He slid the remote into his pocket and stood. "Remember this, Olivia. You have no control. You will obey my every whim. I require my lovelies to be fit, beautiful, graceful and talented. That is the reason for the daily schedules. There will be no more sleeping in. You will rise before dawn each day and go to the gym. This is mandatory. Classes on poise, etiquette, singing, and music will follow. I expect you to find a talent and excel in it. Rana plays the piano as beautifully as a maestro. Mishi's voice would rival the angels. Catori dances as gracefully as a Russian diva. I look forward to seeing what you may discover hidden inside yourself. Daan and Anton will oversee your training."
Well, now she knew what Hans and Franz's real names were. The fact they were trainers made her gut twist into knots. From behind Meester, the one she once called Hans licked his lips and grinned at her. She shivered.
"Your other training will be handled by me. It will start in a few days." He regarded her, tapping his chin with his finger. "I have patience, Olivia, however, it isn't without its limits. You will sleep when I say, eat when and where I say. You will wear clothing I choose, behave in a manner of my desire and only the beating of your heart and the breath in your lungs will not be under my command. Well, that is until I decide to end them." He took a few steps toward her. "Irritate me, become more of a nuisance than a pleasure and I will discard you as I would any unfavorable item in exchange for something better. There is always something better." He turned and with a flick of his fingers, dismissed them. "Anton, I have her schedule here. I want reports on her progress daily." The last words were thrown over his shoulder as he returned to his desk. As the two trainers picked Olivia up from the floor, she watched him retrieve the paper and resume reading. He had dismissed her exactly like the possession he called her.
Olivia decided at that moment she wouldn't give them a reason to use the collar on her. As of this second, she would be compliant, malleable and attentive. Not because they had broken her, but because she couldn't get out of this one alone. She needed help. In this world of abuse, control, and manipulation, she knew one thing to be true. Bruiser was looking for her, and he would find her. Every ounce of her knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he was searching for her. She just had to make sure there was something for him to find. As she was dragged past a row of windows, she glanced out at the placid surface of the water, broken only here and there with dead tree trunks and the occasional tiny island. Tropical birds flittered from branch to branch with their bright plumage on display. He had mentioned rainforest, so she was most likely in South America. That was a long way from California. How could Bruiser find her here? She knew in her heart the chances of him locating her were slim at best. If he couldn't find her, nobody could. She'd become another statistic, another girl whose face became dim over the years until one day someone would say, "Hey, you remember Olivia? I wonder what ever happened to her." She'd fade away. Jayden will become an adult and eventually remember her only in the sketches and drawings he had made over the years. Auntie will grow old and pass away with the pain of Olivia's absence heavy on her heart. Bruiser will search until finally giving up and moving on to a life with someone new. They would have a family; grow old together. Eventually, they will die together. They will be remembered - together.
Olivia will live and die in this gilded cage
Forgotten.
Alone.
Chapter 23
Bruiser paced in the cramped space of his hotel room in Paramaribo like a caged lion in a zoo. Muttering to himself, he combed his fingers through his hair and pulled until it stood on end. "So damned close. What am I missing?" Stepping out onto the balcony, he perused the city spread out beneath him. It was quite beautiful with numerous single and double story buildings intermingled with areas still captured by green grass and palm trees. In the distance, he could make out the brown water of the Suriname river as it joined with the ocean. In another time, he could see himself walking down these streets with Olivia tucked into his side, exploring the numerous open markets, shops, and stores. Now, those idyllic nooks and romantic locations looked mocking and sinister.
Fat drops of rain landed on his gray polo shirt, turning it into a blotchy mixture of dark and light. It had rained four of the five days they had been in the country, and with the threat of a small hurricane off the coast, it looked as if the rain would hang around for a while. The dreary weather mirrored his mood perfectly. She was out there, but where? He hadn't a clue. The uncertainty was driving him insane.
A knock at his door sent him back inside to admit the team. Like him, they all appeared haggard and tired. This constant pace was wearing everyone down. He appreciated his team even more for the personal sacrifices they were making for him. If they got Olivia back... He shook his head. When, not if - when they got Olivia back, he would make sure they knew how grateful he was.
"It was a bust," Toad muttered as he dropped into the one chair in the room. "I must have sweet talked every woman I could find in every damned hotel in this city. If he brought her into this area, he didn't stay."
"There's not a lot of tourists right now, so most of the available rentals are empty. Railroad and I checked them out anyway. No dice." Cowboy grunted dejectedly. "Sorry, Bruise."
Hick blew out a breath. "Same for vehicle rentals. Whoever this guy is, he's got to be local. River and I got the goose egg, too. The cab companies were no help, either. That was a long shot anyway, as I couldn't see someone getting a taxi with a captured woman in tow but I didn’t want to take a chance of missing something."
"The harbormaster said that presently, all the regular boats are tied up at the wharf. That category one threatening the coast has most people scrambling inland. Even the company from whom we chartered our boat isn't letting anything out until this blows over." Finch leaned against the bathroom door. "In a way, this storm has helped out. The city is virtually empty, and most modes of transportation are grounded."
"Speaking of grounded," River piped in. "How did your talk go with the officials at the airport?"
"Not good," Bruiser admitted begrudgingly. "We already knew from Digger the private jet had fueled and returned to the United States. Officially, there have been a few departures since then, but the guy I talked to told me there are several smaller airfields in the area. If someone is doing something underhanded, that would be how they'd leave. He also mentioned the fact that seaplanes are relatively abundant." Bruiser started to pace again. "It's hard not to lose hope here. She's been gone eleven days now." The fresh spear of agony pierced his heart, and he leaned against the wall. "What if I never find her?"
"Don't think that," Cowboy told him, and the others agreed. "Keep the faith. We will find her, no matter how long it takes."
The silence that followed Cowboy's speech was broken by Bruiser's cell phone. Punching the button, he placed the device on the dresser as the team huddled around. "Hey, Digger, give us some good news."
Digger's voice sounded tinny coming from the speaker. No doubt the storm was interfering with their service. Bruiser hoped it held out long enough for the data technician to give them a full update.
"I have good news and bad news. The good news is Jacobson is in custody. He was captured trying to cross the Canadian border last night. I'm monitoring things, but so far he's lawyered up. He's being extradited back to California. When I know more, I'll pass it on."
"And the bad?" Finch asked for them all.
"I've been tracking every flight out of Suriname since the JRJ jet landed there last week. No sign of Olivia and still no idea who has her." He hesitated a moment before resuming. "I have a theory."
"At this point, anything is welcome," Bruiser said. "Let's hear it."
"Trafficking isn't something that one openly flaunts. That calls for secrecy, seclusion, and money. I mean... Jacobson had his place in the city, but it was a temporary stop. If you are going to buy a slave..."
Bruiser's growled.
"Ah, shit man. I’m sorry!" Digger apologized then h
urried on. "If you were going to purchase a human, you need a place to keep them where they aren't going to be found. Unfortunately, Suriname is mostly rainforest and water with thousands of places to stash someone. That satisfies the secrecy and seclusion factors. That got me to thinking about the money. Olivia was purchased, for lack of a better word, and from what the FBI has pulled out of Jacobson's records, he doesn't do small amounts. Most of his transactions involve hundreds of thousands of dollars to millions. There are no names, of course, and the money is spread out over dozens of untraceable offshore accounts. But the fact remains, someone is going to have to come up with a lot of money. So, I did a little research, along with a lot of assumptions and came up with a few possibilities."
Bruiser's attention piqued at the words. Maybe they were going to get a break after all. "Doesn't matter how unlikely, right now we have nothing. Anything is better than that."
"There are seventeen individuals in Suriname who are wealthy enough for this type of transaction. Again, I made a huge assumption. I discarded two because they are females and I doubt they would be in the market for female slaves. Another eight are accounted for publically during the time in question. That's not to say any of them would have a surrogate take care of the transaction, but I believe something as unique as this would require personal attention. It's not like they could decide they didn't want her and returned her for a refund. One is a recluse with acute agoraphobia who never leaves his home. Two more are philanthropists brothers who are involved heavily in the community. Again, not a surety but an educated guess. That leaves four. If I take into account the need for seclusion, I can discount another one who lives in the middle of Paramaribo and leads a very public life. The remaining three are the best guess. All three have extensive holdings in the Brokopondo district. Again, it's a guess, but it's the best I got. I'm sending you the files on Imro Scholten, Garritt De Jääger, and Rinesh Fikki along with regional information."
On the bed, Bruiser's computer pinged, indicating a new email. Railroad picked it up and began typing on the keys.
"That's all I have at the moment. I'm waiting on satellite images, which I'll send as soon as I can. Anything else you guys need, let me know."
"Thanks, Digger. We couldn't do this without you." Bruiser called out. He was extremely grateful for the technician.
"My pleasure to help a brother, Bruiser. We're going to find your girl. I won't consider anything else. Digger out."
The cell went dead as the line disconnected.
"In the first half of the 60's, the government of Suriname built a dam near the town of Afobaka across the Suriname River. The purpose was twofold. First, the dam would generate electricity for manufacturing aluminum. The second was to create a fresh water reservoir for crop irrigation and drinking. The watershed that fed the new reservoir flooded more than 4,700 square miles of rainforest and covering 1% of the nation in water. Now, hundreds of tiny islands, mostly uninhabited, dot the edges of the lake. The trunks of thousands of trees can still be seen jutting up from the water's surface creating a dangerous obstacle course for both water and air crafts." Railroad looked up from the laptop. "That, my friends, is the Brokopondo Reservoir."
"We're heading down river," Bruiser said with the first bit of real hope in days.
"The reality is much more daunting than the description," River remarked as he leaned on the side of the houseboat they had rented in Afobaka. There were no other accommodations in this area, and they had lucked out in finding the boat. Bruiser grunted in answer.
The reservoir spread out before them while the late afternoon sun peeked out from between dark gray clouds. They had arrived the day before and were learning the area. Hick was in the galley, working on some culinary disaster he would call dinner. The guys hated it when it was his turn to cook. Hick could ruin scrambled eggs given the opportunity.
The sounds of a small boat broke the silence. There was a slight bump, and a rope flew over the side. Bruiser grabbed it and tied it off. River helped Railroad, Finch, Toad, and Cowboy unload the supplies they had purchased. "Please tell me you got some antacids," River joked. "It's Hick's turn." All the men groaned in unison.
"I heard that. Maybe I'll keep this all to myself until you bunch learn to appreciate fine cuisine," Hick shouted from the bowels of the boat.
"Show us some fine cuisine, and we'll appreciate it. Unless you got a chef hidden in there, I'd doubt anything even remotely resembling fine, or cuisine is coming out," Toad quipped.
Hick appeared in the door with a huge plate of something brown and green with yellow specks in his hands. He sat it down on the deck table. "Dinner is served."
The six men stared at the mass on the platter with trepidation. "What is it?" Railroad asked.
"Don't ask. I mean it, Rail, don't ever ask," River muttered. "It goes down a little easier if you don't know."
"Fish Kousband ala Coco," Hick declared proudly. "Go on, dig in."
"You put chocolate powder in it?" Toad's normally jovial face had turned a slight shade of green.
Hick glowered. "Of course not. Give me a little credit, why don't you."
Cowboy frowned but spooned some into a bowl. He poked at it uncertainly with his fork. "You guys got my will, right?"
"I don't know if any of us will survive," Finch retorted. He stabbed at the mess and pulled up a long green bean. "At least I recognize this."
Hick snarled at his friends and tossed the hand towel he was using as a potholder over his shoulder. Dipping out a huge portion, he grabbed a spoon and tucked in, shoveling the concoction into his mouth. "It's just fish and beans," he sulked.
Bruiser took a deep breath and talked himself into trying it. It was fish and beans with some type of sauce and small brown lumps that were sweet. Slowly, he chewed before grabbing his water and drinking. The yellow was obviously peppers. He coughed and drank again. "What is that sweet flavor?" he gasped.
Hick swallowed. "Coco puffs," he said nonchalantly.
The sound of six spoons hitting bowls filled the air.
"Dear God," Cowboy muttered. "He's trying to kill us."
"I swear the minute we get back to the states, I'm taking your sorry ass to Tennessee to learn how to cook from my grandma," Finch said as he rinsed his mouth out and spat overboard. "I'd rather eat MREs, including the toilet paper."
"At least with MREs, we get a little bottle of pepper sauce," Toad grumbled, as he stared at the bowl with disgust on his face.
Hick stood up and grabbed the platter. "Fine. You bunch don't appreciate my cooking? I'll go eat it myself." He stomped through the door to the galley.
"We'll notify your next of kin," River shouted.
The satellite telephone rang beside Bruiser. Picking it up, he snapped his fingers to catch the attention of the others. Poking the speaker, he waited for Digger.
"I've been thinking about this whole situation," Digger began. "You guys know I work for Starpower, Inc. We cater to the wealthy and spoiled. A lot of these people have things they collect. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff we have to protect. One thing in common is that these uber wealthy, self-absorbed trust-fund babies will go out of their way to keep their precious toys safe. What if our guy is the same way? What if he is extremely protective of his possessions? So I did some snooping around and found something interesting."
The line fell silent for several moments.
"Don't stop now; the story is just getting good." Hick had rejoined them on the deck.
"Sorry, I was getting the last bit of data. One of our three potential suspects purchased a top of the line, high-end containment system like those used in some of those new-wave, humane, low-security prisons. It utilizes a deterrent device locked to an ankle or wrist that connects to a confinement source. If the subject leaves the specified area, a low voltage shock is delivered to the prisoner much like a taser. The idea is to give the prisoners free reign within a designated area. It's supposed to cut down on suicides and crap like that. Garritt De Jä�
�ger has one of those systems. I hacked into the satellite feed monitoring the system. He has six devices, but only three are active. It could be he collects animals, but I don't think so. There are no invoices for animal food, supplies or veterinary care. There are, however, hefty purchases of women's clothing. The last large purchase was three weeks ago and get this, all in Olivia's sizes."
Bruiser sat down heavily, and Cowboy clapped him on the back. "Finally, we have something a little more concrete. Good work, Digger. Give us every scrap of information you can get on him."
"Will do. I got a good feeling about this, Bruiser."
"Alright, let's go take a look at Garritt De Jääger's place. He's got a private island on the south side of the reservoir." Railroad pulled out a map and pointed to one of the hundreds of small pieces of land dotting the Brokopondo Reservoir. "We won't get very far tonight. It's dangerous navigating with all the debris under the water. If you say we start tonight, we go. This is your show, Bruiser."
Bruiser thought it over. He was ready to see Olivia, ready to get her the hell out of that place, but sinking the boat wouldn't do either her or them any good. Reluctantly, he made a decision. "We go at first light. We'll go scout this De Jääger character's place as soon as the sun is high enough to see."
Saving Olivia (Team Cereberus Book 1) Page 17
