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But now that time was coming to an end.
The ship sailing into the pier docked. It was a dusty looking container ship, and we watched as they began to offload.
He turned to me and spoke in a low voice. “It’s time. Let’s go.”
I nodded and followed him down the pier. We walked in silence, our footsteps echoing through the night. Soon, my father stopped in front of a large warehouse. The door was slightly ajar, faint light coming from inside.
My father pushed open the door, and I followed him in. The room was full of crates, and in the middle of the room, I could see a group of young women huddled together, their eyes wide with fear. I could smell their terror in the air, and my stomach tightened.
My father walked over to the dozen women and spoke to them in a gruff voice. “Don’t worry. You’re safe. Before you know it, you’ll be free.”
He spoke the words in English, then began again in Spanish.
The women’s faces brightened with relief, and some of them rushed to thank my father. I closed my eyes, filled with regret and horror.
I’d stop this once I took over the business. But would I be able to get these women back and safe?
The wail of sirens rose in the distance.
My father scoffed and we went out to meet the police. My father had them all in his pocket anyway. There might be some goodie-two-shoes or someone who didn’t know my father out there, but his buddies or captain would soon set him straight.
My father raised his arm to greet the police. The police officers approached us with caution, their hands resting on their holsters. My father stood there with an air of confidence, the kind that only comes from being a powerful man in a corrupt world.
"What’s going on here?" one of the officers asked.
My father gave him a charming smile. “Our business just received a shipment. For our hotel chain.”
One of the officers obviously recognized my father and his gun arm dipped.
The other officer's face hardened. "We received a tip that there was illegal activity happening in this warehouse."
My father's expression didn't change. "Really? And what makes you think that?"
The officer hesitated for a moment before replying, "We have reason to believe that there are human trafficking victims."
My father's façade slipped for a moment, and anger flickered in his eyes. He had never been caught before, and this was a major threat to his business. Someone had betrayed him.
But just as quickly as it had come, the anger disappeared, replaced by a calm and collected demeanor. “That’s a shame. If there’s any such activity, I hope you’re able to take care of it. But there are no victims in my shipment, I assure you.”
He turned to me and said, "Son, why don't you run along while I take care of this?"
The second officer barked, "You can both stay right there."
"Hold on, let's get Commissioner Fielding on the line," my father said pleasantly. "We'll get this straightened out in a moment."
The officers glanced at each other, abashed. My father was going to win another round.
There were two nondescript vans on the street, and suddenly their doors burst open. Men and women in blue jackets with yellow letters across the back leapt out.
The Feds.
My father cursed and grabbed my arm. “Run.”
He ran one way, and I leapt into the water.
I hit the surface of the water with a loud splash, and the coldness of the sea enveloped me. I swam as fast as I could, desperate to put some distance between me and the warehouse. My wounded shoulder burned with every stroke.
As I swam, chaos unfolded behind me. Gunshots echoed through the night, and I could hear my father shouting orders to his men. But I didn't look back.
