by Tony Lavely
“Bait, huh? Been there, done that, didn’t even get a tee shirt.” She giggled. “Is this the only plan you offer? Sounds a lot like what I was doin’ up till tonight.”
He sighed. “There is more similarity than I like. However, critical nuances differ. You will be in the United States rather than here.” He returned to the sofa and sat. “And we do have some information Ms Jinet may not have shared. The pilot who ferried Carina around Europe on her way to Rome has made our acquaintance and is, we believe, willingly working with us. He has assisted us greatly with the encoded messages Werner uses to arrange travel and transportation. He has begun the process of reestablishing his communication path to Werner’s people in Germany. This is prior to your agreement, I know. We will utilize him in a different way, should you demur.”
“No. But what will we try to do, after?”
“Provisionally, he will profess to having been contacted by one of us who is disaffected by his current arrangements, and seeks a better deal. He will say that this new deal could be with Werner, and offer one of the girls taken from Werner’s villa, whom he will deliver in the United States.” Jamse looked into Beckie’s eyes from across the coffee table. “This would be you, of course, the unique thing you offer.” Beckie nodded.
“Mr. deVeel is playing the part along with M. Fereré, the pilot, and will ask Werner for €250,000, half of which must be paid up front as earnest money. The balance will be due once you are in Werner’s hands. We anticipate that Werner will demand proof, first, that you are one of the girls of which he nearly had the advantage in Rome, and second, that Mr. deVeel can actually deliver on his promise.
“M. Fereré expects that additional evidence will be needed, along with proof that you are actually in his control. And do not forget, while we believe it is he we seek, he may not be.” He sighed. “In any event, no offer which attaches to you will be made without your consent.”
“What kind of proof? Or evidence? Not sure I understand.”
“Photos or video will likely suffice for both. At least, that is our hope.” Beckie returned his wry smile. “If it is a concern, you need not fear Mr. deVeel.”
Her smile became honest. “That’s not something I was concerned about.” But she wasn’t completely reassured. She glanced at her father; his wrinkled forehead suggested he felt the same. “I sense there’s maybe something you haven’t mentioned.”
“M. Fereré has advised us that one of Werner’s business activities is on-line, on the Internet, the operation of what are euphemistically called ‘lolita’ web sites. These sites provide images of girls, generally nude or essentially so, I am told, to a clientele willing to pay for memberships. M. Fereré suggested that photos of that sort would serve the dual purpose of identifying you as the girl offered, and also that you are sufficiently under their sway to permit the taking of such images.”
“Oh.” Her voice was very small. She didn’t look to see her father’s reaction.
After a moment thinking about doing what she’d been doing on-stage in front of a camera instead, she sat up and said, “What you’ve said seems a little… sketchy, maybe?”
“Indeed.” Jamse gave her another of his tight smiles. “Details are necessarily lacking, depending as they must on Werner’s response. Our hope is that he will direct Mr. deVeel to deliver you to the brothel himself. Unfortunately, that does seem unlikely.” He sighed again, though not as heavily as before.
Guess not bein’ in control bothers him, a lot. Like it does Dad.
“Additionally,” Jamse continued, “it seems likely that whatever the arrangements, precautions will be taken against tracking devices, and indeed, against the chance that Mr. deVeel may not be as disaffected as he makes out. All these argue for care to be taken at every turn, making advance planning even more difficult.
“By requiring the delivery and payment to be accomplished in the United States, we hope to avoid moving you to the Italian villa again, or another of Werner’s facilities.”
With a grimace that she didn’t have to fake, Beckie rose; at the window, staring into the dark of the London night, she wondered if Jamse’s scheme would actually fool Werner. But if his ego’s big enough, Kevin might be able to pull it off. And maybe he’ll want revenge, too.
Ok, Beck. How about having pictures spread across everywhere? If I worry that… Well, then, I back out. No other option. Still peering vacantly at the lights, she pulled her pony tail out, then made it again, letting it fall over her shoulder. Yeah. He trusts me. I trust him. He’ll tell me if something better will work. So might as well get to it. She spun on her foot and took her seat. “What do we do, then, since we can’t plan very well?”
“Hmm,” Jamse said. “This seems a good point at which to show you a few minutes of video found in the villa. Remember that this is the man we are discussing. And yes, I hope to dissuade you, still.” He waved Beckie’s objection away. “Just watch, please.”
He turned toward the television and pushed Play on the recorder. Beckie was surprised at the tension she felt building watching scenes she had seen before.
But then it changed. Two girls were pushed into frame by a tall white-haired man. He looked younger than Beckie had thought, then she realized she had no reason to think about him at all. Thirty-five or forty, I guess. A lot taller than those girls, and they don’t look all that short. Tanned, I guess, with those blue eyes.
“Werner. We have not identified the girls.” The time stamp in the corner of the screen proved the editing; the original ran twenty-five or so minutes while the edited version ran less than six, sufficient, however, to show the girls being stripped and raped. Then, calmly, deliberately, Werner strangled each of the girls in turn.
“As graphic and horrifying as this is…” Jamse began. He really meant this for me. “…you must understand the danger into which you wish to place yourself. I have agreed to abide by your decision, but make no mistake, I believe that I speak for everyone involved: you should return home.”
“Leaving it to the professionals?” she finished for him. “While your show filled in details about Mr. Werner, details that I probably could’ve done without, there’s nothing in it that I haven’t had nightmares about already.” She paused. “One thing surprised me though. He used his hands to kill those girls. I was thinkin’ he’d have used a gun or have someone else do it, but that, that’s personal. That’s surprising.”
“I understand—”
“I don’t,” Jim snapped, taking all her attention. “I don’t understand why you are willing to risk yourself in the face of that… that obscenity!” He stopped short. Beckie could see him force himself to breathe, to speak more rationally, but his words were still sharp, stinging: “Will you explain it, to me?”
Before he finished, Beckie leaned back and turned toward him, moving to hug his arm. “You said it yourself, Daddy,” she whispered in his ear. Perhaps if he strained, Jamse could hear, but it was important to her only that Jim did. “You raised Mike and me to do the right thing. And Werner is an obscenity, though I wasn’t thinking about it that way. He needs to be taken care of, cleaned up. I have to do this because getting rid of him is right.” She looked up to see that his anger had cooled. Or pushed away. She raised her voice so Jamse could also hear. “If we need someone to blame besides Werner, it’d have to be him…” She tipped her head deliberately toward Jamse. “Taking Mike and me to Hawai’i, while it turned out well, certainly gave me a first hand understanding of what those two girls were feeling—” Her sudden sob surprised her. “And what the ones in California feel… I hope they still feel…”
“As do we all.”
She lowered her voice once more. “So, Dad, I hav’ta do this or forever so regret not doin’ it, ‘cause I’m the girl you and Mom raised up, and everything that’s happened to me, like from forever.” She leaned away again, and added the strength of her bright-eyed gaze to her words. “This is the right thing for me to do.” She took her father’s hands in hers. “Kin
da like the right thing for you to do is tell me it’s stupid.” With a grin, she looked up again, then to forestall his objections, she added, “Or not smart, at least.
“And it’s not like I’m by myself, now. You’re here now, and Mr. Jamse, too. And prob’ly Kevin and Sue and everyone will be working hard at keepin’ me safe.”
“I didn’t see anyone on stage with you.”
“And that is good. If you’d seen Lissa and me in April, well, we really don’t understand how Mike is able to treat us pretty much like he does any of the other girls at school.”
“He’s grown up a lot; more than we’d realized.”
“Don’t worry, Daddy.” Her grin felt huge. This is okay! “We’ve still got a lot of kid left in us, both of us. You haven’t missed it all, yet.” She kissed his ear. “So, do you understand, a little?”
He took her in his arms, holding her close. “I understand that I won’t change your mind. I don’t understand the depth of your feelings about this, and I honestly believe you need to be careful about getting as involved as you have with this.” He tipped his head away; Beckie could see the unease in his eyes. “It frightens me. Crusaders, evangelists, dictators, all demonstrate the kind of feeling I see in you.”
“That’s not bad, necessarily?”
“No, not necessarily. The part that scares me is the direction you are headed, and that you’re too young—”
“No, dammit!” Her head grazed his cheek as she straightened, knocking a few of his cuts open again. “I am not too young. I can make decisions about what to do. The education your taxes pay for doesn’t cover anything that relates to things in life. Like this. What good is Social Studies to the girls on that tape? Or to the girls in California? Or Math, or Biology? What we’re missing is maybe experience. So yeah, you collect experience as you get older, but believe me, this decision will not be improved with experience. Or do either of you think I should be out on the street so I can find out what it’s like bein’ beaten and screwed by a pimp, and givin’ him all the money I get from givin’ blowjobs and hand jobs to businessmen?
“One thing we were told in class is that kids, teenagers, tend to think in binary. You know, one-zero, black and white. Adults learn that there are steps, shades of gray, like, in things. But…” She stopped for a breath. “But this is not one of those things. It’s clear that he needs to be stopped. It’s pretty clear that if I can help, and don’t, I have screwed up major. If I had my own kids who depended on me, I might not be as anxious to force myself on Mr. Jamse, making him find a way to use me, but I’d still help if I could.” She sat back.
“I’m sorry to go all ballistic on you. It’s jus’ that all you adults act like an 18 year old who’s lived in a box all her life is better prepared to be an adult than me, say. Jus’ because she’s eighteen. Doesn’t work.” She wiped some blood from Jim’s chin where she’d hit it, then pulled her hair back over her shoulder and slid around to face her father. “I’m gonna do this with Mr. Jamse, and I’m gonna ask you to come, along with Mom. And Mike and Melissa, too, if they will.” She turned to Jamse. “We do need to go home, right?”
“We need to return to the United States. I do not know if that is what you meant; we would be best served traveling to New Mexico. I am completely at ease having your family join you there. Perhaps,” with a note of good natured kidding in his voice and one of the most pleasant smiles he’d given her since April, “they can bring sensibility to you.” He turned to Jim to ask, “Will you be willing to accompany us to Santa Fe?”
Jim nodded quickly. “Anything to help Beckie out. And I’m sure that Jean and Mike, and Melissa, too, will be anxious to help anyway they can, even if they can’t change her mind.”
“Very well. I shall arrange their travel.” Turning to Beckie, “May we leave later today?”
Jim left the room while Jamse made arrangements. When he put the phone down, she asked, “Do you really think you can stop this guy?”
He faced her while leaning back against sofa’s arm. “I do. I hope that your participation will make it sooner. I also hope fervently that we are successful quickly enough that the girls can be rescued. That hope, however, is rapidly diminishing.”
“So, we should get back and get started.”
“As you say.”
Before she could ask the next question, Jamse’s phone rang. When Jim returned, they listened to Jamse’s typically laconic conversation. When he finished, he said, “Boynton has booked us on the 8 AM flight from Heathrow. Our car will be here at 4:30.”
Beckie gave him a nod, then she and Jim left, hand in hand.
The aircraft left on schedule. Boynton had arranged for a flight that terminated in Dallas with an onward connection to Santa Fe. Even with short notice, he had been able to ticket Jean, Melissa and Mike to arrive the next day, in Albuquerque.
CHAPTER NINE
To New Mexico
BECKIE SPENT MUCH OF THE time between leaving London and arriving at the Albuquerque airport asleep. Even so, she felt not at all rested standing at the gate with Jim. The higher altitude wasn’t helping, though deVeel told her she’d get used to it. Along with Jamse and deVeel, she and her father were awaiting the arrival of the rest of their family. And friend. An exultation of small fighter planes used the runway; she watched them take off and land in pairs until commercial traffic appeared.
In Baggage Claim, Beckie’s hug with her mother was as warm as she’d hoped, though it was over more quickly than she expected. Jean turned from greeting her daughter to greeting her husband. After an initial kiss and hug, she was solicitous of his face, with the little scabs that remained. The warmth of her greeting with Jamse surprised Beckie. I’ll have to ask her about that.
Mike and Melissa weren’t quite as forgiving.
“Beckie,” Mike said with an uncomfortable glance, “we thought, I don’t know—”
“He’s tryin’ to ask why you didn’t talk to us?”
“Kevin, can we ride with you?” He nodded and Beckie pointed her parents toward Jamse’s car. “We have to discuss some things, Mom. And Kevin won’t get lost, believe me!” She pushed Mike and Melissa in Kevin’s direction. The arrangement allowed the friends freedom of expression and both Mike and Melissa took advantage, to Beckie’s discomfort and Kevin’s amusement.
Finally, Beckie settled their discussion by asking, “If you’re so mad at me, why’d you come?” They admitted their anger was mainly due to fear of what had happened; they’d come hoping they’d be allowed to help. It didn’t take Beckie long to respond to that. Kevin smiled.
Almost before Beckie had settled in at the resort, Susan knocked on the door. “We’re about to listen to Derek update Ian about what they found in the documents from Werner’s safe. If you want, you could listen, too.”
The invitation surprised Beckie—I thought they’d stash us all in a corner, only drag me out when it got to be time. I guess Mr. Jamse’s serious about trying to use me. No pressure! She glanced at the others and agreed.
“Dad,” she said before standing, “will you be able to come? Or are you still working?”
“All finished, for today anyway. Thanks.” He walked over to take her hand and they followed the others out the door and across the grassy area.
Beckie’s eyes glazed over when she looked around the central room Sue had appropriated for their meeting. With her five, she counted twelve draped over chairs, sofas and the like.
Kevin stood once they were inside; he said, “Introductions both ways, in case anyone isn’t clear on our players. First…” He bowed deeply, extending his hand, palm up, in Beckie’s direction—her face burned—“please meet Beckie Sverdupe. The hook she’s going to wear is around the back. And her parents and brother and bestie, next to her.
“Now, playing the good guys with you…” He pointed to each as he told her their names, but didn’t bow once. “Ian.” He waved to the empty chair beside him. “Who’s of course off arranging things; he’ll be back momentaril
y. Sam…” A large black man waved. “Sue, I guess you know. Beside her, Derek, then Dan, Barbara and Jean-Luc.”
Her mind flashed back a year and a half. Sam… I’ll bet he was the one pitched me into the truck! And once Derek greeted her, she realized he’d been the one to fake-threaten her with the gun. Wow! Well, yeah, really not too surprising, Beck. No, just… coming on me all at once. She decided that silence suited her best; she did stand and wave to them all. That wasn’t a really brave wave, was it? No, she agreed. More shy and wimpy. She pasted on a bigger smile, grabbed Lissa’s arm and waited.
Waiting didn’t take very long; the team rose almost as one and ganged up on Beckie and her troop. The attempt to make her… well, all of them comfortable, but Beckie focused on herself feeling more comfortable, was successful in large part because no one mentioned the purpose of the meeting. Maybe they don’t know either? No, I don’t believe that!
After fifteen or so minutes, Kevin left the conversation he and Dan had been having with Mike to return to his chair behind the table where he’d started. In less than a minute, everyone had taken their seats again, ready to work.
“Derek,” he said, “what did you find?”
Unfortunately, Derek’s presentation didn’t seem to apply well to Beckie’s upcoming career as a model; she tuned in and out as he talked.
One of the first things to catch her ear: “We stumbled on the meaning of RP: Rancho Paradisio,” Derek said with a sneer.
Kevin matched it. “Aptly named for the clients, I guess. Not nearly so for the girls.”
A few minutes later, Derek said, “We’ve not got everything, and that includes the key: where the bloody place is. Not even a topo map in these to give us a clue.” He paused as Beckie shared a thrill of disappointment with Melissa. If we don’t have any clue… How…