by Izzy Sweet
Nodding my head at Simon, I say, “He’s keeps his cards closer to his chest than the previous guy did. He’s the new wave of boss from Russia. No more of the old, reliable bear.”
“Precisely. He has brought a revolution to the front. He’s connected through the newest methods of criminal enterprises. Cyber warfare, investment terrorism. You name it, he’s willing to try it. But he’s not stopped the old proven methods, either. Slavery of the right flesh brings in a strong flow of money.”
“So, what do we know?” I ask.
“The van drove a long route for a short distance. Whether they were hoping to grab more girls, or worried about being followed, both seem possible. They eventually made their way across the city to their industrial complexes. As far as I can tell, they’ve made one of their unused warehouses the spot for the auction.”
That’s the reason we’re here so early in the fucking morning. Fuck. And fuck. They kidnapped my girl and they are going to try to sell her off to the highest fucking bidder.
For fuck’s sake, when did my mind switch to her being my girl?
Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I ask, “How is this set up?”
“They have a few methods they use, from what my sources say. And trust me, the information I received about the auctions has been very hard to come by. Squeezing and bribing wasn’t easy. From what I gather, they are very selective about who comes to their auctions, and they are very choosey with who gets to buy.”
That’s probably bad news right now for me.
“Their operation is simple in some aspects. They use websites to advertise their merchandise, but it’s a darknet site that utilizes encryption that rivals most government databases.”
Laughing, Lucifer says, “So it was easy to get into?”
Simon winces slightly. “Perhaps I should rephrase that. They rival databases that I would encrypt. It was not easy in the least.”
“From there, they show pictures of their goods, a sort of what’s up and coming with special details. Whether the goods are virgins or not. What their backgrounds are. Some of the women they snatch are from higher education backgrounds. Political science majors, chemical engineering degrees, computer database architects. They don’t always go for the everyday slob.”
“Do we think they took these women on purpose?” James asks. He’s staring at the whiteboard on the back wall of Simon’s office.
There are four photos of the women that were kidnapped. Beth being at the front of the line. The next three are in order of importance, I would guess, but there’s a red question mark next to each of their pictures.
“Doubtful. They haven’t started the higher profile abductions in the states yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“Over in Europe, South Africa, and the Middle East, they’ve done high profile grabs. Remember the second and third place women from the Miss World pageant last year?” Simon asks as he quickly does something with his mouse and keyboard.
Pictures pop up on his screen of two beautiful women.
There’s an itchy spot in the back of my brain, but I can’t remember where I’ve seen those two women before until Andrew says, “Yeah, they went missing on the tour. Somewhere in Tripoli, right?”
“Correct,” Simon says.
“Wow,” I say. “That’s ballsy.”
“Not according to them. They have a private wish list section where a client can create a list that’s only available to the administrator. There, from what I can tell, is where clients are able to ask for a specific type of woman. Or a specific woman.”
“Hmmm,” comes from Lucifer, and I can’t help but chuckle. He’s seeing dollar signs and power right now, I can guarantee it. Whether it’s to take over something like this, or sell the information out, I have no clue.
Nodding my head, I start to get an idea of just how sophisticated this line of business has become, and I can see in Lucifer’s cold, calculating eyes he’s fully aware of the capabilities something like this has.
“What’s with the question marks?” I ask.
“They’ve listed three new girls as of this morning.”
“But four went missing.”
“Four went missing,” Simon agrees. “That doesn’t mean they will sell them all or can sell them all.”
A new wave of nausea hits me. Beth.
“They’ve listed two as virgins, and one as… how did they put it? I think it’s spirited. No pictures yet.”
Virgins. Fucking bloody hell. Their price will be astronomical.
“What’s the news on the girls missing?” Lucifer asks.
“Nothing public yet. Although, from what I’ve heard, the Police Chief wants to make an announcement. The Police Chief is making serious waves trying to go around Senator Norton, but Norton has him locked down tight.”
“What the fuck for?” James questions, his incredulity is plainly showing. “Why not have them on milk cartons already?”
“Because Norton has a campaign to run. He’s running again this November for office, and he has very high ambitions. From the mouths of his understaff, he has dreams of hitting the Oval in the next twelve years.”
“That crooked bastard?” Lucifer scoffs at the notion, but I can see it doesn’t surprise him.
“Yes, and anything that could reflect badly, or show a lack of control, is not being let out to the public. And with the way he treats his daughter, he very well could have it leaked he isn’t the greatest of fathers. Even his security staff have been heard to whisper of his iron-fisted ways.”
Makes sense. Beth and the girls were out for a night on the town. Bet they didn’t want to be caught up in the limelight that can happen when some of the semi-famous visit the central strip downtown.
“So, when it goes public they’re missing…” I start off, thinking out loud. “If the Russians don’t already know, it will either be ignored that they’re big names or it could get messy. But, they probably already know… maybe that’s why only three are being sold?”
“That’s the unknown, why they only listed three girls. I’m very interested to know what happened to the fourth.”
“What’s the security like at these auctions?” Andrew asks.
“I would liken it to having the National Guard surrounding a warehouse with the Secret Service inside.”
“Oh,” Andrew says with a grimace. “That makes things interesting.”
I can only agree. “How are we going to take this place out?”
Simon looks to Lucifer then to me. “We can’t. It would take too many men and too much time.”
My eyes widen. “There can’t be that many issues with something like this?”
“There is. And if we let the proper authorities know, it’s not unheard of for them to go dark with the auction… or throw a couple of grenades into a holding pen with all the livestock inside.”
“What do you mean go dark?” James asks.
“They skip the auction if they hear even the faintest of whispers suggesting that they are being looked at. Then it’s another couple of months before they resurface. Usually with a completely new crop to sell.”
Fucking hell.
“Okay, so what’s that mean for us then?”
“You will be going in alone. I’ve got you set up as a buyer’s proxy. The guy I tapped for this did not come cheap, nor did he want to give up his seat for a special verified virgin auction.”
Christ, this is fucking insane.
“By myself?”
“Yes. Andrew, you will be in operational control of it all. James, you will be backup in case we lose any of the girls. Peter will be backing you up with a car of his own to stop any from getting out, if possible.”
“How the hell will I get into a place like this? They probably know what I look like, you know.”
“That’s the beauty of modern day cosmetics.”
He pulls up another picture on his computer and for a few seconds I’m confused. There, on the screen, is a guy who
looks a lot like me except I have blue eyes and my hair isn’t cut short like some fucking hipster.
Then it dawns on me.
Fuck that shit. The girls are going to new homes, if you ask me.
“I ain’t cutting my fucking hair, bitch boy,” I yell.
Everyone except Simon is laughing at the picture, even Lucifer.
Simon isn’t though.
“Think of Beth,” Simon says like he has a needle and is trying to stab it in my eye.
It’s six in the morning before we finally leave the office space downtown. My eyes hurt from watching the damn screen the whole time, and I still don’t have a good feeling about the whole scheme we have in place.
Especially the part of me going in solo.
Andrew has said he’ll have more guys in place to try to get me out if shit goes sideways, but I already know I’ll be leaving my weapons at the door.
This is going to be a fucking crap-shoot.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dial the one person I know that can do what I need right now.
“Missy,” I say as soon as she answers. “Meet me at the bar in two hours. I need you to put your cosmetology license to work. Bring your haircutting shit.”
7
Beth
Hours and hours pass with no sign of Amanda. Sophia and I are forced to relieve ourselves in the bucket and then we share what’s left of the water.
Sitting side by side on the thin mattress, we have nothing left to do but wait and fret.
“What do you think they’re doing to her?” Sophia asks quietly, breaking the silence.
She looks to me, her eyes full of desperation. I know she wants me to reassure her, to give her some kind of hope we can get out of this situation, but I have no hope left to give.
“I don’t know,” I answer just as quietly. I don’t want to think about it, I don’t, but I can’t help it.
They could be raping her, interrogating her, torturing her, or she could be dead.
Sophia’s face crumbles for a moment, and then she looks away. I listen to her draw in a deep breath, let it out, then suck another in.
“Do you think we’ve made the news yet?” she asks after a couple of minutes.
“God, I hope not,” I exhale in a burst. The last thing we need is our faces blasted all over the media. Once these guys find out Lindsey wasn’t the only one with powerful connections, we’re dead.
“I bet my father is freaking the fuck out.”
I nod.
“Yours too.”
“Only if his men have reported it,” I sigh.
I feel a little sorry for the guy that has to break the news to him. There have been many times I was able to get away with stuff, like sneaking out for an hour or two to hang with Sophia, just because the guys assigned to me were too afraid to admit they fucked up to my father.
“Maybe they’ll be able to find us. My father is the police chief, for Christ’s sake. He has to have some idea… some clue about what is happening.”
“Shush,” I hiss and glance towards the door and then around the room. “They could be listening to us,” I whisper.
They could even be watching us. Maybe I’m a little paranoid, or I’m simply used to my own father spying on me, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a camera or two hidden in this cell.
And that’s exactly what this little room is—it’s our holding cell. They’re keeping us here until they do god only knows what with us.
“Fuck,” Sophia mutters, and then she slumps against the wall. “I’m sorry.”
We’ve gone through a hell of a few days. We were grabbed off the street, watched one of our best friends get murdered in front of us, and have been trapped in this room ever since. I think the waiting, and the heavy weight of the situation, is starting to get to the both of us. I, myself, feel like I’m barely keeping it together.
Either one of us could snap at any moment.
“Don’t worry about—” I start to tell her then clamp my lips together when I hear the familiar, terrifying sound of the lock rattling.
Fuck, were they listening in on us? Are they coming to kill us now?
We both jump to our feet and press together as the door swings open. The same goon from before marches into the room, dragging Amanda with him.
“No, please, no. Let me go,” Amanda whimpers and pleads, dragging her feet as he pulls her into the room.
The goon ignores her and gives her a hard shove causing her to trip forward before she falls to her knees.
Then he looks to Sophia and I.
My heart freezes behind my ribs and my lungs forget how to breathe.
“You,” he says, looking me in the eyes. “Come here.”
“No!” Sophia cries and jumps in front of me before I can take a step forward. “Take me instead.”
The goon’s lips curls up in a sneer and he all but leers at Sophia before saying, “You’ll have your turn, blondie. Now get the fuck out of the way.”
“Take care of Amanda,” I whisper, and try to take a step around her.
“No,” Sophia says and shakes her head in defiance. She steps in front of me, blocking me from moving.
“Sophia, don’t,” I hiss into her ear and nudge her out of the way.
I don’t want her getting hurt or killed on account of me.
“But…” Sophia protests, and her bottom lip trembles as I step around her.
“It will be okay,” I try to reassure her, but the truth of the situation is in my eyes.
It’s not going to be okay, but if we fight, we die, and I don’t want Sophia to die.
Right now we need to do whatever it takes to stay alive. Even obey their commands until we can come up with some kind of plan to get out of here.
“Take care of Amanda. She needs you right now.”
“Beth…” she says and reaches out as if to stop me.
“I don’t have time for this shit,” the goon says angrily. “Get your ass over here or I’ll take it out on your little friend.”
He nudges Amanda’s side with the tip of his boot and she cries out, curling away from him. “Bitch has already given me a headache with all her whining.”
That does it, there’s no more arguing over this. Turning away from Sophia, my spine stiffens when I hear her whimper, but I don’t stop walking as I approach the goon.
He grabs me hard by the arm and pulls me close. My lips press together and I resist the urge to cry out. I know from experience that these guys are more likely to let their guard down if we pretend to be cooperative.
“Let’s go,” he grunts, and even though I’m not trying to fight him, he starts to drag me out of the room.
“Beth,” Sophia says, and I glance over my shoulder to see her crying.
She looks terrified and helpless.
It hits me now, hard in the chest, that there’s a very real chance that I might not come back.
That I might never see her again.
“Don’t worry,” the goon grins just before slamming the door behind us. “It will be your turn next.”
The goon drags me down the hallway and up the dark set of stairs.
My eyes are no longer irritated and this time I have no problem seeing where we’re going. I take everything in, burning it into my memory. If we can get away, if we can get to someone important like Sophia’s father, the information will be invaluable.
Behind the doors, I hear others crying, whimpering. Some of the cries sound like women, but some of them also sound younger…
A sick sense of unease travels down my spine, curling in the pit of my stomach, and lifts all the little hairs across my flesh.
Do they have children here? Locked behind those doors?
I look to the goon, my eyes boring into the back of his head.
What kind of sick fucks are we dealing with?
Up the stairs, he tugs me and then takes a sharp left. I’m led down a dimly lit carpeted hallway and then through another door into what looks like
a locker room. The carpet gives way to tile and the air here is moist from a recent shower.
The goon’s grip on my arm relaxes and then he just starts to push me forward with a hand at the small of my back.
“Remove your clothes,” he orders coldly.
I’m given one more push around a tiled corner until I’m face to face with a long row of open showers.
I look to the showers and then back to him. Is he serious?
“Remove your clothes,” he repeats, and crosses his bulging arms over his chest. “Or I’ll do it for you.”
I take a step back, away from him, and my mind races for a way to get out of this. The thought of removing clothes in front of him, of being completely naked and vulnerable, is just too terrifying at the moment.
I’ve never been completely nude in front of a man before, and the clothes on my back are the last shred of dignity I have left.
The goon uncrosses his arms and takes a menacing step toward me.
“No, please,” I hear myself say and immediately hate myself for saying it.
I don’t want to beg. I don’t want to be weak or pathetic. But god dammit, how can he just expect me to strip like it’s nothing?
I take another step back, eyeing my options. I could try to make it past him, make a run for it… Then I see his fingers brush his waist. He’s carrying a gun.
Shit.
If only I had my own weapon, I might have a chance. I glance behind me then side to side, searching for something to use, but there’s only showers, a bench, and lockers.
“I had to help your little friend undress,” he says with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think I have much juice left in me…” He reaches down and adjusts his crotch. “But I’m sure I could find something for you.”
I stare at him, frozen in horror at the implications of what he just said. He undressed Amanda? What else did he do to her?
What will he do to me?
He takes another step forward and I quickly decide I much rather strip naked myself than have his hands on me.
He takes another step and I nearly jump out of my skin.