Currents of Sin

by Arleen Alleman

  Instead, he veered to the side and deliberately rammed into me. Stunned, I didn’t react quickly enough, and now he was pulling me along beside him while pointing his weapon at my face. With both hands occupied, he had to slow his pace, but I was shocked at how quickly he was still able to move.

  We arrived at the stairwell door, and he quickly yanked it open and stepped inside. The heavy door slammed shut behind us. He hesitated only long enough to release my arm and grab a fistful of hair instead.

  “Keep up, bitch, or I’ll pull all of it out of your head.”

  “Aagh,” was all I could manage. The horrendous pain was much worse when I resisted. I almost hoped my hair would pull loose from my scalp to end the agony and allow me to escape. I thought this was how guys like this controlled the girls they kept as slaves in prostitution.

  With tears flowing freely, I still struggled against him, thinking that at least I could slow him down. I knew that help had to be right behind us. He started down the stairs at the fastest pace possible, with me staggering bent over beside and a little behind. I couldn’t keep up. Two steps from the bottom of the first landing, I fell, but he wasn’t about to slow down.

  “No, stop!” I screamed, my arms flailing at him. He wrapped my hair around his fist so that my head was held up higher, but my body was literally bouncing down the concrete steps. With each jarring, excruciating step, I was sure that broken ribs would be the least of my injuries.

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs above made him speed up even more. He turned his body sideways at the next landing and fired upward. It was not nearly as loud as I expected, and I realized the strange-looking weapon had a sound suppressor.

  From above, a panicked voice yelled, “Hey, man, stop shooting. It’s me. What are you doing?” I recognized the voice.

  My tormentor slowed but didn’t loosen his grip. Curtis appeared at the top of the flight above and started down. He reached the landing and repeated his question.

  “What the hell are you doing? This shit won’t work. Leave her here. We gotta get out, and she’s slowing you down.”

  I tried to make eye contact, but he deliberately ignored me. I figured this was definitely a time to keep my mouth shut. I couldn’t speak anyway because the wind had been knocked out of me, my head throbbed, and a sharp pain stabbed through my chest from front to back.

  We continued down the stairs with Curtis in the lead, still talking over his shoulder, and me still bouncing on my butt and back. I involuntarily gulped huge breaths between sobs. There was so much pain between my back and ribs I was beginning to worry I might pass out.

  “I’m telling you, let her go, man.”

  “She’s a good shield. What’s wrong with you? We need her to get out of the hotel.”

  “Nah, we need to shed these clothes and walk out like guests. Let’s stop and take off this Korean shit. That cover’s blown now. It’s too hot with our regular clothes underneath anyway.”

  Continuing to argue, they slowed at the next landing. I knew I couldn’t let him drag me down any more steps. I believed I might actually die in that stairwell, and I wasn’t going to go out like that. With an excruciating burst of energy, I reached up and grabbed the railing. Sliding my hand along it, I managed to pull myself partway to my feet even as he continued to haul me down the next flight. My head pounded. My hair follicles screamed. I couldn’t believe the hair wrapped around his hand was still attached to my head.

  I glanced up at Curtis. He was still talking incessantly, urging his buddy to free me. Clearly, he was afraid to blow his cover while I was in a dangerous position. I had to do something to help the situation.

  As we started down the next set of stairs, I grabbed the railing as tight as I could with both hands and steeled myself against the pain. Twisting my body, I kicked my foot out behind me. It wedged between the gang member’s legs midstep. He began to fall forward but held fast to my hair. I realized I’d made a mistake. If he pulled me down with him, I’d likely pay with a broken neck. An image of Sid lying paralyzed in her hospital bed flashed momentarily.

  As his forward momentum caused him to tumble further forward, he instinctively grabbed for the railing and let go of me in the process. I flew past him and started down the stairs. Grasping the railing and unable to see clearly through my tears, I moved as fast as I could. It almost wasn’t enough.

  He quickly righted himself and fired down at me. Bullets blasted into the wall above my head. I bent lower but didn’t stop. My scalp stung and burned furiously—even worse than before. My chest was on fire. I reached up to find plaster and shards of cement block tangled in my hair. Some were apparently embedded in my scalp.

  Above, I heard Curtis shouting and fighting for the weapon. I hesitated and looked up.

  “Go, Darcy. Don’t stop.”

  “I’m going. I’ll send help.”

  I continued down the stairs as fast as my throbbing body and head allowed while more gunfire erupted above. I knew if he’d shot Curtis, he would be coming for me next.

  69

  Mick stood with his ear pressed against the connecting door. After the initial noisy breach of Lyla’s room, he’d heard nothing more. He wondered why the police had begun the raid ahead of schedule. Why would they make a violent entry into the room where they knew he was with the girl? Why had they begun the raid without alerting him? Something was going on that he didn’t understand. His gut warned him there was impending danger, but he forced himself to stay put.

  A few minutes earlier, when the yelling and shooting began, he and Lyla heard the frightened girl in the next room pounding frantically on the connecting door. Her handler had left her alone to make a phone call a few minutes before the shooting started. Mick unlocked the door on his side and yelled for her to do the same. As her door swung open, bullets hit the lock on the main entry door. He pushed Lyla into the adjoining room and locked both connecting doors behind them.

  The girl’s frantic banging on that door probably saved Mick’s and Lyla’s lives. Now Mick heard the lock disengage on the other side of the connecting door. He quickly moved away just as gunfire erupted against the lock.

  Lyla and the other girl screamed and dropped to the floor between the bed and the wall. The bullets did not penetrate completely through the metal door, but it was clear that someone was about to gain entry. Mick had a hard time imagining that it was the police.

  The shooting in the hallway had stopped. Looking through the peephole, he saw only the opposite wall but could hear a muffled conversation. Behind him, scratching sounds coming from the connecting door made it clear there was no time to think.

  “Get up. Get over here now,” he yelled. Both sobbing girls did as he ordered, and he grabbed them by the arms, pushing them toward the door. Opening it about an inch, he left the security chain in place. Two officers immediately jumped in front of the door with weapons drawn.

  “Hey, it’s me, Mick Clayton. Don’t shoot. I have two girls with me.”

  “Stand down,” one of the detectives yelled. “Come on out, Mick.”

  In the hallway, Mick found three more frightened girls assembled with two traffickers who were already in cuffs and a man in strange colorful attire lying dead against the wall. Mick gestured into the room. “Someone is shooting their way in from next door. Is that you?”

  “No, it’s one of these guys—gang members.” The detective pointed to the body. “They decided to show up here at the same time we did. We weren’t sure what was going on with you in there with the other one, and we were just about to find out. We’ll take care of him now.” He jutted his chin toward the open door that Mick had just come through.

  The detectives and several officers maneuvered into place to confront the gang member who was just entering from the adjoining room.

  As the shouting commenced, a female officer quickly ushered the five girls and Mick to the elevator
. On the way to the ground floor, she explained that she would escort the girls to a staging area where they would be assessed and assisted by social services personnel.

  70

  Mick peered around the now-deserted casino and gave her a questioning look.

  “Fifteen minutes ago, a SWAT team took over the security office and arrested Mirabelle along with all security personnel who were working at the time. Then we moved quickly to evacuate the ground level of the hotel. You should have heard the gamblers screaming. Guess they couldn’t care less about their own safety.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  She laughed. “But Mirabelle and his crew screamed even louder. You would think after two of them were arrested and let out on bail, they’d have been more careful. Greed and ego can go a long way, I guess.”

  “Right, he should have shut down the whole operation for a while. Not too smart. Um, I was just wondering if you could wait just a minute before taking the girls with you?”

  “Okay. Just a minute, though.”

  He turned to Lyla. “You’ll be fine now. I hope you’ll accept help from people who really care what happens to you.”

  She stared at him wide-eyed. Nodding, she stepped closer to the police officer and wrapped her bare arms around her body.

  Mick turned to look at the girl who’d been in the room adjoining Lyla’s. He didn’t have to take out the picture. He knew.

  “You’re Pamela Fleetfoot, aren’t you?”

  She gasped and stepped away from him, then looked around frantically. He reached out to her, smiling warmly.

  “It’s okay, Pammie. I’m a friend of Don and Charlie’s, and I’ve come to get you out of here.” He gestured out into the casino.

  She continued to stare at him as if doubtful whether she should trust him. He saw this and picked up her hand.

  “You tried to call Don, and he got a partial message. We thought you said the name of the hotel, and that’s part of the reason we’re here. Don really cares about you, you know. He’s been looking for you for a long time.”

  She put her head down and picked at a thread on the edge of her chemise. He watched tears fall onto the floor.

  “I can’t just leave. They won’t let me,” she cried.

  “You don’t understand. The police are here, and all these guys will be arrested. You and the other girls will be free.” He gestured at the empty casino. “This is all over now. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, and a pitiful strangled sound escaped from her throat, followed by a minute or two of hysterical crying. Jamming her fist against her mouth, she tried to quiet herself.

  Could this ordeal really be over? she wondered. She was overcome with gratitude and so thankful Don received her message after all. She’d given up hope on that, and the episode cost her dearly. Chuck no longer trusted her and wouldn’t let her leave the room.

  “You go ahead with this officer, and I’ll come to talk with the authorities in a few minutes. You’re going to be fine now, okay?”

  She stared up at him, her nearly black eyes still full of uncertainty. Then with relief beginning to flood every nerve cell, she nodded. “Thank you.”

  Mick walked away from the elevator and found the house phone. He dialed his room and listened to the endless ringing before the voice mail system picked up. A wave of dread caused him to slam the phone against the wall receptacle. Where was Darcy? Could she still be up on the twelfth floor? How had he allowed himself to be brought down without looking for her?

  After a quick and useless tour of the eerily deserted casino, he rushed back to the elevator. Police guards stood alert to prevent anyone from using it. He thought about trying to notify them about Darcy but realized it would take too long to explain their involvement.

  Instead, he waited until the officers were distracted by their own radio conversations with coworkers. He quickly opened the stairwell door just wide enough to slip through and started up the stairs.

  Climbing quickly, assuming the police would soon come after him, he made it to level 4 before hearing gunshots from above. Not daring to climb higher, he ducked down in the corner and peered up to the landing above. Within seconds, he heard heavy footsteps descending from several floors up.

  Since he was unarmed, there was no point in getting into a confrontation in the enclosed space—that might be suicidal. His fear for Darcy was escalating. Unsure what to do, he began slowly backing down. The footsteps were getting closer, and Mick’s anxiety flew off the chart.

  Where was Darcy? A jolt of fear made him stop and move to the side to look up the stairwell again, but except for the landing above, his view was blocked by the concrete walls.

  While he was contemplating his next move, he heard Darcy’s voice echoing against the walls from above. He couldn’t make out what she was yelling. He began to climb again, but almost immediately, she came into view. He ran up to grab her just before she collapsed.

  From below, two uniformed officers who’d also heard the gunshots rushed up the stairs to meet them. Mick pointed up. “Shots fired from up there.”

  Crouching low, one of the officers edged his way upward. The other one helped Mick support Darcy the rest of the way down to the casino. After a quick round of questions, he left them and returned to assist his partner.

  Five minutes later, Curtis came down, looking shaken. Seeing Darcy, he rushed over to her.

  “Are you all right? I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more to help you up there. I was scared that you were seriously injured.”

  “It could be worse, I guess. Curtis, I’d like you to meet my husband, Mick Clayton.”

  The men shook hands, and Curtis turned back to Darcy. “I was really worried. You need to get checked out, but I think you must be pretty tough.”

  “Thanks, Curtis. You totally saved me. I’m not sure how injured I am, but I’ll go over to the hospital. I feel like a truck hit me, and my ribs feel like they might be cracked.”

  “I didn’t do anything to prevent him from hurting you. I’m so sorry about that.”

  “Don’t worry, Curtis. I knew what was going on. I’m still grateful you were there. He probably would have killed me if you hadn’t been.”

  Mick said, “She’s probably worse off than she wants to admit. Like you said, she’s tough.”

  Curtis turned to leave. “I had to shoot that guy by the way, but he’s not dead. If my backup hadn’t arrived right then, it could have gone a lot differently. Anyway, my gang days are over. Now I have to report in, but I’ll check with you later.”

  71

  Having been treated and released from the hospital for the second time in a week, even I thought I might be pushing my luck. Once again, I had mainly bruises. My head was pitted from the concrete but didn’t require stitches, and my hair follicles still ached. The most painful injury was a bruised tailbone from bouncing down those damned steps. As suspected, I also had a cracked rib, but nothing else was broken. The ED doc suggested I take Tylenol for a week or so. I figured that was a good idea and reminded myself that once again I’d gotten away very lucky.

  Before leaving the hospital, we went to see Sid. She seemed a little better each time we saw her. I could see she was making an attempt to be upbeat for Brooks’s sake, but she had a long road ahead of her. I hoped she’d be able to maintain the positive attitude.

  She was excited to hear that we’d found Pammie and even more so that Paul’s cronies had been arrested. “I still can’t believe he was involved at Athens all this time. I met the new owner myself, and he appeared to be completely aboveboard.”

  “It looks like the owner didn’t know about the trafficking. It was all Mirabelle guided by Paul. The mistake was allowing any of the previous employees to continue working there after the sale. Now they’ll be locked up, and you’ll be truly safe for the first time.”

  “I am relieved, and I feel sa
fer, naturally. But I just can’t believe Paul would do anything to hurt kids. I know he’s cruel, but the things he does are more personal. He always went after people he thought wronged him in some way. I’m sure he never got involved with anything like prostitution when we were together.”

  Brooks was clearly relieved. He shook Mick’s hand and thanked him for everything we’d done to help.

  “I don’t care what Denezza did or didn’t do just as long as he’s out of the picture for good.”

  No one else had been hurt, and eight of Mirabelle’s staff, including the handlers—essentially slave masters—were in jail. One of the gang members was ensconced at the METRO lockup, and the other was hospitalized with a gunshot wound to the shoulder, thanks to Curtis.

  Later, I called Don to tell him the story and the great news. When I heard how elated he and Charlie were, I knew it had all been worth it. As expected, Don would fly to Vegas as soon as possible.

  72

  Day 15

  No charges would be filed against any of the girls. They were clearly victims, and Mick learned from Craig that counseling would be arranged for them. We didn’t know the circumstances of the other girls, but Craig also arranged for us to pick Pammie up and take her to stay with us at the El Cortez. We got her ensconced in the room next to ours, and there was no ambivalence about her obvious gratitude.

  “What do you think about Don coming here?” I asked her.

  We were sitting in her room at the little dining table, trying to determine if she had any plans for her future. She chewed her lip while she thought about the question.

  “Well, I guess I want to apologize to both of them for what happened before in Seattle.”

  This was a good beginning. I said, “You know, the guys never gave up on you. They want to help.”

  She looked at her lap. “I know that now. I wanted to escape from them so badly that I gave up the opportunity to get to know my sister. It was a big mistake … like almost everything I’ve done.”