Choosers of the Slain

by John Ringo

  "Let me see that," Boris said, snatching the money out of her hand and then reaching into her dress and fumbling around. "More, bitch? You have more!"

  "I found a rich American," Katya said, stopping the dissembling and standing up. "He thinks I'm fourteen and just broken in. My amazing skills at sucking him off being natural, I suppose. Six hundred for my debt, thirty for room I'm only going to use for a few hours and food I didn't eat, yes?" She reached out and calmly plucked a hundred euro note out of his hand. "This is for me, yes? If you hit again, American might not like my face. He wants me and sometimes other girl. Let me pick and he stays happy, yes? And you make your money. Is another hundred there is yours. Or ... you can hit and tell me I'm stupid bitch and beat me up so I not look good ... and tomorrow maybe I have six, maybe not." She shrugged and dared to look him in the eye.

  "You've been around," Boris said.

  "I said, I am whore in Ukraine," Katya said, shrugging. "Have been a whore for ... five year. I know how to work men, how to suck them dry of money. I speak English, I speak Russian, I even speak fucking Georgian. No Albanian. But I spend some time here, suck my American dry, send him home happy to his fat wife and then you send me to Italy where I make you real money."

  "Bring him to the club, tomorrow," Boris said, his eyes narrow.

  "He doesn't like those shitty rooms upstairs," Katya said. "I will, but ..."

  "There are other rooms," Boris said. "Ten euros to rent. Clean sheets, red light, very nice. You didn't know?"

  "No," Katya said, trying not to sigh again because then he would hit her. "You only told me to get out on the street and make you your money, yes? I have made you your money. I'll bring him to the club. But ... he likes me. He likes girls like me. Let me find another for part of the time. There will be at least one here that will do. I'll bring him, introduce him, get him to buy pay-me drinks, yes?"

  "You know the routine," Boris said. "But I think you're a little too smart for your own good."

  "I bring you money," Katya said, shrugging. "Why you care?"

  "Because you better understand that I own you, bitch," Boris snarled, grabbing her by the arm. "And I can teach you that without ever leaving a mark. Come with me."

  He dragged her to the back of the club and into the men's restroom. It still hadn't been cleaned from the night and smelled of shit, piss and puke.

  He kicked open one of the stalls and shoved her head into the fetid bowl of the toilet.

  "Lick it clean, bitch," Boris snarled, shoving her head down. "You're no more than a fucking whore. And whores do what they're told. So lick that shit out of the bowl, bitch!"

  Katya gagged but did what she was told, licking at the shit besmeared bowl. She tried to tell herself that she'd done worse, but when didn't come to mind. Yes, it did. There was a Japanese tourist in the Ukraine that had paid her to eat his shit. But she'd at least been paid. And that was a long time ago.

  When Boris jerked her head up she was careful to look as meek as possible. He wanted her humiliated so she brought up some more tears and quivered in fear.

  "Please," she whimpered. "I bring you money! I will!"

  "You're damned right you will," Boris said, reaching into her dress again and pulling out her remaining hundred euro note. "And this is a fine for thinking you're smart! Now get your ass up to the room, bitch. And your rich American had better be in my club tomorrow!"

  Katya kept her head down on the way up to her room. Light was apparently optional above the main club level and she kept stumbling over bumps and cracks in the floor with her heels as she made her way.

  When she got there she saw that her stuff had been picked through but they hadn't taken her toothbrush at least. But she didn't have any toothpaste left.

  She made her way back to the only bathroom she had found, other than the one on the ground floor and she wasn't going there any time soon. She brushed her teeth with the horrible soap that was on the sink and managed to get the last of the shit taste out then took a sketchy shower. The hot water had apparently been turned off as well.

  That done she went back to her semen- and blood-stained bed, set her dress against the wall to avoid having it stolen and linked her fingers behind her head, staring at the ceiling.

  So far, the mission was going better than she'd expected.

  * * *

  "Mikhail, do you have any idea what time it is?" Vanner asked grumpily.

  "Yes," the team leader said. "I have problem."

  "Come on in," Vanner said, waving the way into his bedroom. The intel team had set up in the main room and he'd taken one of the two bedrooms. He'd just gotten off of monitoring duty and had looked forward to a few hours of rest before Katya woke up. One of the girls was on duty to monitor when she was asleep, in case a serious security issue came up. But Vanda would get to sleep during the day. He wasn't going to get the chance.

  "The girl I pick up ... " Mikhail said as the intel specialist closed the door.

  "Oh, crap," Vanner said, collapsing on the bed. "Don't tell me you've fallen in love with a hooker."

  "She not want to be whore," Mikhail insisted.

  "Mikhail," Vanner said, frowning. "We're on a mission here. We can't afford for you to go all John Wayne on us."

  "What?" Mikhail asked, confused.

  "You were supposed to just go out and get laid," Vanner replied, sighing. "Not fall in love with the girl. Look, most of the hookers in town aren't here because they grew up wanting to be hookers. In fact, you'd be hard pressed to find one that had that on her list of intended vocations. But that's what they are, now. What do you want to do about it? Where is she, by the way?"

  "In my room," Mikhail said, worrying his lip.

  "Damnit, they have a curfew," Vanner snapped. "Her pimp is going to come looking for her."

  "She called," Mikhail said. "She tell them she is staying with her ... trick and will bring money in morning."

  "She needs at least ..."

  "Six hundred and thirty euros," Mikhail said, miserably.

  "And I suppose you want me to cough it up," Vanner said. "The Kildar to pay for it."

  "I will pay back," Mikhail said. "I not want her to get hurt. She is from Club Aldaris. That is target, yes?"

  "Christ," Vanner said, sliding up the bed and leaning on the headboard. "Mikhail, you're supposed to be security for the suite. You think she can come in here with you?"

  "No," the trooper admitted. "But ..."

  Vanner held up one hand and thought for a second.

  "Okay," the intel specialist said, frowning. "You're on deck for security tonight. You're supposed to be in there now. So go tell her you have to go for a while, she can sleep there. Tomorrow you take her back to the club, she pays her pimp, then you two go back to your room. Get some rest, don't just screw all day because you're on duty tomorrow night, too. We'll see what we can arrange."

  "Thank you, sir," Mikhail said, standing up.

  "I want to meet her, tomorrow," Vanner added. "Maybe we can salvage something useful out of this."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Now ... go!"

  * * *

  "Come," Mike said at the knock on the door.

  "Kildar," Oleg said, entering the room and coming to attention.

  "Sit, Oleg, what's on your mind?" Mike said, clearing the screen on his computer.

  The helicopters had arrived and the Keldara had gotten started on that training. Most of them had never ridden in an airplane before and few had even seen a helicopter. But, as always, they were soaking up the information like so many sponges. And the majority already knew how to fast-rope for that portion of the entry.

  Taking off and landing on the freighter, though, was going to be problematic. Mike intended to exercise in the Black Sea before they headed for Albania.

  "Kildar, I am not sure how to say this ..." Oleg said.

  "If it's about that ... Kardane thing ..." Mike said.

  "No, no!" Oleg replied, waving his hands. "It does, however, t
ouch on the honor of the Keldara."

  "Go ahead," Mike said, furrowing his brow.

  "Before you came, we had problems with the Chechens," Oleg said, furrowing his own in thought. "They often came wanting us to give up our food, our mules ... our women."

  "And you fought them off at least once," Mike said. "I heard about that."

  "But even then ..." Oleg said and paused. "I should not be the one saying this, but the elders don't have the same ..."

  "Who was she?" Mike asked softly.

  "My sister," Oleg said. "Elena. She was twelve."

  "Oleg, it's a big damned world out there ..." Mike said, then paused himself. "What are you asking?"

  "There is going to be information in Lunari about ... much," Oleg pointed out. "Greznya spoke to me. An Elena, a Georgian girl, was listed on one of the ... hard drives you recovered. The one in Romania ..."

  "Oleg, she might not be in the same building," Mike said, sighing. "It's an astronomical unlikelihood that she will be. And, Oleg, you've seen the raw intel. That town is one fortress after another. If we can find and extract Elena, without compromising the mission, we will. And if we can't extract her, but we can find her, I'll move heaven and earth to get her back. Is she the only one?"

  "No," Oleg admitted. "Catrina Mahona. She was taken ... four years ago. And there was no record of her. But, Kildar, both of these women, they are ..."

  "Dead to the clan," Mike said, nodding. "I understand. They are soiled, untouchable. I'm talking to a school in Argentina that might take in the girls we've recovered, those that don't have some sort of life to go back to. I may send them some of the girls in the harem, as well. Would that do?"

  "Kildar ..." Oleg replied, his face working.

  "Concentrate on the mission, Oleg," Mike said, his own face hard. "You've communicated your concerns to me. Let me handle it from here. You've got enough to worry about."

  * * *

  "You're not usually up this late, David," Senator Traskel said as he was led into the sitting room. The President was leaning back on the couch, his eyes closed, and pinching the bridge of his nose, while his chief of staff poured coffee.

  "There were just too many things going on today to break off early," the president said, yawning. "And another long one tomorrow unless I'm much mistaken. What can I do for you, John?"

  "I picked up a rumor that we have an operation going on in Albania," Senator Traskel said, sitting down and accepting the proffered coffee cup. "I hope that it's nothing that should have been discussed with my committee beforehand. Albania is a sovereign country, with a growing reputation in the UN ..."

  "Albania?" the President said, looking over at the chief of staff, quizzically. "You're talking about a special operations black operation? As far as I know, no American military operation is being planned for Albania. I can't even imagine why we'd do one. I mean, it's a land that exports nothing but drugs and beaten-up prostitutes, which is good and sufficient reason for democratization. But it doesn't actively threaten the U.S., so we've more or less left it alone except for encouraging improvement. Through the UN, as a matter of fact."

  "You're sure about that?" the senator asked. "I heard a fairly credible rumor that a company of American Rangers was going to be flying into a town in Albania to rescue some hostages. I didn't even know there were any hostages in Albania. If there were, I think the American people would be interested, don't you? I know that many things must be kept 'black,' as the military likes to put it. But some things need the sun shone upon them, don't you think?"

  "I'm sure they do," the President said, smiling. "But as I said, there is no American military operation going on in Albania. No, wait," the President said as the senator started to protest. "I might be wrong. There are operations going on all over the world. It is possible that there is a group of terrorists there we're going after. Albania is primarily Muslim, after all. Let me check."

  The President leaned over and picked up the phone.

  "Grace? Could you call OSOL and ask them if we have an operation going on in Albania? Something about a company of Rangers? If so, I want to know, right away, what the nature and purpose of the mission is. Thank you." He turned back to the senator and shrugged. "As you know, OSOL has its finger on the pulse of every operation, black or white, that is done under any special operations umbrella including the blackest DIA operations. If there's anything going on, they'll know it. In the meantime, what do you think of the Astros this year?"

  * * *

  "Your information was wrong," Traskel snarled into the phone.

  "I don't think so," the man on the other end said. "A company of Rangers was sent to Eastern Europe. That's a fact. And another source said that there was a mission planned for Lunari using a company-sized force. There are people that don't agree with all these military adventures of this idiot in the White House. We talk. You know that."

  "They're looking for the girl," the senator said, his face working. "And she's in Lunari. Get over there. You should have cleaned this up the first time. Clean it up now."

  "Do you have any idea how many women are in Lunari?" the voice choked out.

  "They're going to find her, so can you. And then finish it. No little games, you understand me. Finish her."

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  "Katya," a female voice whispered in her head. "This is Nadzia, Team Swan. Good morning."

  "Hmmm ..." Katya replied as she brushed her teeth again. She'd traded a dollar she'd hidden in one of her pouches for some toothpaste and Lord did she need it. It was almost lunch time. Time to go look up "Tom" again. She had to look halfway decent. A heroine in a movie that's been roughed up but still looks like a model.... She ran her fingers through her hair and tossed it around to get just the right effect. If she only had some cosmetics, she could get it perfect.

  "Additional mission. There are some Keldara girls that might be in the town. We have visuals of them. If we see one, through you, we'll redirect. Understand?"

  "Hmmm ..." Katya said, rolling her eyes. Great. Fucking Holier-Than-Thou Keldara. Nobody ever came for her when she needed it.

  "You need to get more of a layout on the club. Use your American if you can."

  "HMMMM ..." Teach me to suck eggs, stupid Keldara bitch!

  "I can see you're not a morning person."

  Katya sighed angrily and finished brushing, then headed back down to the street. Supposedly, there was something resembling breakfast around here, but "Tom" had had some food in his room and that was enough to keep her going through the very short night.

  But, first, she wanted to take a look around. Most of the girls were still just getting ready for the day, the lazy whores. Getting out early, looking fresh, would usually pick you up at least two or three tricks. All it took was getting out of bed. If she ran this place, there'd be a reveille.

  But the fact was that there wasn't. So the girls were still getting up and she could see the faces.

  It was all the way on the sixth floor that she found her. The girl was just finishing working on her hair using a bit of mirror on the wall. She was pretty sure it was the same girl, but she continued to stare, then hummed and finally sighed.

  "Sorry, you're calling us aren't you?" a female voice said. "Yes, that appears to be the target. Find out what room she uses. Move into it if you think it will work."

  She'd hatched a plan in an instant, but she wasn't sure how to tell the stupid Keldara. There was very little in the way of privacy. Later for that.

  "Hello," she said, walking over to the girl.

  Natalya looked at her fearfully, then around for support.

  "I'm not going to put on you," Katya said, looking her up and down. The girl was young and fairly good looking. She'd look better with some cosmetics, no question. Could she swing this? "I have found a rich American. He wants two girls, even though he can barely get it up with one. And he likes young ones. But not to hit on, he is nice. You are pretty good. You want in?"

  "Will I make as
much as usual?" Natalya asked in a resigned tone.

  "If you work with me, you will," Katya said, shaking her head. "More and with less work. You need to learn to be a good whore, though. He thinks I'm fourteen and barely touched. I'm not going to take him some dragged out whore. If you can't act, the deal is off. You speak English?"

  "No," the girl said, still looking at her fearfully.

  "Good," Katya said, the plan blooming. "Let me handle the talking, then. And don't tell anyone what the arrangement is. You'll get seven hundred euros a day. He uses traveller's checks. I know a man who will give me a special deal on them, so I'll cash them, alone."

  "Ah, got it," the Keldara listener said. "We'll supplement. I'll get Vanner and tell him."

  "We'll go down, you stay by the doors. I'll find him and we'll get together with him and tell him the deal. Yes?"

  "Yes," Natalya said, her eyes wide. "But why are you being nice to me?"

  "Who says I'm being nice?" Katya said, laughing evilly. "I'm going to let you do most of the fucking and I'll take most of the money. And because you're such a little mouse you won't try to double-cross me, will you?" She leaned forward and ran her sharpened nails down the girl's neck, lightly. "Will you?"

  * * *

  "You know," Vanner said, leaning back at the head of the bed and monitoring the grainy video take on his laptop. "If we were really just after the girl, we could pull her out like this. No muss, no fuss."

  "Who would have thought they'd have her out walking the streets?" Nadzia asked, shaking her head. "That means something, but I'm not sure what."

  "Well, whatever is important about the girl, the Albanians clearly don't know it," Vanner replied. "Upload that item. We might want to find an alternate plan to get the girl. One that is less likely to get her whacked."

  * * *

  Katya realized she had screwed up by not making special arrangements to meet "Tom" last night. But as soon as she stepped down to the street, she saw his Fiat cruising slowly along the boulevard.

  "Tom!" she shouted as he pulled next to her. She ran over and leaned in the window, giving him a good solid French kiss. She hoped some day she'd get the chance to tell him how her night had gone. But not today, not after that kiss.