Thinking fast, Niran says, “I think I hear them coming now.”
It’s the opening I want. The men group the immigrants in a corner of the room, shouting at them in Spanish, presumably telling them to stay put. Then, they go toward the door with expectant looks on their faces, clearly prepared for a bunch of intimidated women. Instead it’s Salem and Pennywise who are first through the door, heading for the men waiting while Niran and Brakes are already behind their targets closing in. Brakes takes the man closest to him and guns come out. Salem’s got his target. Pennywise, his finesse now gone, hacks furiously into the man who’s drawing a gun.
The last man standing grabs hold of the six-year-old who now I can tell is a little girl and holds her in front of him. But he hadn’t reckoned on her father, who despite his weakened state, throws himself on him. The trio go down and it’s Curtis who jumps in, his knife going into the guard’s throat.
I must have been holding my breath. I now let in out and suck a deep lungful of oxygen in. I cock my head toward Dart who gives me back a sharp confirmatory nod. They are all dead. Well, all except Enrico, I’m not quite sure what to do with him now. But as rapid Spanish starts flying, and the immigrants look at the scene in horror and us in fright, I realise I need an interpreter.
“Tell them they are safe. Tell them these are bad men who would have kidnapped them and sold them into slavery. Tell them they are free to go now.”
Enrico speaks rapidly in Spanish.
I notice Brakes looking on.
“My Spanish is rusty,” he tells me. “But I got the gist. He said what you wanted.”
The Spanish continues back and forth.
I step forward. “Anyone here speak English?”
One man tentatively holds up his hand. “I try to learn,” he attempts.
“You’ve been tricked,” I tell him. “These men were bad. They were going to sell you, not let you walk free.”
His eyes widen, letting me know he got the gist. He speaks rapidly to the group surrounding him, and they huddle together.
Realising they don’t have any fucking idea what’s going to happen to them now, I try to keep my tone friendly. “Have you all got plans? Where were you going from here?”
“We’ve got a little money.” The words rush out. “Not much after paying to get here. That was many pesos. Many many pesos.”
“No, I don’t want your money. You’re free to leave.”
I give them a moment to process the change in their fortunes again. I doubt I can help them. They’ll presumably have some sort of idea of what they’d do when they got out this side. Their plans wouldn’t have included Alder, and he wouldn’t have bothered to arrange them rides, that wasn’t on his agenda. Presumably they expected to make their own way once they got here, so that’s what I’ll leave them to do. If the authorities don’t catch them, they’ll be able to make their fresh new start. I wonder if it will be anything like as rosy a future as they’d expected, but they’d made their choice.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this.” It’s too much for him, so Enrico, at a nod from me, translates.
“Here.” Dart pulls out his wallet and empties it of notes. He passes it to the father of the two children.
Well, I can’t be outdone by my VP. I also empty my pockets of cash.
It looks like no one else is going to be left out, and all the immigrants are soon gratefully stuffing the little we were able to scrape up into their pockets.
Then, as Brakes indicates the way to the front door, the man with the family pauses by me and shakes my hand.
“Thank you,” he says slowly and carefully. “Thank you.”
If we had a common language, I think he’d say more, but his expression, the look of hope in his eyes and the hesitant smile as he holds tightly onto his child speaks volumes. Silently I wish the family well and wonder what will become of them.
After they’ve left, Grumbler says urgently into my ear, “Can I free the fuckin’ women now?”
“You ready as we discussed?” There’s a pause before he replies, his tone resigned. “Yes.”
I turn to Dart. “Close that trap door and put the floor back down. Keep Enrico occupied. I’m going to the shop.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Lost
If Satan doesn’t come calling and I live until I’m a hundred, I don’t think I’ll ever forget what I found when those rooms which Grumbler, as it turns out quite accurately, called holding pens were finally opened up.
Empty, they looked okay, but now, each filled with eight women, the ten foot by ten foot rooms appear cramped and crowded. They smell, as well. The women only had use of a bucket between them, one in each pen.
Grumbler opens the first, Niran the second. At first, the women don’t move, just looked at them with suspicion. And so they might. I fucking hate what I’m doing, but we’d been through it time and time again at church. Immigrants who’ll do their best to stay as far as possible from any sign of the authorities are one thing, American citizens are quite different and with them we can’t let our faces be seen.
“Come on,” Niran says, gentling his normal tone. “Let’s get you out of here.” His calmness is lost though, to them he’s a man wearing a balaclava, probably appearing every bit as bad as the men who brought them here.
The women seem to be undecided, then one, a tall woman probably in her late twenties or early thirties puts her arms around a couple of girls and pushes them forward. “You don’t want to get hurt again,” she warns them, making my gut clench. Again. I hate that we have to scare them.
Grumbler’s encouraging the ones on his side as well, and I can hear his voice break, but he clears his throat to cover it up. As the women appear one by one, shaking with fear, I run my eyes over them all. A couple appear to be in their thirties, one looks to be a pre-teen, and the others are a range of somewhere in between.
For a moment I’m glad my face is covered as I wouldn’t be able to hide my look of derision and disgust. Not at the state they’re in, they’re not to blame for that. But that these women were stolen away from their homes, or even if some were hookers taken from off the street, they didn’t deserve to be sold like animals instead of human beings.
They cling to the rungs of the ladder attached to the sides of the pits, climbing slowly as though reluctant. Even when they’re at the top, they huddle together as though broken. If I’d been worried about them making a run for it, I now dismiss that thought. These women seem beyond making the attempt. I’m glad Grumbler had the foresight to move the bodies of the men he’d killed. The sight of them would only have traumatised them further.
“Smoker’s here.”
Oh fuck no. I lean over the edge of the pit, my chest rising and falling as I fight to control my rage. Not only had the women been penned like cattle, half of them had been forced to share their accommodation with a dead man. No wonder they look traumatised. I wonder if there’s enough therapy in the world to help them. That Smoker wasn’t in the room with the youngest is the only glimmer of light.
“Bring him up.” My instruction is terse.
Leaving Brakes and Blaze watching the women, Niran joins Grumbler back in the pit, then in a fireman’s lift brings Smoker up. Reverently they lay him down, crossing his hands over his chest. I stand beside him for a moment, my head bowed, knowing I’d give anything to hear him coughing again. The only blessing is, he looks peaceful.
“I, er, I closed his eyes,” the tall woman says hesitantly. “You, he. He was your friend?”
I suppose it’s obvious.
“Who are you?” another one asks.
“Hush. They don’t like it when we speak,” a younger girl says, looking around the others in warning, holding a finger to her lips.
“These are different,” one says, softly. “They don’t smell the same.”
I’d noticed she’d had more help climbing the ladder than the rest but hadn’t noticed much else. Now I examine her, I
can see she’s blind. Her experience must have been doubly terrifying for her.
We need to get them out of here. I need the women gone, so we can get back to support Dart.
“Go to the trucks.” Smoker’s body, the sight of the blind woman, the whole damn thing has made my voice sharp. I hate it, but the women jump.
We’re not here to make friends, I remind myself, nothing more we can do to help them but get them somewhere safe and away from here fast.
“Different but the same,” the tall woman snaps. Her back straightening, and any sympathy she might have had for me, gone.
At a signal from Grumbler, the brothers start herding the women toward the trucks. As they approach, most automatically hold out their hands, the youngest one starts weeping. It’s then I notice the chains and handcuffs which are waiting for them.
Grumbler tilts his head toward me, I stare for a moment at this new reminder of how badly these women have been treated. Guns and tasers, Shark’s words echo in my head.
I clap my hands together, getting their attention on me. “I’m going to have to ask you to get into the trucks one last time. But no chains or fuckin’ handcuffs, okay?”
A couple raise their eyes to me, but most stay staring at the ground. It’s clear they have no idea they’ve been rescued. And why the fuck should they? All the men around them are masked.
“We’re going to drop you off at a hospital, okay? There you can contact your folks and speak to the authorities. They’ll get you home.”
The taller woman’s face comes up as I say that. Her brow creases as though she’s having a hard time comprehending. After a moment, she speaks, “Is this for real?”
“It’s a trick,” the one who warned them against speaking tells them.
“No trick. Your nightmare is over,” I confirm, trying to convey my earnestness with just my eyes and voice.
“You’re playing with us,” she says. “This is a trick.”
“No trick, sweetheart.” Pennywise steps up beside me.
She glances at the other women who seem to accept her as spokeswoman. “How can we trust you?”
“What option have you got?” Truthfully, I could throw open the door and let them make their own way to where they want. But there’s danger lurking in every corner for a group of women left alone walking the streets. I also don’t want them to be able to describe this place or its location. Not until I’m sure nothing can link it with us and our activities here tonight. And surely, dropping them off where they can receive medical attention if they need it, seems the best solution.
“Come on,” Pennywise encourages her, pointing like I’d done to the two trucks.
It’s easy to understand their reluctance.
The women huddle together for a moment, I let them talk.
Inside I’m brimming with frustration, wanting to hurry them up. It won’t be long until someone realises the women aren’t being escorted back through the tunnel, and I expect that someone to come looking for them.
“Who are you?” the one assisting the blind woman asks. “And why are you masked?”
“Friends,” I tell her. “Friends who don’t want to be recognised or who need thanks. Who just want to right a wrong.”
“People don’t act like that,” someone else sneers.
“We do.” Dart’s come to stand beside me, but they don’t seem convinced.
I sigh. “You’re a group of women who were, what, picked up off the street?” Most of them give slight nods. “Do you know what the man who took you intended to do with you?” I hope I don’t have to put it into words, not with the young girl listening. But I can see from their faces they hadn’t been kept in the dark. I raise my chin. “Hopefully you’ll be safe if you return to your homes, but the trade won’t stop. The man behind this, he’ll just go on. Snatching girls, keeping them prisoner. Selling them. I want him stopped.”
“So why are you hiding your faces?” comes from the tall woman. “If this is a rescue like you say, we should be able to see who you are and thank you. If you were legit, you’d call the cops.”
I raise my chin, acknowledging her point. “Sure. But the man I’m after has already got the feds after him, and he’s managed to evade them for months. As far as we know, he’s holed up in Mexico, maybe further away than that. But his network still works for him. Women keep getting kidnapped and forcefully taken where they don’t want to go.”
“If you think he’s out of reach of the cops and the feds,” She looks scornful, “how are you going to bring him down? Who are you, some sort of secret military organisation?”
“Delta force?” one of her companions says, hopefully.
“Nah.” I don’t bother to fabricate a lie. “This is personal to me.”
It’s a risk letting them go. Keeping them would be a bargaining chip I could use to bring Alder out of hiding, but one or two I could hide, sixteen? Too many to keep out of sight and not risk escaping, not unless I want to chain them in the same way as their captors, and I’m not stooping to that level.
No, I’m left with the hope that finding his tunnel empty, no girls coming through and no immigrants ending up where he expects them to will send him a message and make him want to talk to me. I’ll tempt him with an offer of doing business together. Then, when I do smoke him out, I’ll get justice.
Of course it will be justice at the end of my gun. After making him hurt. After the mental anguish my old lady suffered and the physical pain of her son, I won’t be leaving it all up to Salem, and will be landing quite a few punches myself.
The tall woman looks around again. Then she speaks to the others. “Come on. What option have we got? What’s the worst that can happen? We’ve had hope dangled in front of us and snatched away? Can’t see a purpose in that. So, let’s get into the trucks and trust that they’re taking us somewhere we want to go.”
I wish they were happy, excited to be free. But some are weeping when they get up in the truck for what I know is the final time, helped by Grumbler and Niran. Then Kink and Blaze drive them away.
A few minutes later, Dusty comes back with the other trucks. Reverently we load Smoker into it, and take a second to pay our respects, then Dusty takes off.
We’ve only just got the big garage doors slid back shut behind them when the voice in my ear speaks.
“Got company, Prez. They’re trying to get the trapdoor open.”
“On my way.”
Everyone left in the auto-shop follows my lead back across to the restaurant.
“What do you want to do?”
“Get Enrico.” When he appears, I jerk my head and Salem cuts the zip ties off his hands and frees him. “One word that shouldn’t be said,” I threaten, “and you’re dead.”
He gives me a sharp nod.
I stand back. Dusty and Snips pull back the planks and the trapdoor is thrown open.
“What the fuck, Enrico? Where are the bitches?” A voice comes up from below, but no one comes into sight.
He’s being cautious.
“They’re on their way,” Enrico answers. “A bitch tried to run. Once one got loose, they all tried to scatter. Had to lock them all down until they got her back. They’re coming across now.”
“Who was the stupid asshole that let her run?”
“Hernando,” Enrico supplies.
“Fucker’s dead.” There’s the sound of a man huffing as he starts to heave himself up. A Hispanic appears, then another. Then they bend to help a third man out.
A white man comes into sight, his eyes shooting daggers at the restaurant owner. He steps to one side, and two other men come up and flank him. “I might as well inspect what I’m getting now I’m here.”
His words, as well as his appearance, confirm my suspicions. It’s Alder himself.
We’ve hit the jackpot.
I feel like a kid with all my Christmases coming at once as Salem and Pennywise grab hold of his henchmen, overpowering them and taking them out.
Alder stif
fens, looks around in consternation. “You’re fucking dead,” he tells Enrico. “You didn’t warn me!” he roars.
“In his defence,” I step forward, “he didn’t have much choice. Salem? Search him.”
Alder visibly flinches, but with our guns pointed at him holds his arms out to his sides. Salem relieves him of his Glock, then nods to me confirming he’s no longer carrying.
“Who the fuck are you?” Alder blusters, shaking Salem’s hands off and all but shuddering. “You’re going to fucking regret this. Where’s my stock?”
“I’m Lost,” I introduce myself. “President of the Satan’s Devils MC. If by stock you mean the women, I’ve got them safe.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re a dead man if you don’t give them back.”
I allow a smirk to appear on my face. “I don’t think you’re in a position to argue.”
Pressing his lips together, he digests what I’ve said. For a moment it looks like he’s thinking, then, he starts to speak again. “Your MC branching out? You want in on this trade?”
“Could be I want to use the tunnel for my own business.” I don’t, but it’s kind of fun jerking his chain. And there is some method to my madness. “Why don’t we go somewhere more comfortable and discuss it?”
It’s worded as a suggestion, but he has to realise with his men dead, he’s outnumbered, disarmed and left with no alternative. I’ve got plans for Alder once I get him back to the compound. Suffice to say, he’ll never be leaving again. Having seen those traumatised women tonight, I’ve no doubt Salem will get inventive, and after I’ve got my shots in, I have no compulsion to hold him back.
I also don’t want to hang around long. Dawn will soon be breaking, and I want to be gone before full daylight.
“I can’t have the tunnel found,” Alder protests. “My operation here is watertight.”
“Except, it isn’t,” I point out. “After you.” I indicate the doorway, and tell Dart, “Bring him too.” Him is Enrico who doesn’t look enthusiastic at the thought of our hospitality.
Being Lost: Satan's Devils MC San Diego #1 Page 37
