“Sure, send him in.”
Durban smiled at the welcome intrusion. Now there was a bright spot in an otherwise shitty day. His grandson, Joshua, was smart, articulate, and, after his imminent graduation from high school, well on his way to a bright future as a stockbroker.
“Hey, Grandad.”
Durban had to resist the urge to offer his grandson a comb. Joshua’s tousled, streaked-blond hair, though apparently a hit with the women, set the older man’s teeth on edge. Whatever happened to a nice, clean, crew cut? The fact that he went to a colorist at a salon instead of a good, old-fashioned barbershop was a bone of good-humored contention between the two.
“Hey, kiddo. ‘Sup?” Durban’s attempts to “speak the lingo” always teased a smile from his eighteen-year-old grandson, and this time was no different.
“Nothing much. Did you see the sick ride Dad got me for graduation?” Joshua nodded toward the window behind Durban.
Durban swiveled his chair and looked down onto the circular drive. A gleaming red Porsche fairly shimmered in the bright California sun. The thing looked alive, ferocious even. He whistled and turned back.
“Now that’s a car,” he said. “Fast?”
A lazy smile spread across his grandson’s handsome face. “Oh, yeah. Wanna go for a ride?”
Durban glanced at the pile of paperwork on his desk.
“Hell yes. What are we waiting for?”
***
That evening, as Durban and his wife, Jean, were in the media room watching the latest Denzel Washington movie, Durban’s cell went off. It was Jack.
“Keep watching—I’ll catch up.” Durban walked into the hallway to answer the call.
“Well, he says it’s a go.”
“Who?” Durban asked, unsure which “he” his attorney was talking about. They had so many deals going, it was hard to keep track. And, with all the meds his memory wasn’t so great anymore.
“The man we spoke about this afternoon?”
“The man—” Then it came back to him. The doctor. “Ah. Did you get a quote?”
“One-hundred and seventy-five thousand.”
“Jesus. Do I get follow up for that?”
“For one year. After that, it’s case-by-case.”
Durban inhaled deeply and let it go. One-hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars for another chance at life. Cheap at twice the price, really.
“And he guarantees a match?”
“That’s what he said.”
“I want you to check out the facilities, you know, make sure this guy’s not a fly-by-night operation.”
“I told him you’d probably insist. He didn’t have a problem with it.”
“Good. Set it up.”
***
Tuesday dawned with gray clouds scudding across the normally turquoise sky. Durban rose quickly and put on his clothes for the drive to the private surgery center. Jean slept in another room two doors down the hall. It was early, so he didn’t wake her. They said their goodbyes the night before, with Jean telling him she understood why he was going through with it, but that she still didn’t think it was a good idea.
“Where does this doctor procure the organs?” she’d asked.
“He doesn’t say, but I’m sure it’s ethical. He’s a doctor, for chrissakes. Doctors take an oath to do no harm, right? Don’t worry.” Durban had kissed her cheek. He wasn’t about to add to her worries by telling her he didn’t know, or at this point, care. “Besides. Do you know how long I would have to wait for a match on the national donor list?”
She sighed and shook her head. He smiled, attempting to put her at ease.
“Probably forever. This way, you’ll get to push me around a little while longer.”
Jack was waiting for him in front of the peach and white stucco vacation home in the town car. He got out and opened the door for him.
“Thanks for driving me, Jack. I don’t think Jean would have been able to.”
“I take it she’s not thrilled with your decision to go through with it.”
Durban gave him a wry smile. “You could say that.”
As soon as they arrived at the gleaming glass and steel surgery center, an efficient nurse whisked Durban away to prep him for surgery. Jack promised to stick around until he woke up in recovery. As Durban slid into the cottony, no-man’s land of opioid heaven, Jean’s worries about the source of his liver floated through his mind.
***
Durban’s eyes fluttered open and he glanced blearily around the room. Jean stood next to the hospital bed, holding his hand. He didn’t understand why she looked so worried—eyebrows drawn together in a frown, circles under her lovely eyes, lips set in a firm line—he was out of surgery, wasn’t he? He tried to console her, tell her he was fine, but the painkillers they’d given him pulled him back into the soft, gray world of the heavily medicated.
He awoke several hours later, feeling as though he’d been hit by a truck, although the lingering anesthesia kept him from the full impact of the surgery. Durban searched the room for Jean, but didn’t see her or Jack. He closed his eyes as weariness overcame him.
“Durban. Honey, wake up.”
There was an insistent tug on his pajama sleeve. He opened his eyes to see Jean leaning over him, concern evident in her eyes.
Worry started low in his gut at Jean’s pinched expression. Her red-rimmed eyes told him she’d been crying. Had the surgery gone okay?
Durban managed a smile. It tasted like someone had stuffed a pair of socks inside his mouth. “Hey. Looks like I came out of things all right.”
Jean cleared her throat and glanced at the other side of the bed. Durban turned his head to see Jack standing next to him. He too, had a concerned expression.
“What? I’m going to live, right?”
Jack nodded at Jean and she squeezed Durban’s hand. He turned to focus on his wife of thirty-seven years.
“Joshua’s missing.” She stated it flatly, as though she were talking about the weather.
“What do you mean, missing? He told me he was going to Tijuana for the weekend with his girlfriend.”
Tears glistened in Jean’s eyes. “They found his cell phone. There was blood—” Jean turned away, wiping at her tears.
“The police found evidence of what they believe is a possible carjacking outside of Tijuana. His phone was near the suspected location.” Jack’s tight expression belied his calm voice.
“I’m sorry to spring this on you so soon after your surgery, but we’re all very concerned. I didn’t think I’d be able to keep it from you.” Jean had managed to get control of herself and was no longer in tears.
“The Porsche—”
“All that’s left is some glass shards and a side mirror. Police suspect it’s already been stripped down and parted out.” Jack shifted his stance. “There’s no sign of either him or his girlfriend.”
“But if it’s a carjacking, then they should show up eventually, right?” Durban winced as he tried to sit up. Jack sprang forward to help, but he waved him away. “What are we doing about this? Have you called the FBI? The police are one thing, but we need to involve anybody and everybody.”
“Your daughter filed a report with the police, and ICE is working it from their angle. The girl’s parents went to SHEN on the advice of their attorney.”
“SHEN? They suspect trafficking?” Durban’s head pounded. He refused to believe his boy, Josh, had been sold into the sex trade. Not when his future was so bright. His heart monitor blipped faster as his blood pressure skyrocketed at the thought.
“They’re looking at all possibilities.” Jack came around to Jean’s side of the bed. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll find him.”
“Goddamned right they’re going to find him.”
A nurse hurried into the room and proceeded to inject something into Durban’s IV.
“This will help to calm you,” she said.
Durban lay back on his pillow and took a deep breath.
***
The nurse had just finished giving Durban a sponge bath in his room at the house on the beach when Jack walked in. The skin on his face had a gray cast and dark circles ringed his eyes. A lead weight lodged itself in Durban’s gut and he steeled himself for what was coming.
Jack paused for a moment as though to collect himself.
“They found Josh.” His voice was quiet, too quiet for the gaily decorated room filled with colorful Mexican art. Despair climbed out of Durban’s gut and rose to his chest.
“Is he—is he alive?” Durban asked.
Jack slowly shook his head.
“They found him in the trunk of his car at the bottom of a ravine.”
“Ah, God.” Durban squeezed his eyes tight, willing the news to somehow leave his life, to not be real. Tears pricked his eyelids. God, the kid was only eighteen. He had his whole life to live.
“There’s more.” Jack sat down on the bed, glancing at the ceiling before his gaze came to rest on Durban’s.
“Tell me.”
“Someone had removed both his kidneys…” Jack closed his eyes. “And his liver.”
End
About the Author:
DV Berkom is a slave to the voices in her head. As the bestselling author of two award-winning thriller series (Leine Basso and Kate Jones), her love of creating resilient, kick-ass women characters stems from a lifelong addiction to reading spy novels, mysteries, and thrillers, and longing to find the female equivalent within those pages.
Raised in the Midwest, she earned a BA in political science from the University of Minnesota and promptly moved to Mexico to live on a sailboat. Several cross-country moves later, she now lives just outside of Seattle, Washington with the love of her life, Mark, a chef-turned-contractor, and several imaginary characters who like to tell her what to do. Her most recent books include Cargo, The Body Market, Bad Traffick, A One Way Ticket to Dead, and Yucatán Dead.
Note from DV:
Thank you for reading THE BODY MARKET.I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please consider leaving a short review on Amazon and tell your friends about Leine. Your sincere feedback means a lot and I greatly appreciate it.
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Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank the following people for their amazing help and support in writing The Body Market: Mark Lindstrom—your mind is incredibly devious, and I love every twisted brain cell in it; my editor, Laurie Boris—without your talents and super-human attention to detail the book wouldn’t be nearly as good, not to mention as error-free; Al Kunz, for much the same; my stalwart writing group: Ali Mosa, Jenni Conner, Darlene Panzera, Sharon Kleve—you guys are the best writing partners a girl could have, and keep me from writing plot holes the size of planets; The Bodacious Betas: Ruth M. Ross-Saucier, Michelle Yelland, Brian Yelland, Bev Van Berkom, Larry Van Berkom, TSODA134—your early input and exacting standards make the stories I write so much better; Linton Robinson for all the great information on Tijuana; Richard Buffington for the welding tutorial; Carly McElwee for putting up with my inane questions about texting and verbiage; Vicki Adams for some great plot ideas; and, last but not least, the ARC team: Barbara Rauch, Jen Blood, Sherry Fundin, Al Kunz, Carol Wyer, Cathy Speight, Trudy Brandenburg, Waynita Keeth-Suica, Garren Tooker, Sheli Story, Bill McElwee, Sonia Malingen, Kitty Wiemelt, and Charlie Ray. You guys ROCK.
Other books by D.V. Berkom:
Leine Basso Thriller Series:
Serial Date (Leine Basso #1) http://bit.ly/serialdate
When a former assassin's daughter is abducted, she's drawn into the twisted game of a serial killer who may be a grisly remnant from her past.
Bad Traffick (Leine Basso #2) http://bit.ly/badtraffick
Dangerous obsessions take center stage when a former assassin and a homicide detective race against the clock to find a missing girl
Cargo (Leine Basso #4) http://bit.ly/cargoAMZ
Haunted by memories, Leine Basso searches Bangkok for the missing daughter of an old friend, uncovering a treacherous criminal underworld where everything has a price—especially her life.
Kate Jones Thriller Series:
Kate Jones Thriller Series Vol. 1 http://bit.ly/boxset1
The first 4 novellas in the bestselling Kate Jones Thriller Series: Bad Spirits, Dead of Winter, Death Rites, and Touring for Death.
Cruising for Death (Kate Jones #5) http://bit.ly/cruisingfordeath
Kate and Cole are on a luxury cruise in the Caribbean when a passenger dies of an apparent heart attack and the ship is boarded by modern-day pirates. Along with two other passengers, Kate is kidnapped by a long-lost enemy who wants to settle an old score.
Yucatán Dead (Kate Jones #6) http://bit.ly/yucatandead
Hunted by a ruthless cartel boss, Kate Jones finds herself deep in the Yucatán determined to turn and fight the evil that pursues her.
A One Way Ticket to Dead, (Kate Jones #7) http://bit.ly/tickettodead
Digging up the past can be deadly…
After years of running from her ex, and his subsequent death, Kate Jones is ready to bury the past and try to piece together a new normal. But first there’s a loose end to tie and it involves digging up old ghosts that are best left alone.
Kate Jones Thriller Series, Volume 2 (Cruising for Death, Yucatán Dead, A One Way Ticket to Dead) Find it on Amazon: http://bit.ly/KJboxset2
The Body Market: A Leine Basso Thriller Page 24