by J. B. Hawker
Koslov’s wranglers could slip into the port, remove the goods and slip away before the inspections. It was dangerous work, but they had it down to a flawless routine, bringing in bales of scrap paper and leaving with the women and children.
These two persistent busybodies could ruin everything. If only Grgur had let him kill them when they had the chance…It was time for Ljuto to put a stop to their interference.
He couldn’t do anything while they were so exposed to security cameras on this main walkway, but once they moved in among the maze of containers, he knew what to do.
“Hello Rosamund. I’ve come to see the pastor. I stopped by the church, but, as usual, he wasn’t there when he was needed. Please tell him I’m here,” Maureen Oldham announced loudly as she entered the parsonage through the backdoor without knocking.
Rosamund sighed and went to meet her in the kitchen doorway.
“You know that Friday is the pastor’s day off, Maureen. Is this an emergency?”
“Day off! Pastors only really work half-a-day on Sunday and a few hours mid-week coming up with a different way to say the same old thing in the next week’s sermon. I don’t know why they think they need a ‘day off’ from that.”
“Scott works fifty and sixty-hour weeks, Maureen, and is on-call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He needs at least one day a week to call his own. Now, what did you want?”
“Well, that’s not very friendly, I must say. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Stepping back into the kitchen, Rosamund sighed again, “Won’t you please come in, Maureen?”
“Thanks. Just bring my coffee to the dining room and let Pastor know I’m here.”
“I’m afraid I’m all out of coffee, Maureen,” Rosamund was provoked into fibbing, guiltily. She would agonize over that later, she knew. “And Scott isn’t here. Can you tell me what this is about?”
“Not here? I don’t believe you. He probably saw me coming and told you to say that.”
Maureen got up and stomped toward the pastor’s study calling, “I know you are in there, Pastor Scott. You aren’t going to avoid me, today.”
Stepping into the empty room her onslaught was stymied for a moment while she stood gazing around. After looking behind the drapes and bending down to peek into the kneehole of the pastor’s desk, she straightened up and once again confronted Rosamund.
“Where is he? I know he’s here.”
“Maureen, I have not lied to you…uh, about Scott being gone. He went to SeaTac with Bunny. They had business at the Port.”
“Bunny! That is exactly what I want to talk to him about. He is spending entirely too much time with that newcomer and neglecting the membership. It’s a poor use of his time and looks improper to boot. Everybody thinks so.”
“Everybody?” Rosamund queried skeptically.
“Vince agrees with me, so I imagine everyone else does, too. How could they not see the Pastor is devoting way too much time to being the self-appointed hero in this woman’s enactment of “The Perils of Pauline?” Can’t Pastor see how that person is manipulating him with her damsel in distress act?”
“It isn’t an act, Maureen. Bunny has had a series of unpleasant assaults on her property and person through absolutely no fault of her own. She is a lovely, caring woman.”
Rosamund surprised herself by her quick defense of Bunny and realized the truth of what she was saying as she went on, “She was a thoughtful houseguest and she is becoming a good friend to Scott and to me. There is absolutely nothing improper about it. I’m happy she moved here, in spite of her recent difficulties.”
“Hmmph! I might have known you would defend that brother of yours. Well, when he comes out from under the bed or whatever closet he’s hiding in, you can give him my message. This isn’t the last time he will hear about this problem. Vince is the head of the Deacon’s Board, remember, and you can be sure this will be on the agenda of the next meeting…along with a badly needed review of the pastor’s overly-generous compensation package.”
With her last salvo delivered, Maureen sailed off holding her head high… and stubbed her toe on the cracked sidewalk that she and Vince had been preventing the deacon’s from repairing. She stumbled, recovered, and then wrapped her rumpled dignity tightly around herself and limped to her car in high dudgeon.
Standing in the doorway, Rosamund couldn’t suppress a snicker and quickly closed the door so Maureen wouldn’t hear. Her smile soon faded from the realization that Maureen would surely make Scott suffer as a result of today’s exchange.
Chapter Thirty
In his arrogance the wicked man hunts down the weak – Psalm 10:2
Scott was reading the numbers on another in the seemingly endless rows of containers when there was a pop and a clang resounded above Bunny’s head, sending paint flecks flying and leaving a dent in the container.
Bunny was stunned, trying to figure out what had happened, but Scott’s reflexes immediately kicked in and he grabbed her and pulled her into a space between the huge metal boxes.
“What was that?” Bunny gasped out.
“It was a gunshot, but I didn’t see where it came from.”
“Was someone shooting at us?”
“I suppose it could have been an accident, but after all that’s happened, that doesn’t seem likely. We need to stay out of sight until we can be sure.”
Scott pulled out his phone to call the police. Reception was blocked by the tall metal walls and the call didn’t go through.
“I need to step out into the open to call for help. You stay back here, Bunny.”
“You can’t go! They will see you,” Bunny pleaded.
“Don’t worry. I’m going to work my way to the clearing where we entered this metal maze, but I will do it from a couple of rows back. The shooter will never even see me. Just don’t move until I get back, okay?”
“Wait…”
Scott disappeared around the back of the container; leaving Bunny pressed against its side, expecting to hear another shot ring out at any moment.
Ljuto was annoyed with himself. He’d rushed the shot and missed two sitting ducks. Maybe Grgur was right when he accused him of being too hasty.
He slipped around another container, trying to get a glimpse of his targets. In this grid of straight lines it was only a matter of time before they were in his line of fire once more. Next time he wouldn’t rush. He would have plenty of time to hit them both and disappear onto the ship before the bodies were discovered.
Bunny’s senses were on high alert, her nerves tingling like antennae trying to pick up any sound or movement. She thought she saw a shadow change shape between containers across the aisle from her and shifted further back in her hiding place. The phrase “hiding place” brought to mind the book by Corrie ten Boom about her years hiding from the Nazis. It put Bunny’s own present danger into perspective and lessened her panic.
She breathed a quick prayer of thanks, asking for deliverance and God’s will to be done. Just as she murmured “amen” she saw someone step into the light and recognized Ljuto as her dead intruder’s accomplice.
Knowing the source of her present danger was somehow reassuring; this wasn’t some random attack. After all, she had eluded this man before and defeated his partner. She might escape this time, too.
However, he was armed and now moving along the line of containers stepping closer to the shadowy space concealing Bunny.
She edged slowly around to the back of the container, crossed that aisle and slipped into another narrow gap that took her to yet another row. Once there, she began to move stealthily toward the main walkway in the direction Scott had taken, clinging to the backs of the containers and rushing across the gaps to stay out of her stalker’s sight.
Another shot rang out, sending Bunny bolting wildly. As heavy footsteps sounded behind her, she tripped and fell headlong, crashing into metal siding and crumpling to the pavement.
In her half-conscious state Bunny
thought she heard the voices of children close by. Could it be sounds wafting from Heaven? But, then why did they sound frightened?
Ljuto took his time approaching Bunny who was lying motionless beside the container where she’d fallen.
He was going to shoot her in the head, point-blank, execution-style. No way would he miss this time.
Standing over her still form he could see the blood already flowing from a wound on Bunny’s head. He considered that she might already be dead. Perhaps he could save a bullet and simply walk away, putting this bothersome creature behind him. He was about to turn away when the thought of what Grgur would say stopped him. He knew that he must make certain that she was dead.
Taking the time to steady his aim, he was about to squeeze the trigger when a shot rang out and he collapsed to the ground beside his intended victim.
More running feet grew near, and Bunny felt herself being turned over.
“Bunny, are you okay? You’re bleeding! Did he shoot you?” Scott asked, frantically.
Groggy from the blow to her head, Bunny tried to speak, emitting only a low moan before beginning to articulate.
“He was shooting and I was running. I tripped and fell against this container. I think I was near to Heaven, because I could hear the voices of children…”
As she spoke she sat up too quickly and nearly swooned, and then sinking back against Scott she moaned, “In fact, I think I can still hear them!”
“I hear them, too! Officer! There are children in this container. We can hear them. Listen!”
Port security guards broke the lock and the door of the container was forced open.
As bright light poured in on the huddled women and children cowering inside, some of them began to shriek at the sight of the policemen’s drawn weapons.
“Oh, the poor souls! How did they get in there?” Bunny asked Scott while standing aside to allow the officers to enter and examine the containers occupants. “How long could they have been in there?” she added as the odors previously trapped inside wafted out.
An ambulance, Port security and other police cars were arriving with sirens blaring, adding to the refugee’s fears. Many were now crying loudly as they cringed away from the police.
The officer in charge was trying to calm the people and asked if anyone spoke English, but he was greeted with blank stares.
Bunny’s eyes met those of a young woman who was attempting to shield and comfort a little girl. There was a spark of connection as they gazed at one another, encouraging Bunny to step just inside the doorway and approach the pair.
“I’m Bunny, a friend,” she spoke softly, pointing to herself and smiling gently. “Bunny,” she repeated.
“Khu Khu,” the woman responded, pointing to herself as Bunny had done. When Bunny pointed at the little girl, Khu Khu said, “Htoo”.
Bunny led the two tenderly out of the dark container and over to Scott.
“How can we help them, Scott? There must be something we can do.”
Seeing the rags they wore, Bunny removed her light jacket and gave it to the little girl, who looked at it with amazement and then put it on, rubbing her hands repeatedly over the silky moleskin fabric.
Scott mimicked Bunny by presenting Khu Khu with the plaid flannel shirt he was wearing over his t-shirt. He tucked several of his pastoral calling cards into the pocket before handing it over, indicating with gestures that the words on the card were about him.
The Immigration people arrived then and, after a brief scuffle sorting out territories with the other authorities, the situation became more organized.
Bunny was examined and taken to a waiting ambulance where an officer wrote down her statement while the EMT checked her vitals and bandaged her head wound.
Scott was questioned by the police, filling in all the details he could.
Ljuto was unconscious, but alive when he was put into another ambulance.
The former captives were herded into a pair of INS vans to be taken to the hospital for evaluation and processing.
Scott followed the ambulances to the hospital and found Bunny in the emergency room.
“They want to keep me overnight for observation, Scott. What a bother. I’m obviously okay. They are going to put in a couple of tiny stitches to close the gap I opened in my scalp, but when that’s done I want to go home.”
“No, you were unconscious out there and we don’t want to take any chances.”
“Well, then if I must stay, you go on home. I can catch a bus home tomorrow. Rosamund will worry.”
“I’d rather stay and take you home tomorrow. There’s no way I’m letting you take public transportation the same day you are released from the hospital.”
“Okay, you can take me home tomorrow, but today you need to see what you can find out about those poor women and children we discovered today. They looked like prisoners, not people trying to sneak into the country illegally. Someone needs to look out for them. They can’t even speak our language.”
“That’s a good idea, Bunny. I’ll go now and see what I can find out, and then I will come back and give you a full report after you are safely tucked into a nice bed upstairs where the folks here can keep an eye on you.”
Scott kissed Bunny gently on the forehead beneath her bandage and turned to leave.
“Wait. There’s something else I need you to find out for me, if you can.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Can you find out if the man who shot at us is dead? I’ve been having nightmares about him coming for me, ever since… that night I, uh, killed his friend. I need to know he’s really, truly gone.”
Scott nodded, squeezed her hand, and went out, passing the doctor who came in to take care of Bunny.
In the hospital lobby Scott found several of the officials milling around waiting for the women and the children from the port to be checked over.
Approaching a man he recognized as one of the police who had responded to his 9-1-1 call, Scott tapped him on the shoulder.
“Excuse me, but can I talk to you for just a moment?”
“You’re the preacher, the one who called us to SeaTac, aren’t you?”
“Scott Davidson, yes. I would like to thank you for saving my friend. That man you shot has been after her ever since she found his list detailing the dates of this container’s arrival and future shipments like it.”
“She has a list? A schedule of future shipments?”
“Yes, well, actually I have the copy right here. She’s been trying to get someone in authority to look at it and take it seriously for weeks. Just this morning we handed in a copy at the Port Authority office. No one wanted to even look at it.”
“Can I see it, now?”
Scott handed the officer the folded paper and watched as he read it over, occasionally shaking his head.
“Do you know what you have here, Davidson? Just a list of illegal shipments of sex slaves into this country and the traffickers who bought them. I recognize some of these names. We have been trying to get a break in this case for months. Where did your friend get this?”
“It was on an encrypted USB drive she found inside a sea chest that washed up on the beach near Bannoch. A professor at Seattle University deciphered it for her, and a friend that had worked at the Port figured out it was shipping information.”
“She should have turned this in right away, you know, she might have saved herself some grief and moved our investigation forward, too.”
“Oh, she tried to, believe me. But, what she is most concerned about now is what will happen to those poor people from the container.”
“They will be deported back to where they came from, I suppose. You would need to talk to the Immigration folks about that. That tall woman over there is one of their agents. Name’s Penelope Trotter. Hey, Penny!” he called.
After introducing the agent to Scott, the policeman excused himself to check on Ljuto’s condition.
“When he’s patched up, that boy can
fill in a lot of the blanks, if he’s able and willing.”
“Ms. Trotter, I wondered what was going to be done to help the people who were locked in the container.”
“We are waiting for an interpreter, Pastor. We won’t know these women’s status until we understand how they came to be in the shipping container. Right now, agents are swarming all over the ship that brought them here.”
“If there is any danger of these poor women and children being sent back where they came from only to be victimized again, I know my church and many others in the area would be interested in sponsoring, or adopting, those who don’t want to return, if that would be possible.”
“It is way too soon to even think about sponsoring any of these people, pastor. As far as we know, they might be criminals or even terrorists.”
“But, that’s not what you really think, is it?”
“No, however we must go through all the proper channels.”
“Please take my card, and if an opportunity arises to help determine if some or all of these pitiful souls might stay in the country, call me.”
Trotter accepted Scott’s card and rejoined her colleagues.
Scott approached the nurses’ station to ask about Ljuto and encountered his policeman once more.
“Do you know the gunman’s condition, officer?”
“Oh, he’ll live. And he’s ready to make a deal to save his skinny a…butt, pastor. He’s given us enough information to put a real dent in the trafficking here in the Northwest. We have a team waiting back at port for the gang who is expecting to pick up the slaves. Every time we get one of these low-level slugs in custody we get more leads on the big bad guys behind them. This has been a very good day.”
“But, the man here won’t be let loose, will he?” Scott asked.
“Not for a very long time. His only deal is prison in the USA versus some gulag somewhere. You tell the little lady not to worry about that one, anymore.”
“Thank you, officer.”