Choosers of the Slain pos-3

by John Ringo

  “Oh, agreed,” Yarok replied, sighing again. “But you’ll recall that I recommended increasing security at all facilities in this area. There were only the normal eight guards here.”

  “That should have been enough,” Boris snapped. “Especially with the Fijians. These Americans are wizards!”

  “Hardly,” Yarok said, musingly. “They took down the outer guards with snipers. Good ones, too. I have found one sniper point, I believe, and it was a seven hundred meter shot with a crosswind. That is a world-class sniper. However, with the outer guards down, that left only four. What I’m wondering is how they found the plan to the house.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To do something like this, this cleanly, you have to know where you are going,” Yarok said, rubbing his lips in thought. “You need a layout to the house. Otherwise you’re running around trying to find your targets. I would say, from the time that was given by the remaining guard, that they had to have the layout to the house. And given the defenses, I don’t see how they could have entered it beforehand. So…”

  “You’re saying we have a leak?” Boris asked coldly.

  “I’m saying it’s a possibility,” Yarok admitted.

  “I will look into this,” the Albanian promised.

  “Do,” Yarok replied. That will get you off my back while I take care of the real business. “In the meantime, I’m going to try to find where they ran to to hide. I doubt that Rozaje is going to be their last target. It will be interesting to see where their final destination lies.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mike leaned back in the beach chair and readjusted his sunglasses as a really stunning woman wearing barely a G-string walked by.

  “What did we get, Patrick?” he asked. The beaches of the Adriatic had their good points. At the moment, he was fixated on two of them.

  Getting across the border into Croatia had been relatively easy. There were dozens of small border crossings near Vinica and Ŏitluk that had lax security. Smuggling was endemic in the area and the few crossings that had guards were entirely revenue generators. They had been more than willing to take their usual cut for smuggling girls.

  The coast of Croatia had numerous islands and beaches and was a destination spot for summer tourists from throughout Eastern Europe. A quick change of demeanor and the group were tourists, schoolkids taking in the sun along the Adriatic. They’d even been able to check into a decent hotel for once.

  And all the Keldara girls had broken down and gotten swimsuits. For the cover of course. Most of them were far less daring than the lovely blonde, Czech or Slovak at a guess, who had just wandered by, but they were still an eyeful.

  “They apparently did get full audio and video on their clients,” Vanner said, tightly. “I only… audited it. But it’s pretty rough. The problem being, there are only five DVDs from the haul. And our girl isn’t on any of them.”

  “That’s good I suppose,” Mike said.

  “Yeah, but they’re only recent DVDs,” Vanner pointed out. “The rest were transported out to a town called Lunari.”

  “Crap,” Mike said, picking up his sunscreen and wiping some on his chest. He’d picked up a hell of a farmer’s tan over the winter and spring.

  “But…” Vanner said. “I’m not sure it matters. We got the rest of their records. They didn’t keep electronic records, but the files were solid. And there’s interesting news.”

  “Don’t keep me waiting,” Mike said, watching a couple of the Keldara girls splashing each other. He briefly considered joining them and then suppressed the idea.

  “The thing is, all the girls that went to Rozaje didn’t die,” Vanner said. “We’re having a hard time translating all the files since they’re in fucking Albanian. I’m having to scan them in and OCR them then run them through a translator. You know how funky that can come out. But we’re sure that some girls leave. Sometimes they had too many there. A client or clients wouldn’t show up, whatever. They’d end up with too many girls from time to time and they’d ship out the excess.”

  “Don’t tell me Natalya slipped through the cracks” Mike said, incredulously.

  “That’s the way it looks,” the intel specialist replied, grinning. “She got transported to Lunari along with a bundle of DVDs.”

  “Shit,” Mike said, sighing. “What do we have on Lunari?”

  “It’s not going to be fun,” Vanner admitted. “It’s the center for girl running, and drug running and gun running in Albania. Totally lawless. It’s controlled by about six different clans or gangs; there’s not much distinction. The government doesn’t even try to control it. Landlocked but not far from the sea. From the intel I’ve managed to get, not much, it’s also pretty carefully controlled. There are notes about elaborate security systems. And the gangs are heavily armed. There’s some stuff in the files on it, too, but… getting through all of them is going to take time. I could use some help on translation.”

  “Any idea where, exactly, the booty is?” Mike asked.

  “Yep,” Vanner said. “Natalya, and the DVDs, were sent to a particular brothel run by the Dejti gang.”

  “That’s a familiar name,” Mike mused.

  “He was, apparently, one of the guys in tight with the clan,” Vanner said. “That’s going to be an issue. Long term, at least.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Mike said, standing up. “I’m going swimming. Want to come?”

  “In a minute,” Vanner said, swallowing. “There’s something else. We didn’t get the DVDs, but we did get their client list and payment rendered for services, so to speak.”

  “And?” Mike asked, pausing.

  “I ran a bunch of names through the internet,” Vanner said, shaking his head. “It’s not exactly a Who’s Who, but there are a lot of… well, rich people at least. And a few that are just powerful. Jesus, Kildar, this data is political dynamite!”

  “I’d figured as much,” Mike said, sighing.

  “The former French commander of KFOR, for God’s sake!” Vanner said.

  “That explains the security,” Mike said, dryly. “What about our friend the senator?”

  “Senator Traskel isn’t on it,” Vanner said, tightly. “Neither is his son. But… there is someone you’ve heard of…”

  * * *

  “Oh… blast,” the President said, looking at the message.

  “There was just the one word, sir,” Pierson replied. “But I think the meaning is clear.”

  “Senator Grantham!” the secretary of defense snarled. “Impossible! I’ve known him for… decades!”

  Senator Pat Grantham was the senior senator from South Carolina, a staunch supporter of the President, noted for his religious views and outspoken religious conservatism. A determined but honorable in-fighter in the Senate, losing him would be a nasty political blow to the President’s agenda.

  “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men,” the national security advisor replied. “He was on the junket, too. I don’t see how it changes things.”

  “Well, it’s going to make our jobs harder,” the chief of staff pointed out. “I’d be more than happy to see Traskel gone. Grantham, on the other hand…”

  “There is no ‘other hand,’ ” the president said, definitely. “None. As with Senator Traskel, I’m going to wait on solid confirmation. But if we get it, Grantham will no longer be a senator. Period.”

  “The senator’s from another party…” the chief of staff pointed out.

  “I don’t care,” the president snarled. “Not One Damned Bit. I doubt I can give him the justice that he so richly deserves. But he will no longer be a senator of the United States.”

  * * *

  Mike was surprised at the extent to which the Keldara girls were willing to play a little grab-ass. He’d put it down to the “Kildar” effect, but they were playing with the militiamen as well. Hell, even Oksana was out there, playing in the very small waves. Mike hadn’t tried any grab-ass with her, only to find
the girl, along with some of the Keldara girls trying to tackle him. He’d let them dunk him and then swam through their legs, pulling them under and then pushing them back to the surface; very few of them were strong swimmers. They’d been amazed and alarmed at how long he could hold his breath.

  The problem with the grab-ass was that it was getting him horny. And the Keldara girls were off-limits. So, for different reasons, were the girls they’d “picked up.” He still wasn’t sure what to do with them. Transferring them from sexual slavery to the harem, a different form of sexual slavery for all extents and purposes, didn’t seem like a decent use of his time. Something would have to be done, but that was for another day.

  With a certain amount of reluctance he finally climbed out of the water and wandered back to his beach chair. Which was occupied.

  “You’re…” Mike said and then paused.

  “Daria,” the girl replied, getting up. She was about nineteen at a guess, one of the girls they’d recovered from Rozaje. Tall and statuesque, she had a great set of knockers and an air of naivete that had to be an act. “Sorry, was I in your chair… Kildar?”

  “Call me Mike,” Mike said, waving for her to get back in the chair as he squatted down by it. “How are you doing?”

  “The nightmares are less,” the girl said quietly. “We knew what we were there for; the guards made sure to tell us. And we could hear some of it. Girls would leave and not come back. I was sick when I arrived and I wasn’t presented.”

  “Good thing,” Mike said. “I’m sure you would have been a first pick.”

  “Thank you so much,” Daria replied, her face tight. “I thought the same. The doctor had just given me a clean bill of health. They told me I was going to be presented to the next… customer.”

  “And now you’re not,” Mike said. “Be happy. Enjoy the sunshine knowing you’re going to get to keep enjoying it.”

  “Am I?” Daria asked, pointedly.

  “Uhmmm, yes,” Mike responded. “Right now, I can’t afford to let you leave. You’re still, effectively, a prisoner. But you won’t be raped or beaten and when this mission is done I’ll drop you anywhere you care. Back home if that’s what you want.”

  “Home,” Daria said, quietly. “I don’t know if I recognize the word. If you’re talking about the Ukraine, there is nothing there for me.”

  “We’ll figure something out,” Mike said, picking up his sunglasses.

  “Where do you live?” Daria asked. “In Georgia? But you are American.”

  “I’ve got reasons to live there,” Mike said, shrugging.

  “And you have a house there,” the girl said, tilting her head to the side.

  “And a harem.” Mike shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve been talking to the Keldara girls.”

  “Is that where we will go?” she asked carefully.

  “For a time,” Mike said, shrugging again. “Until we figure out what else to do with you. I’ve got to figure something out; the caravanserai’s going to fill up with women otherwise and then it’ll be nag, nag, nag all day and night. ‘Kildar, when will I have my turn? Kildar, can I have a new dress? Kildar, am I the prettiest?’ ” He grinned at the girl and was surprised to get a grin in return.

  “I can tell you live with women,” Daria said. “You have that look.”

  “Domesticated, that’s me,” Mike sighed. “Just a hopeless love slave to women’s desire…”

  “And you get nothing?” Daria asked lightly.

  “Oh, I suppose so,” Mike said, grinning again. “But I try to give as good as I get.”

  “I get nothing,” Daria said, shrugging. “I was virgin until…”

  “Get a good job in Western Europe?” Mike asked.

  “Yes, but, I knew about the problems with that,” Daria said, frowning. “The thing was, the person who… sold me was my boyfriend!”

  “Ouch,” Mike said, shaking his head. “That’s cold.”

  “He said that he knew someone who could get me a job in Belgium,” Daria continued, looking out at the sea. “I am trained as secretary, yes? I can read and write in English, French and German. My boyfriend… well, he is not great man. Has no job but… I like him.”

  “I had a girlfriend one time. She said that she was a bum magnet,” Mike said, nodding. “She wasn’t, by the way, referring to me. But… there are women who attract those sorts of guys like flies.”

  “That is me,” Daria continued, her nose thinning in remembrance. “He is introduce me to another man who said he had contacts with business in Belgium…”

  “I’m sure he did,” Mike said dryly.

  “We meet… three times before I agree to take job,” Daria said, sighing. “He is having letterhead and letters of employment. But I have not the exit visa or entry visa, so Pasha…”

  “Pasha?” Mike said, crinkling his brow. “Ahmed Pasha?”

  “That was his name, yes,” Daria said. “And there was another man with him, Peter…”

  “Looked like Santa Claus?” Mike asked.

  “Yes!” Daria said, turning to look at him.

  “You need to talk to Oksana,” Mike said, his jaw working. “So, you certainly didn’t make it to Belgium.”

  “They took me over the border to Moldava,” Daria said. “There…”

  “They raped you, beat you and took away your passport,” Mike said. “So you couldn’t leave without their aid. And sold you to the Albanians.”

  “Yes,” Daria said, turning back to look at the ocean.

  “Run into a guy named Dejti?” Mike asked.

  “Yes,” Daria replied, quietly.

  “Well, he sleeps with the fishes.”

  Daria paused and frowned, then shrugged.

  “That means nothing to me,” she admitted.

  “American slang,” Mike replied. “It means I broke both his knees and then shot him through the head and dumped his body in a lake.”

  “Oh,” Daria said, breathing out. “Oh.”

  “I doubt you ran into a man named Nicu…”

  “In Romania,” Daria said, her face hard. “It was he who sent me to Rozaje.” She paused and quirked an eyebrow. “Fishes?”

  “Fishes.”

  “I am not sure how I feel about that,” she admitted.

  “That’s because you’re a nice girl,” Mike replied. “And I am not a nice man.”

  “That I don’t believe,” Daria said, laughing breathlessly. “If you were not a nice man, we would have been left in the villa, still chained up, waiting for the next men to take us.”

  “Believe it,” Mike said flatly. “Because I do nice things, does not mean I’m a nice man. The men who raped you, the men who beat you, simply do the things I would like to do. And occasionally do when a young lady likes that sort of thing. I’m not a nice man. A nice man would not beat another human being to death with a sledgehammer.”

  “Dejti?” Daria asked.

  “Nicu’s boss,” Mike replied.

  “Dejti poked my breast with needles,” Daria said, softly. “And shocked me with electric cables. He hit me in the belly so hard I was peeing blood. He didn’t leave any scars on the outside…”

  “But he left them on the inside,” Mike said.

  “Many.” She paused again and then shrugged. “You know women who like this sort of thing?”

  “My harem manager for one,” Mike said, smiling faintly. “Anastasia used to… belong to a shiek in Uzbekistan. She told me she was happy to come work for me, because he would not hit her hard enough. She likes to be whipped and hurt. Giving her what she wants, without causing scars, is hard.”

  “She is your harem manager?” Daria said, shaking her head. “I have a hard time thinking about that.”

  “They are girls that I picked up for various reasons,” Mike replied. “I didn’t know what to do with them, so I kept them as girlfriends, concubines really. They can leave any time, I even offer them a stake to get started. None of them took me up on it. When they get old enough to make it i
n the world, and educated enough, I’ll kick them out the door. In the meantime I’m giving them an education and a chance for a real life.”

  “And they give you sex?” Daria said tightly.

  “I don’t force them,” Mike said, shrugging. “Most of them were from small farms in the mountains. They considered it an honor, which surprised me. The thing they call me, Kildar, is a sort of nobleman in the area. But… yes, they give me sex. You can say they pay their way that way, but I prefer to think of it as consensual. We all live with the lies we tell ourselves.”

  “Yes,” Daria said, sitting back and sighing. “That we do.”

  “So what do you think I should do with these girls?” Mike asked. “I’ve got everything from Oksana, registered virgin and orphan with nowhere to go to… you, I suppose. I assume you have somewhere to go back to?”

  “If I could face it,” Daria said. “My parents told me not to leave. They did not like my boyfriend.”

  “Looking them in the eye will be tough,” Mike admitted. “But… ‘home is where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.’ ”

  “And where is your home?” Daria asked.

  Mike stopped and blinked. Home still meant the U.S. to him. His parents were dead; he hadn’t talked to his sister in… years.

  “Thanks for asking,” Mike said, frowning. “The answer is, I don’t have one.”

  “You should have a home,” Daria said, frowning in turn. “You are a good man, you should have a good home.”

  “I suppose it’s with the Keldara,” Mike replied, still frowning. “They are the closest thing to family I have. For years, home was the Navy, the Teams and BUD/S. I was married, but that came apart after I got out. Now… I don’t know.”

  “You should marry again,” Daria said definitely.

  “When I find the right girl, maybe,” Mike replied. The sun was slowly descending to the west and the temperature was dropping steadily. He wasn’t bothered by it, he’d gotten used to far worse on beaches all over the world, but the girls were getting out of the water and shivering. “Looks like time for dinner,” he added, standing up.