Inhuman Trafficking

by Mike Papantonio

  “What I’ve got in mind could go south. Really south. It would be in your best interests if I didn’t involve you. This operation could send your career down the toilet, or worse.”

  “I’ve already been there, done that. I was disbarred because I wasn’t willing to sit by and do nothing while innocent people died. So I’m all in, and I’m all ears.”

  Michael took a deep breath before finding the words to speak. He had been prepared to go the mission alone—had thought that was the right thing to do—but now he found himself reassured by Jake’s steadfastness.

  It took him almost an hour to go over everything. When he finished, Jake said, “It’s ironic that we’re here in Vegas, and you seem to have lifted your plot from the movie Ocean’s Eleven. Or is that Ocean’s Twelve?”

  “I get all those movies confused, but I think it was in Ocean’s Thirteen that they tried to make sure the house didn’t win. That’s kind of what our mission is all about. We need to beat the house.”

  “Then let’s pray that jokers are wild,” Jake said.

  Michael’s cell phone started ringing. “It’s Deke,” he told Jake, picking up the call.

  Without any preamble, Deke said: “I’ll be taking a red-eye flight to Vegas tonight.”

  Michael’s response was as immediate as it was firm: “No. That’s a bad idea.”

  The momentary silence on the line told Michael that his reply wasn’t what Deke had expected to hear, nor was it a directive an associate typically made to a general partner.

  Deke said, “What you don’t know is that there were some big developments today. Tío Leo just finished coming clean to us.”

  “That’s welcome news. But you still need to steer clear of Las Vegas.”

  “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

  “No.”

  That word again. But this time Michael amplified on it. “Your presence here would be counterproductive to our mission. We need you for C3—command, control, and communications, especially if matters don’t play out as hoped.”

  “That’s all you’re going to say?”

  “That’s all I can say.”

  “You’re missing something here. Based on what Rodríguez told us, I suspect my goddaughter Lily was the mysterious American in Driscoll’s compound. And I believe she was taken to Las Vegas.”

  Michael suddenly realized what should have been obvious to him. Lily had green eyes.

  LII

  Lily tried to mask the desperation she was feeling. She didn’t want Max to see how worried she was. With all the cameras, there was no escape from him. That required her every waking moment to be devoted to her latest role, even though Max didn’t seem to be buying it. During the last full moon, she had staved off being Max’s sacrificial victim. That had bought her time, but now she was looking at another full moon. Her talking to the moon didn’t seem to be cutting it for Max anymore. His skepticism wasn’t coming at a good time. Tomorrow, the full moon would arrive.

  Still, all she could do was continue with her deception. Maybe she could find a way to win yet another reprieve. As she went to take her place at the window, Lily suddenly found herself feeling light-headed. She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself, but her legs grew increasingly wobbly, and she was forced to take an uncertain step back from the window.

  Lily extended a hand toward the moonlight, as if hoping to hold on to its glow, but everything was spinning, and she was forced into a backward retreat. Was her dizziness a result of stress? Lily staggered over to her bed and dropped to it. With each passing moment, she felt more disembodied. She tried lifting her arms, then her legs, but couldn’t get them to respond.

  With difficulty, Lily opened her mouth. “Help,” she cried, or tried to cry, but the word was little more than a whisper.

  Her mind was still working, but it would have been easier had she drifted into unconsciousness. Lily’s panic was only making her paralysis worse. Max, she thought. He must have drugged her food or drink, or worse, maybe he’d poisoned her. Lily struggled to raise herself from the bed, but could barely shift from side to side. Her breathing felt labored, and she wondered if her lungs were failing her. She tried to scream, but the drugs had taken away her voice.

  Her eyes still functioned, though. She saw the face of death coming her way.

  The face—the skull—was skeletal, devoid of mercy. It wasn’t human. From the depths of its black orbs, a second pair of eyes stared at her through carved slits.

  Max’s eyes.

  “Death is here. Are you prepared for your ascension?”

  His voice was distorted, or maybe the distortion was in her head. There was a mosaic pattern to his mask. It was inlaid with turquoise, and shells, and coral. The teeth might have been constructed from bone. Max stepped back, and she could see he was wearing an unusual-looking sleeveless, stained coat. That wasn’t like him. Max was always tidy in appearance. But there was a reason for all the rusty droplets and stains.

  Lily realized she was looking at old blood splatter.

  “I can see how your heart is pounding. Is your blood ready to feed the universe?”

  He opened up a fold in his murderer’s coat, then withdrew the knife, holding it so that it was all she could see. The black stone blade was aimed at her eye.

  “Ixquauac,” he said. “The ancient ones would tell you this priceless relic has a life of its own.”

  He changed the angle of his knife, bringing it down to her chest. Lily had no idea if the knife was cutting into her. Tears ran down her face.

  The man in the mask slashed his blade, and the torn nightgown fell away from her.

  “It is time you were purified for your consecration,” he said.

  He reached into his butcher’s coat again, exchanging the knife for a porous, chalklike stone. Max rubbed the chalky substance up and down her body. Lily was glad there was no sensation to his touch, but just the thought of what he was doing made her retch; she fought off her nausea so as to not choke on her own vomit.

  “You are almost cleansed of your sins. Almost.”

  Max stared at her from the slits that had been cut in the black mask. He retrieved his hard, black blade, then ran it along her flesh. Judging from the fast breaths coming from behind the mask, he could barely hold his excitement in check.

  Then he lifted the blade with both hands, raising it up to his forehead.

  Holding it high so as to plunge into her.

  LIII

  Deke resisted the urge to call Jake and Michael for an update.Somehow the young lawyer had gotten Deke to promise he would stay put in Florida. How the hell he’d managed that, Deke wasn’t sure. But maybe it was for the best. Things were heating up on his end as well.

  As if on cue, Diana appeared at the doorway to his office. “That call you’ve been expecting has been on hold for around two minutes now.”

  “Two minutes?”

  “He demanded to be put through to you ‘at once.’”

  “In that case, keep him waiting another two minutes.”

  Two minutes later, the call was put through. “Good morning, Mr. Bines.”

  “I just got the paperwork for your bullshit class-action suit. Is it a desperate plea to be noticed, or a publicity stunt?”

  “I’m good with either one of those outcomes,” Deke said.

  “Your suit is so transparent it can’t even be called a ploy,” Bines said.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  “Today I’ll be filing a motion to dismiss,” Bines said. “After it’s upheld, your class-action suit will go away.”

  “If it happens that way, then you won’t have to wait long for me to amend the original motion, and then refile.”

  “And I’ll see to its dismissal once more.”

  “Oh dear. By the sounds of it, this will be a protracted affair. But I’m okay with that. The longer it takes for things to play out, the better it will be for our side.”

  “What leads you to th
at conclusion?”

  “Because the more we cross swords, the more likely it is that the media will take an even greater interest in not only the class-action suit we just filed, but in the ongoing Welcome Mat Hospitality lawsuit. In fact, our office contacted Storm, and she seems quite willing to offer her thoughts on the case. She might even release a single from her album Chains around the time she makes her statement. That sounds good to me. What about you?”

  The class-action suit had been filed in the state of Florida and framed the argument of economic losses being suffered by H2B workers who were sexually trafficked at Welcome Mat properties. Because federal law in the US didn’t allow for class-action suits asserting individual injury, Deke was basing his case on alleging economic loss. By attempting to put a price tag on prostitution, Deke was hoping to turn the usual equation—and law—around. Since those being trafficked weren’t receiving any money for their services, Deke was asserting that compensation was due to them. As precedent for the class-action suit, Deke cited several Fortune 500 companies that had been deemed to be liable for essentially forcing their employees to work off the clock. Deke had more than a passing familiarity with a number of the cases he had cited, as he had successfully litigated them. Among those named in the class-action suit were Nathan Bines, Geofredo Salazar, and the Global Union Manifest foundation.

  “It sounds like a complete waste of time. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go file our motion to dismiss.”

  “That won’t stop me from putting the dots out there.”

  “Dots?”

  “Dots that I’m counting on enterprising reporters helping me to connect. There are lots of questions pertaining to the ownership and operation of Welcome Mat that need answering. We know Welcome Mat is dirty. Given time, we plan to show how dirty.”

  “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

  “I don’t think so. It’s strange how my team keeps digging up things and finding Mr. Salazar’s fingerprints. Maybe you can explain to me why the amicus brief you filed contains much of the same language found in a Global Union Manifest position paper that advocates lowering the age for H2B workers.”

  “I’d call that a coincidence.”

  “Coincidence? That’s one explanation. Another might be the ugly story going around that Salazar fronts the interests of the mob, and uses GUM to promote those interests.”

  “I’m glad, then, that the rule of law is based on facts, and not ugly stories and supposition,” Bines said.

  “Facts can be very ugly things, Mr. Bines, when they are not on your side. And I intend to reveal those facts. But if we’re to continue this conversation, I suggest you call me from a different phone and location.”

  “And why is that?”

  “My firm is not on the best of terms with certain multinational corporations, and because of that, all workplace conversations are conducted over secure telephone lines. As part of that security system, we are able to tell if there is any monitoring going on by a third party.”

  “So, what are you saying?”

  “Your line is bugged,” Deke said.

  * * *

  Half an hour later Bines called back on a cell phone he’d apparently borrowed from someone outside of his workplace. If Bines was expecting to resume the conversation where he and Deke had left off, that didn’t happen.

  “Satisfied?” Deke asked.

  “About what?” Bines sounded mystified.

  “Didn’t I play the role you scripted for me to perfection?”

  “I must be missing something.”

  “You can stop your games,” Deke said. “I know you leaked what went on in Irwin’s courtroom to the Times. You were the anonymous source, or at least you had someone close to you funnel that information to the reporter.”

  “Why would I have done that? I came out looking worse than anyone in that proceeding.”

  “That’s why.”

  “You’re suggesting I wanted to look bad?”

  “Not suggesting. Stating it as a fact.”

  “Based on what?”

  Deke didn’t directly answer. “When I was a wet-behind-the-ears lawyer, I was handed a child custody case over a six-year-old girl. The mother and her new husband were trying to freeze out the biological father’s visitation rights. It was a David-versus-Goliath fight. The father was a working-class stiff; the new husband was Mr. Moneybags. When the biological father got on the stand, I started asking him about his daughter, and he told the court, ‘If a tiger was coming at my little girl, I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to put myself between it and her.’

  “Everyone in the courtroom heard the truth in his words, and I heard the same thing from you the other day. My guess is that you would throw yourself into the jaws of a tiger in order to protect your daughter. And having your own personal connection made you think about other daughters, and how many of those girls had no one looking out for them. You knew that what Salazar and his cohorts wanted was to make these young women even more vulnerable.”

  There was silence for a few long moments. When Bines finally spoke, he sounded relieved. “It was damned if I do, damned if I don’t. My professional obligations were personally repugnant. There didn’t seem to be a good way out.”

  “There is now.”

  “I think I can convince . . . a certain individual that it is in his or her best interests to settle the Welcome Mat case, provided you drop the class-action suit.”

  “What kind of terms are you talking about?”

  “I will make sure the sixty Jane Does you represent are adequately compensated.”

  “There is no adequate compensation.”

  “We will follow the metric settlement that you proposed,” Bines said.

  Deke had asked his clients be paid $1.5 million dollars per year for every year they’d been sexually trafficked. As pricey as that might have seemed to outsiders, Deke knew it wouldn’t even come close to compensating for their pain and suffering.

  “That’s a start,” Deke said. “But we’re also going to need to have Welcome Mat Hospitality put anti-trafficking safeguards in place that will assure all their properties are free from sex trafficking now and in the future. Lip service isn’t going to work. We’ll need complete transparency, and outside oversight.”

  “I will make that happen,” Bines said.

  “In addition, the ownership of Welcome Mat needs to pay for a national informational campaign combating human trafficking.”

  “You’re asking for a lot,” Bines said.

  “The way I see it, I’m asking for the bare minimum.”

  Bines sighed. “I’ll advocate for it.”

  “You’ll need to do more than advocate. It’s nonnegotiable.”

  “Done,” Bines said. “And if our official business is concluded, I’d like to thank you for your understanding.”

  Deke didn’t need to read between the lines. As a lawyer, Bines had a duty to his client. As a father, Bines had a duty to his daughter, and girls like her.

  Like Lily.

  “Anything you can tell me about my being set up for the Enquirer and their hit piece?” Deke asked.

  “What I can tell you is that I would never be a party to such an action. And had I been privy to anyone voicing threats your way, I would have strongly advised against that course, although I doubt my objections would have been listened to.”

  “I understand.”

  “Beware the tigers out there, Mr. Deketomis.”

  “I think they better beware of me,” Deke said.

  LIV

  The sound of her own groaning roused Lily. For a few minutes she drifted in and out of consciousness, but finally awoke and staggered over to the toilet. After taking care of the needs of her bladder, she returned to bed.

  That Max had drugged her wasn’t surprising. Her still being alive was what was unexpected.

  She remembered how the masked Max, wearing his butcher’s outfit, had come at her with his black stone knife. But instead of cutting he
r open, he had used his ancient blade to hack away her hair. She ran her hand along her head and felt the stubbled remains. A single tear ran down her cheek.

  The afternoon shadows were already giving way to night; Lily had slept away most of the day. Max had probably wanted her to slumber until the full moon showed itself, and he along with it.

  Her gaze ran down her naked body. The chalky substance he had rubbed on her skin still covered her flesh. It was for purification, Max had said. He had applied it in preparation for the full moon and what would come with it. She looked like a ghost. And soon, Lily feared, she would be one.

  * * *

  In the last twenty-four hours, thought Michael, it had felt as if he and Jake had moved heaven and earth. Now there was time enough for him to make one last call. When he’d been a PJ, many of those he had served with had written “just in case” letters, notes to be delivered to loved ones in the event of death. Because of his own circumstances, and having no family, Michael had never felt the need to write a just in case letter. Only now did he wish he’d inked one.

  “Husband?” Mona said. He could hear the concern in her voice. Michael had told her not to expect a call from him until the following morning.

  “No cause for alarm. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  “Are you sure everything is all right?”

  “Can’t your husband call to say he loves you without you getting worried?”

  “Hearing those words makes me glad, but I would rather they were said in person.”

  “Next time I’ll just text,” he said.

  Mona’s playful tone matched his. “If you do so, remember to include one hundred heart emojis, as well as a dozen emojis of roses.”

  Although Mona still didn’t sound completely reassured, Michael was glad to hear her playing along with him.

  “You drive a hard bargain,” he said.

  The door to his hotel room opened. “It’s time,” Jake called. When he saw Michael talking on the phone, he signaled his apology.

  “Jake’s telling me we have to go.”

  “Husband?” Mona asked.

  Her intake of her breath made it sound as if she was about to say something else before reconsidering.