SAVE THE GIRLS: A JAMIE AUSTEN SPY THRILLER (THE SPY STORIES Book 1)

by Terry Toler

  Right off the road was a makeshift gate secured by a chain and padlock. Just inside the fence was one building. Older. More of a warehouse but probably contained offices.

  And buses. Three. With color-coded cards in the windshields. Before they left Pinsk, Olga had sent Daria a text from her phone with a picture of her bus. She was in the blue bus she had said in the text. The buses with the cards confirmed they were in the right place. The girls had ridden the train to this location. Also, a ten-to-twelve-seat passenger van was parked next to the buses.

  No lights were on, and no cars were parked in front or in back. Obviously, the girls weren’t there. Jamie relayed to Daria what she was thinking. Daria's optimism turned to disappointment.

  Not for Jamie. She knew the ebbs and flows of missions. Nothing was generally this easy. Too much to expect to drive straight to the location and find Olga right off the bat. This was a process. Almost like driving on the GPS route on a phone. Stay on the blue line. They were on the blue line. They’d tracked the girls from Pinsk all the way to a location in Russia. Where they were dropped off the train. Clearly, right there. That was significant progress.

  The phone was still showing it was at that location, which told Jamie that the phone had been found or Olga had left it behind. A long shot chance Olga was still there. Maybe hiding in the building.

  Time to go find out.

  27

  Warehouse, Obninsk, 5:17 p.m.

  Jamie easily slipped over the gate and into the compound fairly certain no one was there. The road in front was not heavily traveled, but enough so that she hurried to make her away around to the back of the building. The front had a door that appeared to be the main entrance, but she was sure there’d be a back entrance. The railroad tracks were in the back, and there was no way three-hundred kidnapped girls exited the train and walked around to the front entrance.

  She tested her communication headset linked to Daria who was in the SUV parked a little way down the road. Far enough away where she wouldn’t be associated with the building, but close enough that she could watch the entrance to warn Jamie if anyone happened to come by.

  “Can you hear me?” Jamie asked.

  “I can hear you great,” Daria said.

  “I’m entering now. Let me know if you see any hostiles.”

  “Will do! Good luck,” Daria said, excitedly. The sound quality was good. The devices had been improved considerably in three years.

  Jamie picked the lock in less than forty-five seconds. She’d expected it to take longer. The building had little to no security. No alarm. No deadbolts. No bars on the windows. That told her the girls weren’t there for very long. This was just a transition point.

  The door opened into a large open room. She flipped on a pocket flashlight and took a quick glance around the room. A couple doors on the left side were probably closets, Jamie assumed. A door to the right was open and looked to lead to another section of the building. Trash littered the floor. Water bottles, food wrappers, and some white hospital gowns were piled in a corner. A few had blood on them.

  Jamie didn’t spend much time looking around. While it confirmed the girls were there, she wouldn’t find anything that might lead to where they were taken. That would be in an office, if there was one.

  She went through the door off the right side of the room and found it led to a hallway and four offices. Two were empty of furniture. The only thing they contained were supplies, water bottles, and more of the white gowns. The third had a desk and a phone but no files or papers. She skipped looking for anything in any of those three. The last office on the left was larger. It had a desk, a chair, one file cabinet in the back corner, and a safe.

  She found what she was looking for on the desk. Right in plain view. A list. Three actually. On Belles of Belarus letterhead, its logo on the top right-hand corner. Definitive proof she was in the right place. The pages were professionally typed, and very well organized. Three pages.

  A phone lay on the desk. A quick glance at it verified it was Olga’s. The battery was almost dead. They had obviously found it. She slipped it into her pocket and turned her focus back to the lists. She hoped Olga hadn’t paid too great a price for having it and that none of the blood in the other room was hers.

  Jamie studied the pages in detail. Each page had a different heading on the first line: Red Bus, White Bus, Blue Bus. Then a list of about a hundred names. She scanned the names on the Blue Bus. There were three Olgas. She suddenly realized she didn’t know Daria’s last name. She thought about asking her on the headset, but it wasn’t necessary. Her sister was one of the three. For sure. She’d find out which one soon enough.

  Someone had written on the top of each page. A man’s handwriting. He wrote A-Mon next to red bus, G-Mon next to white, and Z-Mon beside the blue in big letters. Jamie deduced that the writing was the location where the buses took the girls. She had already decided the buses out front were not the same ones that came from Belarus. If they were, why transfer the girls to a train? They would’ve just stayed on the buses. Those were likely back in Belarus. These took the girls somewhere else. Somewhere close enough for the buses to come back there.

  Five names were scratched through and written on a yellow pad. At the top of the page was the word airport. The names were Sofia Invanova, Anastasia Eltsina, Elisaveta Smimov, Yonna Kutznetsov, and Ksenya Alexeev.

  It was obvious those girls were sent somewhere out of the country. Probably flown to the Middle East. Why those particular girls were chosen wasn’t apparent. Could’ve been by looks, age, or by random selection. One of the Olga’s on the blue list had a star beside her name and the initials M.E. written next to it. There were three girls with the initials M.E. beside their names. That probably meant those three girls were singled out and taken to a separate location from the others. One girl on the red bus had the word “mine” written beside her name.

  Some thoughts were coming together in Jamie’s mind. She had a feeling the girls on each list were all taken to the same location. The blue bus went to Z-Mon. What did that mean? She pulled out her phone and took a picture of each page. Then she went to the file cabinet, opened it, and found four other files.

  Each file contained the same thing with the same handwriting on the top. An abbreviated letter, a dash, and Mon. What was a Mon? Dates were also on top of the pages. Jamie was thankful that Belles of Belarus was so organized and had left such a good paper trail. According to the dates, the first group of girls were brought to Russia five months ago. One group of three hundred had been brought every month since. Five groups total.

  Fifteen hundred girls! The number was staggering. All thought they were going to America; instead, they were sold into the sex trade. An anger built in Jamie as each piece of information brought the picture more into focus.

  She took pictures of each file and put them back in the cabinet in the same order so it would look like they weren’t disturbed. She pulled up her phone and googled Z-Mon Russia Obninsk. Nothing meaningful came up. She really didn’t expect it to. She needed more information.

  Jamie scrolled through her contacts and called one of them. A woman answered. “Jill, it’s Jamie. I don’t have much time to talk. I’m on a mission. I need your help.”

  Jill Vanderbilt was the director of Save the Girls for the Eastern European division. She was located in Brussels, but the organization had locations throughout the world. They were the largest rescue organization in the world. As a non-profit, they were well respected. Ninety percent of their donations went to rescuing girls, and thousands were helped each year.

  “How can I help you, Jamie?” They had worked together long enough that Jill knew to skip the small talk and get right to the problem at hand.

  “I’m onto something big. There’s a bear outside my door.” Jill would know Jamie was either in Russia or an adjoining country. The bear was the symbol of Russia and a code name they often used for it. Save the Girls had an office in Russia and did a lot of work th
ere. The government let them exist to give the appearance they were helping in the fight, even though the government was part of the problem.

  “If you were going to kidnap fifteen hundred girls where would you take them in Moscow?” Jamie asked. “In groups of one hundred.”

  “I don’t know off hand. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “It’s happening. I have proof. I just don’t know where they are. Think. What facility would house a hundred girls and keep them isolated with no way to escape?”

  “A prison obviously.”

  “I don’t think many men are going to go to a prison to pay for sex,” Jamie said.

  “An abandoned prison. Renovated.”

  “I don’t think so. It has to be nicer than that. I still don’t think guys would go there. The stigma. Are they going to do it in prison cells? Not going to happen.”

  “A school,” Jill said. “An abandoned school. They obviously couldn’t operate out of a functioning school. Even a college wouldn’t be feasible.”

  “Schools don’t have living quarters. It would cost too much to renovate.”

  “A hotel?”

  “Not secure enough,” Jamie answered. “Too many windows. Exits. No way to guard the girls. They could put bars on the windows, but hotels are right out in the open in high traffic commercial areas. If there were bars on the windows everyone would see them and ask questions.”

  Silence on the line as both of them were thinking.

  “What about a church?” Jill asked. “An abandoned church? Maybe. Couldn’t be an active church for obvious reasons.”

  “There are no living quarters,” Jamie responded. “Does Mon ring a bell to you? What would it be short for?”

  More silence as Jill was clearly thinking.

  “Never mind,” Jamie suddenly said, excitedly. “I know what Mon stands for.”

  “What?”

  “No time. Jill. Can you get me three men or women in short notice? In Russia. Near Moscow. Obninsk to be exact. They need to be experienced,” Jamie added. “There might be some danger. They also need to be able to drive a bus.”

  “I can try.”

  “Don’t try. Do it. I need them fast. Have them go to the Hotel Na Mirnum. Check in under the name we always use.”

  Jamie froze. She heard a sound.

  “I’ve got to go. Get me the three people,” she said as she ended the call.

  A faint sound.

  Coming from another room. Somewhere in the building. Most people probably wouldn’t have heard it. Sounded like a chain. Rattling, at slight movement. Accidental probably. The person didn’t want to be heard. Jamie knew that sound. She’d heard it before.

  She put her phone in her back pocket and took out her gun. She peered around the corner. The lights were all out. She moved slowly toward the sound or at least where she thought it was coming from. Off the main room. Jamie had assumed they were storage rooms. She was kicking herself for not clearing the building. It seemed empty.

  Jamie crept up to the door. She heard whimpering. Light sobbing. A girl. The door was locked. She put her gun back in the holster attached to a belt at her waist and picked the lock easily. She took her pen light out of her pocket and opened the door, shining it into the room. More a closet than a room. Empty except for one old-looking mattress on the floor, and a girl laying on it. Squinting trying to adjust her eyes to the light.

  Her hair was mussed. A chain was around her ankle secured by a key lock. The other end of the chain was attached to the wall. A bowl of water was on the ground next to her. Looked like a dog’s bowl.

  The light brown-haired girl was wearing a white gown. She still had makeup on. Smeared from the crying. Barefoot. Her ankle was bleeding from the chain rubbing against it. Not Olga. She looked nothing like Daria.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Jamie said gently. “I’m here to help you. What is your name?”

  The girl didn’t respond. Jamie knelt down beside her and pushed her hair out of her eyes. She wiped the tears off of her face with her fingers and kissed her gently on the forehead. A gesture to earn her trust.

  “Are you hurt?” Jamie asked.

  The girl said no, meekly.

  It took almost five minutes for Jamie to pick the lock on the chain around the ankle because it was an older, rusty key lock. Jamie imagined the key actually stuck when inserted. Once free, the girl clutched Jamie, gripping her arms, as if afraid Jamie might leave her.

  “I’m going to get you out of here,” Jamie said.

  A voice in her headset erupted.

  “Hostile just pulled up to the entrance,” Daria shouted, with panic in her voice.

  “How many?”

  “One man. From what I can tell. He’s getting out of his car. He’s opening the lock on the gate. He’s opening it. You’ve got to get out of there! He’s driving in.”

  “Calm down,” Jamie said. “I’m going to sign off for now. You won’t hear from me for a few minutes.”

  Jamie turned to the girl. “I’m so sorry. You’re going to have to stay in this room. Just for a few minutes.”

  “No!” she shrieked. “You can’t leave me here.” She gripped Jamie’s arm like a vise. She tried to stand and used Jamie’s arm to pull herself up.

  “I’m sorry. It can’t be helped. I have to go. It will only be for a few minutes.”

  Jamie forced her back onto the mattress and gave her the pen light, so she’d have light in the room. “You have to stay really quiet. I’m going to come back for you. I promise. Trust me. I won’t leave you.”

  Jamie closed the door, her heart breaking for the girl. She locked it. Hoping the girl would stay quiet.

  She turned on all the lights in the main room, walked through the side door, down the hallway, and back to the office where she turned on every light in the hallway and in the office. She put her elbows on the desk, her phone to her ear, and started talking in a loud voice.

  Jamie heard the man open the back door which she had left unlocked. The lights in the main room were on. She imagined the look on his face was one of disbelief.

  “Gav-no!” she heard the man say. The literal translation for the Russian word was cow excrement. In that context, the man meant it as a four-letter curse word. Americans had a similar word. Jamie started speaking louder. In Russian. Loud enough for the man to hear her. Throwing in her own curse words, for good measure. She pretended to be having a heated discussion on her phone.

  The man stormed into the office. Jamie was glad he didn’t have a weapon. If he did, it probably would have been drawn. She had no idea if her plan would work. She’d thought about taking him out when he walked through the door then interrogating him. But that would take time. She needed information and needed it fast. Confirmation really. She thought she knew where they’d taken the girls, but if she could pull off the acting job, she might gain his trust and find out what she needed to know much faster.

  “TbI KTO,” the man said roughly. “Who are you?”

  Jamie held up her hand to silence the man and gave him a glare at the same time. She continued to talk into the phone like she was angry at the person on the other line. She hung up the phone abruptly, stood, and held out her hand.

  “I’m Candice. With Belles of Belarus.”

  The man tilted his head to the side with a confused look and didn’t immediately shake her hand.

  Jamie held up one of the papers on the desk. She pointed to the name on the letterhead.

  “Candice Smith, CEO. That’s me. There’s been a huge mistake. The girls that came in Saturday morning on the train. They went to the wrong place.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. His eyebrows furrowed. His lips tightened. Clearly confused. Probably wondering what to do next.

  Jamie surmised that the girl in the closet was the one with the word “mine” next to it. Either his payment or a girl he stole to keep as his own slave, figuring no one would notice. He’d come to spend time with his prize.

  “Wha
t monasteries did these girls go to?” Jamie asked. She’d quickly learn if her theory was right.

  He didn’t answer.

  “What does A, G, and Z stand for?”

  She handed the man the lists of girls. He still seemed unsure of himself.

  “The A is Arkzysheskya Monastery, G is Gorissky, and Z is Zaissonapassky,” he finally said.

  The confirmation she needed. She was right. Russia had dozens of monasteries around the region that were abandoned years ago as fewer and fewer people became monks and the older ones died off. On the cruise, Jamie had read that young people in Russia were abandoning the Russian Orthodox Church in droves. No one wanted to be a monk anymore.

  The facilities were a perfect place to hide and imprison girls. They would have living quarters, offices, a chapel, and most importantly, large walls, built to keep people out and the monks in. Their lifestyle was one of complete isolation from the world.

  Jamie assumed Asaf purchased them, had them renovated, and a bus load of girls were taken to each one. The men probably came to the chapel, made their payments, then went back to the living quarters with the girls, where they had sex. The men had privacy; the women were trapped; and tens of thousands of dollars were made out of each monastery every month.

  Ingenuous plan considering the depravity it would take to come up with such a scheme. Jamie’s own ingenuous plan was forming. Time to ratchet up the rhetoric and put it into action.

  “No! No! No!” Jamie said, raising her voice considerably.

  “They weren’t supposed to go to monasteries. They were supposed to go to the Palace of the Idokopas Cape.”

  Jamie started pacing around. Her hands and arms animated as she spoke.

  The man’s eyes widened in fear. She got the reaction she wanted at the mention of the Palace.