“The Karas brothers. And it isn’t all that much. As I had originally mentioned they came ‘to be’ around seventeen years ago. That’s not a definite, give or take a few years on either side. For the most part that information was erroneous. They appeared out of nowhere twenty-three years ago. That was the first mention I found of them anywhere. They have more money than God, and no one knows where it came from or how they got it. They do not work. As in having jobs. One can’t even say they live off their investments because I couldn’t find any investments to track. No clue where monies are stashed. They’re considered international playboys. Their names are Ryland and Roland. Ages are iffy. Midforties is the best I could come up with. Nationality-wise, they could be anything. One report said Armenian. But if you look at their pictures they could be Greek, Italian, Spanish. I just don’t know, and I cannot confirm.
“They eased their way into international society by donating vast, and I mean vast, sums of money anonymously, and being coy about it but still managing to leak it that they were the ones doing the donating. When questioned they just smiled but would not confirm or deny. They were in demand. Look at the screen. This is the last sighting of them, taken last year at some black tie event in England.”
Lady Justice faded to a gray screen to be replaced with two very handsome men, which made Maggie whistle appreciatively. “Hunks. Both of them.” Ted scowled at her exuberance.
“They started out traveling with a small group back in the day. That group increased as the years wore on. Think in terms of an army. A gun-toting army. Not that the normal person would view it that way. These guys dress the part of top-notch security: clean-cut, military bearing, specially tailored suits to hide the shoulder rigs.
“The Karas brothers own property all over the world. At each location, there is top-notch security. Think in terms of a fortress. The cars they travel in are the same kind only better than the ones our president travels in.”
“Someone must know something,” Jack said.
“For sure. But in that kind of life, you talk, you die. It’s said they pay their people more than Wall Street bankers earn in a year and we all know how hefty those sums are,” Snowden said as he looked down at his scribbled notes.
“Earlier, you said it was rumored that the brothers were involved in slave trafficking. If no one talks, how did that rumor start?” Charles asked.
“I can’t help you out on that, mate. I simply do not know. The dark side of the Net, I would assume. It was said. Period.”
“Rumors have to come from somewhere. There has to be a starting point,” Dennis said.
“The best I can come up with, and don’t think I haven’t been on this twenty-four/ seven, is the many trips they take abroad. Their passports read like a three-inch travel log. White women are in high demand. As much as I hate saying this out loud, I’m still going to say it. A seven- to twelve-year-old girl goes for millions. That’s as in plural. A young woman of say twenty-one goes for half that. It’s all over the world. Do the math.”
“Where are the scumbags right now? Do you know?” Ted asked.
“As a matter of fact, I do know. They blew into Atlanta, Georgia, a week ago today and took over three whole floors of the Ritz-Carlton in Buckhead. Their security, or army if you prefer that word, are with them. They also have their own waitstaff, who prepare their food and take care of all their needs, with them. I haven’t been able to figure out yet why they’re there. Nothing social is going on. A stopover? Atlanta is not that far from Washington, D.C. I do know that there is a fleet of eight armored SUVs parked in front. Guests have complained. The hotel grants a lot of freebies to the complainers.”
“What about women?” Maggie asked.
“No attachments that I could ferret out. There is no background on them. It’s like they were hatched from an egg and took on life. There simply is no backstory to be found. I don’t even know if they’re twins or who is the older and who is the younger. I’m telling you, it’s just a blank slate.”
The gang looked at one another. If Avery Snowden said it was a tabula rasa, then it was a blank slate. All eyes turned to Abner Tookus.
“You want me to get in touch with Philonias Needlemeyer. That’s what you want me to do, right?”
“Well, yeah,” Maggie drawled as she continued to work at her hair, which seemed to be growing outward at the rate of an inch a minute. In the end, she dug around in her backpack for a scarf and wrapped it around her unruly curls.
“Where is their home base? What country? Who do they pay allegiance to?” Dennis demanded.
Snowden shrugged. “They live in the wind. There is no home base. They do own property all over the world, and they pay the taxes or some dummy shell company does on the properties. If you’re asking about taxes like you pay here in the States, nada. It’s like I said, they hatched from an egg, then became invisible, not literally, but financially. They are under the eye of every law-enforcement agency in the world, yet no one can touch them. In essence, and speaking in the official sense, they haven’t done anything wrong. They live the high life, but so do millions of other people. They constantly give away money, tons of money. No one wants that well to dry up. They charm the ladies and bullshit the gents. What’s the harm in that?”
“This isn’t making one damn bit of sense,” Jack said. “If all that you said is so, how did they even get a wink in regard to child trafficking or slave trafficking or whatever the hell we’re calling it these days?”
Snowden threw his hands in the air and risked a glance at Charles as much as to say, Sorry, Sir Charles, I failed you. “I simply do not know is both the short and the long answer,” he responded miserably.
Fergus spoke for the first time. “Always follow the money trail. I’ll give my old stomping grounds, Scotland Yard, a call. I still have some clout there and I’ll see what I can come up with. Charles, you call MI6. Jack, you call Jack Sparrow and see if he knows anything or had heard any rumors while he was running things at the Bureau.”
Maggie chewed on her thumbnail. “I never ever heard of the Karas brothers. Not a whisper. Now, you see, that’s not normal. Do they go by any other names? Do they stay away from D.C.? I’m just not getting this. Ted, are you getting it? Dennis? Espinosa? Hatched from an egg, my ass,” she exploded. “They had a life somewhere. We need to find that place and go from there.”
All three men shook their heads. If Maggie wasn’t getting it, then they would all be wise to agree with her. No one wanted to upstage Maggie because the consequences were always too seriously negative, as they had come to learn over the years.
Harry swallowed the last of the tea in his cup, propped his elbows on the table, and stared across the table at Avery Snowden. “You said something about your operative having a theory about where the kids were, something they obviously shared with her. What is it?”
Snowden sat up a little straighter, squared his shoulders, and said, “This is her theory, not mine; just remember that. She thinks the kids were held at a mortuary. Hence the boxes. To a kid, a casket or a coffin, whatever you want to call them, would be a big box. The older girl said Andy slept with her so that would kind of bear out the casket business.
“The monster lady that one of the girls referred to said if she didn’t behave she’d cook her in something outdoors that the kids said smelled terrible. Margie thinks it was a crematorium. And the kids did say the place smelled like church. Incense and candle wax. After the first blush, it doesn’t sound so lame if you think about it.
“What could be more perfect? Who is going to look for missing kids at a funeral parlor? It’s so far under the radar, it hardly bears thinking about it. And Carrie, the older girl, described the soft pillows and blankets. It might be a stretch, but there you have it. I don’t think it’s worth a second thought, but you did ask.”
“Whoa! Whoa!” Espinosa barked. He stood up and started to wave his arms about. “No, no, it’s worth more than a second thought. Listen to me, everyone. L
ike now would be good!”
“What the hell!” Jack exploded.
“Ha! Yeah, well, Mr. Attorney, your dog was a witness to what I’m going to tell you, so listen up. On the way back from the vet’s, and I’m sorry I didn’t see it on the way in, but I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss the turnoff. To the vet’s, that is. Anyway, I’d say at the halfway mark, there was a fork in the road, and I took the wrong one. Cyrus didn’t bark or anything, so I just assumed I was going in the right direction. I was wrong. Two miles, maybe two and a half down the road, there was this . . . almost like an oasis. Buildings and something that looked like a giant igloo. Lots of green grass. Everything was top notch, neat and tidy. Paved parking lot and six hearses all lined up behind each other. There were several other vehicles in the parking lot, but I just got the hell out of there. It got all creepy. In my turnaround, I got a good look at the giant igloo. I guess that’s where they . . . you know . . . crisp them up and put them in ajar.
“When we got to the end of the road, there was a sign that said, LAST STOP BEFORE HEAVEN . I got out to look at it to be sure it said what it said. Don’t ask me why, I just did. The sign was weather beaten from the elements. I think the kid was right, and that’s where they ran away from. From that road, it’s maybe five miles to where Cyrus spotted them. Five miles. Plus they had to cover the two to three on the road I was on before they hit the highway. Little kids like that get tired, so we’re talking about eight miles. It makes sense if you think about it.”
Jack looked down at Cyrus. “Is that how you see it, buddy?” Cyrus yipped.
Maggie was on her feet and struggling with her backpack. Ted, Espinosa, and Dennis were doing the same thing.
There was no need to ask where they were going—everyone knew. “Take a lot of pictures after you talk to the people who own the joint!” Jack yelled.
Harry looked over at Jack. “That totally creeps me out. Little kids sleeping in coffins. When we find those bastards, they’re mine. You hear me, Jack, they’re mine.”
“I hear you, Harry.”
Chapter Eight
The Karas brothers stared at each other across an impeccably set table for two as they waited to be served the lunch they had ordered from the five-star chef who traveled with them all over the world.
The Karas brothers were, as a matter of fact, twins, with Ryland, to Roland’s chagrin, being two minutes older. Though they were not identical twins, they looked enough alike so that people knew they were related when meeting them for the first time.
Soft classical music played from somewhere in the luxurious suite the two men shared. Shared because they shared everything, even their space, with Ryland listening to his beloved classical music and Roland reading nonstop. Except for their sleeping arrangements, they were never more than a few feet apart.
The brothers were movie-star handsome, and both were elegant dressers. They paid fortunes for hairstyles, manicures and pedicures, and gym privileges. They’d been referred to as “good catches.” The terms studly, ripped, and rich were constantly used when they were being referred to. Invitations to particular events along with pleas for donations from various charities arrived by the truckload the moment some gossip columnist announced their arrival in a particular city.
They always attended at least one event and donated to at least half of the favorite charities of the people whose pleas for their contribution found their way to their notice.
Ryland looked down at the jumbo prawns, which had been marinated in a lime citrus marinade before being grilled. A vegetable rice medley was a side dish that was not only delicious but colorful. Another side dish that both men loved was braised brussels sprouts with vinegar and bacon bits. They loved the dish so much it was a staple on their daily menu.
There was no one in the dining room, something else the brothers always insisted on. Members of their personal security team stood outside every door leading into the dining room. Even so, the brothers spoke in different languages, sometimes English, or some other exotic dialect, or else they’d resort to sign language. In addition to these rules, the suite along with all the other rooms they’d rented were swept daily for possible listening devices.
The brothers’ manners were impeccable even in private. They were the kind of men whom you would never see leaning against a bar, swigging a bottle of beer, or chomping down on a burger or, God forbid, a hot dog. Under no circumstances would they attend a barbecue or a clambake, much less a beach party or NASCAR competition.
Only the best of the best in everything was good enough for the Karas brothers.
“You’re sure, Roland, that there has been no mention of the three children? It’s coming up on ten days. Children can’t survive on their own for that long. Even I know that. That has to mean someone rescued them, and we’re in danger? I want to hear you tell me that is not possible,” Ryland said, deferring to his brother’s computer expertise along with his penchant for the written word.
“Not a word. But there is other news. I was just informed before we sat down here at the table that Mrs. Bannon has gone rogue. Every agency in this country is on the hunt. Mr. Bannon has also gone to ground, or he is being detained by his own people for reasons unknown to us at the moment. Mrs. Bannon has a twenty-four-hour head start on our people. I’m being told that she is on the hunt for her children because she is a mother. That is something neither you nor I know anything about since we never knew a mother. We must assume there is a very strong bond that we will never understand, so we need to bear that in mind. We must find those children.
“D.C. was a mistake. I wish you had listened to me when I told you that the FBI was going to get involved. With five hundred children gone missing in the first three months of the year in one area, it had to happen.”
Roland pierced one of the jumbo prawns and stared at it. His brother watched as he tried to make up his mind to either eat it or drop it back on his plate. The prawn dropped to his plate. “We need to leave here right now. I’m still wondering why you wanted to come here in the first place.”
“A diversion. You know people watch us every second of every single day. Why does there have to be a particular reason for us to visit Atlanta? I could have chosen Newark, Delaware, but who goes to Newark, Delaware? No one I know. People flock to Atlanta for many reasons. Women like to shop. They have a great football team. And it’s not that far from Washington, D.C.”
Roland swirled the prawn around on his plate as he absorbed his brother’s words. “No, we are not going back to D.C. That would be the biggest mistake of our lives. We have to leave the country. Like now, Ryland. That means immediately. I keep telling you that my gut is churning, and you keep ignoring me. Damnation, I wish you’d read more and listen less to all that soothing music you live for.”
Ryland ignored his brother’s remark. “Before you can ask, our people are on the way and will sanitize the facility. The bogus owners, the Obermans, left for a forced vacation last evening. No one is there. But, then, you already know that. Sometimes you worry like an old grandmother. The cleanup crew will sanitize the facility. A notice will appear in the local newspapers announcing the Obermans’ retirement, and in a month or so, the facility will go up for sale. Last night, I told you that the chain of funeral homes would be going up for sale, not all at one time. It was part of the plan, and you agreed to it, brother.”
“And you don’t worry enough, Ryland. Yes, yes, I do enough worrying for both of us according to you. Until we became aware of the Bannon team, I never lost a night’s sleep. Now, I barely sleep. I repeat, D.C. was a mistake. We have never made mistakes before. You need to listen to me, Ryland.”
Ryland looked at the Rolex on his wrist. It was just noon. Then he looked at his empty plate, then over at his brother’s plate. A small worm of fear scurried around inside his stomach. Maybe he did need to pay more attention to Roland’s concerns. It was true, they’d never made a mistake before. Suddenly, he didn’t like what he was feeling.
Ryland’s cell phone chirped inside his trouser pocket. He withdrew it, clicked it on, and listened. Roland saw the sudden alarm on his brother’s face. Unflappable Ryland! Roland swallowed hard as he listened to his brother’s end of the conversation.
“Four people! Yes, I understand what you’re saying. They were already there when you arrived. You were a fool to announce yourself. They saw you! You’re saying they actually laid eyes on you! You know what that means! It doesn’t matter that you pretended to be a . . . what is the word . . . customer for the death of a loved one. Whoever those people are, they are not fools. A ten-man cleanup crew doesn’t just show up out of nowhere to . . . make final arrangements. I can guarantee none of you looked like grieving mourners, and don’t try to con me. Where are you now?”
At a Best Western down the road was the response.
“I need details. Vehicle, license plate. How many people? Ages? Armed? Do not go near the facility until I give you the go-ahead to do so. Now, tell me what you have. Oh, you already checked it all out. Tell me what you have.”
When Ryland ended the call, he stared down at his empty plate for a full minute before he spoke. “I bow to you, my brother. This is what I just heard from the cleanup crew. There are four people at the facility. They appear to have arrived in one vehicle, a van that is registered to a newspaper in the District, the Post.
“They must be reporters, but our men did not question them. They pretended to be a customer or whatever you call a person who wants to either bury or cremate a family member. The team leader said the woman of the group was in charge and told them the place was temporarily closed and to go someplace else. She also said they were waiting for the local authorities to show up. I think it’s safe to say our people panicked. They left and are at a Best Western a few miles down the road. We need to leave here right now.”
“I hate saying this, Ryland, but I did say it was a mistake to snatch the Bannon children. You disagreed, and now here we are. That means we made two mistakes. Are you listening to me, Ryland? Two! Do you want to try for three? Three is the charm, as you well know.”
Truth or Dare Page 9
