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“Some of the women we help have had drug problems. They’ve resorted to prostitution at times. They’re unwed or divorced. Some people don’t believe these women are worthy of help. Some of our largest private donors are also closely affiliated with their churches or other religious charities that don’t take the same approach we do toward these types of situations. Maybe they have clients in their organizations who would take exception to the fact that they donate some of their profits to prostitutes.”
“I see,” Charlize nodded. Brenda was good. Smooth. “I appreciate your candor and clarifying that for me. It can be delicate for sure. I won’t ask you to share any information with me that you aren’t comfortable sharing. Forgive my frankness but I’m either on this team, or I’m not. That’s a decision you’ll make, but where we land will determine if I stay in this position. I don’t want to set both of us up to fail. I’d rather move on and allow you to fill this position with someone you can trust fully.”
Brenda let out a breathy laugh. “You’re good. A straight shooter. I like that about you. And you know what, you’re right. You can’t be half in. So if you want full access to what we have, consider it done. You can see our donor lists, help draft communications to them, get more access to the executive team and our meetings.”
“And what about the day to day work being done on the ground? I’d like to roll up my sleeves and do the work. That’s what informs my writing and may improve the odds of you being awarded these funding opportunities.”
“You’re either on the team or not,” Brenda parroted back. “So you don’t have to talk about this company as though you’re an outsider. You can say we, when talking about Angels of a New Day. You’re one of us.”
Charlize acted as though a weight had been lifted from her. With an over-exaggerated sigh, her shoulders straightened. “Thank you so much for hearing me out. This is a team I know I want to be on.”
“I’m glad you came in. These are the conversations I love to have. Direct. You know what you need. I wish I had a hundred more people on my team just like you. I’m sending a message to my assistant now to update your credentials and access. If you have any more questions, I know you won’t hesitate to ask.”
Charlize walked out with her head held high. Brenda could interpret this posture as the result of a compromise reached. A happy employee feeling empowered. For Charlize it was simply a move on the chess board and hopefully one bringing them closer to checkmate.
CHAPTER 16
MICK
Mick sat in his parked car. He was becoming one with this seat and he shifted to try to stretch his back. He was concealed between a rusted dumpster and the crumbling wall of a long since closed restaurant on a deserted street.
This was another one of the suspected locations linked to Angels of a New Day. Over the past few days, he'd been staking out these properties, attempting to gather critical intel on their operations and the guards' routines. They didn’t know all of the buildings yet but he was making his way through the ones they had confirmed. When he wanted to jump from the car and get as far away as possible from the monotonous hours of surveillance, he reminded himself these women couldn’t leave whenever they wanted to.
As he maintained his vigil, his thoughts lingered on the horrors he and Charlize had witnessed earlier during their encounter in the other apartment building. The haunting photographs Charlize had taken of women and children held in captivity plagued his mind, their desperate cries echoing like a relentless storm.
This afternoon however, his focus shifted. Mick noticed movement near the building's entrance—a woman and a young boy, who appeared to be around eight years old, were emerging from behind the spray-painted metal door of the building. A guard followed closely behind them, his towering presence casting a long shadow. He was a menacing figure, standing tall with a broad, muscular build that exuded an air of physical dominance. His face was chiseled and stern. Mick took note of the cold, unfeeling eyes. He had a rough, unkempt beard, adding to his intimidating appearance. Mick couldn’t imagine how scary this man must have seemed to the little boy and all the other children in the building.
The child's eyes lit up with excitement suddenly as he spotted a brightly colored ball nestled in the tall grass by the sidewalk. There were no other toys around. Nothing at all that indicated children lived here. But this ball was like a beacon, calling the boy over. Begging to be played with.
His small feet carried him toward it, his face beaming with innocent enthusiasm. The woman, likely his mother, watched him with a tired but loving smile. It was quickly replaced with a realization that had her expression crumbling. “Wait,” she cried, trying to call her son back to her.
Mick's heart ached for them, knowing the unimaginable suffering they must have endured. He continued to observe, his trained eyes capturing every detail. But then, in an instant, the scene took a dark turn. His gut sank.
The guard, an embodiment of cruelty, yanked the child roughly by the collar, halting the boy's jubilant progress. The child's eyes widened in fear and confusion as he was jerked backward. Panic painted his face, a stark contrast to the joy that had shone just moments ago.
The woman, driven by sheer desperation, reacted instinctively. She reached out, her trembling hand grasping the man's arm in a futile attempt to free her son from his merciless grip. Her voice, filled with anguish, pleaded for mercy. But it was obvious, mercy was a rare commodity in this place.
In response to her defiance, the guard's temper flared. With a brutal shove, he sent the woman sprawling to the ground. She landed with a painful thud, her cries mixing with those of her terrified son.
Mick's blood ran cold. Every fiber of his being urged him to step out of the car, to intervene, to defend the defenseless. His training had instilled in him the duty to serve and protect, but he knew he couldn't act impulsively now. Their mission was at a critical tipping point, and any interference could jeopardize hundreds of other people.
Just as Mick hesitated, torn between his duty and his compassion, his phone rang, shattering the tense moment. He fumbled to grab it from the passenger seat, and Charlize's name illuminated the screen.
"Hey," he answered, his voice tinged with urgency.
"Mick, it's me," Charlize's voice came through the line, her voice holding some positive notes. "I've made progress here at the office. I talked to Brenda about how I felt like I was held at a distance here and that if she didn’t trust me to be on the team, I should just go. It worked. I've gained access to more digital files, including donor information. It's a potential gold mine for us when we partner with law enforcement. It will help ensure we don’t turn to the very people making a profit from these women to try to protect them. I'll send you the list of donors shortly."
Mick wanted to congratulate her. To take a minute to appreciate the success and the risk Charlize was taking. Yet, as he watched the woman and her son from his car, the desire to share his current turmoil with Charlize welled up within him.
"Charlize," he began, his voice heavy with hesitation, "I’m at one of the buildings. Right when you called I...”
"Mick, what's wrong?" Every ounce of potential hope in her tone was gone. She knew the moment was about to take a turn.
Taking a deep breath, he struggled to find the words to convey the torment he had witnessed. "One of these assholes is crossing the line. It's happening right now. Right in front of me. I want to get out. I want to kill this guy. Put this mom and her son in my car and drive the hell away from this place.”
If anyone would understand, he knew it would be her. There was very little that could ever stand in her way when she saw someone being hurt.
Finally, Charlize's voice broke the silence, gentle yet resolute. "Mick, I get it. I understand how difficult this is. But stepping in might make things worse for that woman and child, and for everyone else held captive in that building. It's a volatile situation, and we need to stay strategic. It might feel good to go out there and knock that guy out, but you’ll blow your cover."
