by Kit Kyndall
The sheriff scowled at him. “I don’t believe a word you say. Stand up and turn around slowly. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say…”
The rest of his spiel washed over Justin as he let his focus loosen on the man’s words. Feeling resigned, he stood up and turned around, extending his wrists. He could fight the sheriff, and he’d probably be able to subdue him without causing permanent harm, but then there would be more legal mess to untangle later. Olivia was on the way, and she’d have the credentials to get through to the stubborn sheriff if no one else did. He couldn’t do anything to help Julia in the interim, so it was sensible to cooperate with Finch.
10
They stopped twice for refueling, but flew straight through otherwise. Julia was secured in the back of the helicopter, handcuffed to her seat and the frame of the chopper. Marconi sat in the middle, not looking at her or talking to her, which suited her fine.
What didn’t suit her was the goon sitting beside her, with his groping, wandering hands. Periodically, he would lean over to whisper in her ear, telling her all the filthy things he planned to do to her when they got back to New York. She maintained an unflinching exterior, but inside, she was a mess. Her gut churned with nausea, and her mind insisted on supplying images to match the descriptions of what he threatened to do.
Most of all, she worried about Justin. Had he escaped the goon who pinned him? If he had, she was certain he had gotten hold of his friend Olivia, and they were already mounting a rescue. If he hadn’t, no one knew where she was, and her only insurance against being killed was the flash drive that Marconi thought was in the possession of the NSA. If he discovered somehow that it was in Justin’s safe, he would shoot her without a second’s hesitation and destroy all evidence of his human trafficking.
The helicopter didn’t land at the airport when they arrived back at the city. Instead, they veered toward the outskirts of the city and landed on the roof of what appeared to be an old warehouse. There were a few lights inside, since it was almost nighttime, but nothing that indicated it was a thriving business still in use.
The goon was in charge of getting her out of the helicopter and dragging her into the building after they entered a door on the roof. He pulled her down the stairs, seeming to delight in each thud through her body when she missed a step and collided into him. He chuckled as he pulled her close for a moment, running his tongue across her cheek before whispering in her ear, “You don’t have to be so eager, baby. We’ll have lots of time.”
She shuddered as she pulled away from him, glaring as they finally reached the landing. “If you touch me, I’ll kill you.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Of course you will.” He patted her on the head like she was a child, and it only added to her murderous rage. She clung to it, needing to keep that emotion paramount or risk succumbing to the fear and revulsion surging through her.
“I’m sure I can convince Marconi to give you to me. We’re going to have lots of fun.”
She literally saw red as they turned to start down another flight of stairs. He wasn’t expecting it, and she reared back before shoving against him with all her weight. The goon went flying down the stairs with a howl of outrage, mingled with fear. She stumbled a couple of steps before catching herself on the railing with her cuffed hands.
The goon didn’t fare so well, landing at the bottom of the staircase on the cement floor in an awkward position. There was a sharp cracking sound, and his head was bent at an awkward angle. She wasn’t certain whether she should be delighted or disgusted that she appeared to have killed him. She settled on shaky relief, since it would keep that one from carrying through on his promises.
Marconi was there a moment later, hands in her dyed-blonde hair as he dragged her down the stairs. “You fucking bitch. You’re going to be sorry for that.”
Through the stinging in her scalp, and the sharp escalation of fear, she somehow managed to say, “I don’t think I’ll ever be sorry I killed that piece of trash. The only thing I’m sorry for is that I didn’t get a chance to kill you too.”
With a growl, he shoved her the remaining few steps to one of the other goons who stood at the bottom, his mouth agape as he looked down at his comrade, body sprawled across the cement flooring. He caught her with a grunt, not looking at her as he looked up at Marconi. “What do I do with the girl?”
“Put her in with the other cargo. If she isn’t going to be of any use to get back the flash drive, I might as well get some money out of her at the auction.”
An ominous feeling crept over her, and she couldn’t hide the tremor that went through her. “What kind of auction?”
He looked like he wouldn’t answer for a moment, but then he gave her a slow, cold smile. “The kind you won’t like, precious. I’ll give a discount to your buyer. Whoever’s willing to cut off your tongue will save twenty-five percent. Then you won’t be able to talk and spill your secrets, and you’re no longer a threat.”
Her throat was dry, and it was difficult to speak. It was even more difficult to try to sound unafraid. “I might escape from them.”
He laughed, and it sounded like genuine amusement. “You won’t escape from these kinds of buyers. They’ll lock you in a deep hole somewhere, probably in some foreign country you’ve never heard of. If you escaped, you’d be returned to them, and no one would hear anything you tried to say, with or without a tongue.” He laughed again. Then he jerked his head at the goon holding her. “Secure the bitch in the cages and then deal with this mess.”
This mess referred to the one she had shoved down the stairs. Marconi stepped over the body like it was refuse rather than a person who’d formerly been in his employment. He was as much a nonentity to Marconi as she was. A chill went through her as the goon dragged her across the floor, and she soon learned what the cage was. It was a large enclosure, the walls made of cement, with thick iron bars that sunk into the floor and ceiling. It formed a large kennel-like holding cell, and the space was crammed full of humans.
For a moment, pity overwhelmed her, and tears stung the back of her eyes as she looked at the myriad people forced together in the cell. The goon kept a firm hold on her with one hand while opening the door with the other. It would have been a good opening for any of the people inside to try to take him by surprise, since he was distracted by holding her and using his other hand to open the door. Unfortunately, none of them moved. Only a few even bothered to look up, and it was clear most were already defeated.
She vowed she wouldn’t end up like them as the goon pried her fingers off the cage bars she had clung to before physically dragging her across the cement floor and tossing her inside. She landed heavily into the pile of people, and at least a few reached out to help soften her blow and keep her from smashing into the floor. They had been broken down, but at least they still retained some shreds of humanity. She didn’t know how, but she was determined to get them all out of there, herself included.
When the cavalry arrived, he was surprised to find not just Olivia coming to spring him. Andre stood beside her. He looked like he’d been through the ringer, and his arm was in a sling, but he was alive. Justin blinked at his friend, shocked. “Julia said you were dead.”
“I’m not surprised she thought I was. I was shot a lot. The surgeon who repaired me told me I was lucky to survive. I’m temporarily on medical leave, so I’m not really here.”
“Me neither,” said Olivia in a conspiratorial fashion as she winked. “You know the NSA doesn’t involve themselves in domestic matters.” She said it in a lighthearted, almost sarcastic way, but there was also a hint of shadow in her eyes. He’d never seen it there before, even at the worst fighting—not even the day the IED had exploded and killed most of their squad, along with Amina and Musaad
“Am I free to go then?”
He had directed the question toward Lachlan, who was walking a couple of steps behind Olivia and Andre. He seemed reluctant as he turned the key in the lock,
since the sheriff’s office hadn’t bothered to upgrade to anything fancy like an electronic system.
Justin assumed the reluctance came from freeing him, so he was surprised when the sheriff suddenly extended his hand. He took it with a frown, half-expecting it to be a trap.
“I guess I owe you an apology. Your friends have vouched for you and explained the situation. I’m sorry I arrested you instead of helping you get your lady back. I might’ve let past notions influence my actions tonight.”
There was no might about it, but Justin was gracious enough not to point that out. He just nodded and let go of the sheriff’s hand as soon as politely possible. “I understand, and that’s why I didn’t resist.” He turned away from the sheriff to face Olivia and Andre. “Now how are we going to get Julia back?”
Olivia grinned at him. “You can leave that to me.”
11
The first step to finding Julia involved Olivia taking them to an NSA safe house. As they got out of the car and stepped onto the tarmac of a small airstrip a hundred miles outside of Sunshine, where she had flown in with a private plane, he hesitated for a moment. Fear went through him, but it wasn’t a panic attack. At least not yet. It was just the possibility of having one, and the realization that he was having to step outside his comfort zone.
He’d found a way to manage the worst of his tension and panic by staying secluded at the ranch. That was no longer an option if he wanted to get Julia back safe and sound. It was easier than he would have anticipated to step on to the first stair of the jetway. He didn’t allow himself to have any doubt about the course he was pursuing as he boarded the plane and took a seat.
Olivia herself was the pilot, so Andre took the copilot seat. It was a small plane, able to accommodate only six passengers, so he had the passenger area to himself, but could easily speak to Olivia and Andre once they passed him a headset. He could see them too, and all they had to do was look back to see him.
“How are you hanging in there?” asked Andre as Olivia started to taxi the plane.
“So far so good.” As he spoke, he searched internally for any signs of panic or other unwanted reactions. So far, he was calm. It was a shaky calm, but it was genuine. Focusing on Julia’s safety and getting her back was allowing him to manage his PTSD with more control than he had experienced in the past eighteen months.
They paused once in the flight to refuel, and they reached the city several hours later. It was like there was a ticking clock in the back of his mind, reminding him how precious time was. He was frustrated by how long it was taking, and he was worried sick for Julia. Even knowing it was a necessary thing so that Olivia could track her, he still silently cursed the need to go to a safe house instead of directly toward to Julia to rescue her.
That would have been the course they chose if it had been an option, but they couldn’t do that until they knew where Marconi was holding her. It was practically a certainty that he had brought her back to New York, to his own stomping grounds, but it was a huge city, and they couldn’t randomly find her without Olivia’s assistance.
The safe house turned out to be a small one-bedroom apartment, and he prowled the confines as Olivia took a seat in front of the computer. It was an impressive spread of equipment, and as he paced, he watched her work. “What is all this?”
She hesitated for a moment before answering. “This is all classified.”
He expected that to be the end of it, and he gritted his teeth in frustration, but didn’t push for further information. She surprised him by expounding after a brief hesitation.
“The NSA isn’t focused solely on national security matters that might compromise our safety from outside the borders. We have a covert group called the Domestic Surveillance Program, which officially doesn’t exist. That’s the group I work for. Right now, I’m tracking Marconi using the software developed for the DSP. As soon as he uses his phone, I’ll be able to identify if he’s the one answering by his biometrics, and I can instantly pinpoint him. Even if he shuts off his phone, I can override that as long as I have his phone number and cell provider information.
“The only way he can foil me is by taking out the battery of his phone, or leaving it somewhere where he isn’t. Most Americans don’t do that. They carry their phones with them everywhere, and it effectively acts like a homing beacon. I can find anyone anywhere if they have a cell phone.” She stopped speaking for a moment to click buttons on the keyboard. “I’m dialing his number now.”
After two rings, Marconi’s voice filled the room from the speakers. “Yeah, who is this?”
“May I speak with John please?” asked Olivia in a neutral voice.
“There’s no John here. You have the wrong fucking number.” He disconnected the call a moment later.
When she turned to look at them, she was smiling. “Got him.”
Justin blinked. “That was all you needed? That little snippet?”
She nodded. “I didn’t even need him to answer his phone, except I wanted to verify he was the one carrying it. I just had to ping his cell phone to find his location. Privacy is a gossamer illusion these days.” That haunted look was back in her eyes when she spoke those words, but she blinked, and her expression cleared. “We know where she is, so let’s go get your friend.”
Andre cleared his throat. “I’m going to have to sit this one out.” He sounded reluctant to do so, and his gaze revealed his frustration.
Justin clapped him gently on the shoulder that wasn’t in the sling. “You completely get a pass on this one. Julia would understand, and we certainly do. You kept her safe all this time by sending her to me, so you just focus on getting better.”
Andre shook his head. “That’s some condescending BS there, Sgt. Harbor.”
It made him flinch slightly to hear his old rank, but he grinned through the discomfort. “Does it make you feel better?”
Andre shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “I guess. I want you to keep me in the loop though.”
“Before we leave, I’ll show you how to use the surveillance equipment, and you can hear everything. Depending on where the satellites are, you might even be able to observe our incursion,” said Olivia.
Her words were slightly chilling, but Justin didn’t have time to focus on the ramifications of the government-run project, and what they could mean for the average person. He was too focused on getting back Julia and ending Marconi.
The deeper he slipped into the rescue, the more he felt like his old self again—confident, competent, and in control. He wasn’t certain if it would last beyond rescuing Julia, but it felt good to not be so afraid of descending into panic. That didn’t mean he left his pills behind. They were there if he needed them, but for the first time in a long time, he was relatively sure he wouldn’t.
12
Though he wanted to rush in to find Julia immediately, Justin deferred to Olivia’s wise suggestion that they observe the building at least briefly before going in with guns blazing. Right away, he could tell something was out of place. It was an industrial warehouse, but there were a flurry of cars coming in a steady stream.
Most of the cars were expensive and late-model, and there were quite a few limousines as well. All of the people departing from the cars were dressed in their glittering finest, and each had to get through a bouncer at the door. “What’s going on in there?” He voiced the question out of frustration, not because he expected Olivia to have an answer.
“I suggest we find out.” She pointed to a couple who was parked near enough that they could intercept them, but far enough away to avoid being easily seen by the bouncer.
He nodded his agreement, and they slipped from the nondescript sedan Olivia had obtained somewhere. Together, they moved rapidly to intercept the couple, showing them their guns. Olivia also flashed her badge, and the couple immediately tried to back away.
“Don’t move,” barked Justin, but quietly to avoid catching the attention of any guards. “We have questions for you.”
“We don’t have to cooperate with you,” said the man with a hint of bluster. The perspiration beading on his brow betrayed his anxiety.
“I don’t have a warrant, but I can make you disappear,” said Olivia without a hint of artifice. “I’m with the NSA, and you will cooperate, or you’ll find yourself in the deepest, darkest hole the government has to store people like you.”
The woman, who was roughly Olivia’s size, but with gray-tinged dark hair, started to cry. “Please. I don’t want to go to jail.”
“Then cooperate.” Justin allowed no sympathy. He had none to give at the moment anyway.
“We’re going back to your vehicle, and you’re going to fill us in on what’s going on here.” Olivia angled her gun in the direction of the spacious Cadillac they had just left. Without protest, the couple turned and walked back to the black vehicle, the man unlocking it with the fob on his keychain as they approached.
The four of them slipped inside, with Olivia and Justin each occupying a seat along with the couple. Justin sat beside the husband, and Olivia was in the back seat with the wife.
“Start talking,” he said as menacingly as possible.
Before the husband could refuse, as he appeared to be ready to do by the stubborn set of his lips, his wife started speaking first. “Please, we’ve never done anything like this before. Henry heard about it from a friend of a friend, and I was appalled at the idea, but we’re too old to adopt, and Henry has a heart condition.”
Justin’s stomach turned. “You’re here to buy children?”
“Just one,” said Henry, as though that excused it. “Stella wants children so badly. Always has, and we figured we’d be better than some of the scumbags that might be buying kids for other reasons. We just want to give one a home.”
