by George Nagle
Lien said something to Seim, who vanished. He then called “Fang!” and another young man about the same age appeared. Lien again spoke but this time pointed at the children, clearly telling him to round them up and get them out of the pool.
“Prease, this way,” Lien then said to Tim and James. Tim looked a little sad to leave the kids, but he followed.
“Seim will tell them you wish to finish the tour and then we join for tarking,” Lien said.
Finish the tour they did. They saw the dormitory style bedrooms for the kids. They also saw a real classroom where, according to Lien, some of the children were educated as requested by their masters. And they saw areas that made James want to vomit and hurt Lien at the same time. There was even a nursery that seemed to be empty of inhabitants at the moment. They passed at least two rooms with a variety of equipment clearly meant to train the kids for a variety of things. The place seemed to operate in a “made-to-order” style for the clients’ requirements of the children.
Most of it went over Tim’s head, but when he saw the whip in one room, he asked James, “Why do they have that? Those go to hit horses to make them run faster.”
“I don’t know, Jim, maybe they have horses,” James answered quickly.
“Strange place to keep it, near where children play and sleep and go to school. They aren’t teaching the kids to hit horses, are they?” Tim asked loudly.
“No,” James said.
“Probrem? What is hitting horses?” Lien asked
“Nothing. Jim was mistaken.” James turned quickly and bumped Tim’s leg to signal him not to talk because Tim looked like he was about to start an argument.
They exited into the same open area they’d begun in, but from what would have been the middle hallway. The original corridor was now to their left.
“We go now and finish other business,” Lien said, leading them down the last remaining hallway from that room, now on their right.
This hallway had a different feeling than the others, more like the living quarters for those not enslaved. It was decorated with paintings and pictures. It, too, had a variety of doors, but it felt more homelike.
James couldn’t help but wonder what they were getting into now.
Chapter Eleven
They stopped at the last door on the left off the main hallway. Lien knocked, and they entered an impressive looking office space with many TVs on the walls and high-end computer equipment. The right hand wall hosted an impressive surveillance system and server equipment. There seemed to be some major power breakers, too. As the door shut, James heard a powerful locking system engage. Clearly, no expense had been spared in this operation.
While James and Tim checked out the room, Lien whispered something to the stranger who had come to the pool room. He then introduced a woman. “This is Jie, wife of my brother Qiang.”
There were a total of four extra people in the room now, Jie, Seim, the stranger, and another man lurking in a corner. James saw no mirrors in this room, but there were cameras.
A woman who looked to be in her early sixties stood to welcome them. Like Lien, she was Chinese and wore her hair pulled into a bun. She was wearing a mix of Chinese and American clothing that suited her very well. Her eyes were set firmly on James, then shifted to Tim, then back to James. James knew instinctively she was shrewd and calculating, but he felt something else about her, something protective.
“Welcome,” Jie said. She turned and walked to her desk, sitting in a high-backed chair as though she were royalty.
“Prease allow me to introduce my nephew, Yan. He is very bright young man who speaks ten ranguages fruentry,” said Lien.
The stranger from the pool shook hands all around. When he reached James, he briefly locked eyes with him.
James’s eyes swept over Yan, and he quickly realized this was not someone to underestimate. Yan’s energy and demeanor radiated confidence and power, and he had the body of a trained fighter. His clothes were new and looked to be of European fashion. Most likely, he’d been educated there, probably in France or England.
Breaking the handshake, Yan went and stood on his mother’s left side, allowing Lien to finish the introductions.
“This is Seim,” Lien pointed, “and that man go by name Hansel from the children’s book.”
Hansel didn’t look German, James noted. More Egyptian. He noticed that Tim was fidgeting slightly.
Yan began to speak, and James noticed that his mother looked straight ahead at them, but the others’ heads dropped ever so slightly.
“Yes, welcome. My family is honored to receive you. Please have a seat.” Yan motioned to the chairs in front of the desk.
As James and Tim moved to sit down, they heard a cart being pushed.
Yan continued, “May we offer you refreshment?”
A rather nice selection of fresh fruit, cookies, and cheeses appeared with a variety of drinks.
Tim glanced at James before selecting pineapple and a bottled water. James took two small cookies and also bottled water.
“Thank you,” Tim said, excitedly eating his pineapple, his favorite fruit.
“It is our pleasure to have you here as our guests,” Yan said with a gracious smile, but his eyes were as calculating as his mother’s, who was watching with great interest.
She said something to Yan in Chinese. He went on, “We have gotten a note from Noi Rasa saying that your identities were verified. He says the requested bond of $300,000 U.S. dollars has also been collected. He goes on to say our security measures of finger printing and photo taking are also complete. His final note is that you, Mr. Ferguson, and you, Mr. Mathers, are related. Cousins?”
“We are. Our mothers are sisters who married into very wealthy families,” James said with pure confidence. Tim nodded with a mouthful of fruit, his right leg bouncing a little.
Yan presumably translated that for his mother, who gave a small nod. “Always good to have family, is it not?” he said rhetorically, looking up at them. “We have my family here, my mother, my uncle, my aunt, and all of our ‘children.’”
On the last word, he spread his arms as if to say everyone in the complex was part of the family, too.
“The missing part of my family is my father. He is not here, not for five years since he died.” Yan leaned forward on the desk with both hands. His tone and speech were steady, but his body language reflected barely coiled aggression.
Tim was thankfully still occupied with the fruit, but James focused on the son and his mother. She sat as if made of stone.
“You come here seeking information on a man most hated by this family. By my mother,” Yan stood up and swung his right arm toward her before pointing his thumb at his chest. “And by me.”
“Anthony Spara and his family are why my father is dead,” Yan declared. “They took away the business my father helped build and gave it to the pukes of Russia and Afghanistan. They took away our great border connections to operate freely with our other business. You see what extremes we have to go to. My mother wants to know exactly why you want this information and what you mean to do with it?”
The mother made no motion, but Lien wore an angry look on his face.
James spoke matter-of-factly but with great conviction. “We feel the information you have on Anthony Spara may allow us to bring his family down and send them all to prison for life. We also think it will cause massive disruptions to the Afghan and Russian drug trafficking markets. That should result in a few key people losing their lives for not being able to move the material. In short, we want to ruin all the people you hate.”
“That is not answering why,” Yan said in the same stance he had taken when talking about his father.
“That is simple. He did the same thing to our fathers.” James made a motion toward Tim, who looked up from his third serving of pineapple and nodded.
Yan translated what James had said to his mother, but it didn’t sound Chinese. Then he asked “How?”
“The
Spara family also cheated our families out of our share of money. My father is a rather successful gasoline chain owner in the U.S. We have a lot of distribution capability, access to refineries, and that sort of thing.”
James took the opportunity to glance at Tim, whose leg had not stopped bouncing. By the state of his chin, he wasn’t going to stop eating pineapple until the tray was empty.
James continued, nodding towards Tim, “His dad is a rather well-known and respected investment banker. He has the ability to move a lot of cash as he needs to.” James was making this up on the spot.
Yan opened his mouth to speak, but his mother said something sharply.
Yan turned and translated what James had said before receiving more words from his mother.
“That is interesting, but how does it relate to moving drugs?” Yan said.
“The investment banking allows for easier money laundering. I think you can see how it can be useful. Besides the apparent logistics associated with the gasoline, there’s another factor. My uncle and father invested a great deal of money in figuring out how to dissolve the heroine into gasoline to transport it undetected and then to process it back out quickly and purely.”
Yan translated all this before James went on.
“Anthony Spara saw the operation, had his people trained on how to do it, and cut my father and uncle out. He’s been working with a different laundering agency for years and lied to us about the rate he was charged. He also decided it was easier to start bribing gasoline drivers across the nation instead of waiting for my father’s fast-growing business to get out of the northeastern part of the U.S.”
Again Yan translated, but he seemed to be speaking yet a different language than before. The accents weren’t the same.
There was a moment of silence. Yan gave a tiny nod to his mother, who gave a much larger one back. Yan turned to face them.
“You have purchased the file and we are happy to give it to you, friends,” Yan said. “However, my uncle informs me that we may have other business to discuss. Is this true?” he inquired.
Tim was fidgeting so bad that it was hard to ignore, and Yan certainly had noticed. “Are you all right, Mr. Ferguson?” he asked.
Tim stood up, and James realized what was wrong before he said it.
“I really need to go make,” Tim said.
“Make? What does this mean?” Yan said, taken aback.
“He has to use the bathroom. And while he does that, we can discuss further business,” James said.
“Oh, yes, I see.” Yan motioned to Seim. “Seim will show you where you may use the restroom,” he said to Tim.
James watched them move along the corridor on the monitors, his mind racing.
This was his chance to set something up without Tim overhearing the conversation and potentially blowing the cover. He basically needed an excuse to come back and also to understand how they got all this electrical equipment and power if they couldn’t bring in simple battery powered objects.
“So how do these arrangements typically work for your organization?” James asked. He really had no clue how to begin something like this.
“Very simple. What would you like?” Yan said. “We have a wide variety as you have seen, and getting something special is not too much of a problem if you do not care for our inventory.”
James could feel his anger growing and fought to contain it.
Variety! Inventory! These are kids, not wines or fruit!
He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. Not like most people do, but by taking control and going extremely logical. This topic, however, was proving difficult to be logical about.
“I think your current inventory will meet the needs of my cousin and me,” James said, returning the smile that Yan was giving him with an effort. “Where would we be on pricing?” he asked.
“I see that you are excited, my friend,” Yan laughed. “Your ears are burning with desire. Price depends on what you want and how you want them trained. We can accommodate anything you desire.”
“Jasmine seemed to catch Mr. Ferguson’s eye, and she seemed fond of him in the bath,” said Lien. “And prease correct me Mr. Mathers, but you seem fond of X.”
“Another one for X. No, that will not do,” Yan said, shaking his head. “He is old and used. Should have gotten rid of him, but he is good for the others.”
“But Mr. …” started Lien, but Jie stood and began to shout at Lien, who instantly quieted. She then turned on Yan. When he looked at her, she lowered her tone quickly as she finished her words with him.
“I apologize, Mr. Mathers, for my uncle speaking out of turn. And I should not dismiss a desire of yours as my mother rightfully pointed out. Would you care for X, and do you think Jasmine would be suitable as a starting point for Mr. Ferguson?” Yan asked all of this in a flat, but polite, tone.
Two things registered. First, Jie spoke English. No one had continued to translate for her. Second, Yan was in charge, not her. She was a cover. That was the feeling he’d sensed, and the feeling in his stomach told him he was right.
“What would be the cost, and when could we arrange all this for delivery?” James asked. He knew he was getting short on time.
“What preparation do you require? We are able to train them in …” Yan started.
“No, no additional training aside from education in studies such as math, science, English, and such,” James said as he caught site of Seim and Tim reappearing in the first monitor. “Also, I would like this to be a surprise for my cousin. So if we can just refer to ‘the package’ when he comes back, that would be appreciated.”
Yan nodded. “The cost will $50,000 U.S. dollars for X and $65,000 for Jasmine. This is a special deal for you. It is because you are going to take care of Spara and also to encourage you to come back to us for future needs.” Yan gave what he felt was a charismatic smile and wink, and James fought the urge to get up and beat him silly.
“That is fine. I will have to make arrangements to get documents to take them with us and to get back here for them. That may take some time. Plus, we would like them to be fully fluent in English. Say less than a year, hopefully closer to six months.”
“So long?” Yan said as Tim and Seim returned.
“There are a lot of moving pieces, and I want to do it right. Besides, by that point I may have news for you on how we are doing with taking care of Spara.” James stood up. “And it gives you time on your end, as well.”
Yan recognized James’s standing as a take it or leave it move.
“We leaving?” asked Tim.
“I believe we have finished all our business. I assume payment in the same way as before and that you will inform Mr. Rasa and he will be the connection point again?” James asked.
“Yes, very good. Very good,” Yan said. He whispered something to his mother, who rose from her seat and walked directly to Fang, who stepped aside.
She pressed on the molding at the corner of her chair and a small click sounded. She apparently had triggered a small, secret vault room.
She entered and took a few steps that could be heard on the stone floor of the room.
James imagined she must have a stride of about eighteen inches. If so, the vault was at least a few feet deep, which meant it could hold more than a single file.
She returned quickly and handed a thick binder to James. She then bowed and said her second word in English. “Goodbye.”
Promptly, Fang and Seim steered James and Tim out of the room, followed by Lien.
A few paces down the hall, Seim broke away at a run.
“We thank you very much for your time. It was good to meet with you. Joe will return you to Noi,” Lien said at the main door as Seim appeared, closely followed by Joe. Lien handed Joe Noi’s carrier and returned inside.
While they walked with Joe back through the inner wall, James tried to mentally capture all the points he could on dimensions, cameras, and the like. It was a lot to take in, especially when
he was still fuming inside. He wasn’t paying attention to Tim, but he should have been.
Outside, they climbed back into the Suburban and began the drive, and James reminded Tim that Joe would shut off the vehicle in a few minutes, but it would be okay.
Tim replied “Obviously,” with a small burp.
As they approached the stone markers, Joe did not stop to take the battery out of his phone this time. He just cruised up, placed the vehicle in neutral, and killed the engine. He managed to remove the battery as they drifted. It took them about the same amount of time to get through as before, as the slight decline of the ground helped.
Just before Joe stopped on the other side of the markers, Tim turned to James and said, “My tummy hurts.”
James asked, “Hurts how?”
Joe stopped the Suburban and Tim quickly got out. Joe started to protest, but Tim vomited. It was almost impressive, how much pineapple came roaring up.
James and Joe got out to join Tim, who was shaking.
“I want to go home now, please. I want to go home,” Tim said, almost crying.
“We are. We are going home.” James grabbed Tim on the side of his head and looked him in the eyes. He could smell the rancid smell from the fruit mixed with stomach fluids and almost vomited himself.
“Here,” Joe said, handing Tim his own thermos of water.
Tim took it and rinsed out his mouth. James turned and said, “Thank you, that was very kind.”
Joe nodded and climbed back into the Suburban. After one more rinse, so did Tim and James.
The rest of the ride back was uneventful. Tim curled up against the door and wiggled his toes in his shoes. James assumed this was a relaxation technique and did not question it. He was trying to keep his focus on all that had transpired so he could write it down, running everything through his head to keep it fresh.
Noi greeted them, holding open the back passenger door with his high-strung, crackling voice. “Hello, sirs. I am glad to see you again. I trust all is well with your business?”
“No,” said Tim, clearly impatient and grouchy. “I want to go home now.”
“Sir, is there anything I …” Noi said, clearly offended.