by Peter Darley
Jin and the others waited until there was no sign of life. Satisfied, they returned to the car, leaving a faint, flickering glow illuminating the Arizona desert night.
Forty
Nexus
Brandon and Nikki stepped out of the van onto the sidewalk of a back street, close to the harbor. With a pair of infrared binoculars in his hand, he followed her to a mesh fence.
“OK, right here,” she said.
Brandon followed her gaze to a row of warehouses in the distance. The 9:00 p.m. darkness wasn’t helping his visibility. “Which one is it?”
“It’s the one at the front, set apart from the rest. Do you see it? It’s an old fish factory.”
He raised the binoculars and focused in on the building. The infrared revealed it clearly enough, although he was concerned she wasn’t remembering correctly. “There’s nothing there, Nikki. You sure we’ve got the right place?”
Looking away, she shivered. “You’d better believe it. I was drugged when I was driven away from there, five years ago, but I saw enough, and I remember everything. Every detail, every brick, every sound. Trust me, that’s the place.”
He lowered the binoculars. “All right, I believe you.”
“In five years, the nightmares haven’t stopped,” she said. “I still wake up in a cold sweat from dreaming I’m still in there.”
“Well, tonight, we take this place down forever. Do you think the captives are in there right now?”
“I know they are. All the time I was there I was never moved. Down below are rooms where they kept us confined and groomed us. Your sister is in there right now, I guarantee it.”
Brandon snapped his attention back to the building as an urgent need to get inside gripped him. But he knew he had to wait and allow Tyler to do his part. “Come on. Let’s get back to the van.”
Nikki followed him. “So, what’s the deal with you and Belinda?”
“She wanted to come with us, but I told her to stay with Miranda. We think she’s pregnant.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. It’s imperative she stays out of harm’s way.”
They arrived back at the van and climbed in. Brandon took the radio receiver out of the glove compartment and switched it on. “They should be leaving The Citadel any minute. The transmitter I planted in Ty’s hair has a range of a hundred miles.”
Nikki closed the door and stared intently at the receiver. “I know I don’t know Tyler that well, but I’m really scared for him. The butterflies in my stomach are going into overdrive.”
Before Brandon could respond, white noise emanated from the receiver as he searched for the frequency. Once he’d found it, he listened intently.
***
Tyler walked across the rear parking lot of The Citadel attired in a new, charcoal-gray, Armani suit. Fong walked alongside him. Ahead was a pristine, black limousine, the rear doors held open by a security guard and a chauffeur. Tyler and Fong climbed in.
“I like the décor you’ve used in here,” Tyler said, gently touching the extravagant, wooden, inside panels.
“Thank you, Mr. Faraday. It’s nothing you’re not familiar with, I’m sure.”
“That’s for sure. I’ve always had a thing for limos, though. There’s just something sexy about ‘em. Being in control of a sleek babe that can really drive, know what I mean?” He winked.
“I know exactly what you mean, Mr. Faraday.”
The doors closed, and Fong handed Tyler a blindfold. “I do apologize, but this is part of the first-time security procedure I told you about.”
Tyler looked at him, concerned for the briefest moment, but quickly conceded. “You’re the boss.” He put the blindfold on, always conscious that Brandon needed to know what was happening. He came up with an excuse to speak again. “Do you think you could tie the back of it for me? I don’t have much experience with blindfolds.”
“Certainly.”
Once they were set, the limousine moved.
“Well, it works. Can’t see a damn thing,” Tyler said.
Fong laughed. “I’m sure you’ll feel it was all worth it. There’s just one more security procedure when we arrive, and then the night is yours.”
“Can’t wait.”
With his feigned-relaxed attitude convincingly concealing the fear in his pounding heart, Tyler sat back in total darkness. The limousine’s engine started, and his journey into the unknown began.
***
Wilmot and Garrett studied a map of Los Angeles Harbor on Commissioner Landis’ desk.
Landis placed his index finger on the precise spot. “That’s where it is. The old Hamlin fish factory.”
“And you’re sure this auction is taking place tonight?” Wilmot said.
Landis closed his eyes in shame. “Positive.”
“All right, tell Chief Tepper to have a couple of helicopters on standby.”
Landis looked up sharply, his eyes filled with worry. “Why? You said this was a private operation.”
“There’s no such thing, you idiot. Not with something as big as this. The guy we’re after has his hands on a particularly impressive piece of hardware. At the very least, we may need aerial support. The Eighty-Second are handling it on the ground.”
Landis’ hands trembled uncontrollably. “T-the Eighty-Second?”
“That’s right. The Eighty-Second Airborne Division.”
Landis fell back into his chair. “Oh, my God. What have I done?”
“You screwed up major league, Landis, that’s what. And we’re going to put it right. Now make that goddamn call. It’s not going to look too good for this department when a major intelligence operation kicks off in L.A. and the police are nowhere to be seen. With the possibility of human traffickers getting in the way, this is for added credibility as much as anything.” Wilmot tapped Garrett’s arm. “Come on, let’s get to it.”
Sergeant Major David Spicer entered the LAPD precinct from the rear corridor, fully clad in a khaki field uniform.
Wilmot and Garrett exited an elevator. Spicer noticed Wilmot immediately.
“Spicer—” Wilmot caught sight of Chief Tepper coming toward them from the other end of the corridor, and then turned back to Spicer. “Just give me a moment.”
Tepper approached Wilmot and Garrett looking somewhat bewildered.
“Chief Tepper?” Wilmot said.
“Yes.”
“Andrew Wilmot, director of SDT, Langley. This is my associate, Agent Cynthia Garrett.” The two men shook hands, and Tepper nodded to Cynthia.
“What’s going on?” Tepper said. “I just had a call from Landis. He said you wanted a couple of helicopters deployed to the harbor.”
“It’s just a precautionary measure,” Garrett said. “It may not be necessary. Just wait for our call.”
Wilmot turned back to Spicer. “Well, Sergeant Major. It’s been a long time.”
“Two years.”
Tepper acknowledged the soldier, then turned away to attend to his task.
“The men are out back. I have five troopers and a Humvee,” Spicer said. “We’re keeping it as low-key as possible. I want Drake brought in peacefully.”
“To get to him, you may have to engage armed killers,” Wilmot said.
“I’m aware of that. We’ve all been briefed. But it’s not our job to take out human traffickers.”
“They’re incidental, but they may get in the way of you doing your job. One way or another, Drake must be arrested and brought in.”
Darkness came across Spicer’s eyes. He didn’t care for Wilmot’s attitude, and he knew more about Brandon Drake than he could disclose to anyone. Drake wasn’t the battle-happy psychopath the other soldiers remembered. He was no longer The Scorpion. His last encounter with Drake had shown him that Brandon was a man of integrity, courage, and compassion, albeit as a result of a covert mind-control operation. He could only take him as he found him, and loathed the thought of having to turn in a man he now knew to be a hero. In
the case at hand, Drake was taking on a human slavery ring in an attempt at a rescue. All particulars considered, he was following his orders with great reluctance. “My men know their jobs, Director Wilmot.” His tone brooked no argument.
“Good. You’re his buddies. He’ll listen to you.”
Wilmot and Garrett turned away and continued along the corridor to greet the military unit.
Extremely ill-at-ease, Spicer followed.
***
The police helicopter unit was alerted by Tepper and communications were conveyed via radio throughout the department. The information relayed was scant—back-up for an intelligence operation involving the army at the old Hamlin fish factory at L.A. harbor.
And that was all Jed Crane needed to know. Parked in a lot on West Second Street behind the LAPD, he’d been listening in on communications in the department for almost two days. Knowing the LAPD radio frequency, the task of intercepting the information with an SDT radio had been relatively simple. There was no doubt in Crane’s mind that the messages he’d just heard were concerned with Wilmot and Garrett’s plan to capture Brandon Drake. Brandon had to be alerted if he too had discovered the location.
Jed knew he was risking his own life by doing what he was going to do. He kept reminding himself of the C4 explosive he’d discovered under the bed in his motel room. Running had made no difference. He had nothing to lose by helping a man who was in the same predicament.
He looked at the satchel on the seat next to him, and then glanced behind him almost obsessively to be sure his bullet-proof vest was still on the back seat. He opened the glove compartment, and took out his pistol and two spare cartridges. Satisfied he had as much protection as possible, he started the car and drove forward.
***
Brandon and Nikki sat in silence listening to the receiver. The van had become mostly concealed by shadows created by a spattering of street lamps in the distance.
Several hundred yards ahead, they heard a car engine and looked up. It was another limousine passing their street. They’d seen around twenty during the past hour. Tyler could have been in any one of them.
Nikki trembled with the realization of what was happening.
“Just hang in there, Nikki. It’s almost over,” Brandon said.
“Oh, God, Brandon. What if it isn’t? What if you and Ty can’t stop them?”
“I can’t give any guarantees. All we can do is our best. Please understand that. Tyler’s a shrewd guy, and I’ve got the equipment and the experience. That’s what we’re bringing to this.”
She looked ahead without a word as the fluttering in the pit of her stomach continued.
***
The limo finally stopped. Tyler heard the front doors open and assumed the chauffeur and security guard had exited the car. The rear door opened. Tyler felt himself being helped out of the car and very carefully found his footing, unable to see a thing.
“Easy, sir. If you’ll just walk slowly ahead, I’ll guide you,” someone said in an Italian accent.
“Hey, thanks, bud,” Ty said, successfully keeping up his ‘unconcerned’ act.
He was led inside what he assumed was a building and heard the doors close behind him. Dance music echoed in the distance, and he felt sickened. These monsters actually regarded selling innocent women and children as a party. It was just a social occasion to them, like a nightclub.
“Let me relieve you of this, Mr. Faraday,” Fong said, and removed the blindfold.
Tyler squinted a few times and took in the overpowering radiant red of the entrance carpet. Keep it together, Ty. Keep it together. “Hey, well, I guess you got me.”
“What’s that?”
“I haven’t got a goddamn clue where I am,” he said with feigned laughter.
Fong reciprocated his joviality. “I will buy you a drink. But first, there is one more security measure.”
“You lead the way.” A lump formed in Tyler’s throat, but he held it until his head was turned to an angle where he could swallow unseen.
“This way, sir,” the Italian said.
Tyler followed them a little farther along the corridor until they came to a door. The Italian opened it, and he followed them inside.
The room was unnervingly bare. There were no tables, chairs, windows, or décor. The walls were simply gray concrete with no wallpaper or plastering.
“Wow,” Tyler said. “I think you need to get a decorator firm in.”
Fong smiled. “I agree.”
“If you would stretch your arms out, please, sir,” the Italian said.
Tyler complied, and they quickly frisked him. His skin crawled as the man’s hands slid along his legs, waist, and then he patted down his jacket.
“That’s fine, sir. We’re almost done.” The Italian took a small detector and retractable wand from his pocket. After connecting the wand’s wire to the socket in the detector, he pulled the sensor out to its full length. “Just stand still, sir. This will only take a moment.”
The smile faded from Tyler’s face involuntarily as his legs were scanned. Slowly, the wand swept upwards along his body, and then finally came up to his head. Oh, shit, bro. That transmitter had better be everything you said.
Forty-One
Heart of Darkness
Tyler held his breath as the probe-wand swept over his head. He watched the Italian glance at the detector. Nothing happened. The light was static green.
As silently as possible, Tyler exhaled through his teeth. Trying to appear calm with his heart pounding in his chest was almost beyond his ability.
The wand sailed along the left side of his body, and finally, it was over. “That’s fine, Mr. Faraday. Thank you,” the Italian said.
Fong placed his palm in the small of Tyler’s back. “Now, let’s have a drink, shall we?”
“You lead the way.” Tyler accompanied his host out of the room and down a spiral staircase.
Fong approached the bar, and a beautiful young oriental girl, no older than eighteen, greeted him with a smile. “What can I get for you, Mr. Fong?”
“A double brandy, and a double bourbon for my guest.”
Tyler’s eyes darted around the bar area. It was lavish, with marble pillars, deep burgundy carpeting, and European art-deco fittings. In contrast, the lighting was provided by two exquisite, crystalline chandeliers. Dance music played through four barely-visible digital speakers positioned at the top four corners of the room. The puzzling factor for Tyler was that the place was empty.
Fong handed him his bourbon.
“Thanks,” Tyler said. “So, where is everybody?”
“All of the guests are in the auditorium. We’re a little late. It took longer to set up your debit details than we expected, but the auction won’t begin for another ten minutes.”
“Yeah, about that. If I make a . . . what do you call it? Purchase?”
“Yes?”
“What’s gonna show up on my account statement.”
Fong smiled reassuringly. “That’s what took the time. We’ve set up a company name for your dealings with us. All of our guests have one. Any transactions will appear on your statement as Pearl, Incorporated.”
Tyler considered the name for a moment. “OK, that sounds legit.”
Fong gestured to the door on the right. “Shall we go in?”
“Sure.”
As they entered the auditorium, Tyler took a sip of his bourbon to help calm his nerves. Once the doors were closed the dance music was silenced, heightening his anxiety yet again.
He could see two security guards standing at the far side of the walkway at the top of the auditorium. Both were dark-haired males who looked like they’d been hired from a modeling agency.
Spotlights beamed down onto the catwalk, hiding the faces of the audience in shadow.
Fong led Tyler down the steps until they came to their designated seats. Two digital screens were positioned on a small table a few inches in front of them.
Fong directed
Tyler to his seat, and then took his own beside him. “This touch screen is linked to your account,” he whispered. “When you see something that catches your interest, simply type in your bid here.” He pointed to the digital bidding bar on the screen above a zero-to-nine number display. “It’s very simple, just like eBay.”
“Thanks.”
Tyler glanced all around him. From lower down the auditorium, he could make out a few faces through the dim light. He saw a gray-haired man wearing a suit who must have been in his sixties. There was another who looked around fifty. It sickened Tyler to his core. They were older men who were paying to sexually abuse young women and innocent children.
And then he caught a glimpse of the greatest shock of all. Two rows down across the stairwell aisle, he could clearly see the blonde hair of a female customer.
His attention was distracted by the screen at the back of the stage becoming brighter. Within moments, the image of a smiling black man appeared. He was broad-shouldered and attired in a white suit, black silk shirt, and a black tie with a huge diamond studded into the middle. His dreadlocked hair fell onto the tips of his shoulders, his eyes concealed by sunglasses, conducive with the tropical setting behind him. Tyler guessed it was perhaps the Seychelles or the Maldives, judging from the white sands and crystal blue waters. The man’s smile revealed a blue jewel in place of his left upper front tooth. Sapphire.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sapphire said in a deep, baritone voice, and the presentation of sports announcer. “Welcome to The Scramble. This time, we have spared no expense to bring you the very best of the very best.”
Whispered mumblings of anticipation filled the room, only to be silenced by Sapphire’s continuation. Extending his hands in an offering manner, he revealed gold and jewel-encrusted fingers.
A small girl in a pink dress appeared at the back of the stage. Slowly, she made her way forward along the catwalk.