by Tony Lavely
Jamse led the rest of the team further up the stairs, to the top. They fanned out in pairs. Since deVeel had paired with Mike, Susan trailed Jamse. Each of the pairs smoothly opened a door and slipped into the opened room. The infrared goggles they wore were not attractive, but they did make movement in the darkened rooms less hazardous. By chance, Jamse covered Susan as she entered the first bedroom. Even on the green viewing screens, both could see that the figure twisting on the bed was female, alone and not one of the two they had sent.
The nightmare Cari was trying to escape featured shouts in the distance. She wasn’t reassured to open her eyes and discover two impressively alien faces looking down at her from a distance of about fifteen inches. Before she could get far enough out of her nightmare to scream, something detached from the larger face and covered her mouth. She felt a hand holding her mouth closed, so she couldn’t scream or bite or even talk. The one holding her nodded to the other, who quickly doffed goggles, becoming almost magically a normal, attractive, if tousled, woman.
“Hey, are you going to be okay? What’s your name? We’re here to help,” she said, then paused, waiting for something. Cari relaxed infinitesimally; when she did the woman continued, “Okay? Will you be quiet till you’ve heard us?” Again a pause until Cari responded. Once she nodded, the hand left her face and the woman dropped to sit beside her on the bed. Cari watched the man remove his goggles; he became human as well.
“Hi. My name’s Sue and this is the Boss.” She spoke with assurance. Cari allowed information with no content to flow around her, taking her time coming to grips with the two confident strangers in her nightmare, or imagination, or room. The Boss gathered other strangers at the door; they reported that the floor’s other rooms were empty.
“Okay, what’s your name? We’re looking for someone called, wait, don’t tell me…”
“I’m Cari Betheler,” Cari said weakly.
“That’s the magic word!” Sue crowed. “Wait, the duck should appear any second now.” Cari stared and the man turned back from the door while Sue continued, “Well, not a duck, but—”
“I apologize for Susan’s sense of humor,” the man said. “She is excellent at her job, which fortunately includes neither stand-up comedy nor Groucho Marx imitations. May I understand that you are Carina Betheler?” Cari nodded. “We are here to recover you. Are you well? Have you been subjected to any indignities?”
“Mr. Boss,” Cari started, but could not continue. Her sudden tears told the depth of her fear and stress, and surprised especially her. Even before she could react, Cari found herself in the man’s arms; he held her until the sobs subsided.
“Sir,” she began again, “I think I’m okay and I haven’t been mistreated, though I’m not sure what the plan was. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you, especially if you’re telling the truth.”
“Cari,” Susan said, “the one thing we don’t do is lie. Now, if you’re ready, we should get going. We’ve still got two more girls to find and then to get out of here.”
At the door, a commotion in the hall stopped them. The door was closed; as Cari waited, still in shock, the man took her hand and pulled her back. Susan took her position next to the jamb. She inched the handle down, trying to see what was happening on the other side. The noise subsided slightly and she held up her hand. Cari froze in place.
Susan cracked the door and looked through, then pulled it open, slipped into the hall and drew it closed behind her.
Cari looked at the man in camouflage standing next to her, now feeling self-conscious about her nightgown.
He smiled, seeming to follow her thought. “Perhaps while we wait, you would prefer to don clothes more suitable for traveling?”
“Yeah, that’d be a good idea.” She opened the closet, sorting haphazardly before selecting a pair of brown corduroy slacks and a maroon silk shirt.
“Much more suitable, I believe,” he told her with a comfortable nod. “Let us see what awaits.” He shut off the lights and opened the huge door. The hall was still dark; Cari saw him slip his night vision goggles back into place. She gave him her hand and he made his way out.
As Cari and the Boss slunk along the hallway, noises became louder behind and below them. Looking about, he cast a glance down the staircase then kept Cari close as he guided her toward the stairs at the end of the hallway, the stairs leading to the door and her freedom. Descending, they came upon another uniform-clad man waiting at the foot of the stairs.
“Please escort Ms Betheler to our car and ensure her safety until we return. It is she we came to free; I do not wish to lose her.” At the man’s nod, the Boss turned and made his way back up the wide staircase.
With a signal to one of his men to assume his position, the new man took Cari’s hand and led her to a car, letting her slide into the back seat before taking a position next to the door where he could observe while remaining under cover.
“Miss, please lie down, so as not to be seen.” She did as he asked, waiting, beginning to cry again with the seeming release of tension.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Massage
BECKIE LAY MORE QUIETLY THAN she thought possible. She guessed that the woman had nearly finished rubbing lotion into her skin, and by extension, Melissa’s too. Both had been bade turn over once their backsides were complete, and the women had started on their fronts, one at Beckie’s head, the other at Melissa’s feet. The choice of starting point seemed to be arbitrary, determined by habit. Beckie’s tender parts had never felt like that before, nor had her skin ever been treated to a lotion that left the skin soft, supple and smooth without feeling greasy, or even as if something had been rubbed into it.
Hands continued to smooth Beckie’s feet. She had wiggled once, being ticklish there. Immediately the woman had modified her touch; the feeling had faded away. A quick glance over to see Melissa’s cheeks, jaw and neck being massaged.
At the first sound of disturbance, Beckie raised her head slightly. The women looked at each other, but then resumed their work. As the sounds grew in intensity and import, if not in volume, Beckie’s massage slowed, then stopped. The women stood by the tables; their charges forgotten. Beckie saw the door open and an arm snake through the opening to swipe at the light switch. The room crashed into black.
DeVeel hoped the resulting darkness would keep anyone from seeing he and Mike move into the room.
Damn! He heard a raspy zipper sound. One of the woman had recovered too quickly from her initial shock; she took something from a jacket pocket.
DeVeel saw her reach for the table beside her and yanked one of the girls—he couldn’t identify her in the goggles’ viewscreen and the girl’s “Ow!” gave no clues—off the table and to her. He pushed Mike to the side and stepped toward the woman, trusting in the goggles and that her eyes had not yet recovered from the sudden transition from light to dark.
In his glasses, deVeel saw the woman move. She dragged the girl up to her, holding her hand against the girl’s chest, not tense but professional. DeVeel could see the cool shadow of a knife against the girl’s warm skin.
“Stop!” She continued to shout in Italian and then in English: “I will kill the girl! I will kill her if you do not do as I say.”
Everyone froze. DeVeel watched one of the other women collapse, forcing one of the tables aside. He silently cheered as Mike, hidden by the clatter and noise, grabbed the second girl off her table and dropped to the floor, covering her as they landed.
DeVeel tracked the woman with the knife as she looked around, still affected by the dark. He kept absolutely still. He spent a glance looking where Mike had tumbled to the floor. Looking back to the knife, it had not wavered. Another glance to see the third woman backed against a wall, out of the way.
The silence was deafening.
“What do you want?” deVeel shouted.
“I will take the girls and leave,” came the response.
Hoping Mike would take the hint and move the girl he�
��d fallen with out of sight, at least far enough to last through the diversion, deVeel called, “There is only the girl you hold.” He did not waste another glance to see if Mike acted, but watched the knife, hoping to see it waver.
“I take her. The other, she will be found.”
DeVeel watched as the woman began to slide-step along the table toward the door, forcing the girl ahead. DeVeel stepped aside, out of the woman’s way.
“Turn on the light!” the woman called.
DeVeel backed farther away from the door and stood still. He watched as the woman sidled toward the door. Finally her hand touched the wall beside the door. In the viewscreen, the handle turned before she could find it.
Suddenly, the door swung sharply open and the woman was caught in the bend of Jamse’s elbow, gasping for breath. DeVeel reached to grab the knife hand before Beckie was injured, then flipped his goggles out of the way and hit the light switch, flooding the room with light. “Mike, where are you? And…” He recognized Beckie, blood flowing freely from a long gash. “Melissa?”
Mike and Melissa popped up over the lip of the sunken tub.
“Bring a towel or something!” deVeel ordered.
Mike grabbed a towel and threw it to deVeel, who used it to staunch the blood flow. Jamse carried the woman he held to the nearer table where he dropped her.
“Another towel, Michael, please.”
Mike cast about briefly before finding another bath towel. He tossed it to Jamse who first slit it, then used the pieces to immobilize the woman. Mike turned to pick up the gowns and hand them to Melissa; she shook her head and went to the closet. She returned dressed in usable clothing, carrying pants and a shirt for Beckie.
A slight commotion caught deVeel’s attention. Jamse had succeeded in securing the knife-wielding woman to the top of the table, but as he did, she’d resisted. Briefly. When he chuckled, Jamse glanced at him, but hurriedly looked away. Oh, yeah. Beckie’s slashed breast is right out there on display; Ian’ll not need any reminders. He folded the towel and applied pressure on the wound. He studied it to make sure that not only was she covered, the gash was held together and the bleeding staunched.
He felt a touch on his shoulder. “Check the hallway once you are finished. Will she require stitches?”
“In my non-medical opinion, no. But Three’s got the training and the kit. I’ll send her back.” He placed Beckie’s hand on the towel, then opened the door to peer out into the darkened hall.
“Looks clear from here. I’ll go out and check the others. When I get back, we should be able to go. Stay here, and keep quiet,” he hissed.
Before the door had closed, Beckie reached for the clothes Melissa carried.
“Don’t worry ‘bout my shirt, Lissa. So… Three can look…” She pulled the shirt together and buttoned the pants. “Mr…” Unsure how she should address Jamse now that Sue was ‘Three,’ she plucked his sleeve.
He turned sharply, but the look was surprise and… Is he happy? Beckie wondered.
“There was a woman in the car with us,” she said, “and the plane, who acted like she was in charge,” rubbing her cheek once more. “She said she worked for him.”
“Do you recall her appearance?”
“Yeah. Her name is Cäcilie, she said. Not quite as tall as Mike, maybe thirty or so. Short blonde hair and hazel eyes, I think.” She glanced at Melissa, who nodded. “Sorry, I’m not very good at guessing ages.”
“That is fine. Thank you. Relax now.” He surprised her once more by straightening her shirt and then running a finger along her jaw.
His light caress made Beckie’s knees weak. I’d get cut again for another of those!
Her breath steadied, but she gasped again at the speed of the team’s actions. Sue came through the door and applied antiseptic and bandages to the gash in Beckie’s breast; she then led the way through the house and with a parting word to Jamse, into her car. Beckie pushed at Melissa and Mike, hurrying them into the back seat, crouching there with them.
After they were clear of the villa’s immediate area, Sue allowed them to climb out of the footwells and take more usual seating. Nighttime traffic in the city—Beckie reflected that she still had no idea where they were—was typically moderate, and Sue made excellent time. She approached the civil operations entrance to the airport without hesitation.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Saved From
BECKIE ASSUMED THAT LIKE HER, the others slept their way back to London, once Sue explained only that they were leaving Rome post haste. In the Marriott, therefore, Beckie was tense as Jamse and deVeel came through the door. Still don’t know what’s going on!
“How is everyone?” Jamse asked.
“All fine,” Susan replied.
Yeah, sure!
“Very well then. There is little else for us to do beyond returning Rebecca, Melissa and Michael to their homes.”
Beckie gasped then held up her hand. “Wait a second. How about Cari? And what else is going to happen? Like the guys who took us? And the club place, Nigel’s? And you guys?”
“Quite a list of questions, miss,” retorted deVeel.
“Well, don’t you think we earned a little information?”
“Quite right. Ian?”
Jamse waved to the sofa and chairs. “Please find a seat. As Mr. deVeel says, you can share the information we have. Before arriving here, we left Carina with Doctor Stone, who will make sure she remains safe.” The others had found seats; Jamse leaned against the sofa’s arm beside Beckie. “We are holding Werner near the airport; we believe, although the details are not yet finalized, that we will release him in a wilderness area. While he makes his way back to civilization, we will do our best to force financial reverses on his holdings, attempting to profit in the exchange.” He nodded to Susan. “We will also speak with the European police agencies, to help prevent him repeating this crime.
“The London police have been advised of Nigel’s activities and they will watch the club.”
He stood. Beckie looked up, then moved over allowing him to sit beside her. He turned sideways to look at her and Melissa. He gave a sigh, then looked away. “You will return home, wiser, but more experienced than I wished. For this, I apologize.” He turned back to Beckie. “Especially to you two.”
Beckie put her hand on Jamse’s arm and looked at him again. “But we got Cari back. I think that makes up for a lot of things.”
Leaning against the window, deVeel looked over at them. “Yes, it does. Cari’s back. Other than you, there were no injuries, and the plan came together like Ian thought it would. Contrariwise,” he continued past Jamse’s grimace, “we all, and Ian especially, are upset about the level of education you received at the club, and your injury. The injury particularly was unintended, and we can’t make up for it. Aside from that, as you said, we mark it a successful mission, on balance.”
He stood and walked toward the minibar. “We’ll review other jobs about which we’ve been approached and choose one to take, once we’ve run Werner out of the way.” He looked about. “Does that answer most of your questions?”
Beckie drew breath to speak, but deVeel’s phone rang. As he pulled it from his pocket, she leaned back against the sofa again.
“Hello?” A pause. “Just a sec, I’m gonna put this on the speaker, so you won’t have to go through it over and over. Hang on.
“Sue, how do you make this a speaker?” To Jamse: “It’s Miguel. Their search of the villa turned up some interesting information regarding the girls’ potential fates.”
Beckie pushed closer to Melissa as Susan tapped the phone and then waved to deVeel.
“Miguel, have I lost you?” deVeel asked.
“Not yet, Kevin, I am still here.”
“Go ahead, then. Tell us what you found.”
“Si. Who is there?”
Jamse stood and walked to the desk. “I am, and Ms Jinet, the girls and Michael, in addition to Mr. DeVeel.”
“Okay. I beli
eve some of this conversation should not be held on an unsecured line, but I also feel that you need to act upon it very soon. I will touch highlights, without detail.”
“Excellent.”
“We found a large safe in the basement of the villa and through good luck, we were able to penetrate it. You haven’t disposed of the owner yet, have you?”
“Not yet.”
“Here is what we found. Other girls who have come through the villa have been recorded, along with their destinations once they left. These records cover forty-two girls, all having much the same appearance as our three. Of them, ten were disposed of due to injury or illness. I assume that means permanently.”
“Likely,” agreed deVeel.
Beckie shuddered. To be killed just ‘cause you’re sick… Melissa must have agreed; she was clutching her arm.
“Si. Twelve of the girls, older, were offered to various clients, mostly in the Mideast. Others of this group went to the Americas, North and South. Your two were listed in this group.
“The last twenty, who were the younger ones, were well taken care of during their stay at the villa, then shipped off, but in a different manner than the others.”
“What do you mean?” Jamse asked.
“They weren’t sold, exactly, but were taken to some place Werner calls ‘R-P.’ It appears, from the records, to be a high class bordello for clients who desire younger girls. It seems to be combined with other operations, but we haven’t found anything that describes them further.”
“Well,” sighed deVeel. “That probably puts paid to our plan to return him to society, poorer but wiser. What time span did this cover? And how is this information stored?”
Beckie felt Melissa’s grip tighten again. She turned from watching Jamse and deVeel to look at her friend. Melissa was focused on the phone, her face white. Little tears were forming at the corner of the eye Beckie could see. Mike was holding her shoulder, trying to whisper in her ear. Good luck with that, Mike. She turned back to listen to the phone.