by Nolon King
A raspy young Spanish accent said, “Hello, Mister? Would you like some company?”
He opened his eyes to see an adorable young Mexican girl wearing a pink swimsuit with some cartoon character he didn’t recognize on the front. Her suit was tight, forming a deep line over the small mound of her vagina.
Paul tried not to stare directly, even if he was allowed. Looking at kids in such a way was something he could never imagine doing brazenly.
He sat up on his lounge chair, spreading his legs to either side of the chair to give her more room.
She sat down opposite him, cross-legged.
He resisted the urge to look down at her mound. He grew harder but ignored the growing bulge in his trunks. “What’s your name?”
“Sally.”
No comment on the name. “How old are you?”
“Ten.”
Perfect.
He wondered if Madam Pandora knew his age of preference. It wasn’t like he gave the authorities details of his proclivities. Maybe she’d done the math or had information on him that he wasn’t aware of.
“What’s your name?” the girl asked.
“Paul.”
“Paul,” she repeated in her raspy voice.
Another model came over carrying a tray of colorful shots. “Jell-O?” she said in a thick Spanish accent.
“No, thank you.” Paul didn’t want to dull his senses, not with this beautiful creature sitting with him.
“Two blues,” Sally said.
Paul was surprised. Wondered if he should say something.
The woman handed them over and left. Sally lifted one to her lips and let the jiggly blue treat tumble into her tiny mouth.
“You like those?” he asked, only now noticing the girl’s glassy eyes.
“Si. I mean, yes.” Sally laughed. “You want?” She thrust the other shot glass to his mouth playfully.
He opened his mouth and she poured it inside. It was sweet, but strong.
She laughed as some of it spilled from his mouth. She moved in, so fast he didn’t even know what she was doing, and licked the Jell-O from his chin.
Her body was pressed against his, her wet bathing suit soaking his shirt and shorts.
She threw her arms around him and slid her tongue into his mouth.
Paul was shocked, his first instinct was to push her away before someone saw, but his brain didn’t tell his hands, and he let her.
And then he remembered where he was.
He kissed her back, his tongue darting around in her mouth. It was weird to be kissing someone with such little experience. And arousing as hell.
She laughed and pulled away, smiling mischievously. “You a good kisser.”
“Thank you.” His face flushed.
She kissed him again, and then met his eyes. He thought about the fear in all the other girls’ eyes, the fear that had ruined the illusion that they wanted him. This girl shower no fear, only a sly smile. She seemed to actually want him.
“Go back to your room?” she asked.
“God, yes.”
Chapter 38 - Mallory Black
Mal woke up in her bed at home with Ashley cuddled up against her.
Her stuffed teddy bear, Pinky, was crammed awkwardly between them, looking up at Mal in the soft blue glow of her alarm clock as if to say, “Help, I can’t breathe!”
Mal gently pulled Pinky out from between them and set her on top of Ashley’s back.
Sometimes Mal would go in before Ashley woke up and set Pinky up in some amusing way — sitting on her nightstand “reading” a book; hanging from her doorknob; or propped up on the ground in front of her closet, on the back of the toilet, or inside the shower.
Mal looked at her daughter, admiring how sweet she looked when sleeping. She was ten and growing too fast, but sometimes she still looked so much like a little girl.
Mal flashed back to the countless times Ashley had fallen asleep on her as a baby and toddler, and how many times she’d watched her eyes flutter behind their lids, wondering what she might be dreaming.
When Ashley was old enough to talk, Mal would sometimes ask her what she’d dreamed about, but she never seemed to remember.
Ashley’s feet kicked out and she flinched, her face finding a frightened expression.
Mal sat up, watching her with concern, wanting to reach out and gently wake her, to ease her out of the nightmare. She touched her shoulder, and Ashley’s eyes shot open.
She screamed, “You should have killed him!”
And just like that, Ashley’s flesh began to fall away, rotting like a pumpkin caving in on itself.
Mal cried out, scared and confused, “Ashley! What’s happening?”
She reached out to push the girl’s skin back onto her face, but it was too late.
Teeth were falling from her skull.
Eyes burrowed out, dark holes of rot, right into her brain.
Mal screamed.
Then she woke to find Jessi in her arms. She remembered, again, that her daughter was dead. And then, where she was.
Jessi looked at her with wide, frightened eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Their door burst open and four men in black stormed inside, two with guns, and the others with needles. One of the men said, “Time to go!”
Mal wasn’t sure where they were going, nor did she care. She panicked, seeing what might be their last shot at escaping this place, and launched herself toward the nearest man. She reached for his gun, but someone hit her hard in the back of the head.
Mal collapsed to the ground, pain exploding in her skull.
“Shouldn’t have done that.” He pressed a rifle to her temple.
Jessi screamed, “Mallory!” and dove toward her.
One of the men grabbed Jessi by the hair and yanked her backward. She screamed and the man stuck a needle in Jessi.
Then the other one pierced Mal’s neck.
Chapter 39 - Jasper Parish
Even though he made Anders drive the entire twenty-something hours to Texas, then kept him behind the wheel while crossing the border, Jasper was still exhausted.
But there was no time to rest now as they entered the city of El Barranco.
Anders had been quiet through most of the drive. A few times, he’d tried to beg for his family’s release, then plead his case — he wasn’t a bad guy, Jasper had no idea how powerful these people were, forcing him to do their bidding as they were.
“You kidnapped a kid and a cop,” Jasper said every time. “There’s no way you come out looking like the good guy here.”
“Yeah, but you kidnapped my wife and daughter. So what does that make you?”
“I’ve no illusions that I’m some angel. Way I see it, the world needs a few devils to keep the truly wicked from running the show.”
Jasper didn’t push the argument far, mostly keeping Anders talking about BlackBriar to determine how deep the guilt ran.
According to Anders, he organized everything. Victor didn’t know dick.
Jasper found it hard to believe but needed the man to think he might make it out of this weekend alive. He was no good if he realized the depths of his troubles.
Earlier, Anders had tried to avoid telling Jasper too much, saying that he was putting his life, and his family’s lives, at risk. But Jasper convinced him that when this was all done, he’d help him get out from under the thumb of these hidden puppeteers. Jasper tried to get some names, people who were pulling the strings, but Anders claimed to know nothing. Most interactions were done via anonymous Internet chat. They’d found some dirt and got him to comply by threatening his ruin.
“I tried to get out a few times, and then they did what you did — terrorized my family. It’s hard to do the right thing when you’ve got someone threatening to rape and murder your six-year-old child.”
If his story was true, Jasper felt bad. Still, he had no intention of letting the man live beyond his usefulness.
Anders merged off the main road and began a s
low ascent up a winding mountain road.
“This is it, at the top. Paraíso, or Paradise.” Anders nodded at the large hotel’s meandering roofline. “It’s got everything you could want — gambling, women, fine dining, and nightly entertainment.”
Jasper made him go over their story again. Anders was bringing a big fish, Jasper going by the name Reginald Oliver, as his guest for a weekend of depravity. They would indulge in food, drinks, and women until they were full.
Once inside, Anders would get Jasper an audience with the woman who ran the operation, then Jasper would find and free Jessi and Mallory. After that, Dodd was dead.
Anders said Madam Pandora was a smart business woman and enough money could get her to betray their pedophile guest. He hoped it would go down that easily. If it didn’t, he’d have to improvise. And he’d be more or less going up against a small army of guards and whatever corrupt police Madam had on her payroll. It could get ugly, quick. Jasper hoped Anders loved his family enough to keep things running smoothly.
They arrived at a gatehouse where Anders showed a card to the armed guard. The heavy black iron gates slowly opened, allowing their entry onto the compound.
The isolated mountain resort was a sprawling four story building with sleek architecture and old-world aesthetics. It would have looked like any other five-star hotel, if not for the armed men situated at key points of entry, looking out along the long roof.
Jasper felt the odds of an armed escape melting to nothing as they drove deeper into the lion’s den.
They parked on the first floor parking garage, then got out, grabbed their suitcases from the trunk, and walked to an elevator leading to an ornate entrance with high wood-beamed ceilings and lush red carpets.
Anders led them to the reception desk where he checked them into one of the suites.
A bellhop came up with a cart and offered to take their luggage. Anders nodded.
As the man loaded their suitcases, Jasper hoped he wouldn’t notice the weight, or worse, call security to check them. Jasper had come well-equipped for battle, with rifles, pistols, ammunition, knives, grenades, and a gas mask.
The bellhop loaded the bags then led them toward the elevators, dragging the cart behind them all the way to their third floor suite. Anders tipped the man after he unloaded the suitcases into their room. With the bellhop gone and the room their own, Jasper opened one of his bags and grabbed his hidden camera and microphone detector. Then he swept the room, searching for Wi-Fi or infrared signals.
Once he was sure that they weren’t being watched, Jasper retrieved a pistol and two knives then slipped them into a discreet jacket holster.
Anders stared at him. “You going to give me one?”
“That depends, are you going to shoot me in the back?”
“Maybe after I get my family back.”
Jasper handed him a Beretta and suppressor. “You don’t use it unless shit goes south.”
Anders looked at him like he was an idiot. “You forget my extensive training or time with the SEALs?”
“I’m just making sure we’re on the same page, the one where we all get out of this alive — you, me, Jessi Price, Mallory Black, and, of course, your family.”
“No need to remind me.” Anders glared at him.
Jasper wondered how much the man was already plotting against him. He was probably mentally hiring a sketch artist to draw Jasper then run him through some recognition program to discover his identity. The moment Anders got his family back safely, there was no stone he’d leave unturned in pursuit of revenge. Even if Jasper wanted to keep Anders alive, it was just too big a risk.
Anders made a call and asked if he could meet with Madam Pandora, saying he wanted to introduce her to someone very important. He nodded as the person on the other end of the phone replied, then sighed. “Okay. We’ll be waiting.”
“She’s tied up at the moment. So we have a couple of hours to kill. You mind if we get something to eat? I’m starving. And you should at least try the food here before you get us kicked out permanently.”
Jasper nodded. “Fine.”
They freshened up then took the elevator downstairs to 1862, presumably named after Mexico’s victory over French invaders.
The restaurant was surrounded by windows, showcasing spectacular views of the mountains rolling around them. The ceilings were high, the wood polished and dark. Jasper and Anders sat at a table in the rear, Jasper with his back to the wall, same way he always sat whenever he went anywhere, much less deep into enemy territory.
Jasper ordered Carne Asada a la Tampiqueña, with hand mashed guacamole, rajas, black beans and Calabacitas Rellenas, plus a Pancho Villa, the house specialty.
As he waited for their food, Jasper surveyed the restaurant, noticing how many men were there with beautiful women well out of their league. While he was used to seeing this arrangement in finer restaurants and clubs, there were quite a few very young women with much older men, including several girls as young as twelve or thirteen, made up like women twice their age, in nice dresses and jewelry.
An obese, balding man sat in a corner booth, wearing a bad suit and oversized shades. He was on his cell phone shouting about some actor being difficult on his set and how he wished he’d never hired him. Typical Hollywood douchebag if not for his date, a blonde Russian-looking girl that couldn’t have been more than fourteen, sitting next to him with glazed eyes, barely touching her chocolate cake.
Hollywood Douchebag hung up the phone and turned back to the girl, saying something Jasper couldn’t hear as the man pulled her toward him. She smiled awkwardly as he picked up her fork and fed her dessert. Then he grabbed her hand and put in his lap.
Jasper wanted to get up and feed the man the fork, straight into his neck.
Their waiter arrived with their meals, plated exquisitely with an eye for presentation that you’d typically find only in a Michelin restaurant.
As Jasper watched Hollywood and the girl, his appetite faded. All he could see in the place were dirty old men with little girls. He wondered how many were here against their will versus by some other circumstance. Any answer would make him sick.
He wanted to get up and put a bullet in each of these pervert’s heads.
Instead, he took a long drink of wine to calm himself.
Anders, digging into his food, looked at him. “You okay?”
“How can you just sit here and eat with all this shit going on?”
Anders smiled. “You haven’t seen the worst of it. The club or the grotto will get your blood boiling.”
“And these are the people you work for? How, with these women and girls being exploited?”
Anders kept eating, calmer than anyone should be in a place like this. “How’s the view from up there in your ivory tower?”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m not being flip. I’m being serious. Many of these girls are from third-world shit holes. Here they have a chance to earn money and send it back to their families so they don’t live in abject poverty.”
Jasper snorted. “Please. I’m familiar with the slave industry. Most of these girls are taken against their will. Forced to do horrible shit, not making any money except for their pimps.”
“You watch too many movies, Reginald. Hell, half their families don’t even want them. They sell them. What chance did they ever have? Why not get some use out of them while they’re still of value?”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if it was your daughter here.”
“You act like they’ve got it awful. But look around. This place is heaven. These girls are cared for, get medical help, and they make some money. They have more opportunities here than they would back home where they weren’t even wanted.”
“That what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?” Jasper took another sip to stem his rage. The more Anders spoke, the more Jasper was convinced his participation wasn’t coercion so much as a witting, willing participant in this dark and terrible business.
Jasper went to set his glass on the table but knocked it over instead. He went to grab it, but missed, spilling his Pancho Villa on the table and onto his lap. He tried to move out of the way, but suddenly everything was moving in slow motion.
Anders said, “That would be the drugs taking effect.”
Jasper reached for his gun, but instead he fell to the floor.
Chapter 40 - Jasper Parish
Jasper woke to a slap in the face.
He looked around and as he got his bearings, realized he was naked, sitting in a chair in a dark room, hands restrained behind him. He could hear, and feel, loud electronic music and bass coming from not too far away.
He got an immediate sense of déjà vu.
Bright light burned above him. The floor was concrete, the walls and ceilings unfinished. It felt like a basement. Maybe under the club.
Footsteps behind him, felt more than heard above the music.
“You’re awake.”
Anders stepped into view. “Who are you?”
“You want your wife and daughter to die?”
Anders smiled. “Funny thing, that. You see, I have people watching them all the time. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they went into action.”
“Bullshit.”
Anders reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, flipped through a few screens, then showed his wife and daughter smiling in a room, standing next to some big guy.
“See, they’re okay.” He pulled the phone back, scrolled a bit, then showed Jasper a photo of two dead black men, gunshots to their heads, execution style. “Though I can’t say the same for your guys.”
Jasper’s heart plummeted into his gut.
He wondered how far up the ladder they followed the lead. If they’d gotten to Spider. He hated to think he’d gotten a good kid like that killed.
“So,” Anders said, “again, who are you?”
“Nobody.”
Anders laughed, then smacked Jasper hard in the face. “Wrong answer. You are going to tell me who the hell you are, who you work for, and everything else I want to know.”