Page 55 of Trapped Truth

“Hy,” Warner barks at him. “Shut the fuck up, man.”

With that settled, gathered around in a circle, I gratefully accept the fragrant joint that Raye lights then hands to me. I don’t smoke to relax; this shit focuses my mind faster than any stimulant.

“Whether it’s a popular opinion or not, Sabre’s ranks are compromised.” I ignore the grumbles from our resident enforcer. “Who knew of Axel’s movements today?”

“Us,” Ember volunteers.

“The directors,” Warner adds grimly.

“Hudson and Kade would sooner die before betraying their own.” Axel rests a hand over his stomach, wincing slightly.

Warner nods. “Agreed.”

“We were at a roundtable with the Falcon Team and Intelligence Department,” Hyland supplies, albeit begrudgingly. “So they are also aware of our schedules. Beyond that, it’s watertight.”

By my calculation, that creates a whole pool of suspects. Perhaps breaching the topic of investigating co-workers will be better received if I talk to Warner alone. The oaf will sooner remove my head.

With a glance at Raye, I indicate for her to take the floor. “Tell them about the dark web listings.”

Everyone sits a little straighter on their crates. She sighs then pulls out a laptop to fire up our routing software. The dark web is a seedy place, much of it distasteful even to me. But it pays to be informed.

“I’ve been monitoring forums known to be used by traffickers,” she explains, gaze on the screen. “Particularly key players associated with the cartel or Nolan Madden.”

“You didn’t think to provide us with this list?” Warner deadpans.

“Good luck finding them, quick draw.”

His mouth slams shut, chastised.

“There’s a reason these forums are frequented,” Raye continues, just as moodily. “You’d have more luck catching fog in a teacup than tracking down the real culprits selling skin online.”

“A teacup.” Axel chuckles to himself. “What? That’s funny.”

Raye rolls her eyes. “Anyway, we have noticed an influx of listings in the past two weeks. Far more than we’re used to seeing marketed online at any one time. Excess stock can rouse too much attention.”

“Stock?” Ember’s mouth curves down in a frown.

“Victims,” I clarify.

A series of colourful curses are thrown across the circle.

“Who’s cleaning house?” Warner asks flatly.

“Given what we know about my father’s association with the cartel, we can assume he’s absorbing Gael’s infrastructure. Selling off assets to fund his new expansion on our home turf. People included.”

Turning the laptop, Raye unveils her screen. “He’s been busy.”

The website looks rudimentary at best. That’s the thing with the shady underworld of the dark web. It isn’t hooded hackers sitting in dark rooms, running lines of complex computer code. Nor is it obvious.

For all its simplicity, the system is rather elegant. These people talk in a whole different language. Coded words are used to denote the illegal wares available for purchase. Weapons, narcotics, hit man services. And now stolen skin.

“What does that description mean?” Ember points to some text, her nose scrunched. “It’s gibberish.”

Clicking the mousepad, Raye flicks to a new listing. “To you? Sure. But to the trained eye, it isn’t hard to decode. They’re selling an underage girl—Asian, approximately five-feet tall, and a virgin.”

“It’s a profile.” A sickly tint invades Warner’s expression.

“Yes. The marketing is thorough. This isn’t Nolan’s first rodeo.”