by I. T. Lucas
Chapter 2: Turner
Turner knocked on the door of the suite that had become his and Kian's usual meeting place. With both of them keeping the locations of their real offices secret, they needed a neutral territory to conduct their business. Coffee shops and restaurants didn't provide the necessary privacy, so Kian generously offered this vacant room in one of the clan's many office buildings.
Naturally, Turner had it under surveillance.
The space was used for nothing else, which was quite wasteful since they weren't meeting all that often. Kian was losing good money by not renting it out. But then he could afford it.
At the start of their business association, when Turner had done the background check on his new client, he'd been surprised to find out how extensive their holdings were. It had been difficult to track everything the clan owned, but then Kian wasn't Turner's first client to run an international conglomerate under myriad shadow companies. The clan's, though, was definitely the largest.
One of Kian's bodyguards opened the door. The redhead Viking smiled broadly, his whole face lighting up as if he was welcoming his best friend. "Turner, my man, come in. You're early as usual."
"And as always, you're already here."
The giant slapped his back. "Wouldn't want to keep an important man like you waiting." He stepped aside.
Kian rose to his feet and offered his hand. "Good to see you, Turner."
"You too. How are things going?" He shook the guy's offered hand.
"Busy."
"Busy is good." Turner sat in one of the two leather chairs.
Kian took the other one, while the Viking leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest, doing his best to look formidable. Not that he had to work hard at it. Take away that charming smile and what was left was a killer.
The other bodyguard, the more dangerous of the two, was absent this time, making Turner wonder whether Kian had sent the blond on an errand, or had decided that Turner wasn't dangerous enough to merit two bodyguards.
"What happened to Brundar?" Turner asked.
Kian lifted a brow. "I'm surprised that you remember the names of my men."
"You shouldn't be." Turner paid attention to details others ignored and committed everything to memory. Every seemingly insignificant tidbit could prove useful in the future.
The guy's lips showed a shadow of a smile. "You're right, I shouldn't. So, what do you have for me?"
Turner appreciated that Kian didn't waste his time beating around the bush. The immortal had as much patience for idle chitchat as he had.
Pulling a laptop from his briefcase, Turner put it on the desk. "Your initial plan is not going to work. You might be able to take out some of the smaller operators, but the next day others would take their place. Slave trafficking is painfully easy to do, and where big money can be made with nothing more than lies and manipulation, the scum of the world jumps to fill the void."
"What about the ones who run the operations?"
"Frankly, I can't see anyone taking them down. Countless operators, big and small, are spread all over the world, and some of the organizations are so big, powerful, and ruthless that they make your dreaded enemies the Doomers with all their immortal tricks seem like small fry."
Kian leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "If I didn't know you, I would've dismissed your statement as uninformed nonsense. The Doomers are extremely powerful, not only as a mercenary army with thousands of nearly invincible immortal warriors, but with immense resources, including many politicians they hold in their pockets either with bribes or extortion."
"Other than the immortality, some of those slave traders have all of that and more. And unlike your Doomers, who are concentrated in one location, they are spread all over the world. Not only that, they don't function as an army or even as guerrilla forces like drug and arms dealers. The structure is economical in nature, and some of the big ones operate like franchises. I don't know of any army or government that can deal with that effectively."
Turner smoothed his hand over his bald scalp. What he'd found out bothered him, which was unusual for him, and quite disturbing. His professional success depended on his cold and calculated detachment. Emotions were just as bad as alcohol or drugs at compromising the thought process. Probably worse.
"I didn't know how widespread it was until I started digging. It's a plague, and most of it isn't even about abductions. In Third World countries, false promises of employment or marriage coerce desperate families to sell their daughters for a few bucks. And I'm talking about girls as young as twelve and sometimes younger. Abductions are more of a problem in the West. They use promises of love and romance to lure the girls themselves."
Kian shook his head. "Unbelievable."
"Later, when they sell the girls to brothels or individual pimps, they ensure cooperation by sending a small portion of the girls' earnings to their families in the case of Third World countries, and threats to harm loved ones in the West. In both cases, severe beatings and starvation are often used to break the girls' spirits."
"Fuck." Kian uncrossed his arms and leaned his forearms on the desk. "So what are we supposed to do? Nothing? Thinking about all those young lives destroyed haunted my nights even before I knew how widespread this vile trade is. Now I won't be able to sleep at all."
As Turner observed Kian's distress, he wondered how the guy had managed to survive as head of his clan for so long. Despite his centuries’ long experience, Kian hadn't mastered the detachment that would've helped keep him sane in an insane world. Feelings that strong were not only a burden but also a hindrance to a leader.
First of all, he was inviting competition from within, but that was only part of the problem. Kian wasn't nearly as ruthless as he needed to be in order to win the war against his enemies of old. To fight and actually win, even the good guys couldn't afford compassion.
It wasn't that Turner was indifferent. The world was a fucked up place, but to feel sorrow for all the suffering and injustice was pointless and counterproductive.
After all, he'd spent most of his life rescuing people from bad situations, but for him it meant acknowledging the wrong and trying to fix it to the best of his ability. It didn't affect him emotionally as it did Kian.
Nothing did.
His lack of feelings would've been considered a disability by most, but Turner counted it as one of his most valuable assets. Logic and analytical thinking necessitated detachment. Emotions led to rushed decision and half-baked actions which often resulted in more lives lost.
After examining the issue from all angles, the plan he'd come up with was quite extreme and didn't provide the fast solution Kian had hoped for, but it was the only course of action that could actually achieve measurable results. "There is something we can do," he said.
Kian cocked a brow. "And that is?"
"We become the buyers."
The guy leaned away. "You can't be serious. That would contribute to the trade instead of putting a stop to it. I have no intention of lining the traders' pockets with more cash."
Turner shrugged. "You asked me what can be done, and I offered you a solution. I didn't say you were going to like it."
He pinned Kian with a hard stare. "Our goal is to save those girls in any way we can. Until a better solution presents itself, buying and freeing them is better than sitting on our asses and scratching our heads. Your clan is rich, and this is a most worthy charity. Hell, I'm not a philanthropist or an activist, but even I'm willing to contribute to the cause. I'm sure we can find others who would too."
Kian glanced at the open laptop. "I assume you made initial estimates?"
"I did. But contrary to what you may think, the monetary side isn't the most problematic. Our biggest concern is keeping our true intentions secret from the traffickers. To them, we must appear as legit buyers, which means that we can't return the girls to their families. Besides, in the case of Third World countries, the families don't wan
t the girls back. They prefer to think of them as dead rather than have them come back and shame the family."
It was indeed a fucked up world, and young girls had always been its most vulnerable and abused victims. In ancient times virgins had been sacrificed to idols, and in modern times they were sold like commodities then considered tainted and unwanted when used for the purpose they'd been sold for.
Kian shook his head. "What are we supposed to do once we get them? With all due respect, Turner, your plan is too ambitious. We are talking about thousands of girls. The increased demand will only make the traffickers rub their hands with glee and double their efforts. We will solve nothing."
"If buying out the girls was the only thing we did, you would be right. But I'm even more ambitious than that. We approach it from both ends. We buy the girls, and at the same time eliminate the competition, either by outbidding the individual buyers, or stealing girls away from the brothels and then reducing the brothels to rubble. The buyers are a much easier target than the suppliers."
Kian didn't seem convinced, in fact, he regarded Turner as if he'd lost his mind—a reaction Turner was used to since most people had a hard time following his logic. His ability to weave complicated webs in his head without getting lost in the maze allowed him to see clearly what others couldn't.
An example could help Kian understand.
"Imagine that one day your Doomers decide that they want to establish a chain of brothels exactly like the one they have on their island. Will they try to take over the world's slave market? Or will they buy out the entire supply by outbidding their competitors?"
"If taking over is as impossible as you imply, then they would outbid the competition."
Turner nodded. "They buy all the supply, but then they realize that it costs them too much. They want to renegotiate the terms, but the slavers refuse because they know that there are plenty of other buyers. It's in the traffickers' best interests to sell to the highest bidders. What do the Doomers do?"
Given the glow emanating from Kian's eyes, the wheels in his head were gaining momentum. "They take out the other bidders and become the only game in town. Or at least try to."
"Right. Does it surprise anyone?"
"Not really. That's what they do."
"And what will the slavers do when the Doomers are the only remaining bulk buyers and negotiate the prices down?"
Kian tilted his head. "Either live with that or try to take out the Doomers."
"Correct." Turner leaned back in his chair and waited for the gears in Kian's head to do the rest.
The guy shook his head. "I don't get it. Are you suggesting that we establish a chain of brothels or pretend to do so? What's the point?"
Turner had thought the guy was smarter than that. But then it was possible that Kian's do-gooder nature prevented him from seeing the big picture that Turner had so carefully painted for him.
"Let me recap and elaborate. Over time, we become the only game in town by outbidding the competition and then taking it out. Supposedly, we are buying all the stock to create a chain of exclusive brothels in secret locations, when in fact we are stashing the girls somewhere safe. At the same time, we are deflecting suspicion by pointing the big dogs toward your enemies. If you are lucky, the traffickers might help you win your war without you having to lose a single soldier. It's a long shot, but it's a possibility."
The glow emanating from Kian's eyes intensified, making him look even more alien than usual, and when he smiled, he flashed Turner a pair of gleaming white, pointy fangs. "You are a fucking genius, Turner. Your idea is absolutely fucking brilliant. Crazy, probably impossible, but still brilliant."
"It's not impossible. If you can take care of the financial side, I can take care of the tactical one. Between the two of us, we can make it happen." Provided Turner lived long enough to see it through.
This wasn't a short-term plan. It would take years or even decades—time that Turner didn't have unless Kian agreed to grant him his wish.
He stifled a grin.
If Kian chose to proceed with the ambitious plan, he would have one hell of an incentive to do everything in his power to keep Turner around.
Chapter 3: Kian
Turner's idea was insane.
Even with their combined resources, Kian couldn't see how they could pull it off. It was incredibly costly and involved and would take years if not decades to implement. The part about it that he liked the most was getting the victims out, starting right now.
At least some of them.
He needed Turner to prepare a detailed plan and estimate the rate of acquisitions. If Kian were to divert significant clan resources to the project, he had to get the clan's approval first. As long as he was using their money to grow more of it, he could spend it at his discretion. But he couldn't undertake a humanitarian effort of the magnitude Turner was talking about without a majority vote.
That was only one part of the problem, though, and not the biggest one.
The clan's resources were traditionally used to invest in new scientific research and the development of new technologies. By doing so, they were helping the advancement of humanity while amassing more money to fund more research and more new technologies. If he were to siphon funds away, he would be slowing that progress.
Was it worth it?
Billions of people across the globe would have to wait longer for their lives to improve because the clan was dedicating resources to rescuing mere thousands and providing them with a life worth living.
A tough choice.
Saving the girls was akin to treating the symptoms, while pushing for the advancement of all humanity was akin to eliminating the pathogens of the disease.
The people now living in such abject poverty that some were reduced to selling their children, would in the long run benefit from better and cheaper farming equipment, easier and cheaper access to medical treatment, and better education. All of that was possible with the help of technology. Taking resources away from that would slow down the process which wasn't going fast enough as it was.
Except, the immediate problem was too devastatingly tragic to be allowed to continue. Logic dictated that the needs of millions outweighed the needs of thousands, but the heart didn't agree.
What Kian found peculiar, though, was that a purely analytical man like Turner was the mind behind a plan that required a heart. Perhaps he wasn't the cold-hearted bastard everyone believed him to be.
"I need to sleep on it," he told Turner.
"Do you want me to start working on the plan? I don't want to waste my time if you feel it is not a project you want to undertake."
"I'm inclined to move forward with this, but I need to sell the idea to my clan first. As shareholders, they have the right to refuse an endeavor that is about to make all of them poorer. Furthermore, by diverting resources from investing in new technologies, we are veering away from our main goal, which is to push forward all of humanity's progress."
Turner nodded. "I understand. Do you need help convincing your people? I can prepare a killer presentation. Something so heart-wrenching that no one would refuse you after hearing it."
Kian doubted Turner would know how to achieve that. One needed to have a heart to know how to tug on its strings. This was a project for Amanda.
"Give me a rough draft, and I'll have someone who is excellent at manipulating emotions edit it."
"No problem."
As always, Turner's poker face revealed nothing, but the faint scent emanating from him hinted at disappointment. Usually, Kian's sense of smell was superior, but Turner was either in complete control of his emotions or just didn't feel strongly about anything. Perhaps Andrew was right, and the guy was a borderline sociopath.
"Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"
Turner glanced at Anandur. "There is. But I'd rather not discuss it in front of an audience."
"Anandur is privy to all my business dealings. I vouch for his discretion."
&
nbsp; A slight grimace was the first emotion Turner had ever displayed in front of Kian. The guy shifted in his chair. "The matter I wish to discuss with you has nothing to do with business. It's private." He pinned Kian with his hard grey eyes. "All I'm asking for is a few minutes of your time. Do you really need a bodyguard in here? I pose no threat to you. You're faster and stronger than me, and I'm unarmed. Your guy is welcome to search me."
"That won't be necessary." Kian glanced at Anandur, who was shaking his head.
To send him away was a breach of protocol, but Turner was right that Anandur’s presence was unnecessary. "Fifteen minutes," he said.
The guy inclined his head. "More than I need."
Anandur pushed away from the corner of the desk he'd been leaning against. "I'll be outside the door."
Turner cleared his throat. "I know how good your hearing is, and I really need this to be private."
Kian was impatient to hear what the guy had to say. "Very well." He looked up at Anandur. "Would you mind getting us coffee? There is a Starbucks in the next building over."
Anandur waved his hands in the air. "I'm getting demoted from a bodyguard to a delivery boy. Why would I mind?" He walked out the door without looking back.
"I guess that's the trouble with employing family," Turner said.
"Tell me about it. But there are advantages too."
"I bet. They are very loyal to you."
"That they are."
"It speaks volumes about the kind of leader you are. They respect you."
Kian smiled. "Okay, now that you've stroked my ego, you can tell me what you need from me."
Turner shrugged. "Regardless, it's the truth."
"What do you want, Turner?"
The guy took a deep breath, then looked Kian straight in the eyes. "I have cancer."
Kian was taken aback. Turner looked as healthy as a horse and was in great shape. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I don't see how I can help you. If we had the cure for cancer, we would've shared the knowledge with humanity."
