Escape From Paradise

by Gwendolyn Field

  “I’ll be back,” he promised. “You’re safe here.”

  Agent MacDonald pursed her lips at him and made a motion toward the door, like he was a parent reluctant to leave their child and dragging out the separation anxiety. He shot her a glare in return. He’d let himself be pushed away by Angela or her parents, but not this woman. With one last nod to Angela and her frightened, lost eyes, he turned to go. On the way out, Angela’s mother touched his forearm and gave him a tender look of appreciation before returning her attention to her daughter.

  Nobody should have to go through what this family was experiencing. Vengeance rose like a thick bramble through his torso and limbs, scraping his flesh from the inside. He needed to do something. Stop others from this kind of suffering.

  He needed to kill Fernando.

  Everything felt wrong. Like a strange dream. My parents—my parents!—wore constant smiles, expressions which were at odds with the turmoil I felt every minute. I so wanted to be happy, too. In the far reaches of my mind I knew how I should be feeling, but I wasn’t quite capable of reaching it.

  Especially when Mr. Douglas was out of my sight.

  Mom showed me to the restroom to shower and closed the door for me. A flare of panic, like I was going to get in trouble, burned across my skin as I stared at the closed door and then swung my head around at the bathroom.

  Alone. Private.

  I began to shake as I backed into the wall and slid down, holding myself at the middle. Overwhelming gratitude for this moment of privacy shook my body.

  I was allowed to be alone. There were probably no cameras, and I could do whatever I wanted! Not that I wanted to do anything, but still! God, I’d never wanted to kiss a bathroom floor before that moment.

  Through the entire shower, I trembled, peeking now and then around the curtain to see the door still closed. Afterward I dressed in a pair of jeans and a soft cotton shirt. They were too big, but I remembered them from my old life. Another tsunami of nostalgia rushed me, threatening tears in its wake. How long had it been since I wore jeans? Or a shirt that was solely for the purpose of comfort? Or underwear that actually covered my ass?

  Mom was waiting for me, watching from a nearby room. I knew she was trying not to suffocate me, but she couldn’t help herself. She looked hesitant and timid, so I held out my hand and the doubt left her face.

  I found myself constantly looking for Mr. Douglas, and feeling a heady flood of relief and excitement whenever I heard the rumble of his voice from a nearby room, or when I caught a glance of him walking past. Each time I had to restrain myself from calling out for him or running to him.

  And we were only two hours into the first morning.

  I’d put off talking to Agent MacDonald as long as I could. She’d been a force looming over me all morning, watching from doorways with those inspector eyes, silently rushing me. Mom had taken to glaring at the woman over her shoulder, but the Agent was unperturbed. Clearly, she’d wait all day. As much as I didn’t want to talk to her, I also wanted to get it over with so she could leave.

  When I finally approached she said, “Aye, good. Let’s talk in the office.”

  The office wasn’t much more than a desk with a lamp, and some miscellaneous boxes, as if the man who lived here had never fully settled in.

  Agent MacDonald motioned for me to sit across from her at the desk, and I stiffened as her eyes bore into me. I wished she wasn’t so beautiful and intimidating. I felt like a filthy little creature in baggy clothes. She set a tape recorder on the desk and hit record. I thought people were supposed to ask permission to do that. But maybe that was only in movies. I probably would have just told her yes anyway.

  She twined her fingers and placed them on the notepad in front of her. “How are you feeling this morning, Angela?”

  How to explain? I felt a little of everything. Every minute a different strong emotion would hit.

  “I’m…I don’t know. Okay.”

  “Okay,” she repeated. “I imagine the abrupt change of lifestyle would be quite confusing to the system, aye?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  She gave me a small, therapist smile. “Your parents love you very much. I’m sure you missed them.” Her comments were leading, even demanding, and it made me want to pull back, be more careful.

  “I did…” My voice trailed off and she cocked her head to the side, eyeing me. My heart rate kicked up at the dominance of her personality, and I found myself spilling information I had no intention of telling anyone. My voice broke. “I missed them at first, but after a while I had to stop thinking about them. It hurt too much, and I never thought I’d see them again.”

  This revelation seemed to please her and she relaxed a little. I thought therapists were supposed to be gentle and kind. This lady seemed like she was not above using torture techniques to get people to talk.

  “Does that make you feel a bit guilty seeing them?”

  I dropped my eyes. “Yes.”

  “And perhaps a bit undeserving and inadequate?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I whispered. I couldn’t look up.

  “That’s all normal to feel. I assure you. And it will pass, Angela. There may be times in your life where you still feel remnants of those emotions, but they will not always have the power they do at this moment.”

  I chewed my lip and nodded. I wished I could skip right over all these emotions. I didn’t believe they’d ever leave me. How could I be good enough for anyone again? They’d never know me, the real me, because I’d never tell them all I’d done and seen. I felt like I could never be close to someone again.

  “Was there anyone who you came to care for during your time of captivity? Anyone who, perhaps, befriended you?”

  My sweet Josef. Oh, no. What would happen to him? And Perla and the other girls? Tears slid down each of my cheeks and I quickly swiped them, the familiar feeling of paranoia rising enough to dry my ducts.

  “The other slaves. There were five of us. We couldn’t talk…I mean, not really. Not about anything important. But they were my friends.”

  Don’t cry anymore, I chanted to myself as Agent MacDonald scratched something on her pad of paper.

  “I know this is going to be difficult, Angela, but I need as much information as you can possibly give me about what happened from the moment you were taken to the moment you were rescued. Can you do that for me? This kind of information will aid our organization to help others in similar predicaments.”

  My abdomen twisted at the thought of regular people knowing these things about me.

  “You’ll be sharing this?” I hated how small and timid my voice sounded. “I thought there might be some sort of client confidentiality or something.”

  She smiled at me. “That’s the case for regular private psychologists, but since I work for the government I’m here to help you, and to also help us. In the end it’s a win-win for all. Will you help us?”

  I nodded. “I…yes. Okay.”

  I felt like I was in that room with her forever. I tried to tell the facts like they weren’t raw and real. I skimmed over the sexual acts, even when she pressed for more information. I didn’t want to tell those details to anyone. Ever. I gave her the information I thought would be useful to them—the stuff about how and where I was held. How they controlled me. The names of people who came in and out. She dug for every detail of my first days, wanting to know exactly how they’d broken me down. I started to feel faint by the end of our time, and I’d only skimmed the surface.

  She was an avid listener, eating up the details with rapt interest, every now and then throwing in a compassionate expression.

  I jumped at a knock on the door and turned to see Mr. Douglas peek his head in. A spasm of joy zipped through me. His cool eyes met mine and for that moment my breath caught as he held my gaze before blinking and looking at the other Agent.

  “You’ve been in here awhile.”

  Her lips pursed, displeased. “We’re making good pro
gress, but we’re not finished, so if you don’t mind—”

  “Agent Abernathy brought dinner. I suggest you stop for a bit and eat.”

  The woman looked at her watch and her eyes widened in surprise. She glanced at me and reluctantly nodded. “We’ll continue this later. Thank you, Angela.”

  I quickly stood, and went to the door he held open. I watched as he took in the full sight of me dressed as a regular American girl with no make-up, and a smile skimmed his lips. It disappeared when Agent MacDonald cleared her throat, coming to stand near us. She gave him a sharp look.

  “I won’t be staying for dinner, but I’ll return first thing in the morning. I’ll need to speak with you, as well, Agent Douglas—”

  “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

  Her eyes narrowed as he cut her off yet again. “Aye, I do believe it is necessary after the lengthy undercover operation you pulled. Just because you’re a man doesn’t mean nothing can get in your head and screw with it. I’m certain your time in Spain has affected you in various ways, Agent.”

  He seemed to go to stone as she punctuated her statement with a pointed look. I shouldn’t have stood there watching, but nobody asked me to leave, and I was riveted. For the first time I wondered about what Mr. Douglas had been through. How long had he been on this mission?

  His steel eyes were hard, and I don’t think he cared for the other agent much. “I’m not available to speak for a few days. I’ve got a quick turn-around trip to attend to.”

  That jolted me and I stepped closer. “Where are you going?”

  Agent MacDonald’s head swung toward me as if she’d forgotten I was there.

  “I’m not inclined to say—”

  Before he could finish I panicked, grabbing his arm, because I just knew he was going to go off and do something dangerous. “Please, don’t go. Stay here.”

  His jaw locked for a second. “I need to do this one last thing. I’ll be back.”

  “No!” I had his shirt in both fists. Oh God, oh God, oh God, he was going to get himself hurt or killed. What would I do without him?

  He put his hands on my wrists, trying to gently unpry me. “Angela—”

  “Where are you going?” And then it hit me with acrid clarity. “You’re going to try and find Fernando, aren’t you?” His pale look of surprise told me I’d hit the mark. “Take me with you!”

  By now I could hear others coming down the hall, convening behind us.

  “Please,” I begged. I felt his hands rubbing up and down my shoulders and arms in a way that was supposed to be calming, but had the opposite effect. “Take me. Don’t leave me. You don’t have to do this.”

  “Aye, I do,” he said in a fierce voice. “I really do.”

  “Angela,” Agent MacDonald said in a frigid tone. “Step away from Agent Douglas.”

  “It’s fine,” he told her. “She’ll calm in a moment.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off his face, which was turned to the side. He was trying not to look at me. In that moment I knew, instinctually, that somewhere along the way we’d bonded. I believed he had a weakness for me. Maybe it stemmed from pity, or maybe it was a compulsion to care for something you’ve saved, but whatever it was that he felt for me, I would use it. I couldn’t let him leave.

  “I can’t lose you! Don’t go, please don’t go!”

  “What’s going on?” I heard Dad ask from behind me.

  “Everything is fine, Mr. Birch,” Colin said. “I have some business to attend to, and I’ll be back shortly. Angela’s a wee upset, is all.”

  “It’s time to let Agent Douglas go,” Agent MacDonald said, and then she put her hands on me. Her grip on my arm was tight as she tried to separate us. It reminded me of the grip Luis used to take.

  Yeah. I flipped out.

  My arms swung toward her and shoved her away as I screamed. I heard shouts. Mr. Douglas pulled me back, but Agent MacDonald’s claws surrounded my arms again and a shriek ripped from my throat. I couldn’t see straight. Mom’s sweet voice calling my name barely registered. I began thrashing, kicking my legs since they were the only part of me free. I felt my feet connect to soft tissue and heard the Agent’s angry yell.

  “Just back away!” Mr. Douglas said to her.

  He made a move to turn me and I heard Agent MacDonald say, “Hold her still.”

  “No!” he yelled, and then I felt a sharp pinch in my upper arm. I looked up to see the fire of anger on his face, aimed at Agent MacDonald, who stood with a small syringe in her hand.

  Mom rushed over and brushed the hair back from my face as I felt myself going limp in Mr. Douglas’s arms.

  “You didn’t have to bloody drug her,” was the last thing I heard through his clenched teeth before the world went black.

  He hated leaving for Thailand without even saying a proper good-bye to Angela. He also hated that the impulsive, power-hungry psych Agent had resorted to drugs when the girl hadn’t even had a decent meal that day. She’d probably wake up feeling ill. And he didn’t appreciate the knowing looks Agent MacDonald kept giving him, as if she couldn’t wait to dig around in his mind and fix him.

  That shite wasn’t happening. Colin was right fucked up, but that bitch wasn’t the cure.

  This trip would be the beginning of his cure.

  One of the downfalls of being a secret payroll Agent was that he couldn’t carry a badge, which meant no weapons while flying.

  It would be his first time in Thailand. Colin crammed as many Thai words and phrases into his mind as he could during the long flight. It helped keep his mind off Angela. As they neared their destination, Colin stared down at the thick green jungles and crystal blue waters. His fingers itched to paint it.

  When he landed in Bangkok, he headed for the red light district, navigating his way through the busy streets to the arms dealer Abernathy had dug up. Despite the smog in the city, an aroma of spices made it smell like an exotic heaven, matching the rich culture all around him. But he wasn’t there for tourism and pleasure. He pulled a ball cap low over his forehead to hide his face and entered the side door of a bustling street market.

  To an older woman with suspicious eyes, he said in Thai, “I need to see Daw.” He probably slaughtered the pronunciation, but she gave a jut of her chin toward a man handling an icy vat of fish.

  The man stood when Colin approached, and without a word wiped his hands on his apron and motioned for Colin to follow him into a back room.

  “You have money?” Daw asked when the door closed behind them.

  Colin pulled out the wad and Daw snatched it with greedy hands, counting.

  “What you want?” the man asked.

  “A handgun.”

  He pulled out three handguns of different calibers for Colin to choose from. He took the 9mm semi-automatic and disassembled it to be sure everything was in good condition before nodding and reassembling, stowing the gun at the back of his pants under his shirt. He bought a couple of clips, loaded.

  “If it doesn’t work, I’m coming back for you,” Colin warned.

  “It work. I try myself.”

  Colin pulled a picture of Fernando from his pocket, but Daw turned his head and held up his hands, saying, “I do not involve myself in your business.”

  Fair enough. Colin slid the picture back into his pocket and asked, “Where can I find a whore house?”

  Daw didn’t blink an eye at this. He rattled off an address and opened the door for Colin to leave. It was the quickest, easiest acquisition he’d ever encountered, and he could only hope the rest of his stay in Thailand followed that pattern.

  The tiny middle-aged woman who greeted him at the address he’d been given wore a large, fake smile. She bowed her head to him and waved a hand toward the scantily clad girls lined against the wall. Some eyed him coyly, others brazenly.

  Colin pulled out the picture and the woman froze as she peered down at it, the smile disappearing.

  “You looking for friend?” she asked in
broken English.

  “No,” Colin said. “Not a friend. Do you know where I can find him?”

  She shook her head tightly and clasped her hands in front of herself. “I am business woman.”

  Of course. Colin knew all too well that it was often difficult to get “business people” to talk. He pulled another wad of Thai bills from his pocket.

  “May I speak to a few of your ladies?” He inclined his head toward the women against the wall.

  The woman grabbed for the money and stuffed it away. “Be fast.”

  Colin approached the girls, feeling a natural tingle of arousal when the first put a hand on his chest and cocked a knee to rub his leg. He held Fernando’s picture out to her and she stepped back, shaking her head.

  “Do you know this man?”

  Again she shook her head, dropping her eyes. He held the picture out for all the girls to see. The fear and loathing in their eyes showed they all knew of him.

  “Tell me where to find him and you’ll never see him again.”

  They exchanged looks of hope and suspicion, a silent conversation. Finally, the meekest stepped forward and blurted in a tiny voice, “He take the girls to rooms by the the parks next to Royal Palace.” Her eyes got big, as if she couldn’t believe she’d said it.

  “By Wat Po,” another added. The small girl gave her a grateful look.

  “Rooms?” Colin asked. “Like a hotel?”

  The two of them nodded. Then they all dropped their eyes nervously.

  “Thank you,” Colin said, feeling right fucking chipper. “Have a lovely day.”

  He tipped his head to the mistress and left. Here I come, motherfucker.

  Colin scouted the Royal Palace area looking for possible hotels or rooms where Fernando might take girls. He found three possible alleyways—shady places. It was a large, busy area, so he’d have to keep a keen eye out. He bided his time until nightfall.

  By midnight, when he still hadn’t seen Fernando, he had to be proactive. He received hostile looks from a set of drug dealers at a corner, but paid them no mind, heading straight for a prostitute in a black mini skirt. He stood close enough to her to hide the fact that he was pulling out a picture between the two of them. In his other hand he held out money.