by Ian Walkley
Scotty grabbed the kid’s feet and Termite held his arms so he was stretched out on his back.
“Mamexi, this rock weighs about twenty kilograms. When I smash it onto your kneecap, it’ll cause at least as much damage as a bullet fired from my pistol.”
The kid’s eyes bulged. “You wouldn’t—”
He slammed the rock down, crushing the kneecap into a mash of ligament and tendon. Mamexi blacked out. His knee swelled to four times its normal size. Bob turned away, a strangled sound coming from his throat. When the kid came around, he screamed so loudly they had to move away until he’d recovered a semblance of normality.
Mac spoke in a calm voice. “Now, Mamexi, if you’re smart you’ll believe me when I say I will do the same to your other knee.” He stooped to pick up the rock. “Maybe the Cartel will find you. Then again, the wild dogs and Gila monsters might finish you first.”
Mamexi leaned over and retched up a foul-smelling muck, groaning.
Mac raised the rock above his other knee.
“No! Please! In God’s name! I tell you, señor! All what I know...” He took a short breath, groaning from the pain. “They take them in a truck to Juarez. They fly them out. I not know where. Please... That is all I know.”
“Who did they sell them to? Who?” He wiggled the rock, about to drop it.
“Wait!” Mamexi screamed. “I...I hear them talk about a gringo. ‘The Frenchman’, they call him. No name. Just ‘The Frenchman’.”
~ * ~
4
“Please... no,” Sophia sobbed, all of her energy drained.
The man ignored her.
She felt like she was going to be sick again, but there was nothing left to retch up. She tried to pray, tried to take her mind away from the restraints binding her arms and legs, from the fact that she was naked and vulnerable to the man who was now inserting a cold metal instrument inside her.
“Please, God...” Sophia had tried to convince him she was a virgin, but he had insisted on violating her to check for himself. He’d undertaken more intrusive tests, too, including drawing blood. He was old, with gray hair, and he’d told her in English that his name was Dr. Gammal.
She glanced at the olive-skinned man in white shorts and a golf shirt who stood by the door staring, occasionally growling words she couldn’t understand. Another shiver rocked her body as the instrument was withdrawn. The dark, beady eyes and cold smile reminded her of a shark. So devoid of humanity, so cruel, looking at her like she was an animal, or worse.
~ * ~
The long journey had been a nightmare, bouncing along in trucks and noisy cargo planes. First, they had thrown Sophia and Danni into the back of a truck filled with crates of vegetables, barely enough room to move, struggling to breathe in air that reeked like steamed cabbage. Crammed in with them were two others, Jeanette from Toronto, and Erika, from Sweden, who explained in stilted English that she was an exchange student, taken in Mexico City. Jeanette cried as she told them three men grabbed her as she was walking through the grounds of her hotel to the pool. The two bottles of water they’d been given were soon empty, and they sucked water from the lettuce leaves in one of the crates. Sophia tried to reassure the others, to talk her own confidence up. Air trickling in through a small ventilation grill couldn’t disperse the heat and fumes, and after a while Jeanette began to retch. The stench was revolting, and soon all four of them had emptied their stomachs into a plastic bucket they found in the corner.
“I’m so sorry, Sophe.” Danni said, as the truck lumbered along. “I wish I’d never suggested we go shopping by ourselves.”
Sophia shook her head and held Danni close and said words she was not so sure of herself. “They’ll get us back, I’m sure of it.” Still, she cursed herself for nagging their parents to let her and Danni go shopping. It should have been safe, only ten minutes from their hotel. But it wasn’t. She’d read enough to know about paedophile networks and sex slavery, and the haunted faces of the other girls, visible in the rays of light coming through the ventilation grill, filled Sophia with dread.
Jeanette stopped crying, and her voice took on a resigned, stoic tone: “We’re all girls... Even if they intend to ransom us, they’ll probably rape us. Lock us up somewhere, maybe torture us... They might never let us go.”
“Please,” Sophia said. “Let’s try to stay positive. We have to survive this journey. Help each other.”
“Who are these people? How can they treat us like this, worse than animals?” Danni said.
“I think maybe it is the drug gangs,” Erika said.
“How were you taken?” Jeanette asked Sophia.
“Just walking along the street back from the Plaza Mall in Tijuana. Two cops in a car stopped us. Made out we had drugs in our bags, and arrested us. They drove us out of town and dumped us in this truck.”
Jeanette shook her head. “Oh my God. Cops? Even the freaking cops can’t be trusted here? What hope have we got, then?”
After what seemed like a lifetime, the truck stopped to refuel. They cried out for help, for water. The rear door opened. Two men stood there, holding guns.
Sophia pulled Danni close, determined not to be separated from her. “Try to stay together, okay? No matter what happens,” she whispered.
Jeanette yelled: “Hey! I’m a diabetic! I need insulin!”
Sophia added, “She needs medicine. Please...” She tried to speak calmly. “You understand?”
The two men spoke briefly in Spanish. The one with a moustache said: “I understand.” He threw four bottles of water at them, then slammed and locked the door. The truck took off again. Gradually, the sulphury smell of diesel filled the compartment. Despite their attempts to keep her awake, Jeanette lapsed into unconsciousness, heaving laboured breaths. The droning of the engine and the fumes made Sophia drowsy, and at some point she passed out. She awoke to Danni shaking her, whispering her name. The truck had stopped. She could hardly turn her head because of the thumping, shooting pain inside her skull.
After a few minutes the truck’s rear door was opened. Warm, fresh air flooded in. Sophia breathed deeply and squinted at the daylight outside. It looked like they were inside an old aircraft hangar. The distant roar of an aircraft taking off echoed off the walls and seemed to reverberate inside her head. The hangar door was closed, and two armed men stood guard.
Four smelly, unshaved men jumped up into the truck and roughly pulled the girls out. The hangar had several holes in its roof so she could see the blue sky, and even the brief glimpse of freedom was enough to give her a little heart. The men here were not dressed as police, like those who had kidnapped them, but they spoke Spanish. They must still be in Mexico.
They watched as Jeanette’s limp form was laid on the floor of the hangar. Sophia went to go to help her but was pushed back by a short man with fat hands. Danni and Erika were sobbing inconsolably. Two of the men shouted and waved their arms, apparently in an argument about what had happened. As the girls stared in horror, the two men carried Jeanette’s body to the back of the hangar and threw her into a dumpster.
The short man ordered them to strip, in plain sight of the leering men, then turned a fire hose on them as the men laughed at the spectacle. They whimpered as the hard, cold water pummelled them. Sophia closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself back home, safe in her room, but the force of the water knocked her off her feet and sent her reeling on the concrete.
When the dousing was finished, another older, balding man tossed them some grubby towels and cotton robes, and once they had dressed, he handcuffed them to a chain. They sat on the floor and waited, wondering what would happen next. After a while, the balding man brought some tortillas and water. Exhausted, the three girls finally fell asleep, huddled together on the concrete floor. During the night, two more trucks arrived, each carrying kids, one who looked only about seven or eight. In all, ten girls and three boys were loaded onto a cargo plane that took off, heading east. On board, the terrified captives spoke
in whispers, speculating about their destination and their fate.
“Do you think our parents have been contacted by the kidnappers?” Danni asked.
Sophia shrugged. “I just hope they don’t end up dealing with the cops who snatched us.”
“Do you think they’d have taken us if our brothers had been with us?”
“Probably. They were cops. And Wade and Franklin are only fourteen, like that boy over there. They’d have probably taken them, too. Thank God Maddie decided to stay at college for Spring Break.”
After a long flight, the aircraft landed in the dark, on a brightly lit runway, and armed men hustled them onto another plane, this time a smaller, fat-bodied one with propellers. The noise was deafening, and nobody spoke for the three hours or so it took to reach the next stop. Here, they were pushed into a truck and driven through a dirty, half-destroyed city that looked like it had been through a war. Sophia thought she could hear distant gunshots as they drove. Danni agreed that they must be somewhere in Africa. The air was steamy and clouds of mosquitoes inside the truck feasted on the captives in the dawn humidity. Finally, they arrived at a port, where they were joined by another group of thirteen captive teenagers from European countries. Armed soldiers supervised their transfer to a motorboat that took them out on a slow rolling ocean and tied up alongside an enormous vessel that looked like a cruise ship. A gold plate halfway up the side displayed the name PRINCESS ALIYA. Way above them, Sophia could see several men with skin the colour of burnt caramel, dressed in flowing white robes. The knot in her stomach tightened. Maybe they had been sold to an Arab sheik’s harem?
Crewmen from the vessel herded the captives below decks and into cells that held four people on bunk beds, with a shared toilet and washbasin. Sophia and Danni were put in a cell with Erika and a tiny eight-year-old named Carmel, who’d been separated from her brother Gregory and sobbed quietly in Sophia’s arms. Soon after the ship got underway, crewmen brought them food and drinks, and watched while they ate.
“Where are they taking us now, I wonder?” Danni said.
Sophia tried to get Carmel to eat. “Come on, you have to eat, baby, so your mum and dad will see how strong you’ve become.”
“Some men shot my mommy and daddy,” Carmel replied, shaking her head. “Now they’ve taken Greg away, too.”
A short time after she had finished eating, Sophia had drifted off. She had slept soundly until she had found herself on the examination table, with Dr. Gammal bending over her.
~ * ~
Now, as Sophia lay on the examining table trying to block the horrible scenarios swirling through her mind, she heard the doctor mention her name several times as he completed his report to the shark-eyed man. He grinned and left, apparently satisfied, although Sophia couldn’t understand what they had been discussing.
After the man had left, she breathed a little easier. Dr. Gammal seemed excited as he told her they would soon be arriving at a beautiful island. He studied her for a few moments and smiled, as if to reassure her that everything would be all right. Then he said, as he fiddled with his clothing, “Now, my girl, you will open your pretty mouth.”
~ * ~
5
After stubbing out his cigarette on the solid gold ashtray, Ziad took off his shoes and entered the expansive suite on the upper deck of the Princess Aliya, continuing through to the covered deck outside where Sheik Khalid Yubani lay prone on a massage table. He looked fit and muscle-toned, having lost a good ten kilograms since the Egyptian girl, Sheriti, had started as his personal trainer. Khalid’s sister, Rubi, sat beside the massage table, wet hair wrapped in a towel, jotting notes as he dictated instructions.
Sheriti, wearing a lycra micro bikini that revealed tan lines across her buttocks and around her breasts, knelt astride Khalid’s back and dug her thumbs into the muscles on either side of his spine. Her skin glistened and, as Ziad watched, a bead of sweat drizzled off her collarbone onto the swell of a breast. Holding his cell phone unobtrusively against his chest, he pressed the video button. He would enjoy watching her again later, back in his cabin. He adjusted his crotch to hide the discomfort and waited until Khalid had finished his instructions to Rubi.
“Good morning, Highness,” he said eventually, “I have a few matters to report.”
Khalid grunted.
Ziad switched from Arabic to French. Sheriti didn’t speak French. “We’ve completed unloading the weapons for Al Shabaab and we’ve taken on board the orphans. We’ll be leaving Mogadishu within the hour. Rubi, could you please generate an invoice for Sheik Taldari, for the Al Shabaab consignment? One point two million euros. We also need to invoice Al Qaeda for the explosives we unloaded off Yemen yesterday. Two million US dollars.”
“Make it four million,” Khalid said. “Sheik Abidi is paying on behalf of Al Qaeda, through the Hunnafite Orphan Foundation.” He chuckled.
“Yes, brother.” Rubi jotted down the details.
“On second thoughts, make it six.”
“Abidi would not accept six,” Rubi said. “He may accept five.”
“Ah! It is like a mosquito bite to him.”
“You know he doesn’t like to be overcharged, brother.”
Khalid grunted as Sheriti dug her elbow into his back. “Five it shall be, then.”
Ziad moved closer to take in Sheriti’s scent—a heady fragrance of floral and sweet citrus, with a hint of musk. He licked his lips, his eyes addicted to the hypnotic movement of her slim, toned body. As if to further provoke him, she glanced back and smiled, her full, dark lips revealing a mouth of perfect, white teeth.
She had joined them eight months earlier after Khalid had met her working at the Grand Hyatt in Cairo. Ziad’s contacts in Egyptian Security reported her clean: she was an only child, her parents had been killed by Israeli bombs in Beirut, and her only close relative was an old aunt in Cairo.
Enjoy it while it lasts, pretty Sheriti. Ziad knew Khalid would eventually tire of her, as he had with his last two personal trainers, and when he did, Sheriti would be his... until he too grew bored with her. When eventually they dumped her overboard, she wouldn’t be missed.
“I have good news, Highness,” he said excitedly. “We may have located a suitable donor for your father. She has the same rare blood type, AB negative. We have a few more tests to undertake, but Dr. Gammal is hopeful she will be a serotype suitable for your father. She could be the one in a million. An American girl, from the shipment supplied by the Frenchman. We have her aboard now.”
Khalid raised his head for a moment. “Wonderful news. It is Allah’s will. We must take good care of her, Ziad.”
“Yes, Highness. Do you wish to see her?”
“Why would I? She is a pair of lungs. I will see them when they are harvested and put into my father’s chest.”
“She is very pretty, Highness. I thought you might—”
“Then you will be responsible for ensuring that she doesn’t come to any harm from the crew. Is the construction on Andaran ready for handover?”
“The resort and the fortress will be ready for your final inspection after the banquet. Although we may have one remaining problem. Bill Fanning.” Ziad moved slightly further behind Sheriti, who had raised her buttocks provocatively as she rubbed Khalid’s back with her forearms. Ziad wanted to ensure he captured everything on his phone videocam. “Sergei has been monitoring Fanning’s emails. He has sent copies of the plans to his office in Dubai, in defiance of the secrecy requirements.”
Khalid made a clicking sound with his tongue. “We must have the ability to maintain the facilities without him. We have discussed what must be done.”
“But Highness, we cannot dispose of him yet. Not until—”
“Do I have to spell it out? Find the wife! Once we have her, we will get everything he stole and be able to rid ourselves of all the loose ends. Now, you may both leave us.”
Ziad followed Rubi out and closed the glass sliding door. They both turned and watched as She
riti slipped off her bikini and lay on Khalid’s back, sliding against him in a slow, circular motion. Ziad felt his arousal intensify. He could sense the lightheadedness that told him he would need release soon.
Rubi had a superior smirk as she put her face close to his. “You think Sheriti will be yours, Ziad, like the last two? I think perhaps this time it will not happen. I believe that my brother is intending to marry Sheriti.”
He stepped back and frowned. “Surely this can’t be true. She’s not of his clan.”
“No, she’s not.” Rubi nodded at his cell phone. “And make me a copy of the video.”
~ * ~
6
The Suburban had been following Mac for two blocks now. As he continued through the pain of his first morning run after almost two weeks of confinement at the prison at Fort Bragg, he was more curious than afraid. Who were these guys? And why were they following him?