He was from our prep school, so there wasn’t much getting to know each other. Besides, I think he came here twice.
“I want an area we can break into and hide in until he
comes. Then we will ambush the both of them and do what we want.” I answer her.
“Oh, that is too easy. What about the girls?” She zooms in on the cages, and I watch as one girl shivers, and other stares off blankly at the walls.
“What about them?” I ask as I keep my eyes on the screen. It seems he moves them only long enough to change their outfits and give them small amounts of food. The lights are mostly off. Only natural sunlight shines through the high vent windows.
“What are we going to do with them while we are there?” She asks as she clears her throat. Oh yes, I forgot that what we consider fun most would consider perverse and strange.
“Um, Alessio's team from the Conservatorium can come collect them and place them in the children’s centers or in private schools. Whatever it is they do with them.” I look at her and see her frowning. “What? What am I forgetting?”
“Clothing. I will need to go shopping for clothing. While I am doing that you get Babbino on the phone and set up what day you want to do this sting. That way, they can be right there to help move the kids out.” She is up and moving before I can answer her. Of course, she is right though. We need to let these girls keep as much pride as they can.
Once Kora is out of the house getting clothing for the kids, I call Alessio. “It’s me. We found Walker's warehouse full of caged kids. I will send you the coordinates on the secure line.” I listen to him for a few minutes giving orders, and we arrange a time and day to rescue the kids. “One last thing. I, well my, my sickness is getting worse. After you free the kids, I will lock the doors, and then Walker and Carmichael are mines. That is the deal for the information on the warehouse.”
“What about Kora? What does she say?” He asks a few worries slips into his tone.
“She needs this father. One last hurrah before she takes her extended vacation. All of the groundwork and planning has been done. I wrote my manifesto, so now all we need to do is execute it. You have that list of contacts I have taken from Carmichael’s phone. That will be the Conservatorium's starting place.”
“Ok, I will let you both have one last party. But you are wrong Kaleb, that isn’t the Consortium’s starting place. It is yours.” The line goes dead, and I put my phone away. Heading upstairs, I grab the kill bag and some various materials. Throwing it all together, I head downstairs grabbing a piece of drawing paper and draw out my design. When Kora gets back, I am sure she can make what I want.
I am in the kitchen when she comes staggering in, arms full of shopping bags. I think she bought out the greater Manhattan area. “Think you got enough?” I joke as I grab the contents of her arms.
“There are more in the car. I couldn’t get it in one trip.” Shrugging out of her jacket, she goes to the stove. Looking down in the pasta sauce, she pulls out a spoon, pausing near her mouth, “Will it kill me, Kaleb?”
“No, you are evil enough that it wouldn’t kill you.” As she sticks the spoon in her mouth, I smirk and add, “It will give you a horrible stomachache.” I quickly duck from the spoon that comes flying at me.
“Not funny asshole.” She yells with a smile. She grabs another spoon and takes a heaping bite before flipping me off again.
Raising a brow, I pinch my fingers together. “It was a little funny. And it didn’t stop you from sticking more in your mouth.”
“Yeah, that’s what he said!” she shrieks with laughter as I make gagging noises. Seriously? Not what I want to know about my sister.
Coming around the island, she looks at my sketch. I am so not the artist she is, but I tried. I think she could get it. “Is this a board game wheel?” she asks while taking in the sketch.
“Nope. It is a “Wheel of Torture!” We are going to build it and use it with Walker and Carmichael.” I reply. I go through explaining what materials we need and how we will make it. It looks like the wheel of fortune wheel turned upright. We will each take a turn spinning the wheel, and whatever it lands on we will do. Kora’s eyes light up, and she takes the sketch downstairs. She works for three hours after dinner before it is ready. We have eight slots. Now to think up the different torture techniques.
It is around one in the morning when Kora says she needs ice cream. Scooping out two bowls we put our favorite toppings on there. Kora adds chocolate and banana to hers, where I grab the fruity pebbles. I let mine melt a little as I brainstorm. “What about waterboarding?”
“That is a good one. We could play Disney songs over and over.” Kora laughs, but I know she secretly knows every word to all of them.
Grabbing her arms, I spin her in a circle and make a show out of singing, “Circle of life.”
“Better yet we could play the Jeopardy theme song the whole time.” I snort when she makes a face. We take a seat at the table, and She rolls her eyes and continues brainstorming. Typing in “Medieval torture” to Pinterest. Such a clever one. After a few minutes, she snorts and then stomps her feet. “Damn it I screwed myself! Lamb chop's This is the song that never ends is now stuck in my head! Fuck!” grabbing her phone she runs through her playlist until she lands on Drowning Pool. Let the Bodies Hit the Floor begins blaring, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Very fitting.” I laugh. Eating my ice cream, I watch as she begins painting and brainstorming. We come up with six more ideas for the wheel before we call it a night. It will be an interesting few days gathering everything we need. I hope I have everything in place for this star-studded performance. I am placing a lot of faith in Alessio, and that scares the shit out of me.
It is ten in the morning when I knock on Kora's door, dressed in an oxford button-up and Armani slacks. I toned it down for today, instead of my typical suit. Packing my Rolex and suits, I have them in the car to ship overseas to Alessio. I wasn’t worried about sleep. I can sleep when I am dead. She grumbles something and then stumbles when she opens the door. She isn’t dressed, and her hair is a mess. “Get dressed it’s go time.”
I spin on my heel and make my way down to the Phantom. Might as well go out in a blaze of glory like the rich brat they are going to make me appear. Kill bag is in the backseat stocked and ready. Scrolling through my phone I look at social media and at the friends I had. It seemed a lifetime ago. I guess it will be shortly. Kora comes out in her long navy trench, a pencil skirt and white blouse with a longish blonde wig. Her makeup is flawless and in her hand are a pair of red bottom heels.
“Ready.” She says as she drops into her seat. I look her over and nod. I am a little sad. It is ending too, so I get her sour mood. Reaching over, I squeeze her knee before turning into traffic and heading up toward the post office. The grand event isn’t until later tonight, but we feel like fucking with them now too.
Pressing the three on my speed dial I say into the blue tooth “In transport. ETA is one hour.”
The response is “Affirmative.” And the line goes dead.
“You sounded a lot like James Bond there.” Kora laughs. I smirk with a shrug as I keep focus on the road. There are so many people in New York, and over half of them are shit drivers or even shittier walkers. It would take one bloody idiot, and the plan would be dashed.
It takes over an hour to get to the warehouse after the post office. All of my most personal possessions are on their way to our father with expedited shipping meaning they will be on a plane tonight. We leave the security cameras on, and Kora trips their alerts to go off in forty-five minutes. As soon as we park, I grab the kill bag and wheel. Kora grabs two rolling suitcases full of clothes. Sliding our masks into place we prepare ourselves for operation “Emancipation.” This part of the plan is purely to get the kids out of here and set the stage for tonight.
Kora makes her way over and uses a door we noticed on our last drive by. Silently we enter the building reaching the only two guards who are around. We inject them simultaneously with a tranquilizer made for a horse. Opening an empty cage to the right We zip tie their hands and strip them to their birthday suits.
“Hey! Who are you guys? What are
you doing?” A small woman shouts. Kora walks over to her and whispers something while I hide the kill bag and wheel behind a cage. Using the keys, we found on guard I begin opening cages. As soon as Kora hands out clothing. The children crowd around the suitcases as the doors to the warehouse are opened, and men in suits with masks come in.
“We are here to help you. I am Agent Carter; this is the special victim's task force. We will help find your families or relocate you, depending on your situation.” Davon Carter says as he comes in. He shows the kids his badge, and I can feel the tension in the room dissolve.
A small girl with big brown eyes, couldn’t be more than ten comes up and hugs me as the “agents” lead the kids out of the warehouse and into the safety of our waiting vans. Tugging at my arm, I bend down, so I am at her level. “Thank you. I thought you were a bad man like the Mr. is. But you're not bad like him. I want to go home to my mommy.”
I can’t pull air into my lungs. “Where is your mommy?” I finally croak out.
“At home. I was bad and drew on the wall. When I ran away, the nice lady picked me up, but she wasn’t nice after I got in her car. She hit me a couple of times and then put me in a cage-like at the zoo. I shouldn’t have run away.” The little girl starts crying and I helplessly look to Kora. I have no clue what the fuck to do with this.
“It’s okay sweetie we will find your mother.” Kora helps walk the girl out to the van. She does so much better with people than I do. My focus is on the next step and then later tonight.
Agent Carter comes over and shakes my hand. “Thank you for getting the Conservatorium involved Kaleb. We will make sure the kids make it home safe and sound. What is your next step?”
“I am going to see an old friend's father. And then we will have a party tonight.” I reply while sending off a simple but direct text from my smartphone. “If you will excuse me, I have a few more things to take care of. Thank you for helping us get the kids out.”