She leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m going to haunt you, Milo Belkin. I’m going to do whatever it takes to find out what happened that night. I’m going to get you. I’m going to nail your ass to the wall for what you did to my mother and sister.”
“Guard,” he said very quietly, his gaze still riveted on the photograph of the dismembered foot in its little shoe.
“And not only do I have more evidence coming in,” she said, “but I’m also starting to remember. Things from that night. From before. On top of this, the RCMP has opened its own investigation into that little floating foot, and they’ve already connected it to me and the cradle case, so it’s going to be better for you all around if you talk to me now.”
“Guard,” he growled loudly, surging to his feet. “Get me out. Now.” As he turned away from her, Angie saw the tattoo on the side of his neck. A pale-blue crab.
The guard glanced at her. She nodded. The prisoner was led out.
As Angie watched Belkin go, her heart thumped in her rib cage. She could barely breathe. She had just looked into the black eyes of a man who’d seen her past. She’d smelled fresh blood on him, hot and raw in her nostrils. And like a pit bull with the taste of a red, meaty bone in her mouth, there was no way in hell that she was going to let this drop now.
CHAPTER 38
The energy in the briefing room was palpable as Maddocks entered carrying his laptop and files. He seated himself with the other officers around a long horseshoe-shaped table, and he nodded to Bowditch and Eden, who sat across from him. They were the only officers he recognized. Their response was tepid. At the head of the room, two large smart screens flanked a traditional whiteboard. Across the top of the whiteboard, in black marker, the words OPERATION AEGIS had been scrawled.
The briefing was to begin at 12:00 p.m., and that’s precisely when a black-haired male officer in RCMP uniform—pale-gray shirt with lapel insignia, dark pressed pants, dark-blue tie, weapons belt—entered the room and went to the head of the table.
The uniform reminded Maddocks of something his facilitator had said back at Depot Division in Saskatchewan, where he’d undergone his police academy training. Day five was the first day that the cadets had been permitted to don their Mountie uniforms. Their facilitator had asked them to look down at their shirts and ask themselves why they were gray when most other police agencies around the world wore white or blue or black. He’d gone on to say that the cadets should see in their shirts a symbol of what law enforcement was about. Because policing doesn’t always have black or white answers, he’d said. Sometimes the answers are gray, and in their future careers the days would come when they needed to look down at their shirts and remember that.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” said the officer up front. “For those who don’t know, I’m Sergeant Parr Takumi, in charge of Operation Aegis.”
The man who’d withheld intel that could have kept Sophia Tarasov alive. Maddocks was dead keen to hear the extent of that intelligence now.
Takumi made introductions around the table. Present were RCMP members from gang crimes, human trafficking, vice, a representative from border security, and another from Interpol.
“And joining us today is Detective Sergeant Maddocks from the MVPD, where he’s been leading an investigation into the Bacchanalian sex club aboard the Amanda Rose,” Takumi said, meeting Maddocks’s gaze. “Six barcoded underage sex workers were discovered forcibly confined aboard the Amanda Rose. They were taken into MVPD custody and held at an undisclosed location. One was found dead yesterday with her tongue excised. Operation Aegis has since asserted jurisdiction.”
Not one around the table murmured or showed surprise, Maddocks noted. This team was clearly familiar with barcoded women, and with cut tongues. And his case. He flexed his hand under the table. It helped him remain outwardly cool, calm.
“Detective Maddocks’s team is also continuing its investigation—and bringing possible further charges—in the homicides of two Victoria females in relation to the Bacchanalian Club. Some of the key suspects who were on the Amanda Rose have yet to cooperate fully with the MVPD, including two French nationals, Veronique Sabbonnier and Zaedeen Camus. Both helped harbor a serial rapist and lust killer on board the yacht, who came to be known as the Baptist. The murders of the two young Victoria women are unrelated to Operation Aegis. However, Sabbonnier and Camus remain persons of interest to Operation Aegis.”
Takumi held his hand out toward another officer at the table. “We also welcome today Detective Corporal Nelson Rollins, who has been heading up Project Gateway, a year-long undercover investigation into Hells Angels collaboration with the longshoremen’s union at the Port of Vancouver in facilitating the entry of Columbian narcotics and precursor chemicals. It was the work of Maddocks and the MVPD that resulted in Project Gateway being brought on board—the MVPD interview with Camus brought to light a link between the Hells Angels at the port and the Russian criminal network that Aegis has been investigating for the past eight months. Up until now we were not aware of this link,” Takumi said.
“For those new to the table, Aegis was formed after the bodies of five unidentified young sex workers employed by Russian-affiliated clubs were found with their tongues cut out. One body was discovered by a barge operator in the Fraser River near the Vancouver airport early last winter. She was naked. COD was strangulation. She had a high level of alcohol in her system along with heroin. The body of a second woman turned up in a vacant Burnaby lot four months later. COD was heroin overdose. Both had their tongues cut out. Both had barcodes tattooed onto the backs of their necks. The tongue and barcode details were held back from the media. The same MO surfaced in Montreal last summer, where another barcoded female body was discovered with no tongue. Another turned up in Brooklyn, New York, and one in the desert outside Las Vegas last spring. The FBI also withheld details of the barcode tattoos and the missing tongues. No ID on the bodies. No DNA or prints or any other identifying factors in the system, until we got in touch with Interpol and linked two of the Jane Does with missing person cases out of Europe. The operating theory now is that these girls are coming from a Russian operation in Prague, which took over the sex trade in that city from Albanian organized crime. Contact with law enforcement in Prague, and again with Interpol in Europe, has confirmed that underage barcoded women are being sold or rented into sex slavery in the UK market and across Europe, and since last year, they’ve been showing up across Canada and now in the United States. But to date it is unknown how these women are trafficked from Prague—which serves as the supply hub—and it is unknown where these women have been entering North America.” Takumi turned to Maddocks.
“Detective Maddocks here provided us with a theory that the barcoded females might be coming into the Port of Vancouver with seafood imports, both legal and illegal, from Vladivostok via South Korea and China. Project Gateway has since expanded its investigation specifically into the seafood trade and the vessels arriving from South Korea and China. It’s early days yet, but it could provide the breakthrough we’ve all been looking for.”
Takumi opened a file on the table in front of him. “Before we go to Detective Maddocks’s briefing, a few quick updates.” He scanned the top page in the file. “The five surviving barcoded victims from the Amanda Rose have all been moved to an undisclosed location on the mainland. None are speaking. Sabbonnier and Camus have been transferred to pretrial holding facilities, also here in the Lower Mainland.” He scanned farther down the report. “Security footage from the hospital in Victoria has been examined by our techs. Footage was enhanced, but no biometric identification on the suspect was possible—he never allowed his face be captured on camera. Techs believe he was wearing a wig. Our suspect left no other forensic trace at the hospital scene that could identify him.” Takumi looked up. “This suspect was experienced. A professional. Consistent with a Russian mob hit designed to send a message.” He returned his attention to his report. “An autopsy was pe
rformed on Sophia Tarasov early this morning. COD is consistent with heroin overdose. Her tongue was excised antemortem—she was alive, likely lucid during the act.”
Someone at the table cursed softly.
Takumi glanced up. “Detective Maddocks, will you brief the team on the MVPD angle?”
Maddocks leaned forward and cut right to it. “Until the death of Sophia Tarasov, the MVPD had no knowledge of the existence of, or the murders of, other barcoded women and thus no knowledge of the gravity of the threat against the six survivors in our custody, nor were we apprised of an international interagency investigation into the murders of barcoded females, until now.”
Takumi glanced sharply up from what he was reading in the file. Maddocks continued. Takumi frowned.
“With this new intel, however, and with MVPD inclusion in Operation Aegis, we can now approach our investigation from fresh perspectives.” He opened his laptop and linked it via Bluetooth to the smart screen. He clicked his keyboard to bring up the map of the Pacific and the Russian far east that he’d shown Bowditch and Eden earlier. He explained how Tarasov’s description of crab tattoos on her assailants, plus Camus’s statement that Hells Angels at the Vancouver port were involved, had led the MVPD to consider the possibility of a trafficking route aligned with illegal Russian king crab imports to North America.
He pulled up a second map on his computer, the one he’d withheld from Bowditch and Eden. A GIS rendering of the coastline from Washington, through BC, and up to Alaska.
Eden tapped the back of her pen on the table as she scowled at the map.
“Tarasov described being transported by a small boat from the container at the Port of Vancouver here”—Maddocks highlighted the port on the screen—“to a remote location somewhere along the coast, where the girls were held for what Tarasov believed was a few weeks. Tarasov couldn’t recall how long the boat trip took to reach their destination—the women were all very ill and weak at that point—but it’s to this remote coastal location that Veronique Sabbonnier flew in by floatplane to select her six girls from the nine who’d been transported by boat to the holding location. The other ten who came from Vladivostok were taken elsewhere, possibly by truck. Sabbonnier then flew the six females blindfolded to the Amanda Rose in Victoria. That flight by floatplane took maybe an hour or two. Tarasov was shaky on the timeline. Which puts this entire coastal area into play.” He clicked a key on his computer. An area of his map washed with yellow. It included Vancouver Island, the Gulf Islands, the San Juan Islands, the entire British Columbia mainland coast, plus the Alaska panhandle and parts of northern Washington State.
Eden said curtly, “That entire area is riddled with inlets, coves, islands, endless uninhabited wilderness.” She was clearly irked that Maddocks had not given this information to them yesterday. Had he done so, he’d likely not be sitting at this table today, part of Operation Aegis.
“Did Tarasov offer anything else that could narrow it down?” she said.
“Not before she was murdered,” Maddocks said with hard look at Eden, whose mouth twitched in response. “Apart from a description of their accommodations and an old Russian-speaking woman in black who attended to them. Plus a vague description of a large Caucasian male, maybe in his late forties or fifties, perhaps early sixties, who’d worn a hood over his head and dimmed the lights when he came to ‘test the merchandise.’ Tarasov described the same crab tattoo on his neck.” Maddocks clicked his keys and brought up an identikit image of a man.
“This came in after we’d already transferred the case files to Aegis,” he said.
Takumi’s attention shot to the male face on the screen. The cop’s features turned dark. He glanced at Maddocks.
“This is the description of the male suspect in Tarasov’s death. It was provided by our MVPD officer who was stationed outside the hospital ward when the man entered wearing a medical coat.”
The group around the table regarded the image in silence. It showed the square face of a male in what could be his late fifties without any overtly distinguishing features. Eyes evenly spaced. Straight nose. Balanced lips, neither fleshy nor thin. Average chin. Caucasian. “Unfortunately, our witness could not provide eye color and is uncertain as to how accurate this identikit is. But it shows what our suspect is not.”
Takumi cleared his throat. “This is all valuable intel. Up until this point, it was thought that the girls found here in BC might have entered North America via the East Coast and been trafficked through Montreal over land or by air. Until now, the Port of Vancouver and the Hells Angels in particular had not been identified as players or collaborators with the Russians. Tarasov’s and Camus’s statements have put this all directly into play. Along with that coastline.” He pointed to the yellow area on Maddocks’s map. “Somewhere in that area there is a holding facility, a key North American hub, where these girls from Prague are being processed and sold into service. We need to find that location.” Takumi turned to Rollins.
“Detective Rollins, can you brief us on the latest intel to come via Project Gateway?”
Maddocks disconnected his computer from the smart screen, allowing for Rollins to make his own laptop connection.
Rollins leaned forward so that all around the table could see him properly.
“We were informed of the potential sex trafficking route being linked to Russian-Chinese-Korean seafood import connections by Sergeant Bowditch late yesterday afternoon. Our officers have since worked around the clock collating port data within the possible time frame that Tarasov and the other barcoded women might have docked with cargo vessels. We have identified two companies of prime interest, Atlantis Seafood Imports and Orca Products. Both received shipments in that time frame of king crab product labeled as having been produced or made in either China or South Korea.” Rollins hit a key, and the profiles of the two seafood import companies displayed on the screen.
“Both companies are owned by a complex tangle of subsidiary holdings. We have techs presently untangling the ownership structure and attempting to attach specific names to bank accounts. Additionally, we’ve put round-the-clock surveillance on the warehousing facilities of both outfits, and on the managers of those facilities. We’ve also had contact from our deep cover officer who infiltrated the longshoremen’s union nine months ago. He reports there is word among longshoremen affiliated with the Hells Angels that a ‘Special A’ shipment is due. The guys are apparently on edge. Potentially the shipment is one of trafficked women. And potentially the women are being held in cargo aboard one of the ships still awaiting port entry due to the strike.” He cleared his throat. “We’re working with the requisite authorities to gain access to the international vessels currently anchored in the Burrard, but any move will need to be made in concert with other UC operations so that we do not tip off the suspects.”
Takumi interjected. “This cannot be stressed enough. No move can be made. Zero information can escape this room. Not only will it compromise the safety of our UC guys, but we also want to follow this ‘Special A’ shipment through to its maximum conclusion—the location of that coastal hub where the Sophia Tarasov and the other barcoded females were processed and resold.” He turned to Rollins.
“Thank you, Detective. In the meantime, Aegis has its own UC officer out of Quebec, where he infiltrated a Russian organized crime ring two years ago. The same ring manages the club where one of our deceased barcode victims worked. The UC was subsequently seconded to Operation Aegis. He traveled west and has now gained access to a Russian club here in East Vancouver that is loosely affiliated to the Montreal club. The supper club and adult entertainment venue is called Club Orange B. It’s located in East Vancouver, and it’s been a gathering place of suspected criminals with Russian backgrounds since the 1970s. Intel from our UC is consistent with intel from the docks—something big is coming. Soon. But nobody seems to know exactly when. Which is consistent with the port strike theory. Those at the club believed to be connected are reportedly t
ense, impatient. The longshoremen’s union has been offered a contract by the port, and it’s possible an agreement will be ratified by the union members soon and the strike will be over. As soon as this occurs, those ships will start coming in. We need to be ready. To facilitate intelligence gathering, early this morning, at 3:50 a.m., our UC managed to cause a small fire inside a supply room at Club Orange B, which set off fire alarms. Our surveillance team moved in under cover of responding firefighters who cleared the premises and cut electrical supply while our team installed surveillance devices in key areas of the club identified by the UC. It was a quick operation with minimal damage to the supply room. We now have live surveillance footage from inside the club.”
“And the Russians don’t suspect anything after the fire?” Maddocks said.
All eyes at the table glanced his way.
“We have no indication at this point that they do,” Takumi said. “The installation appears to have gone smoothly. The live surveillance footage from inside the club is being monitored 24-7 by a surveillance team in the building across the street. They’re watching for indication that a ‘shipment’ is imminent. It’s possible that this club is connected to the holding facility that Tarasov described.”
With that, Takumi shut down the briefing. As everyone cleared out, he called Maddocks over and handed him a fat dossier.
“Now that you have requisite security clearance, this is to catch you up. Background.” His narrow black eyes bored into Maddocks, his energy visceral. “Thank you for joining us.”
Maddocks took the dossier. “The inclusion is appreciated.”
But Takumi held on to his end of the dossier a second longer. “Nothing leaves Aegis, understand? You use this information to steer your local investigation, but you do not give out or leak this information.”
The Lullaby Girl (Angie Pallorino Book 2) Page 22
