The Trafficked

by Lee Weeks

  59

  Johnny Mann appeared from the other side of the bar. He leaned in and kissed Becky’s cheek.

  ‘Did you have a nice chat?’

  ‘Huh! He came this far…’ Becky pinched her forefinger and thumb together as if she were picking up salt ‘…to getting a punch in the mouth. If I hadn’t been afraid I’d need a tetanus jab afterwards, I would have…Sorry I took so long. I took a detour back to the room to see if our fish had taken the bait, and…’

  ‘Had it?’

  ‘Hook, line and whatever. Bags gone though. Well, your bag was gone. My stuff was obligingly set out in neat piles. They would have found everything they needed. Ng has created a great profile for us—you’re a beautician, by the way. On paper I come out as a dirty bastard and you come out as a trophy wife. By the time they finish checking us out tonight I will be just what they are looking for.’ Mann nodded in the direction that English Bob had just departed. ‘You think he’s bad—you should meet his best friend, Fat Harry. How did you get on?’

  ‘I’m afraid he knows I was asking questions.’

  ‘Can’t be helped. We don’t have time to pussy foot now I have an appointment with them both tomorrow. We will soon find out if they know who we are.’

  ‘I had disturbing news from home. Two of the women in the fire were traced here. And I talked to the women in the spa, down the beach. One of them has similar-aged girls gone missing. I got some details and faxed them over to Shrimp. He’s seeing if any of them match the burn victims. The women here are very scared. They told me that there have been a lot of girls going missing over the last year.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Kidnapped on the walk to school. A windowless van turns up. Three men jump out, none of them local, apparently, at least one Chinese. They bundle the girls in the back. Onlookers have reported that when the doors are opened at the back, they see other girls sleeping, doped, in the van. And, surprise, surprise…who warned the girls off reporting their missing children?’

  ‘Our British pals?’

  ‘Precisely, and the women daren’t go to the police around here because the chief is part-owner of most of the bars along the beach.’

  ‘So I gathered from Fat Harry. Okay. We’d better make sure tomorrow is our last day here. We need to get up to Angeles. I meet them at eleven; we’ll be gone by twelve thirty. I’ll text Remy now and make sure he is ready. We might want to get out in a hurry. Another thing—I found a friend of yours…Reese the friendly pervert. He is sunbathing on the beach right now.’

  ‘Strange timing…does he know it’s night?’

  ‘It’s going to be permanently night for our friend Reese. We better get out as soon as we can tomorrow. They aren’t going to take long to find him, maybe longer to recognise him—the crabs were having a midnight feast when I left.’ Mann checked his watch—it was midnight. ‘We have twenty-four hours till the deadline is up.’

  ‘What if CK is setting us up to fail? What if he wants this war more than he wants his daughter’s life?’

  ‘CK will honour his pact. But others may not.’

  ‘Wait a minute…’ She stopped and turned to him. ‘You said we were going to Negros, didn’t you?’

  ‘Change of plan.’

  She tilted her head to one side and scowled at him.

  ‘Don’t fucking bullshit me. You don’t trust me, why? Why did you lie?’

  ‘Okay—I have had emails from someone calling themselves Blanco.’

  ‘The name of the bogus company on the kidnap emails?’

  ‘Yes. He is playing a game with us. He knows where Amy Tang is being held and he knows where we are and what we are doing. He probably knows we are on this beach right now. I don’t know how he does that but I do know he holds Amy’s fate in his hands.’ Stevie Ho was watching them from the balcony of the hotel where Terry and Reese had sat having a drink. He finished dialling a number and pressed the phone to his ear.

  ‘Finish it. Kill her,’ he said, and closed the phone.

  60

  Amy watched the planes overhead. They were so near she could count the windows along the side. She waved to the pilot, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. She listened for the sounds outside. She had learned the routine of her captors very well. She knew exactly what time they relieved each other of their babysitting duties. She knew what time they would have lunch. She knew what television programs they listened to outside in the lounge. They chattered away on their mobiles, forgetting that Amy was able to understand them. Impossible for the Cantonese to talk quietly. Amy knew a lot more about them now.

  Since Lenny had left, Suzanne had been in charge and the men didn’t like it. She talked to them like idiots, thought Amy. The one with the spotty face, Tony, had left, and now there was a new one. His name was Pat. He was nice to Amy. He let her come and watch telly on his shift and he bought her pizza. He played chess with her.

  It was seven in the morning. Pat would be gone soon. The nasty, ugly one, Sunny, would take over. He spent the whole time talking on the phone and watching porn movies on the telly. Amy could hear it in the evenings, all the moaning and grunting.

  Suzanne came and went less rigidly than the men. By now Amy understood that this was not the only place where Suzanne looked after people. There was another house that she and the two men took it in turns to go to. Amy wondered who was at that house and whether there was a girl like her. Sometimes Amy started crying. She was so bored and fed up, only Pat brought her books to read, and she couldn’t relax. She never knew what mood Suzanne was going to be in. Amy knew it was her by the way the front door closed. They all did it differently. Suzanne was precise—she clicked it shut, rather than slamming it the way Sunny did. In between was Pat. He closed it strongly but without banging. Suzanne seemed to creep in.

  There were just the two men this morning. Amy sat there listening. Pat and Sunny were talking about Lenny’s trip. They weren’t happy that he’d been called away. They didn’t think that Suzanne was competent to handle the job. They were getting nervous about it. Amy listened hard.

  She was sitting at her table where her macramé kit was laid out methodically. Beads were kept in the box lid, to stop them from disappearing. The cord was laid out in its varying lengths and different colours. There was a frame on which to stretch the necklace whilst you worked on it. Amy was putting all her energy into making one item. It was a necklace for Suzanne.

  Pat left and Sunny sat down to watch the telly. The door clicked—it was Suzanne. She greeted Sunny with a ticking-off for not taking out the bin whilst it was still early and there was less chance of being seen. Now she had to do it and it was already nine o clock. Why was everything down to her? Amy listened. She knew what Sunny would say. It was what he always said every time Suzanne had a massive go at him.

  ‘I am not your fucking servant. You don’t like it, I’ll go. You’re lucky I’m still here. No good will come of things. We’ll all be in the shit when they find us. So, go on—get rid of me, fire me, please.’

  Suzanne answered: ‘Just do the few things you are asked to and do them well, then we’ll all be happy. And leave the merchandise alone.’ That bit puzzled Amy. ‘Knocking them about is one thing, but this isn’t your dream come true, Sunny. You want to get laid, pay for it like you usually do. Stop fucking the girls, especially the young ones—you’re damaging the merchandise. She’s split inside already…’

  ‘That wasn’t me, that was the two punters.’

  ‘Leave them alone—got it?’

  Sunny grunted that he had. ‘What about that one?’ he asked. Amy’s eyes went wide and her brace formed a vacuum at the roof of her mouth as she heard the question directed towards her door. ‘Why not that one?’

  ‘Ha ha, you are fucking priceless, Sunny.’ Suzanne lowered her voice. ‘The day I decide to put Miss CK’s cherry up for sale, the place will be swarming with rival triad bosses. You don’t think I’m going to let you have it for free, do you?’

  A
my heard her throw down her coat and bags and stomp off with the rubbish. Then the click when she came back. Sunny stomped out soon after, muttering under his breath about having had enough. Amy listened to Suzanne’s footsteps approaching her bedroom door.

  She looked up from her macramé table. She smiled as the door opened.

  ‘Morning, Suzanne.’ Her heart was hammering.

  Suzanne didn’t answer. She grunted something about making her bed. Amy jumped off her seat and hurriedly pulled the covers up over the mattress.

  Amy smiled at Suzanne. ‘You look lovely, Suzanne,’ she lied. Suzanne wasn’t bothering with makeup any more now that Lenny had gone. ‘Yesh. You look really pretty and so slim, like a model.’

  ‘Yes, well, time we got some fat off you. I’m thinking of moving you somewhere else, to a different house where there are other girls.’

  Amy started making nervous sucking noises with her brace.

  ‘And why is that fucking brace back in your mouth?’

  ‘Sorry, Suzanne, it’s just I will get into trouble if I don’t wear it.’

  ‘Come here.’

  Amy took a few steps towards her. Suzanne slapped her hard across the face. Her glasses flew off. Amy cried out, flinching as she clutched the stinging side of her face.

  ‘Sorry, Suzanne.’ She took the brace out.

  Suzanne sighed, then rubbed her forehead as if it itched.

  ‘My fucking head is pounding.’

  ‘Sit down, Suzanne; I will give you a neck massage. I can brush your hair for you if you like. And look, Suzanne…’ Amy rushed to the table and showed her the half-constructed necklace. ‘This is for you.’

  Suzanne didn’t look impressed. ‘Okay, let’s get on with the massage, and then you can brush my hair.’

  ‘Oh, yes please, Suzanne.’

  Amy scurried to find the brush to keep it close by for when she needed it. She didn’t want to risk irritating Suzanne any more than she had done. She started kneading her strong little fingers into Suzanne’s shoulders.

  ‘Suzanne…what’s your favourite colour? I need to know for your necklace.’

  ‘Mmm…green, no, blue, no, red! Red, that’s it.’

  Amy looked over to her bead collection. The biggest of all the beads was red! How lucky was that?

  ‘Pass me my bag?’

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Suzanne rummaged inside and found her phone.

  ‘I am ringing his wife. I am fucking sick of waiting and of babysitting you. I am going to speed things up. I am going to tell her what her husband really thinks of her, the fat, ugly cow…’

  61

  The phone rang. It was Fat Harry.

  ‘We checked you out—very impressive—we have quite a few similar interests, it seems.’

  ‘You mean we tick each other’s boxes?’

  Fat Harry laughed down the phone. He had a laugh that carried on too long after the joke was told. ‘Eleven o’clock, then.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘The Flamingo bar—and Black…no wifey This business is strictly for boys.’

  Mann closed his phone. He strapped his armoury on. His spikes were now moved to the harness around his ankle, next to Delilah, and his throwing-star belt was under his armpit, concealed beneath a baggy shirt. He had a knife belt around his waist—with four short-handled shuriken knives tucked inside

  He handed Becky a piece of paper.

  ‘We have to be sure that one of us gets to Angeles. Remy will be waiting for us on a small airstrip, a kilometre away from here. Here is the address…Take the bags and go there now. Remy will wait for two hours. Any sign of trouble, he will lift off and take you straight to Clark and to Father Finn’s refuge. You will have to coordinate things from there. We have just two days left. We have to find the Blanco and force his hand. We have to find his weakness and exploit it, everyone has one. I’m not even sure that CK wants us to win. I think he wants an excuse to start a war. I don’t want to give him one now. This might all be a game to these people but we’re going to do our damndest to spoil it for them. Don’t worry Mann. You will be on that plane, but if not, rest assured that I will do whatever it takes.’

  ‘Save me a seat on the plane—no running off with Remy.’

  She laughed but he could see how scared she was. He didn’t want to but he left her standing in the centre of the room, his heart melting a little.

  He walked out through the hotel lobby, which was open on all sides and ended on the beach, and headed for the Flamingo bar. It was a ten-minute walk. He took his time. He was early—always early—but they did not know that about him. In the distance he could make out the pinks and peach of the Flamingo bar, its canvas flapping gently in the breeze. He was thirty metres away. Beyond that he saw a hint of police action—they must have found Reese. He could see Fat Harry, sitting with his back to him, along with English Bob and a third man with a bald head. That must be the contact they had talked about. They still had not seen him. He slowed down. His feet dug into the sand. Something didn’t feel right.

  62

  Becky looked at her watch. Mann had said to give him twenty minutes, to make sure he was well into conversation with them before she left. It had only been eight.

  She made the last check around the room and then pulled out a piece of paper. There was a sketch map and the name of the airfield. It was so lucky that all the signs were in English. It all looked straightforward. It was just a couple of kilometres away, basically up the lane towards the neighbouring town, then take a left. Mann had already settled the bill the night before, so all she had to do was pick up the bags, walk out and get a trike to take her to the airstrip. In that case, why was her heart pounding? Why did she feel so anxious? She looked at her watch again. It would only take ten minutes from the room to the Flamingo bar, and that was at Filipino pace. She moved the bags to the door. It was time to go. Mann would nearly be there by now; she could leave without arousing suspicion. She turned the handle and pulled the door open. As she bent down to pick up the bags she saw legs, feet and expensive trainers—no one round here would wear those. She didn’t look up; instead she launched Mann’s bag forward at the legs and heard the man groan as he fell backwards. At the same time someone else pushed her back into the room. Becky looked up to see four Chinese men. She blocked a punch and turned side-on as she made a run for the door. A man stood in her way, his arms raised to stop her; she hooked her wrists over his and brought a knee up to his groin. He doubled over in pain then she felt the flash of pain as a fist slammed into the side of her head; then an arm tightened around her throat. Her feet were kicked from beneath her and her head smashed against the side of the bed as she fell to the floor.

  63

  Mann began turning at the same time as Stevie Ho stood up and left Fat Harry’s table. Mann began running before Stevie could see him. If Stevie was there, it meant they knew who he really was and his cover was blown. But they had lured him there for a reason. Then it hit him with sickening clarity—Becky was the target.

  Mann sprinted back up towards the hotel. He didn’t need to look back to know that Bob and Harry would give him ten minutes before realising he wasn’t going to show up and that he knew. Then they would alert their friends. Mann’s blood ran cold. All he could think of was Becky. He ran through the empty reception—no staff, and no guests. Something was going on that no one wanted to see. Whatever it was must still be happening in the room. Mann took the staff stairs to the third landing and walked halfway along until he judged he was just above their room; then he slipped into an open door whilst the chambermaid was cleaning. He crept out onto the balcony and listened. Diagonally across and down he heard Cantonese being spoken, the noise of excited, raised voices. He estimated there were four or five men. There was no sound from Becky. Mann stepped onto the ledge and jumped across to the neighbouring balcony. Now he was directly above the room. As he looked over he saw that the French doors to the balcony were open. He could just see inside.r />
  He saw Becky on the floor. A man was over her. She was being raped. He felt the anger roar through him and felt as if he would spontaneously combust if he could not control it. He knew he must control it, because, more than anything, he wanted to rescue her. His senses became heightened as every fibre in him was preparing itself for a fight. He was poised on the railing, ready to swing down. He needed all the force he could muster to get through those balcony doors and into the centre of the room in one massive jump. He took a deep breath in, and on the exhale he held onto the ledge and propelled himself over as hard as he could. His feet contacted with the door frame. The door flew back and banged against the rattan cabinet to the right of it.

  Mann crouched low and aimed high. From one hand he threw all five throwing spikes that had been strapped to his ankle. Three of them landed in the face and neck of the man nearest the door. Two were stuck through the shoulders of the man doing up his flies. He was now pinned to the hessian frieze above the bed. The third man had Delilah through his heart and was in the process of dying on the floor. Lastly, from Mann’s left hand he released the Death Star. It span through the air and sliced through the back of the neck of the man who was in the process of raping Becky. It severed his spinal cord, as Mann knew it would—he couldn’t risk injuring Becky in the process. He had to take the man out this way.

  Mann watched him topple slowly sideways, then he walked over and picked him up with his foot and kicked him away from Becky. He checked her breathing; she had been badly beaten but she was alive. He pulled her trousers up and pulled her t-shirt down. Now Mann could let his anger loose. Now, as he turned to her attackers, he knew that he was the last man they would see on this earth. Anger was built in him that would not be quelled. Now he would have justice at any cost. He could never undo the harm they had done to her, but he could make them pay…and he would. She was still unconscious, but she was alive and she could wait one minute, one moment was all it would take for him to settle the score.