by Matt Lincoln
“That’s good,” I sighed with relief. “Did he say anything else? He was there. He’s our best source of information.”
“He gave us a description,” Junior responded hesitantly. I could tell by his tone that there was something he wasn’t telling me.
“What is it?” I snapped.
“We told him about our suspicions,” Junior frowned. “About how she was most likely taken by a member of the child trafficking group we’re currently investigating. He didn’t take it well.”
My heart sank. I’d been afraid that Eliza might blame me for what had happened, but it had never occurred to me that Harry might. Harry had met me when I was at my lowest, getting into fights and stealing food from gas stations just to survive. Despite our turbulent first meeting, Harry had always supported me, and he was a former member of law enforcement. The fact that he might be angry with me over this left me feeling oddly betrayed.
I didn’t have time to think about that now, though. We needed to focus on finding Amber. The odds of finding a missing child dramatically decreased after the first seventy-two hours. The fact that she’d been kidnapped by a group that specialized in child kidnapping meant we had even less time.
“I’ll deal with Harry later,” I sighed. “You said Wallace was in his office? Let’s go talk to him. We need to come up with a plan.”
Junior nodded, and he, Miranda, and I headed briskly toward Wallace’s office. I knocked out of habit but didn’t bother to wait for a response before pushing the door open.
“Agent Hills,” Wallace greeted as he moved to stand up. “I’m glad you made it back safely. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I waved him off impatiently. I was getting so tired of everyone asking me that. “What do we know right now?”
“There are two leaders fighting for dominance,” Miranda chimed in. “Naomi said that Davis talked big and claimed he was the ringleader, but it sounded to her like he might have just been a figurehead. She thinks the stateside supplier is the one who’s really in charge.”
“That would make sense,” I agreed. “We’ve established that the group’s been tailing us for a while now. There’s almost no way that Davis was able to become aware of us and have someone tailing us so quickly all the way from Bermuda. It’s far more likely that it was the work of the supplier.”
“Which would mean that the supplier is the one who gave the kidnapper Amber’s location,” Junior interjected.
“We need to figure out a way to get in contact with the kidnapper,” I responded. “It sounds to me like the organization is unstable. Whoever took her is probably just a hired hand willing to work for the highest paycheck. Maybe we can make a deal with him.”
“What are you thinking?” Nelson asked.
“If there’s no loyalty or order,” I pondered aloud, “Then we might be able to convince him to turn on the organization through the use of bribery or threats. I think we should text the number. Offer him compensation in exchange for Amber’s return. If we can lure him into making a call, Fiona should be able to trace it, right?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Junior nodded.
“Alright,” Wallace stated firmly. “Let’s bring Agent Gardner into the loop. Nelson, would you mind staying with Eliza while we get in communication with the kidnapper?”
“Not at all,” Nelson replied as he used his cane to push himself up out of the chair. “I’ll let Fiona know she’s needed in her office.”
He left the office and headed toward the break room, and the rest of us filed quickly out and toward Fiona’s office. I could feel my heart pounding, threatening to burst out of my chest. There was no guarantee that this plan would work, but we needed to try something. I just hoped we wouldn’t be too late.
34
Naomi
I ended the call and began to walk down the street back toward our hotel. I’d just called Wallace to give him an update on what Davis had revealed to me. It had been a few hours since Charlie left, which meant that it would be a few more still before he finally landed in Las Vegas. I shifted the bags I was carrying higher onto my shoulder. We’d headed straight to the hotel that Davis was staying at as soon as we left the airport, and Charlie had left all his things behind when he raced back home. I was left carrying both our bags from the station to the hotel Nelson had arranged for us. Luckily, his things weren’t very heavy, but they did serve as an unpleasant reminder of what had happened.
The streets were still alive with the sound of revelry, and I decided to take the long way back to the hotel so I could take in some sights. I knew that this wasn’t the best time to celebrate, but sitting around and worrying wouldn’t do anyone any good, so there wasn’t really any harm in taking a walk down the main street for old time’s sake.
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as I strolled through town. The smells of street food and the sounds of traditional music playing brought me back to my childhood. I didn’t have a lot of good memories of my parents, but I could distinctly remember walking down this same street, hand in hand with my mother, as we watched the costumed dancers and ate massive fried fish sandwiches. Bermuda was a tropical island, and seafood dishes could be found on every corner. Especially during festivals, it was common for food trucks and street vendors to set up shop every few feet along the parade avenue so they could sell their fare.
I suddenly found myself craving one of those enormous fish sandwiches, so I took off down the street in search. I didn’t have to go far and soon found myself overwhelmed by the number of choices I had. Enticing aromas drifted all around me as vendors baked, fried, sizzled, and smoked various kinds of fish and other seafood. It had been a while since I’d eaten anything, and everything I spotted looked appetizing.
Finally, my gaze landed on my intended target. Behind a small wooden stall, an older gentleman was stooped over a portable stove. He was frying fish cutlets before piling them high with coleslaw, thickly sliced tomato, and an exorbitant amount of melted cheese, all sandwiched together between two lightly toasted slices of bread. I made a beeline for the stand as soon as I saw it.
“Hello, ma’am,” the man smiled warmly at me. “Are you enjoying the festival?”
“Oh, yes,” I lied awkwardly. I didn’t really feel like explaining that I was here investigating an international crime and not to enjoy Carnival.
“Good, good,” the man nodded empathically. “What would you like?”
“Just one, please,” I smiled politely.
“No chips to go with it?” The man asked, nodding toward the large vat of boiling oil behind him. I could see he was making french fries in it.
“Sure,” I shrugged. The longer I stood there staring at the food, the hungrier I felt.
“Just one moment,” the man said as he deftly constructed a sandwich. He wrapped it in brown paper and used a large metal scoop to pull some fries out of the pot and into a paper cup. “There you go, dear. That’ll be fifteen dollars.”
I handed the money over. It was a steep price for a sandwich and a small cup of fries, but it wasn’t surprising considering it was the middle of Carnival, and the man was probably selling to a lot of tourists. In any case, it was a price I was willing to pay for a bit of nostalgia.
I maneuvered my way through the crowd toward an empty storefront. There was a short set of steps leading up to the door, and I took a seat on the highest step so I’d be able to eat comfortably.
I looked up at the mass of partygoers as I eagerly unwrapped the sandwich. The crowd was a mixture of locals and tourists, and everyone seemed to have a smile on their face. It was getting late enough that most people seemed at least a little intoxicated, and I made a mental note to hurry back to the hotel as soon as I was finished eating. Federal agent or not, it would be foolhardy to wander around alone in a foreign country full of drunk people in the middle of the night.
I bit into the sandwich and relished in the rich and savory taste. The fish and tomatoes were extremely fresh, and I had no doubt that the
coleslaw was as well. It was the kind of food that one could only taste here in the Caribbean, where vendors sold food the same day it was caught or picked.
“Drat,” I muttered to myself as a glob of melted cheese dripped off the sandwich and onto my shirt. I looked down to wipe the offending food matter away and blinked in surprise at the tacky t-shirt I was wearing. I’d completely forgotten I’d put this one over my bloodied top.
I burst into an uncharacteristic fit of giggles. The fact that I’d cowed Davis into submission while wearing such a stupid shirt was so preposterous that I couldn’t help but laugh.
A drum circle formed across the street as I continued to dig into my food. I bobbed my head to the beat they were playing, and I finished my fries. The food had been delicious, but the bread and potatoes had been dry, and my throat felt parched. I stood up, intending to go find something to drink before heading back to the hotel.
“Naomi?” I froze at the voice that suddenly called my name. I snapped my head toward the source, my hand flying to the gun at my hip instinctively. I almost gasped when I realized who had spoken.
“Anya?” I asked hoarsely. She had changed. Of course, she had. It had been over ten years since I’d last seen her. But there was no doubt in my mind. It was my cousin.
“It is you,” she gasped. She ran toward me and clasped my hands in hers. She was wearing a brightly colored dress, and her pupils were slightly dilated, which meant she’d most likely been drinking. She was probably here partying for Carnival. “I can’t believe it! Where have you been? When did you get back? We were all so worried!”
“Anya, please calm down,” I pleaded. She was hitting me with questions rapid-fire, and I could hardly keep up.
“Sorry,” she smiled sheepishly. “I was just so surprised. How many years has it been now? I wasn’t expecting to run into you here. Did you come for the festival?”
“No,” I responded. “I’m here for work.”
“Work?” she asked. “What kind of work? Are you a businesswoman now? Are you closing a big deal or something?”
I smiled warmly at her excitable attitude. She hadn’t changed a bit since I’d last spoken to her.
“I’m a federal agent,” I responded. I couldn’t go into details, but I could tell her that much. Her eyes widened in awe.
“Really?” she grinned. “That’s so cool. I want to hear all about it. Oh, you should come to stay with us tonight! We’re at a hotel just a few streets away.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” I asked as a feeling of dread began to grow in the pit of my stomach.
“Mama and Papa, and of course, Darika,” she replied. “And…” Her smile fell.
“And who else, Anya?” I prompted, though I already knew the answer.
“Auntie Prisha and Uncle Jai,” she answered quickly. “But Naomi, you don’t understand--”
“Goodbye, Anya,” I cut her off. My hands were shaking, and I felt an overwhelming need to flee. I quickly made to leave, but Anya grabbed me by the arm.
“No, please, wait,” she pleaded. “If you just talk to them, then maybe--”
“Maybe what, Anya?” I snapped. “You were there. You remember what happened. I have nothing to say to them.”
“I know there was a misunderstanding,” she replied.
“A misunderstanding?” I repeated angrily. “Oh no, dear cousin. I understood perfectly well what was going on that day. That’s why I set that fire. I wasn’t about to sit around and be sold off like a piece of property. Unless you’d like a reprisal of that event, I’d suggest you let go of my arm and leave me alone.”
Anya looked horrified. I felt a little guilty about taking my anger out on her, but I knew this would be the fastest way to get her to drop the issue. I yanked my arm away from her and turned to stalk down the street. She called my name as I walked away, but I smoothly blended into the dense crowd and lost her.
I speed-walked the entire way to the hotel. I didn’t dare relax until I was in the room with the door securely locked behind me. I let the bags fall to the floor as I slid to the ground, my back against the hotel room door. My heart was pounding painfully. I had been so excited to see my cousin after all these years that I forgot the reason I’d gone so long without seeing her in the first place. In just an instant, the vague, irrational fear that I might run into my parents here had become a frightening real threat. They were here, probably within walking distance of this hotel.
I took a deep breath and then picked myself up off the floor. It didn’t matter that they were here. I would be heading to Hamilton tomorrow, and with any luck, I’d be back at home a day or two after that. I couldn’t let this rattle me. I needed to focus on the case now more than ever, for Charlie’s sake.
I went through my nightly routine robotically as I got ready for bed. I’d made arrangements to meet with the police in Hamilton tomorrow to form a plan of attack on the group’s base. I needed to get as much rest as I could before then. After showering, I turned out the lights and climbed into bed. I closed my eyes and willed myself to sleep as I did my best to push away unpleasant memories.
I woke to the sound of my alarm. I felt as though I had just closed my eyes a second ago, but a glance at the window confirmed that it was already morning. I didn’t feel particularly rested, but I couldn’t allow myself the luxury of staying in bed any longer.
Hamilton wasn’t that far from Devonshire. It would take an hour to get there by taxi. Once I was in the cab, I checked my phone for any updates from Charlie or the rest of the office, but there were no missed calls or messages. I wasn’t sure whether I should consider that a good or bad sign. It probably meant they hadn’t made any significant progress, but it also meant there wasn’t any bad news either.
Las Vegas was three hours behind Bermuda, which meant that it was probably still around six in the morning there. We still had time.
Hamilton was a grand and impressive city. The architecture was like something out of a Victorian storybook, which made sense considering the city had been founded by British settlers. The police station was no different. It was a massive, looming white building with arched windows and a magnificent front staircase that led up to an entrance framed by Roman-inspired pillars. I thought, not for the first time, that such an auspicious city was a peculiar place to base an illegal trafficking ring, but perhaps that was the point. No one would ever expect something so vile to be happening right in the heart of such a prosperous city.
I paid the taxi driver and stepped out of the cab. I made my way up the staircase and had just reached the door when a police officer emerged and nearly ran straight into me.
“Oh, sorry about that,” he smiled apologetically. “I was in such a rush I nearly ran right into you.”
“It’s alright,” I nodded.
“I’m Officer Smith,” he introduced himself. “Was there something you needed at the police station?”
“Yes, actually,” I nodded. “I’m Agent Patel with MBLIS. I scheduled a meeting this morning.”
“Oh, of course,” Smith blinked in surprise. “You’re early. I’m sorry, I was just about to run to get some coffee in case the meeting ran long. We were expecting you.”
“I like being prepared,” I smiled. “Better to show up early than late. In any case, since I’m here, would you mind if we went ahead and began?”
“Of course,” Smith smiled. “If you’ll follow me, then.”
He led me into the police office. The interior was just as grand as the exterior. The ceilings were high, and the large windows cast the entire building in a warm, sunny glow.
“We have a conference room set up right through here,” Smith said as he led me into a side room. Four officers were seated around a large round table.
“Hey, where's the coffee?” one of the officers asked sullenly as we entered the room.
“We’ll get some later,” Smith brushed him off. “This is Agent Patel. She’s the federal agent we’ll be working with today.”
“Ni
ce to meet you all,” I greeted them politely.
“Agent Patel, these are officers Fletcher, Johnson, Macmillan, and Crowe,” Smith introduced each officer in turn. “The five of us will be assisting you on the raid today.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I responded. “The more hands we have, the better. There’s also a strong possibility that there will be child victims present. We should ensure that some officers are focused on locating and securing the children once we enter. We’ll have to be extremely careful once we’re inside. No one fires unless you’re absolutely certain you have a shot, and that there is no chance of striking one of the victims. This is why it will be so important for the officers in charge of securing the children to do so quickly. The sooner they’re safe, the sooner we can act freely.”
The officers listened with rapt attention as I laid out my plan. Once in a while, someone would chime in with a suggestion, but for the most part, everyone was content with allowing me to take charge. After about an hour of discussion, we felt confident in what we’d come up with.
“Alright,” I nodded. “Let’s go.”
The building was located on First Street, on a boardwalk overlooking the ocean. It was impossible to miss since it was a bright red, two-story building. The front of the store was decorated to resemble a clothing boutique, which blended in nicely with the surrounding stores along the boardwalk. However, a large sign in the front window indicated that the store was currently closed for renovations. A passing tourist wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but of course, we knew that there was no store, and it was all just a facade.
Smith and I were wearing tactical gear. We’d be going in first in order to ascertain how many suspects were inside and to draw the men’s attention. Next, Fletcher and Macmillan would enter through the back and locate the children. Once they had them secured, Johnson and Crowe would come in to provide backup. Smith and I would only need to hold them off until the children were found. It wasn’t a perfect plan, and there was a lot of room for error, but we felt confident that we could pull it off.
