Too Far Gone

by Debra Webb

  In the car with the windows rolled down to enjoy the crisp winter morning, Mike relaxed. It helped just getting away from the temptation of Lauren in the hotel suite with that huge bed. The ocean breeze muted her enticing scent. He had to get her out of his head. She’d unknowingly burrowed in deep. Since she was a client, he needed to find and keep a reasonable professional distance.

  “We’ll drive by and then double back,” he said as the computerized voice gave him the next step in the directions. “I don’t want to make anyone suspicious.”

  “Do you think it’s like a prison?”

  He’d been considering that. “Out here it could be nothing more than a glorified shipping container.”

  “How awful.” The agony in her voice warned him she blamed herself for what Trinity had gotten away with for so long.

  “The most successful organized crime rings are ruthless. It’s why they succeed. They fool a lot of people, Lauren. They’re very good at making sure no one sees the ugliness except the victims.”

  “I get the theory,” she muttered. “I don’t have to like it.”

  She watched the map on his navigation system while he watched the real road. “It’s remarkably isolated out here,” he said. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but when it seemed as if every square inch of available land in the world was under development, barren areas were an unusual sight.

  “That’s it,” he said. They passed the turn off and the computerized version of Claudia’s voice filled the car with suggestions, rerouting them back to the destination.

  Lauren twisted in her seat, straining for a glimpse. “Nothing but road.”

  He didn’t see any type of security or guard at the intersection, but he supposed the Dead End and No Trespassing signs hanging off the gate deterred the majority of recreational drivers. “We’ll have a better view from the rise in a few minutes.” He pressed a button on the steering wheel and called Claudia. When she answered, he asked, “Anything more on the ownership of the school?”

  “Good morning to you, too.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I could lose the signal any time.”

  “I’ve been at it all night.” Claudia didn’t sound impressed with his excuse. “At first glance, the land is owned by the county and protected for wildlife.”

  “Where were those officials when the Russian mob started using the property?”

  “Looking the other way with a fistful of cash, I...”

  Claudia’s voice faded away as the signal was lost.

  “Damn.” Mike glanced at Lauren. “Don’t worry, she’ll have answers when we get back to the hotel.”

  Lauren drummed her fingertips on her knees. “Maybe we’ll bust them for zoning violations.”

  Mike laughed. “You’ve got a point. They got Al Capone on tax evasion.”

  The levity didn’t last. When the silence had gone on too long, he chased it away with a promise. “I won’t let you take the rap for Trinity’s murder.”

  “You’re sure we shouldn’t go to the police? Officer Cooper would listen.”

  “He might listen,” Mike said as he pulled the car to the side of the road. “The news alert on my phone still shows you’re a wanted person of interest. Officer Cooper can’t protect you from Kozlov and the syndicate that need you silenced. If he thought the LAPD was your best bet, he wouldn’t have given you the Guardian Agency card in the first place.” Mike cut the engine and gave her a reassuring smile. “Grab a camera and let’s go see what kind of view we have of this finishing school.”

  When she popped out of the car she looked like the perfect tourist with her ponytail threaded through the back of her ball cap and the camera around her neck. A bag designed to carry extra lenses was slung across her body, making her full breasts that much more prominent. Mike gave himself a mental slap as he hooked his small pack over one shoulder. Stocked with binoculars, surveillance devices, his weapon, ammo, and a couple bottles of water, he was as set as he could be. He was impressed as she kept pace with him while they hiked up the rise and then crept low until they could see the building, presumably the school, below.

  “That’s it?” Astonishment filled her tone. “It looks real. Like a small private school campus.”

  “It is real,” he said.

  She bumped her shoulder against his. “You know what I mean. It looks respectable. Permanent.”

  He kept his opinion to himself until she realized what she’d said.

  “This isn’t a setup that came into existence just a few months ago. They’ve been doing this... for years.” She groaned. “I’m going to be sick.”

  “That won’t help us or anyone inside.”

  With the binoculars, he studied the setup. One road in. A small gravel parking lot wrapped around the tidy, two story building. From this angle they could see the rear, west end, and front of the building. No windows on the first floor at the back or side of the building, but plenty on the second floor. A window flanked either side of the door on the front of the building. The only other door visible was on the west end facing their position. Mike’s money had been on modified shipping containers or even the temporary offices used at construction sites. But Lauren nailed it with permanent. The building was even up to code with a fire escape that led to a second story door on the west end.

  Mike lowered his binoculars. “I’m going in. If you hear any trouble, drive back down to where you have cell service and call Claudia. She’ll know what to do. Another protector—”

  “I’m going with you.”

  He clenched his jaw, biting back his impatience. “You don’t have the skills for this and I won’t subject you to more danger.” Regardless of last night’s success, they had gotten far too close to Kozlov.

  “You have the skills to cover both of us.” Her conviction was almost contagious. “I’m going in. With you or after you’re inside, your choice.”

  “Hold on a minute and let’s think this through.” He paused, taking his own advice and preempting another pointless argument. “The truck and the sedan parked near the side entrance tell me there’s at least two people inside. Probably guards or other staff members. Let’s watch for a bit to see if we can spot any movement.”

  “I can do that.” She snapped a few pics with the camera.

  As he studied the landscape and the building more closely, he appreciated her affinity for silence. The side door opened and a man stepped outside. He walked over to the truck, leaned against the tailgate, and lit a cigarette. His white polo shirt and dark jeans looked normal enough, but the heavy-soled work boots and semi-automatic weapon stationed on his hip missed the mark of schoolteacher.

  From behind her camera Lauren gasped.

  “Do you recognize him?” Would they be that lucky?

  “No,” she whispered. “Do you see that gun?”

  “The only reason the guard would be armed is if there’s something inside that needs to be protected... or kept under control.” It looked as if Vanya had come through.

  “What now?”

  “Let him finish his cigarette.” It gave Mike time to think. “Then we’ll find a way in.”

  “What about cameras, motion sensors, or other guards?”

  He lowered the binoculars and caught her gaze. “Good question. No cameras or sensors that I can see. Whatever they’re up to, they’re damned confident nothing can touch them out here. I’m hoping we can get in through the fire escape door.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Her words made him smile in spite of himself. He wouldn’t insult her bravery or downplay her dedication again, even if he didn’t want her being too brave or dedicated and getting herself hurt or killed.

  “When we go in,” he’d resigned himself to her joining him, “you have to do exactly what I tell you. Otherwise you could get yourself or one of the women inside killed.”

  “I won’t ask questions or argue with you. Promise.”

  He hoped for all their sakes she could keep that promise. “Whatever we
find, we’re only gathering information.” He might plant some listening devices, but she didn’t need to worry about that part.

  “What if we find the women in there?”

  He shook his head. “This isn’t a rescue. Yet,” he added when she started to protest. “Reconnaissance first, then action with the right kind of backup. We don’t want to be the reason anyone dies today.”

  She shuddered. “Got it.”

  As they made their way down the hillside, Mike mentally prepared for the worst. The absence of cameras and any other sort of sensors on the exterior of the building gave him pause. Anything that looked this easy rarely was.

  When they reached the west end of the building Mike jumped a couple of times until he got a grasp on the pull-down ladder of the fire escape. The creak as it slid downward made him wince. Since the guard didn’t burst through the door right next to him, he was able to breathe again. He hustled up the ladder first. Lauren followed right behind him. Once on the landing he fished his lock pick set from the pack. It took a good thirty seconds but the tumblers finally released. Now if only there was no security sensor on the door. They’d soon know. Mike grasped the knob, gave it a twist, and eased the door inward...

  No screaming siren and no thud of rushing boots echoed around them. Relieved, he surveyed the room they’d entered. Big and empty room. One wall was mirrored while the opposite one held ballet bars.

  “Dance studio,” she whispered, a furrow appearing between her pale eyebrows.

  He nodded. Crossing to the doorway, he paused to listen. Met with silence, he eased the door open and stepped into a long corridor. Doors lined both sides. He pressed a finger to his lips and moved forward. Laruen followed.

  It was a serious risk, but he peered through the window of the first door. A young woman paced the small prison cell sized room. The window in the door was one-way glass he realized when she paused, stared at the door but didn’t react to seeing his face there. The room was sparse, furnished with only a narrow cot and a change of clothes hanging on the wall. There in the far right corner near the ceiling was a camera, its red light indicating it was live. He’d figured there had to be some electronic security around here somewhere. On the wall to the right of the door was an intercom box with a call button. A way for the prisoner to let the guard know she needed something, he supposed. He moved aside so Lauren could see. She pressed a hand over her mouth to hold in her reaction.

  Again he pressed a finger to his lips to remind her that absolute quiet was essential. She nodded and they moved past five more rooms, a young female occupied all but two. Since all but one of the rooms had a change of clothes hanging on the wall, Mike decided there were likely a total of five prisoners—which seemed to confirm the information Vanya had passed along. There was a common bathroom and a central lounge void of furnishings. Midway along the corridor a stairwell led downward, presumably to the first level. At the far end of the corridor was a well-equipped gym just as deserted as the dance studio they’d entered.

  Frantic piano notes drifted from somewhere downstairs. Mike exchanged a look with Lauren, but her face reflected his confusion. He headed for the stairwell and started the descent, pausing on each step to listen. The player struggled to bring a classical composition out of a piano with a halting, jerky touch. Maybe prisoner number five was having a piano lesson.

  As promised, Lauren followed him with no protests. They stopped on the stairs when the music ceased, moving again when the music swelled in a flawless demonstration. Mike gave Lauren a signal to wait as they reached the first floor landing, and then he inched around the corner and had a look.

  More doors lined the corridor but all were closed and none had windows. He eased back out of sight when he heard boots squeaking across the waxed floors. Lauren watched him with wide eyes, but she didn’t speak.

  A phone rang nearby, the shrill sound doing the piano student no favors. The booted feet quickened and a man’s voice answered the summons in a foreign language. Mike couldn’t catch anything helpful from the conversation. Definitely Russian. He hadn’t spotted any cameras down here yet, but he didn’t want to take the risk of being discovered and dropping Lauren right into their laps. He planted a bug under the handrail at the bottom of the staircase as well as another under a table near the front door, and then he ushered Lauren silently back up the steps.

  They left the building just as they’d entered it and moved quickly back up the hill. He programmed a receiver and transmission booster for the bugs, confident Claudia would be able to make sense of any intel. She had state of the art translation software.

  The arrogance of the operation disgusted him almost as much as the product. None of the women had exhibited signs of physical torture, but there was a hell of a lot that could be done without visible signs. The four he had seen looked to be in their very early twenties. All appeared resigned to their fate. If Trinity had been funneling women to Polzin like this for years...

  Good thing someone else had already killed him because Mike would have gladly done so himself.

  “We have to get them out,” Lauren said when they reached their hiding place at the top of the ridge. “There’s what? Three guards on site watching them?”

  “At least three and possibly a piano teacher.” Not bad odds. “We won’t be making a move like that this morning.”

  “But they could be moved, sold, or whatever at any time.”

  “I know.” His hands in tight fists, he wanted to attack as well. Images and sounds from that rescue in Mubi kept playing in his brain. These bastards were no better than the sons of bitches who had taken all those young girls from that school on the other side of the world. The situation was too similar for Mike’s comfort. Though the political fallout was unlikely, there could be mistakes this time, too. What if some of these captives didn’t want to be free either? He had to allow for that, even as he tried to keep the past from interfering with his decisions in the present. When captives were held long enough and brainwashed adequately they didn’t always understand what was best for them.

  “We need a plan and more information. We have to do this right. This is about more than rescuing just those five women. We need to make the connection between these women and the bad guys. We need to shut down this operation.”

  “I’ll give you a plan.” She flung her arm toward the school. “We go in and subdue the guards. We hold the building until the police arrive.”

  “And then what? Hope those women are able and willing to identify who took them and why? We have no proof of why they’re here much less that they’re prisoners. We can’t prove this isn’t some weird rehab.”

  “Vanya said—”

  “Do you think the police will get here before a Russian crew?” He cut her off. Hell, he was sorely tempted to do as she asked, but if they failed... “We only know this piece of the puzzle. Even if we’re damned lucky, the most we can hope for is that the police will close five missing persons cases, but that doesn’t save you or any of the other women who’ve already been victims of these bastards. Or whoever they’ve got inside the police department could ensure we’re ushering them into a death sentence.” He pushed a hand through his hair. He understood her need to act, but they had to be smart here.

  For several seconds she simply stood there staring at him, and then she spoke. “Mike?”

  “I’m thinking.” He yanked himself back to the present. “Even if we get those women to the police, Kozlov and everyone involved in the Polzin operation’s still out there. They can lay low, like Trinity suggested before he died, and come back stronger. They’d definitely come back with a bigger axe to grind against you.”

  “Right now I don’t care about me. I care about saving those women.”

  “All right.” He planted his hands at his waist. “What do you want?”

  “What do you mean?” She glared at him.

  “Do you want to save five women or do you want to end the operation entirely?”

  “Both
,” she snapped.

  Had he expected a different answer? “Then we wait and we watch.”

  “And plan,” she said. She wheeled around, dropped her camera bag and stretched out on the ground. She dragged out her binoculars and focused on the school.

  Without a better plan at the moment, he joined her. Maybe they’d get lucky and observe some definitive action soon. At least the perception of doing something was good for Lauren’s morale. At some point he’d have to make the decision to go in with or without a connection to the men in charge.

  An epiphany had him shaking his head. Here he’d thought he was in charge when the fact of the matter was that his decisions lately were based on keeping her happy as well as safe. He was a professional--usually. He didn’t know why this woman had such an effect on him. Beautiful didn’t begin to describe the light and energy inside her. She was so much more than her perfect features and tantalizing body.

  He liked her mind, even when she challenged the orders he gave for her safety. He liked her mind? What the hell? With a mental groan, he focused on the school and the case. She wanted to save these young women and to take down an established crew of human traffickers. He supported the concept, but that kind of operation usually required extensive planning and observation before law enforcement stormed in with cuffs and arrest warrants. Lauren was a client caught in no-win-land between the police and a deadly mob. She had a good heart, valiant intentions, and he was here to protect her from danger. The current problem was he couldn’t be sure he could protect her from him.

  He removed headphones and a small dish from his pack, setting it up so they could catch any conversations that might take place outside. “We might not get as much as we’d like to today.”

  “We already know more than we did when we woke up this morning. I’m nowhere near ready to call it a day.”

  He didn’t challenge her. They didn’t have another lead beyond the club where they’d found Vanya and he didn’t want her going back there if he could help it. Just thinking of that little dress had him fighting off another unwelcome hard-on. Bottom line, to do this right they needed Kozlov or his boss to show up here. Who knew if that would happen?