Noble tried to suppress a grin, but it broke through.
“You’re handsome when you smile,” she said. “You should do it more often.”
He took the second visitor chair. “How you feeling?”
She pointed to her feet. “Look.” Her toes wiggled beneath the blanket. “The doctor says I should be on my feet in another week or two.”
“That’s great news.” Noble took her hand in his. Their eyes met. She smiled. The silent tension grew until Noble wasn’t sure what to say next.
Bati broke the spell by clearing her throat. “We were just praying for your mother,” she said.
The smile ran away from Noble’s face. He took a breath, nodded, and managed to say, “Thank you.”
The dark empty place inside of him gave a painful twist. Bati had survived. Samantha would heal. But Noble had to go home and watch his mother die. All the money in the world could only buy her a small chance.
Sam saw the hurt in his eyes. “Don’t lose hope.”
Noble didn’t know what to say to that. Maybe it didn’t require a response. Instead he turned his attention to Bati. “You and I have a meeting.”
Sam gave Bati a tight smile. “You’ll do fine.”
Bati took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
She and Noble went outside and climbed into a rented Hyundai. They rode in silence. Noble battled the Kowloon traffic to the tunnel. In the artificial glow of the neon lights, Bati finally said, “Sam’s a special girl.”
“Yes, she is.”
“She deserves someone special,” Bati said.
Noble felt like she had just stabbed him in the heart with a shard of ice. Without coming right out and saying it, she wanted him to know his place. Sure, he had saved both their lives, but at the end of the day, he wasn’t marriage material. Sam deserved a guy that wore neckties to church on Sunday morning. Someone with a job and a stock portfolio. His throat constricted. “I understand.”
She turned to face him. “Do you?”
He nodded.
They emerged from the tunnel into the morning sunlight and drove to a secure location arranged ahead of time by the Hong Kong branch. Noble parked at the curb in front of a high-rise office building with a travel agency on the ground floor. He pulled the parking break and cut the engine. Traffic hummed by on the boulevard. Bati sat in the passenger seat fretting at her nails.
“You don’t have to go through with it,” he told her.
“But you will be able to stop a major trafficking ring if I do?”
“It will certainly help.”
She fixed her hair back into a ponytail, took a deep breath, and climbed out of the car. Noble escorted her through the travel agency and up to the third floor. The elevator door opened on a carpeted hall with bare walls and harsh lighting.
Matthew Burke, dressed in a tan sport coat and slacks with loafers, waited outside an unmarked door. He grinned, grabbed Noble’s hand, and pumped it. Noble felt like his shoulder would come right out of socket.
“You did real good,” Burke said. “Real good. That was an impressive bit of business you pulled off. Some of the higher-ups are talking about giving you carte blanche and turning you loose on the bad guys.”
“Express your gratitude by making sure the funds go into the right account,” Noble told him.
Burke laughed and gave him a slap on the back, then turned to Bati. “And you must be Ms. Bati Ramos. I’m glad we finally get to meet in person.” He took both of her hands in his and placed a kiss on her cheek.
Bati blushed, flattered by the treatment.
His expression changed from jovial to serious. “Everything is arranged. You can leave any time you want.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Burke placed a hand on the door latch. “You ready?”
She hitched her shoulders up. “Ready as I’m going to be.”
Burke gave her a wink and opened the door.
68
The room was furnished with a folding table and two chairs. Lady Shiva occupied one of the chairs. She wore a red dress and lipstick to match. Her hair was pulled up. She sat with a straight back and her hands folded calmly in her lap. She looked up when the door opened. Her lips pressed together.
Bati faced her mother for the first time in her life. She stood there for several long seconds feeling like she had stepped out of her body and into a surreal dream world. But this was no dream. She rallied her thoughts, squared her shoulders, and stepped into the room.
Noble and Burke followed.
“Hello, Bati,” Shiva said. “You look just like your picture.”
Bati said nothing. She took the seat across from her mother, folded her hands, and then unfolded them.
“I’m not what you were expecting,” Shiva said with a nervous smile.
Bati shook her head. “No. Er… yes. I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I didn’t even know you were alive until three days ago.”
“I know all about you,” Shiva said. “I kept an eye on you. I even sent a few birthday presents…” She trailed off. “But I guess your father never let you have them.”
Bati thought about that. “He gave me a stuffed bunny for my seventh birthday. He said it was from a great aunt back in Manila.”
Shiva’s face lit up at the mention of the bunny. “I bought him at Trinoma.”
“Mister Nuffles,” Bati said with a laugh. “I call him Mister Nuffles. I still have him.”
A single tear formed at the corner of Lady Shiva’s eye, balanced on the end of her long lashes, and then spilled down her cheek. “You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I’m sorry I could not be there for you growing up. Your father wouldn’t allow it. I still remember holding you in my arms the day you were born. You were a tiny little life.” She smiled and motioned at Bati. “Now look at you. All grown up.”
Bati twisted her hands together in her lap. “What’s your real name?”
Shiva had to swallow a lump in her throat. “Ana. Just Ana. I don’t remember my family name. I was too young.”
They lapsed into silence.
Shiva sniffed and swallowed. “I don’t expect you to understand what I do. I’m not proud of it. I didn’t have any other choice. You probably hate me, but I had to meet you. I wanted you to know…”
“Know what?”
“That I love you,” Shiva said.
Bati said nothing for a long time. Tears leaked down her cheeks in silent rivers. She needed a tissue. She ran a hand under her nose. “I don’t hate you,” she said at last. She leaned forward. “If you really love me, then you’ll tell these men what they want to know.”
Shiva nodded.
Bati stood up and went to the door.
Burke opened it and followed her out into the hall.
...
Noble took Bati’s vacated seat. “We kept our end of the deal,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.”
He took a cell phone from his pocket, opened a voice-recording app, and placed the device on the table between them. Shiva scooted her chair up, placed her hands on the tabletop, laced her fingers together, and started to talk. She provided details on all of Ramos’s operations. For thirty years he had been running the largest human trafficking ring in South East Asia and using the CIA to take out his competition. It was genius, really. On the outside, he was a respected diplomat campaigning for an end to slavery. Behind the scenes, he made a fortune in the sex-slave industry, and the CIA had been his dupe all along.
When she finished, Shiva sat back in her chair. “What happens to Ramos now?”
Noble ended the recording, pocketed the cell phone, and stood up. “The United States can’t arrest him. He’s a diplomat, but we’ve got enough to cancel his status and send him back to the Philippines.
“Your government doesn’t really care about sex trafficking, but they want the rest of the world to think they do, and this will be international news. The Philippine government will make an example of Ramos in order to
look good on the world stage,” Noble told her.
Shiva arched an eyebrow. “What about me?”
“I’m a man of my word. You get a pass,” Noble said. “For now.”
“For now,” Shiva said. “But I know men like you. You won’t rest until you’ve caught me.”
Noble stopped with his hand on the latch. “I may catch up with you one day soon.”
“What if I find you first?” she asked.
“It will be the last thing you ever do,” Noble told her and walked out.
Burke waited in the hall. “Did you get it?”
Noble handed over the cell phone. “It’s all here.”
69
Bakonawa Ramos sat down at his desk, pulled out stationary with his letterhead on it, and penned a message to his daughter. In the letter he did not bother to explain his actions or ask for forgiveness. He simply told her that he loved her and that he wanted her to have a wonderful life free of worry. He signed it at the bottom.
With that done, he lit a Djarum Black and poured bourbon over ice. He took a swallow and reflected on his life. Several times over the years, he had considered dismantling his criminal enterprise and transforming himself into the man he claimed to be. It had been tempting. His various charitable foundations generated millions. He could have lived comfortably by skimming a small portion, but there was always more money to be made from prostitution. He wondered how things might have turned out if he had walked away.
He finished his drink and smoked the clove down to the filter. Then he took a model 33 Glock from his desk drawer, put it under his chin, and fired a .357 round into his brain. He was dead before the weapon hit the Turkish rug.
70
Noble pulled his 1970 Buick GSX hardtop into the parking lot at Saint Anthony’s, found a spot in the shade, and entered through the emergency room doors. Most of the hard plastic chairs were empty today, but the smell of disinfectant remained. He rode the elevator to the second floor. Dr. Lansky stood at the nursing station, giving directions to a pair of young interns. Noble waited.
The doctor saw him and held up a finger. He finished instructing the interns, dismissed them, and offered his hand to Noble. “I have good news,” he said with a grin.
Noble could hardly believe his ears. He must have misheard. “Good news?”
“It’s still early.” Lansky patted the air with both hands. “But we are seeing positive results. This latest round of chemo looks promising.”
Noble stood rooted to the spot. For the first time in years, he felt like he would break down and cry, or dance a jig, maybe both. He managed to marshal his thoughts. “How is that possible?”
Lansky shrugged. “I wish I could give you a more scientific explanation. We still don’t know everything there is to know about the human body. Some people recover against all odds, while others expire from curable diseases. I’d call it a miracle if I believed in that sort of thing. Either way, it’s always nice to give good news.”
Noble could only nod.
“She’s awake if you’d like to see her,” Lansky said.
A call came over the intercom, and the doctor had to hurry off.
Noble paced the hospital corridor letting the information sink in. The doctor’s words echoed inside his head. Positive results. Looks promising. A miracle if I believed in that sort of thing. He stopped in front of his mother’s door. He needed to see her, but first he reached into pocket for his cell phone. He sent a text to Samantha. It was two words.
Keep praying.
THE END
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Afterword
While the events and characters in Noble Man are fictitious and not meant to represent anyone, living or dead, the issues are very real. Illegal profits from human trafficking are estimated to exceed 30 billion dollars a year. Between 21 and 30 million people are enslaved as of this writing. The majority of the people bought and sold are women under the age of 18. In the United States alone, there are an estimated 100,000 children sold into sexual slavery every year. Most are never heard from again.
It is the purpose of this book to raise awareness and funds to end slavery. You can help. Check out my website for a list of non-profit organizations making a difference in the battle against human trafficking. I sincerely hope you will join me in giving generously. Together we can make a difference.
http://noblevengeance.com/causes/noble-man/
But more than money is needed. Human trafficking is merely a symptom of a much larger moral cancer in the heart of society. It is a corruption that cannot be cured by organizations, governments, or even heroes like Jake Noble. In this author’s humble opinion, prayer is our best weapon.
Keep Praying.
Noble Man Page 24
