Dean nodded at Sonia, who’d been sitting casually on the corner of the table by the door. She was drinking coffee but not eating, and Dean vowed to get some food into her before she left for the night. Though she was holding up well, Sonia still blamed herself for the Vegas’ murders.
Sonia stood and walked over to one of the whiteboards where earlier she had written a general time line. “Omega Shipping, affiliated with Xavier Jones, has long been suspected of transporting illegal immigrants, not only to the U.S., but to Canada and other countries in the Western hemisphere. No country is free of trafficking. Women, girls, and boys are enticed or kidnapped for illegal prostitution, child soldiers, and slave labor. Over eight hundred thousand individuals a year are trafficked across international borders, and that doesn’t include those captive in their own countries, such as the child soldiers in Africa.
“My office has been looking at Xavier Jones for a couple years, but we never had enough evidence for a warrant. We had some suspicious travel, his name had come up in other, unconnected investigations, and his affiliation with Omega Shipping, who we had been investigating on another trafficking matter, had us on the edge. It took an informant to give us the in we needed to finally make strides in building a case against him.” Sonia drained her coffee, and Dean handed her a water bottle. She nodded her thanks, sipped, and continued.
“Our informant was one of Jones’s top lieutenants, and as everyone here knows, when you have a criminal like Jones in a major racketeering case, it’s usually the inside man who gives us what we need to build a case for the U.S. attorney. My informant confirmed what we already knew, and provided us with some additional but outdated intel regarding facilities used for temporary storage of their prisoners. Unfortunately it was his word alone: he had no hard evidence to give us Jones. He wanted immunity and witness protection. We agreed, provided he obtained the physical evidence we needed to prosecute.”
Sonia sighed almost inaudibly; if Dean hadn’t been standing right beside her, he wouldn’t have noticed the defeated heave in her chest. She said, “Greg Vega, my informant, and his pregnant wife were murdered early this morning. Any evidence he may have collected for us is gone, though I doubt he had anything significant. He wanted out, and would have given me the moon if he could have. We were both counting on the shipment of the China dolls—what we sometimes call Chinese women sold or lured into forced prostitution—to give us what we wanted. I wanted Jones; Greg Vega wanted freedom.”
Deputy Azevedo spoke up. “Vega was tortured and left to die with a knife in his gut. The coroner estimated it took him twelve to fifteen minutes to bleed out; he was probably conscious for half that time. Conscious and looking at his dead wife who had been shot execution style while tied to a kitchen chair.”
Grimness set in among the assembled group. Dean spoke. “Xavier Jones was murdered prior to the Vegas. Though we’re waiting for the crime scene and ballistics reports, it’s clear the four homicides are connected. Theories as to why are welcome, but Agent Knight and I believe that there’s some jockeying for power within the Jones organization, or that one of his competitors saw a weakness and exploited it.” Dean paused. He had been uncomfortable with his realization all day, and hadn’t spoken of it. He would probably never know if his actions were the catalyst that led to this chain of violence. “Our raid early Wednesday morning may have been the signal that now was the time to make a move on Jones’s territory.”
Sonia said, “The problem remains that, if our intelligence is accurate, we have young women in jeopardy We don’t know where they are at this precise time, but we know they’ll be in the greater Sacramento area late Saturday night.” She pointed to her time line. “Twenty days ago, a small tanker owned by Omega left Hong Kong. ICE agents on site informed us that the ship was likely to have a minimum of thirty females between the ages of fourteen and seventeen who had been kidnapped from an illegal convent. These girls had been orphaned or abandoned as infants and raised to maturity by an underground church. They were being transported to a safe haven when the girls were abducted. We believe they are to be integrated into the illegal sex trade here in the United States, or that they’ll be traded to other Western countries.”
“Why Sacramento?” Sam Callahan asked. “We’s inland. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this in a major port, or offshore, or in Mexico?”
“Yes and no. First, we have a vigorous watch in all ports in California, and because Omega is flagged, we search more of their ships. Second, Mexico is not the safest place to engage in trades if the destination country is elsewhere. There’s border patrol, for one.” Sonia paused. “However, we have unconfirmed intelligence that once the victims hit American soil, they are transported by air. Small aircraft, including helicopters, which have virtual autonomy to travel within our borders.”
“But Sacramento isn’t a major port,” Sam added.
“No, but Stockton is. We don’t think the women are being unloaded in Stockton. Based on another witness, we believe the victims are transferred at night from the main ship to smaller boats, which then traverse the delta to private docks where the women are moved to trucks or small aircraft.” Sonia pointed to the whiteboard. “Six days ago we had word that the ship with the girls would be stopping in Honolulu. They never came. We don’t know why, we don’t know if they sank, we don’t know if they went another route. Or they could have moved them in the middle of the ocean to another ship. But based on the business-as-usual tone of Jones’s people and another informant, the girls are still expected in Sacramento on Saturday.” She paused. “They may already be here. We don’t know.”
“That’s a lot you don’t know,” Detective Melanie Montgomery said. “Why isn’t the Chinese government doing anything to find their citizens?”
Sonia glared at the detective. “As I said, the girls were kidnapped from an illegal church. They can’t go to the authorities, there’s no record of the girls being born.”
“So they’re illegal in China?” Montgomery asked skeptically.
“The one-child-per-family policy has created a subclass of girls—unwanted by their families because they are not boys. Especially in the farming communities, where a son can help keep their plots working. Those babies born female are often killed or abandoned. Illegal churches and other human rights organizations will take them in. They can’t go to the authorities or risk their lives and freedom. But that’s neither here nor there, it is what it is.”
Montgomery frowned. “I have four bodies and no suspects,” the detective said. “Do you have suspects you’re not sharing with local law enforcement?”
Dean saw Sonia bristle. He was about to respond to smooth tensions, but Sonia said, “I’ve told you everything I know about the murders. If I had any idea who killed Xavier Jones, believe me, I’d tell you. Jones was a ruthless bastard, but whoever killed him is colder, more calculating, and completely without remorse. Jones was a businessman; he was in it for the money. He never thought about the fate of the women he’d sold; to him it was simply a business transaction. Whoever killed him is in it for power.”
Dean glanced at Sonia. He hadn’t realized she’d been profiling the killers, but what she said made sense to him. He leaned toward the speakerphone. “Dr. Vigo? Did you hear that?”
Hans Vigo sounded like he was in the room when his voice came through the speaker. “Yes, Dean. And I think Agent Knight is dead-on. I read your report on the homicides and came to the same conclusion.”
“So who are these people?” Detective Montgomery said. “I feel like we’re in the middle of a war. I haven’t seen so many dead bodies outside of gang turf wars.”
Vigo said, “That’s actually a good comparison, Detective. Xavier Jones is a top lieutenant of a ‘gang’—or, in our case, a human trafficking ring, who’d been given autonomy to operate within a defined territory. In fact, he’s been working the territory for so long he thought of this criminal enterprise as his organization. He got into a bit of trouble with the law. Th
e leader of the ring doesn’t tolerate this kind of attention, so he kills Jones. Takes out his top lieutenant as well.”
Sonia interrupted. “I agree, Dr. Vigo, except your last point. The killer knew that Greg Vega was a government informant. Vega’s tongue was cut out. Jones wasn’t tortured; Vega was.”
“It could be that Jones was killed because his man was an informant, but the informant was made to suffer because he’d committed the more egregious sin.”
Montgomery said, “So who is this top gun?”
“Someone who has little fear that he’ll be caught,” said Vigo over the speakerphone.
“Most criminals don’t think they’ll be caught,” Sam said.
“But this killer is extremely confident. He’s stealthy. He’s not someone you’ve talked to or interviewed. I don’t even think he’s from the area. If he were, there’d be more dead bodies.”
“Four isn’t enough?” Montgomery sneered.
“This killer leaves a trail of dead wherever he goes. He punishes people fatally. He does not tolerate dissent; he does not tolerate imperfection. He rewards those who do what he says when he says it—he prizes loyalty. At the same time, he surrounds himself with smart people. He loathes not only incompetence, but stupidity.”
Sonia looked stunned. “You can tell all that by a written report on the murders?”
Vigo chuckled. “Not exactly. I have copies of the preliminary autopsy reports, as well as Agent Hooper’s psychological assessment of Mr. Jones after their meeting the other night. I’m also drawing upon my knowledge of known individuals involved in human trafficking, and my own experience.
“For example,” he continued, “the killer considered Jones incompetent; he was shot and killed. Simple and effective. He considered Vega a traitor. Traitors anger him far more than incompetence, therefore the torture. Cutting out his tongue while he was alive shows that he wanted to make it clear to not only Vega but to everyone in his organization that if they talked, they’d meet a similar fate.”
“This sounds like mob activity,” Sam said.
“Similar,” Vigo concurred, “but different in one key area.”
“What’s that?”
“Your killer has every reason to think he’s untouchable. He’s not an American citizen.”
After the verbal shock and comments subsided, Dean asked, “How can you be so sure about that, Hans?”
“Because he is unconcerned about evidence.”
“No prints were found on the knife or anywhere in the Vega house,” Montgomery interjected.
“He wore gloves, but he left the knife. He didn’t weight the bodies he dumped in the river because he didn’t care if they’d be discovered sooner rather than later. He left the Vegas in their house without disturbing the scene—no arson fire, no body removal, he didn’t care if or when they were found. The dead are in the past, unimportant, problems that have been dealt with. This is, ultimately, what’s going to trip him up.”
“What?” Sonia asked. “That he didn’t destroy the bodies?”
“That he considers them the past. Dealt with. He’s not concerned about evidence because even if we got his prints, they wouldn’t be in our database. He doesn’t believe he’s been photographed by American law enforcement; he is most likely in this country under an assumed name. This is why I’ve made initial contacts with Interpol and our attachés in Central and South America—they may have information on him or his M.O.”
Sonia said, “My boss, Toni Warner, can help with those contacts as well as finding out what, if anything, Homeland Security has on a similar M.O. Though without a name, description, or even a home country, it’ll be impossible to narrow suspects down. There will be far too many possibles.”
“You’re right,” Vigo concurred, “but we can assume he’s here right now, and that he’s likely to be present Saturday night.”
“Would a man in his position normally come in for what appears to be a routine exchange?” Dean asked. “That would increase his risk and the chance that someone could I.D. him.”
“I honestly can’t say why this man chose to come here now.”
“Maybe it’s not the leader,” Sam said. “Maybe he hired someone to kill Jones and Vega.”
Vigo said, “I suppose it’s possible, but if that’s the case, would a man who is operating for power relinquish control to an underling? One of this case’s fundamental problems is that we don’t know exactly why this shipment is so important. Not to diminish the humanity of the victims, but Chinese girls are trafficked in the tens of thousands every year. Why are these three or so dozen girls so important? Agent Knight? Do you have an insight here?”
“I hadn’t thought of the situation in that light,” Sonia admitted. “But you’re right—there is no lack of Asian girls.”
“What about smuggling?” Trace spoke up for the first time.
“Like what?” Dean asked. “Drugs?”
“Not from China,” Trace said. “It wouldn’t be typical, at any rate. But there are other commodities. Pirated software, fake brand-name pharmaceuticals, weapons. I could go on.”
“Trace is right,” Sonia said. “China has a huge black market export business. The women trafficked within their borders are predominantly used as slave labor. What the media likes to call ‘sweatshops.’ But why would they mingle the two illegal trades?”
No one had an answer. Vigo said, “If it was a hired hit, I don’t think that the Vega murders would have been that brutal. That personal. But I may be wrong. It is interesting, however, that Jones was killed twenty-four hours after the FBI raid. That’s enough time for the leader to travel from virtually anywhere in the world. Maybe he wasn’t planning to come until Jones was seen as a risk. He felt he needed to be onsite to ensure everything went smoothly.”
There was silence for a good minute as they considered the various theories.
Vigo continued. “Our target is unassuming, of average build and appearance, well-groomed. He does not draw undue attention. He could walk right past any of you, and you wouldn’t look twice. He’s not on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted; he’s not even on our radar. If he’s wanted by anyone, it’s as a name that means nothing, because as soon as the name goes on a list, he changes it. And I guarantee you that this is no young turk jockeying for territory; it’s someone with decades in the business, with extreme confidence and a strong organizational structure. No one within his inner circle is going to turn on him because they have seen the results of disloyalty many, many times.
“But make no mistake: there is one leader. He is indisputably in charge of his territory, which is far larger than northern California, which Jones commanded. He is feared by his equals because he seems to have no weak points. He’s not married, he has no children, he is likely an only child or oldest child. He also lives well, enjoys the good things in life. But not physical collections. He won’t be collecting art or other treasures that some cultured criminals judge their worth by; he lives simply, with fine meals, expensive wine, premium liquor, expensive suits. Disposable or consumable wealth. He is well-educated, but easily angered. If a waiter gives him poor service, he might wait all night to snap his neck in the dark.”
“Sounds like a peach of a guy,” Montgomery mumbled.
“Thanks, Hans. That’s terrific insight we need.” Dean turned the meeting back to their current situation. He appreciated Vigo’s assessment—it had proven invaluable when he’d planned the raid on Jones in the first place—but right now they had a tight time frame.
“The sheriff’s department has provided assistance with stakeouts on several key Jones people that Agent Knight has identified as part of Jones’s inner circle,” Dean said. “By that I mean individuals involved in Jones’s criminal enterprises. They may be in danger from whoever killed Jones, or are already part of the UNSUB’s group. We don’t know who is working for this guy locally, or if everyone he brought in are foreign nationals.”
Sonia added, “One thing you need to understand
about human trafficking is that it’s solely about the money. Twenty minor girls here for this brothel, forty teenage boys for this war. They also deal with special orders, so if a wealthy ‘client’ wants a virgin, the sellers will find one to desired specifications.” Sonia drained her water and looked uneasy. Dean wished that for just a minute, he could get Sonia alone and … just let her know that he was there to listen. Her past as a victim of these crimes was no secret. She had testified in court against those who had held her captive, and had provided key information that had helped law enforcement in figuring out some of the tricks and lures criminals employed. At this moment, however, she seemed so forlorn and lost, though by the looks on the faces of the other cops in the room, Dean was the only one who had noticed.
“We’re pulling out all the stops for the next forty-eight hours. In addition to monitoring Jones’s security, we are closely tracking his head lobbyist.”
“Lobbyist?” Azevedo questioned.
“Craig Gleason is under suspicion as an accessory, but we’re keeping that under wraps. Agent Knight and I interviewed him earlier about Jones’s clientele and both of us got bad vibes from the guy. It could be that he knows about the money laundering, but not the human trafficking. He’s hiding something. Agent Callahan is digging into Gleason’s background and monitoring his whereabouts. So far, after our meeting this afternoon, he let the XCJ staff go home early, but he’s still in the office.”
“Maybe he’s dead,” Montgomery quipped. “There seem to be a lot of bodies popping up today.”
“We actually considered that,” Sonia said, “and put an undercover agent in the building. So far, Gleason is still alive.”
Fatal Secrets Page 19
