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Alex
“When amI due at the auction location? And when the hell do we find out where it is?” I ask, annoyed at the lack of information we’ve been given so far.
The leaders of the illegal sex-slave ring have kept the location under wraps, and we’re all waiting for the text with the address to come through. We have tactical teams on standby, but without the location, there’s no way to get them in place. This means we’re going to have to act quickly and cautiously. One word that they’ve been discovered, and they’ll disappear.
Which means those women may be lost to us as well. I think of the daughters and sisters who have gone missing from their families. Their families must be losing their minds. The idea that Sabrina could’ve been one of them infuriates me. I want their operation torn down. I’m hoping we can rally and figure out where they’re keeping the girls before they hit the stage.
My job is to get inside and feed information to the task force waiting outside. Once I have the layout, and hopefully all the key players in my sight, I’ll call in the reserves.
“Still waiting,” Zeke comments.
“You going to be good with going inside?” Caleb asks, narrowing his eyes.
“I’m going in,” I insist.
“You have to keep your cool, Alex. You have a personal vendetta here. We can’t compromise this mission with what’s at stake. The women in that room, we have a chance to save them and get them home to their families,” he says.
“I know.”
“Then get that grim look off your face and get into character. You’re a rich, merciless bastard who intends to walk away with a pretty new toy. They need to buy that you fit in, or you won’t get past the front door.”
“I can do it. I’ll sell it. I’ll get in. You all need to be ready to move when it’s time,” I say.
“Once we have the location, Zeke’s going to scope out the area. We have teams ready to move and take position,” Damian says.
“The money’s been transferred into an account. Once you get there, you’ll have to enter your PIN for proof of payment. You need to change the PIN right after, just in case they try something shady,” Zeke says.
“This whole thing is shady.” I grimace. Peddling human flesh, it’s disgusting.
Zeke’s been staring at the cell phone he set up with a specialized tracking device. When it finally pings, the screen flashes with a single line:23 Medina Street. Doors lock promptly at 10 p.m.
“It’s go time,” Caleb says. Meanwhile, Zeke is already doing a satellite search of the vicinity. He’s pulling up a map and indicating the best possible sites most accessible for a raid. Caleb’s calling out orders, grouping the teams and giving them their location. “No one moves until I give the signal. Let’s head out.”
As part of the ruse, Damian is my driver and bodyguard. He pulls up to the front door and drops the glass barrier in the limo.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Yeah. I just wanna get this done.” I take a deep breath.
“The rest of the drivers are either circling or parking across the street in the parking garage. I’m going to be in the back of the building beside this one. Once I hear from Caleb, I’m coming around the side entrance. Get the hell out of there before our men rush the building. Zeke’s got ears on your device. You get into trouble—”
“I know. ‘Snow White’ is the phrase for help. ‘Tempt the devil’ when I’m on my way out.” I repeat what we’ve practiced what seems like a thousand times.
“Good luck, man,” Damian says, and raises the glass. Then he comes around and opens my door. I step out, decked out in Armani. When I glance at the others entering the building, I see that I’ll fit in perfectly. Although, some of them are wearing dark glasses, which baffles me at this hour of night and does little to hide their faces.
Minutes later, I’m walking through the front door into an auditorium decorated in black and silver drapes. The stage is at the front, with individual platforms on top of it. A deep crimson curtain is drawn, and I assume that’s where the women will be coming from. The question is, where are they now?
I follow several of the men who entered with me as they take a seat in the plush leather chairs. Each chair has a button used for bidding. I sit behind them, then listen carefully, hoping they can reveal more information that can be useful. A waiter approaches to take their orders.
“Cognac. Deux,” the older man orders in French. Excellent, an international douche. “Pouvons-nous avoir une introduction aux dames avant le spectacle?”
My French is rusty, but I’m pretty sure he’s asking for a sneak peek at the goods.
“Les dames sont en préparation ci-dessous. Ce n’est pas possible,” the waiter replies fluently. Shit! These guys are slick. The waiter then looks at me. “A drink, sir?”
“Whiskey, neat,” I reply. He bows his head, then waltzes off to get our drinks.
In my ear, I hear Zeke say, “Basement?” I place my hand to my temple and nonchalantly tap the receiver twice. Two taps means yes, three is no. For the next half hour, I watch the movements of the others in attendance. I listen and note that many of these men and women have been to other evenings just like this one.
