Hana followed suit. “This is the first time I’ve sat in here. It looks smaller from this vantage point.”
“Since this was really your project first, Hana,” Nick said, “you should probably start.”
Hana folded her hands, resting them demurely on the table. “The problem is—where to start?” She hesitated, pushing a stray tendril of brown hair behind her ear. “Well, as you can see, I’m an officer in the Pakistani army. I trained in London and in Texas”—she turned to Abby—“which accounts for my perfect English.”
Abby smiled, remembering that first day, when she’d spoken louder, hoping that might help Hana understand her.
“My name is Hana Rahim, and I’m assigned to the Intelligence unit, the ISI.”
Abby sat forward, her eyes wide. Hana was an honest-to-God spy?
“I’ve worked mainly on Taliban and Al Qaeda issues, but was asked to join Interpol on this assignment, digging into human trafficking. It’s a painful subject here in the East, and I was honored—well, until I learned that I would be the housekeeper and cook here.” Hana smiled then. “You may have noticed that I wasn’t very good at it.”
Abby laughed. “Why a housekeeper then?”
“People don’t notice housekeepers. They’re invisible to so many people.”
“Like Lars’s housekeeper in Geneva?”
“Exactly. And here, Najeela hardly noticed me. Her eyes glazed over when she saw me. I simply didn’t exist, and that made it easy to watch and to listen. But then you came—all cheerful and bubbly and hoping to be my friend, and I thought you might blow my cover. I had to keep you at a distance.”
Abby nodded. “But why here? Why this house? Why not the Siddiqui house?”
“I was assigned to this house because of Najeela’s relationship with both Imtiaz Siddiqui and Lars Rousseau. You know about their involvement by now, I think?”
Abby nodded.
“They were partners in crime—they ran Afghanistan’s largest opium-smuggling project for years, and though they’ve long been suspected of being involved in trafficking, that was harder to unravel. They leave fewer fingerprints and their victims are afraid to speak up. It’s a mess, and Interpol’s been working to flush them out for years. It was decided to infiltrate them where they live—quite literally—and Najeela, as the common denominator, was to be our focus. We had no idea you were coming here, and when we learned that the UN was sending an American nurse, we did consider shutting down the operation, but, as you know now, we didn’t.”
Nick piped in, “My arrival threw a wrench into Interpol’s plans. I came to Peshawar to chase after Imtiaz. When the UN heard I was coming here, they chose you as the focus of my sidebar story. Interpol didn’t know what I was up to, but they didn’t like it, all these Americans in the middle of their investigation. Poor Hana here spent a few weeks trying to figure me out. It was my trip to Geneva that piqued her interest, and when I returned here, she finally opened up to me, and we compared notes. But even then, she wasn’t allowed to share the Rousseau and Imtiaz connection with me. I only learned that solid link yesterday when you told me about the newspaper photo of Rousseau.” As though Nick just remembered his injuries, he ran his hand along his swollen eyelid.
“Are you okay? Do you need ice?” Abby asked.
“Only if it’s in a glass filled with scotch,” he said with a wink. “But like so much else, that’ll have to wait.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Back to business—you really didn’t know each other before all of this?”
Hana glanced at Nick and shook her head. “No, we didn’t. And when he first arrived, I was as suspicious of him as you seemed to be. I thought he could blow our whole operation here, and I tried to get to know him, to be nice, but as you may remember, he didn’t even notice me in the beginning. It was only after you first met Imtiaz and Nick grilled you about the meeting that I thought he could be a help to me and not a hindrance. But even then, I didn’t share much with him until after he returned from his Geneva trip.”
Nick smiled sheepishly. “True. The housekeeper ploy worked, at least in the beginning. I didn’t pay much attention to her beyond the usual pleasantries. It was your telling me that she scared Imtiaz off when I was away that made me finally take another look. And with you as a witness to Lars’s murder of the woman in Geneva, the pieces of the puzzle are falling into place.”
“What about Najeela?” Abby asked. “Was she a part of it?”
“We’ll never know for sure,” Hana answered. “But at Lars’s bidding, she was watching you. Lars probably got a good look at you in Geneva and traced you here. He must have been giddy with the luck of you landing here with his girlfriend. He was probably watching you and just biding his time, waiting to see if you knew anything. To cover himself, and not scare Najeela away, he likely told her you’d seen something in Geneva—I don’t think she knew just what that was.”
“Did she ransack my room?” Abby asked.
Hana shook her head. “I think Imtiaz was behind that, but who knows? Najeela may have been involved in that as well. At the very least, I’d say she was guilty of helping them cover their tracks. She was their money conduit. She made all their money transfers. That’s why she was so often gone from the house. It wasn’t UN business, it was her own business.”
“What about Mohammed, the driver?”
“He did work for Imtiaz. Nick tried to warn you.”
“Why couldn’t you tell me, at least about him?”
“Abby,” Hana said, “this was a big operation. We couldn’t just let you in on it. We couldn’t risk your slipping and somehow tipping him off.”
Abby sighed. “He was seen one night at the rescue house. Was it Imtiaz who sent him?”
Hana nodded. “Mohammed’s in custody. He told us that he was instructed to have a look at the house and try to see the girls, make sure they didn’t belong to Imtiaz.”
“What about the rescue house? Will word get out? Will they be in danger?”
Hana smiled. “That house has been relocated. Everyone there is fine.”
“Finally, some good news.” Abby leaned forward. “But, there’s still so much. What about Malik, your son, the picture in the Protection Tent? Is he real? Is he your son?”
Hana’s brow wrinkled. “He’s the son of my sister,” she said with a hint of sadness. “And he is missing, sold by his father to a camel jockey or trafficker. I hoped that if I told his story, we might find him, and although there has been no news, the search will go on—for him and the others. That search won’t stop.”
There was almost too much information for Abby to digest. Her mind was a jumble, but she had to ask about Lars. “I know that Lars was important, but how could he get women out, how could he travel with such impunity?”
“He was a former midlevel Swiss diplomat. That gave him lifelong diplomatic status—no customs checks or searches for him. He slid through every time, never warranting a second look. But it didn’t stop there. He donated to the UN for the easy access it afforded him to refugee areas, where he targeted the most vulnerable, the women and children who’d barely be missed, and he passed that information on to Imtiaz, who passed it on to the front men, who made the first contacts and bought or tricked the women. The police in Geneva are looking into all of this, and they’ve reopened several unsolved cases with similar victims, all, they think now, likely trafficked.”
“It’s all so heartbreaking.” Abby looked away and swallowed the sadness she felt for Amel. “What about Najeela’s parents? Were they involved?”
“No, at least as far as we can tell, they’re innocent,” Hana said, “but the investigation’s a long way from over. Who knows where it will lead.”
“And Imtiaz?” Abby asked.
“Picked up by Interpol just minutes after your convoy rolled over the IED. He’s in custody, sitting in an Islamabad prison awaiting arraignment in the International Court.”
“That’s a relief, but what about the IED? Was it
intended for us?”
“No, it’s more likely the NATO fuel convoy was the target, not you and Nick. And as for the UN helicopter with Lars and Najeela, Lars may have known you were on that convoy, but maybe not. He did know his time was up, that we were closing in, and we think he was trying to get out before we arrested him. Because of Lars’s position, he was able to arrange for a UN helicopter, and when the explosion occurred, the pilot likely heard the transmission requesting help, and he had to respond. Lars had no choice. That pilot was mandated by the UN to help—they had to turn around. When Lars saw you, he may have thought he could grab you, or maybe kill you there, but that fire was too fierce, and when you ran and then struggled, he probably decided to let the fire kill you. He could keep his hands clean, and he probably ordered the pilot to take off, telling him you’d refused rescue. It was his own arrogance that killed him.”
Abby shook her head, inhaling deeply. “I’m just not convinced Najeela knew everything. She was spoiled and self-centered, I’ll give you that, but I don’t think she was evil.”
“Maybe not,” Hana said, “but it doesn’t matter now.”
Abby sighed heavily and rose. She had tea to make.
• • •
Abby and Nick were booked on a UN flight to Dubai, the spot where Abby’s nightmare first surfaced. It felt a bit like coming full circle. Now she could call Emily and tell her the full and final story of her nightmare in Geneva. While she headed for the phones, Nick headed for the Irish pub smack in the center of this flashy Middle East terminal. “You can find me at the Irish Village when you’re done,” he said, then planted a lingering kiss on Abby’s lips. “Don’t be long or there’ll be a line of willing ladies ahead of you.”
“Now that I finally know you, I think you’re pretty funny for a pain in the ass, Pulitzer Prize winner.”
“Jesus, are we on that again?” Nick winked.
• • •
The following day, they arrived in New York, where Nick put the finishing touches on his story, and Abby headed to the UN for wrap-up meetings. She’d moved into his apartment, a third-floor walk-up in Murray Hill, and though the space was tiny, it was perfect for two people still getting to know each other.
Nick submitted his series on trafficking. It was Abby Monroe’s courage, he wrote, that exposed the full story of corruption threatening the very foundation of the UN and the people it served and protected. Lars Rousseau was nothing more than a common criminal, but his days of victimizing the world’s innocents are over. Human trafficking along the Rousseau/Siddiqui route has ended forever.
The series went to press within days, and Abby wasn’t surprised when it was mentioned as a Pulitzer Prize candidate. The series was picked up by the wires and carried in most newspapers around the world.
“Listen,” Nick said one morning not long after they’d settled in with coffee and the Sunday edition of the Times, “what do you think? You gonna stay here in New York with me?”
Abby closed her eyes for an instant before she answered. “I’m not sure yet, Nick. How about we just try this—try us—on for a while?” She leaned in and kissed him, a long, slow, deep kiss, then she nestled into his arms. Her skin tingled as he ran his fingers through her hair.
“You have to admit, we are good together, aren’t we?” Nick asked.
“Hmm, we are. But you should know I’ve talked to the UN about going to India, working with one of the rescue houses the UN sponsors there. I want to help women like Mariyah and Bina and Anyu find the leaves on their trees and the stars in their sky. I want them to know they’re not alone.”
Nick whistled. “You are something, Abby Monroe.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “But what about the stars in your sky? I’m not very poetic, but, well, need an assistant? Because it sounds like a perfect sequel to my trafficking series.”
Abby smiled. “Maybe . . . after all, things worked out pretty well with the last reporter who interviewed me.”
Author’s Note
When I began to research human trafficking for this novel, I was stunned by the extensive local and global reach of this insidious and cruel business. The harsh reality is almost mind-numbing, for human trafficking may well be the fastest growing industry in the world. And, why not? The UN Population Fund recently reported that it was the third most lucrative illegal trade, surpassed only by drugs and arms trading, and brings in an estimated 32 billion tax-free dollars per year.
The International Office for Migration (IOM) estimates that between 700,000 to 4 million people are trafficked each year, but those numbers may be much higher, and because of the secretive nature of trafficking, the exact numbers will likely never be known.
Human trafficking remains the world’s dirty little secret, and it’s been easy for us to turn a blind eye because we’ve believed it happens somewhere else, in Cambodia or China or Bangladesh, but that somewhere else has come home, and these days, it’s happening right where we live.
Here in the United States much of the sex trafficking occurs in massage parlors, which frequently operate in strip malls, office buildings, and, sometimes residential homes in urban, suburban, and rural areas in almost all fifty states. The Polaris Project reports that these storefront massage parlors have sometimes been found to be fronts for these brothels. The common denominator among victims is that, more often than not, they are undocumented, and therefore isolated. It is that isolation that makes them easy prey, invisible to the rest of us, and because they are, their miseries continue unabated.
Potential victims are everywhere. They are the voiceless, the invisible, the throwaway street children in big cities, the long forgotten and the most vulnerable among us.
There is much to be done, but first we must open our eyes to the misery that is too often right in front of us. Only when we finally see them, can we make a difference.
For more information, please visit my website: www.robertagately.com.
GALLERY READERS GROUP GUIDE
The Bracelet
Roberta Gately
Introduction
Boston nurse Abby Monroe takes a UN position in one of the most dangerous and unstable countries in the world: Pakistan. Nick Sinclair is a New York Times reporter on a mission to uncover a human trafficking ring that spreads from the villages of India and Pakistan to major cities in the West—and with Abby’s help, he thinks he can finally incriminate the shadowy figure at its heart. As Abby struggles to heal the refugees she works with every day, she also volunteers at a local halfway house, where women who have escaped their captors can recover from the ordeal of being trafficked and work toward a better life. But when a unique piece of jewelry helps Abby realize she’s witnessed a murder by a high-ranking official, she and Nick must break the story before she becomes its next casualty.
Questions and Topics for Discussion
1. Abby takes the nursing position with the UN as a way to escape from her past—the ex-boyfriend who dumped her and the job from which she was laid off. How does her desire to run away mirror that of the underprivileged women and girls who voluntarily go off with traffickers in an attempt to have a better life? Is being able to escape one’s surroundings a privilege of a particular class?
2. Would you ever do as Abby did and travel to a foreign, dangerous place in order to change your life? What are the risks and what are the rewards?
3. Abby feels guilty that she and her roommate Emily left New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. How do the atrocities of Katrina compare with what Abby eventually sees in Pakistan? How are they connected?
4. When did you first realize that Najeela is not the trustworthy friend that Abby wanted her to be? What were some red flags? Have you ever been in a similar position with a friend?
5. Abby doesn’t have her own car and it’s dangerous for her, an American woman, to walk the streets of Peshawar alone. How does her isolation in the UN house amplify her own fears and put her at risk? Is she more vulnerable there than she would be at Nick’s hotel? Are
there positive aspects of her seclusion?
6. So much of the secrecy surrounding human trafficking, and so much of the shame for the victims, seems to be related to the patriarchal society of Pakistan and its surrounding areas. How does the subjugation of women in this part of the world allow for these greater atrocities to take place?
7. Abby dislikes Nick when she first meets him, but ultimately he proves to be a great romantic hero. Is there ever any doubt that they might end up together? Did you think she’d ever consider going back to Eric? How does Abby and Nick’s love story enhance the novel?
8. Zara says, “When women work together, anything is possible.” How are women in a unique position to fight against corruption in the Eastern world?
9. One of the refrains that we hear from so many of the women at the safe house is, “I’m still a good girl.” Why do you think it’s important for them, after their terrible ordeals, to reiterate this phrase? What does this say about their culture, that the victims of sexual crimes are often the ones to be blamed?
10. When the women at the halfway house told their stories, how did you react? Were you able to read the explicit parts? Was it difficult to read?
11. Did you suspect Hana’s and Mohammed’s true loyalties? Were there hints along the way?
12. The Bracelet is a novel, so the events that take place in it are fictional. But human trafficking is a very real and dire problem. How would your understanding of the events of the book change if the book were nonfiction? Does reading a fictional account provide a more accessible window into this world of corruption?
13. What do you think Abby’s future has in store for her? What do you think will come of Abby and Nick’s relationship?
Enhance Your Book Club
1. The most significant characters in The Bracelet are the victims of trafficking—from the women at the halfway house to the missing people whose photos graced the walls of the Protection Tent. Visit the website www.humantrafficking.org to learn more about real-life cases and what you and your book club members can do to help.
The Bracelet Page 28
