“I’m Yana. It’s so good to be here finally!”
Nadine grunted an acknowledgment and opened the side door, gesturing for the women to climb inside. Nadine closed the door and got in the passenger seat of the van.
“This is Abram,” she said, introducing the driver. He was huge, built like a professional athlete. Each woman said hello, but he didn’t return the greeting.
Then they were away. Yana turned to the window to say goodbye to Von, but he had already disappeared.
Something was very odd about all of this.
“Where are we going? To a hotel?” Yana asked.
Nadine turned and answered, “To a place where you’ll be staying temporarily.”
What was her accent? It wasn’t American. She wasn’t Russian. The woman looked European.
“Where are you from, Nadine?” Yana asked.
Without looking at her, the woman replied, “Budapest.”
Yana exchanged glances with Christina and Sofia, who were just as mystified as she was.
Nevertheless, it was all very exciting. They were in America! The port was gigantic, and the skyline of tall buildings that made up Newark was impressive.
“Look, there’s Manhattan!” Sofia said, pointing.
Yana gazed across the Hudson at an even more remarkable array of buildings, dotted with lights from windows. She recognized the Empire State Building among the other skyscrapers.
Wow …
The van drove out of the port and onto a highway. Even at that hour there was traffic, not much different from St. Petersburg.
An uncomfortable silence fell upon the three women. Their arrival didn’t feel right. Weren’t they supposed to be filled with joy? Why weren’t Nadine and Abram happy to see them?
They drove for a half hour until the van pulled into a residential street somewhere deep in the city. Yana had no idea where they were. The van entered a garage. Nadine got out as Abram shut off the engine. The woman slid open the van’s side door.
“Get out.”
The three women took their bags and entered the house, where another man stood waiting for them. Unlike the others, he was African American. His size was intimidating, and his milky right eye immediately gave Yana the creeps.
The place was a dump. It looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. There was a rancid odor that reminded Yana of the nursing home where her grandmother had lived the last year of her life.
When they were inside, Nadine said, “Give me your passports and cell phones.”
The three women looked at each other. Cell phones?
“Now!”
Her snap made them jump. Silently, they handed the items over and watched as Nadine put them in her own handbag. Abram came in, shut the door, and locked it.
“My name is Bobby,” the black man said. “What are your names?”
“I’m … Yana.”
“Christina.”
“Sofia.”
Bobby nodded. He spoke with an American accent. “From now on, you are property of The Bear. You will obey orders. You will do whatever we say. If you try to escape, we will kill you.”
An icy chill ran down Yana’s spine. What?
“What are you talking about?” Christina asked.
After he slapped her across the face, Bobby said, “That’s what I’m talking about. Nadine, show the girls their rooms.” He grinned, revealing a black tooth in front. “I’ll be there soon to tuck you ladies in.”
No. Yana had been very wrong.
Things were definitely not going to be better in America.
14
Mid-July
Carrying a hunting rifle in a padded case, Jason walked into the den of the Paley home as Trey followed behind him.
“Honey, I’m home!” he announced with exaggerated cheeriness.
Nat looked up from the television. She was lying on a leather couch, barefoot, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “How’d it go?”
“Great!”
“I have to admit he shoots pretty good. For a twerp,” Trey said. He took the rifle out of Jason’s hands. “I’ll put these away before you hurt yourself. You know, you might not be such a terrible brother-in-law after all.”
“Well, thank you, Trey,” Jason said with sarcasm. “I know, coming from you, that’s a real compliment.”
“Don’t be a jerk.”
Nat said, “Trey, there’s no need to insult Jason all the time. We’re getting a little tired of it. I’m getting a little tired of it.”
Trey shot her a look. “Shut up, Natalia. Jesus. You can be such a …”
“What? What, Trey?” Nat folded her arms.
Trey looked as if his anger might get the best of him, and Jason could actually see a vein appear in Trey’s left temple, which accentuated and pulsed whenever he was agitated. But then he backed down, and the sudden tension dissipated almost as quickly as it had appeared. The guy really needs anger management, Jason thought. Nat had been coaching him on how to deal with her brother. “He flies off the handle at the drop of a penny,” she had said. “You just have to realize that it disappears in the same amount of time. If he’s mad, he’ll calm down in a minute. It’s weird.”
“I’ll put the rifles away,” Trey said, and he left the room.
Jason and Nat looked at each other. “Whoa …” said Jason.
“Seriously, how did it go? To tell you the truth, I was a little concerned when you said you and Trey were going to the range to fire guns.”
“It was fine. I think he was in his element, so he was in a good mood the whole time. And those two lessons I took paid off. I was able to impress your brother. I hit the damn targets!”
Nat laughed. “Good for you.”
“I wasn’t so great when I tried to shoot his gun. I mean, they’re both his guns, I shot them both. The one he prefers is the .458. Geez, that’s an elephant gun or something. He could take down a T-Rex with that thing.”
“Yeah, he gave it a girl’s name.”
“Mandy.”
She shook her head and chuckled. “Right.”
Jason was actually a little flattered that Trey had complimented him on his shooting. Perhaps there was room to get closer to his future brother-in-law after all.
“So when is the big hunt?” Nat asked.
“I don’t know. When is the hunt, Trey?” Jason asked, as Trey came back into the room.
“Normally in September, but I like to do it anytime in the summer. We’ll go soon, in August, probably.”
“Isn’t that out of season?” Nat asked.
Trey shrugged. “It’s on our property. We should be able to kill any animal we want on our property.”
“I don’t know about that.”
Trey jerked his head at her. “I think I know what I’m talking about. I’m the veteran, I’m the hunter, all right?”
Nat held up her hands. “Fine, Trey. Jesus.”
Trey shook his head. “Anyway, you should have seen Brain Fart Man here, he was actually good with the .338.” He punched Jason in the arm. “You could’ve been a sniper in the army. Although you’d probably want to use my M24 for that. You don’t hunt big game with that, but it’s not bad for hunting humans.”
“Hm, not my line, Trey, but thanks,” said Jason.
“You got equipment? What gear do you have?”
“Huh?”
“For the hunt. Do you have any gear? I know you don’t have a gun, so you can use my Win Mag and ammo, but do you have all the other stuff you need?”
“What do I need?”
“Shit, man, you need the right clothes, and you want layers. Even though it’s summer, it can get cold at night out in the woods. Good boots. A flashlight. Insect repellent. A sleeping bag. Tent—if we sleep outdoors. Fluorescent jacket and hat? Rain poncho? Knife? Maybe a hatchet. High-energy snacks, like protein bars?”
“Wow, I had no idea.”
“I’ll make you a check list.”
A voice was heard from another room,
calling for Trey.
“I’m back here in the den!”
The Russian guy Jason knew as Mack came in. “Hey. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Trey said. “Butthead and I just got back from target practice. The guy can actually shoot a gun.”
“Really?” Mack grinned at Jason. “Congratulations!”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Thanks. I’m not a total dweeb.”
Trey said, “I figured if Mr. Hopeless was going to be my brother-in-law, in spite of my dire warnings to my sister, I’d invite him on a hunt.”
Mack raised his eyebrows in surprise. “When? You don’t mean the Bacchanal … ?”
“No!” Trey shot his friend a sharp look. “We’re going on a hunt.”
Mack had obviously let something slip. “What’s the Bacchanal?” Jason asked.
“Nothing,” Trey answered.
Nat said, “Oh, it’s this stupid guys’ weekend that has been sort of a tradition in our family. My dad started it with his buddies when he was younger. Now Trey and some of his friends do it.”
“What is it?”
“They go up to our cabin in Michigan for a weekend or whatever, and get blistering drunk, watch sports on satellite TV, go hunting …. You know—a rite of passage, a regular frat party where they try and see who’s got the biggest dick.”
Jason laughed. “Sounds like fun. I’d like to go!”
“No. You can’t,” Trey said with finality. “Come on, Mack. Let’s get out of here.” He tugged at his friend’s arm and they both retreated. Mack waved at them. “Poka,” he said. Bye, in Russian.
“What’s the big deal about this little Bacchanal thing?” Jason asked Nat. “Why can’t I go?”
Nat shook her head. “Because he’s being an asshole. Besides, I don’t think you want to attend. You don’t have the temperament for it. Sorry, you don’t, Jason. It would be Trey and Mack and their paramilitary buddies. I think they’d eat you alive.”
“You’re probably right. Still, if it’s a family tradition, you’d think he would invite me along to be polite, even if I didn’t go.”
“I know. Don’t take it personally.”
He lay down beside her on the couch. “Want to go back to Chicago?”
“Why? Let’s hang out here. We can go swimming.”
They heard someone enter the den. It was Nat’s father.
“Hey, guys,” Greg Paley said.
“Hi, Mr. Paley. How was your business trip to Russia?”
Greg bopped Jason on the head as he walked by on his way to the kitchen. “It was good, and how many damn times do I have to tell you? Call me Greg.”
“I’m sorry, Greg, it’s just the way I was raised. I have to call you Mr. Paley. I’m wired that way.”
“Well, cut it out. How was the range?”
“Fine! I did pretty well.”
They chatted about the rifles and Greg asked which one he liked best. Jason did his best to talk firearm lingo, but eventually admitted he was a novice.
“That’s okay, Jason. When we go on the hunt, I’ll show you the ropes.”
“You’ll go with them, Daddy?” Nat asked.
“Sure, why not. I haven’t been hunting in a while.”
“Where is your cabin, exactly?” Jason asked.
“In the middle of a forest in Michigan. North of Kalamazoo and Grand Rapids. Got a nice little chunk of Manistee National Forest land that is officially owned by the Paley family and not the government. My father purchased it when Palit Wool really started to take off. It was a summer home, although the cabin isn’t much. Two bedrooms. It’s fine for short trips. There’s a shed on the property that is essentially one bedroom, too.”
“The property butts up against a lake,” Nat said. “And a little river flows through it, too.”
“You’ve been there?” Jason asked.
“Of course I’ve been there. Well, when I was little. I haven’t been there since I was a kid.”
“Why not?”
Nat looked at her dad. “I don’t know. Why not?”
Greg laughed. “I think the males of the species took it over. It became a guys-only domain.”
“Actually, I hate it,” Nat said. “There’s no hot water, you have to heat up water on a fire. TV reception sucks; there’s no cable. I’m surprised there’s even electricity. There’s no cell phone service, is there, Dad?”
“Nope. No Wi-Fi either. It’s meant to be a getaway from civilization.”
“Did you start the Bacchanal?” Jason asked.
Greg did a slight double take and frowned. “Who told you about the Bacchanal?”
“Trey did.”
“No, I did,” Nat replied. “After Mack and Trey mentioned it.”
Greg nodded. “I see. Yeah, I started it when I was in my thirties. Early nineties. I had these two buddies who hunted with me, and it sort of grew out of that. Louis and Jim. I met them in the army, and we became good friends.”
“When was that? Where were you?” Jason asked.
“1976 to 1980. Europe, mostly. I did some time in West Germany and Austria. There was no shooting war on at the time. Because I can speak Russian, the brass found me useful.”
“I sort of remember your friend Jim,” Nat said. “He died, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, about fifteen years ago. In China of all places. Louis is still around. He still works with me.”
“You don’t do this Bacchanal thing anymore?” Jason asked.
Greg shook his head. “Nah. It’s a young man’s folly. I don’t particularly want to spend my nights throwing up from too much booze. I kind of outgrew it, I guess. Trey took it over. Now it’s his thing.” He tilted his head and looked at Jason. “You’re too much of a nice boy to get mixed up with those characters. I’d stay away from it if I were you.” He turned to Nat. “Where’s your mother?”
“She went to the store.”
“Ah.” Greg moved on toward the kitchen, leaving the couple alone again.
Jason was perturbed, and Nat could see it. She reached out and squeezed the sides of his cheeks so that his mouth puckered. “Don’t pout.”
“What, I can’t participate in a Paley family ritual? It’s really hard trying to like your brother,” he said.
“I know. I think you’re doing a swell job, though. I love you for it.” She leaned in and kissed him. “Maybe you two will end up being good friends.”
“Then maybe I can go to the—” he made air quotes with his fingers—“Bacchanal.”
“Well, I’m going swimming.” She unwrapped herself from him and stood. “You coming?”
“Yeah, I’ll go change in a second.”
“See you in the pool.”
As she left the den, Jason couldn’t help thinking about the slight. It seemed to him that Trey was hiding something.
15
End of July
Yana Kravec had spent the last three weeks in a hell on earth.
After the shocking revelation that she had been fraudulently lured to the United States by human traffickers, the horror was nonstop. At the end of the first night in the house in New Jersey, she wanted to die. The man named Bobby and the man called Abram had both taken turns with her body, used it, abused it, and torn her insides apart until she was a bloody mess. The same thing happened to Christina and Sofia. They were each kept in separate rooms. Yana knew by their screams that they were being subjected to the same torture.
The woman called Nadine told her the next morning that she would “get used to it.”
They let her heal for a few days, but then it happened again the following week, and one more time at the beginning of her third week in captivity.
Her spirit was broken. She had nothing to live for. It was hopeless. She would never escape.
What were they going to make her do? Prostitute herself? Nadine had intimated that there were “bigger plans” for her, but that she had to be “conditioned” first.
Then, one morning, Nadine told the three w
omen to pack their bags—they were moving across the country to Chicago. They piled into a different van, again with blacked-out windows. The driver was Butch, a burly, bald Caucasian man who was heavily tattooed and pierced in many places on his face. He didn’t speak. With him was Fidel, a Caucasian man who claimed to be from Serbia. He seemed pleasant, but Yana sensed that he could be cruel if he wanted. He warned the three women that if they tried to escape or caused any trouble, he would “snap their necks.”
Oddly, along the way, the men allowed their captives to appear in public. The van stopped at various rest stops to fill up with gas. The women were allowed bathroom breaks, but only at facilities where the restroom was just big enough for one person. Yana, Christina, and Sofia had to use it one at a time. Mingling with other travelers was forbidden. Food was bought to go and eaten in the van.
The trip had taken two days. Yana tried to sleep for most of the journey, but she found it impossible to do so. She was in despair. It had been nearly two months since she’d left St. Petersburg. What were her parents doing? Did they think about her at all? Were they worried? Yana’s eyes filled with tears as she thought about them. They probably didn’t even know she had left the country. Why hadn’t she told them? How could she have been so stupid? No one knew where she was!
Even if she could escape her captors, what would she do? She didn’t have her passport. They’d told her that the Immigration officers would put her in jail. At the moment, however, that sounded like heaven. Better to rot in an American prison than be raped and abused at the whims of her abductors.
At the end of the two-day journey, they arrived in Chicago. Now she sat in a room in the back of a strip club somewhere in the huge city. She hadn’t been able to see much of the streets due to the van’s tinted windows. She’d been separated from the other girls and ushered into the club as soon as she was dropped off, and she sat there by herself for a few hours. Music pounded through the walls … boom boom boom. She heard the sound of women laughing outside the door. The dancers. Were they captives, too? No, they were enjoying themselves. They were laughing. How could they laugh if they were victims of kidnapping?
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