by S J Grey
“Oh my God,” said the girl, her eyes wide. “I heard he was shot. Did your friend see what happened?”
“Shot?” The breath jammed in Andi’s throat. “I don’t know. I need to find her. Did you see anyone? Hear anything?”
“I heard footsteps and the outer door banging.” The girl shrugged. “I’m sorry.”
“Miss,” said a deep voice behind Andi.
She glanced over her shoulder. It was the first cop again. “Yes?”
“I need to ask you some questions. You said your friend was with Mr. Castor?”
“Yes. Kaali was staying with him. Have you seen her?”
“Please come with me.” He led her to a nearby police car and invited her to sit on the back seat, then leaned against the open door. “I need some details about your friend. We’d like to interview her.”
Not gonna happen. “I don’t know where she is.”
“Can you give me her details, please? Full name, address, and phone number.”
She had to think quickly. Even if she could find Kaali, there was no way Kaali would talk to the cops. There was also the small matter of her being an illegal immigrant.
“Her name is Kaali Smith,” she lied. “She just moved here from Auckland, and I don’t have her phone number. I don’t know where she’s living at the moment. I was supposed to meet up with her at Dane’s place.” Did that sound plausible? Maybe. She forced an apologetic smile. “I don’t think I can help you. Sorry.”
The cop didn’t look fazed. He stood there, notebook and pencil in hand. “What was her address in Auckland?”
“I don’t know.”
“Phone number?”
“I don’t know.”
His brow wrinkled. “So how did you plan to meet up with her?”
If she said they were friends on Facebook, he could ask for her details. “Umm… Dane said she was here, and that’s why I came.” Way to go with a limp story like that.
“So Dane called you?”
This was going nowhere fast. “No. I called him yesterday. I came over to see them, and I was on my way back today. Please, officer, can you tell me how Dane is? Someone told me he was shot.”
“I can’t confirm that. Is it possible your friend, Miss Smith attacked Mr. Castor?”
“No. She’s not like that. You know, she might not even have been here today.”
“You were expecting to see her. You brought her coffee?” The cop stared at the three paper cups steaming inside the sheer, plastic bag.
“I hoped she would be. I sent him a text.” This was getting her precisely nowhere. “I need to see how Dane is. Can we please do this later?”
“I’ll only be a few minutes. Now, then. What time did you text Mr. Castor, and did he reply?”
The ambulance doors were still open. It wasn’t going anywhere yet, and when it did, it’d be to the hospital, which wasn’t far.
“I’ll check,” she said and tugged her phone out. “I texted him twenty-five minutes ago, and he replied. See?” She held it up, for him to see the screen. “And before you ask, no, you cannot take my phone.”
“You had no indication of anything being wrong?”
“No. Look at the texts. I asked if he was home, and he said yes.” This was beyond frustrating. She needed to find Kaali. “Oh.” She craned her head to the side. “Is that her? Over there?”
“Where?”
Andi had to time it perfectly. The cop turned, and she shot upwards and out. She ducked under his arm and disappeared into the crowd, ignoring his shout. Where could she hide?
She tugged off her sodden beanie and stuffed it into her pocket, then slowed to a walk and worked her way along the mass of people. The cop would be looking for a girl wearing a black beanie, not someone with blue-tipped hair. She would hide best in plain sight. Affecting a swagger, she tailgated three girls walking away from the accommodation block, and then inserted herself into the conversation.
“My God,” she said. “What happened? I heard he was attacked?” Catch me now, cop.
Only problem? She had no idea what to do next.
“I know,” said one of the girls. “It’s such a shock. I heard his apartment was being burgled.”
“No,” said another. “That’s not what Trish said. She said the cops were there and thought he had drugs. Dane. The guy doesn’t even smoke cigarettes, never mind anything stronger.”
“What do you mean? About the cops being there?” asked Andi. “Where did you hear that?”
The girl glanced at her as they walked. “Barry, who lives on the second floor, was on his way out, and he heard them talking to Dane. They wanted to search his apartment for drugs. I call bullshit. I bet he’s on some dissident list or something. You know—after protesting outside parliament last week.”
“Uniform cops or plain-clothes?” Andi had a hunch she knew the answer.
“Detectives,” said the girl. “And like ten minutes later, Alison found him.”
Yeah, that was what Andi feared. Not the police at all. Holy shit. She had to talk to Dane as soon as she could. If she could. She’d no idea how bad he was hurt, and that gnawed at her. It must be bad.
And where the hell was Kaali?
Nausea rose in Andi’s throat, but she swallowed it down. She could freak out later. She had work to do first.
“See ya,” she said to the girls and peeled off, into the main campus building. The cops were nowhere to be seen, but there was no chance of her going back to Dane’s apartment. Not while it was a crime scene.
What could she do?
She needed help, and this was more than Griff could do. There was one option that called to her. It would need her to eat a giant slice of humble-freaking-pie, but she had nothing better.
Walking would take too long. She called up an Uber, and five minutes later was driving back into the city. Back to Caleb’s office.
Part III - Caleb
Chapter Twenty-One
Caleb closed the lid on his laptop with a clunk. The damned Immigration network was still down after the DDOS attack, and there was no way to delete Andi’s unauthorised user ID. He was a fool to have given her access. He should have known better than to trust her, when he barely knew her. He could count on one hand the people he trusted, and he should have stuck to his instincts.
He glanced at Jonathan, currently tapping forcefully on his own laptop. Yeah, Jonathan was pissed too.
“It’s only a matter of time, before my Director is on the phone, wanting to know if the Red Team is involved.” Jonathan met Caleb’s gaze. Right on cue, his phone jangled. Jonathan pulled a face. “Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.” He answered the call and held the phone to his ear. “This is Jonathan.”
He’d probably prefer to take this call in private, so Caleb left him to it and closed the door behind him. The outer office was quieter than usual. Everyone was subdued, after learning what Andi did.
Why couldn’t she be honest with Caleb?
Because she wanted to use him. Like most assholes did.
The idea made him want to hit something, repeatedly. Maybe tonight would be a good time to start teaching Emma some dirty fighting moves. If she kicked the shit out of him, he might feel better.
He stared unseeing at the smartboard with the list of activities and whom they were assigned to. Andi’s name was still marked up for some of them. That was going to change right now. He grabbed the eraser and scrubbed her name away. In his head, he saw her, staring him down, her chin tilted up.
She was the best at what she did, and Caleb had wanted to tap into that. Not any more though. Andi Redmond clearly had her own agenda, and Caleb wasn’t going to be used by her.
A knock on the outer door snagged his attention.
“We’ve got a visitor,” said Devin. “It’s Andi. Should I let her in?”
“Sure,” said Caleb. He was ready for another fight. He stood there, arms folded, when she walked in.
She was sopping wet, the blue spikes of h
er hair flattened to her skull and her jeans almost black with water.
Not. Caleb’s. Problem.
“Something you forgot?” he asked, venom in every word.
Something was different about her, and it wasn’t the fact that she was dripping water. She looked shocked. Upset.
“I need your help,” she said. “I’m probably the last person you want to see, but you’re the only one I know that can help. Please.”
He was saved from answering immediately by the emergence of Jonathan from his office.
“Well. That was fun—not.” Jonathan ground to a halt, his focus darting between Andi and Caleb. “What did I miss?”
“Andi wants our help with something,” drawled Caleb. “What is it this time, darlin’? Which secure network do you want to break into today, under the cover of my team?”
Her jaw tightened, and her lips thinned. “There’s no need to be an asshole.”
“On the contrary, I think it’s warranted.” He took a step towards her. “Go on, then. I’m all ears.”
She clenched her fists and glared with such fury that, if looks could kill, Caleb would be lying on the carpet, sucking in his last breath.
“Ten minutes of your time,” she said. “Please. I wouldn’t ask if I had another option.”
“Come on.” Caleb jerked his chin at his office. “Jonathan too.”
They followed him. With the door securely closed, Caleb perched on the edge of his desk, while Jonathan stood nearby. “Please,” said Caleb, oozing politeness, “do sit down. What can I do for you?”
She sat. Looked at Caleb, and then Jonathan. Locked her gaze onto Caleb. “The reason I hacked into the Immigration network was for information. I’m trying to identify a human trafficker that brings vulnerable women into New Zealand. I didn’t tell you because—well—I have my reasons. But that’s what I was doing. I didn’t have any part in the DDOS attack. When I was running my SQL searches from home, they were taking forever. Slow-as-an-arthritic-tortoise-with-a-walking-stick kind of speed. The attack was probably in progress.”
She waited, as though that explained everything. As though that was her apology.
“Nice try,” he said, letting his snark show. “But seriously, I have my reasons? If that’s the best you can do, you might as well skip right back outta here.”
She looked as though any second now, steam was going to come out of her ears. “Don’t you have any secrets?” She glanced at Jonathan. “Or you? With all your spy work, you’re telling me you don’t keep anything to yourself? Pull the other one. It’s got freaking bells on.”
If the circumstances were different, Caleb would enjoy the verbal sparring. At this moment, it served to stoke the simmering pot of indignation inside him. “You need to work on your apology. All I’m hearing is blah blah secrets. Blah blah reasons. Yeah… nah. Doesn’t work for me.”
Andi leapt to her feet. She barely came to Caleb’s shoulder in height but was fizzing with rage. She reminded him of Minerva as a kitten, all claws and hissing and great-big eyes.
“You’re right. You are an asshole,” she snarled. “But I’m still here, and I’m prepared to humble myself. I don’t want to be begging you to help me, but I am. And yes, I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry for fucking you about. Sorry for abusing your trust. Sorry for putting the Red Team at risk. Sorry for everything. Okay?”
Jonathan huffed a laugh and tried to turn it into a cough. “I think that takes care of the apology,” he said, his eyes dancing.
Andi spun on her toes, to face him. “This. Isn’t. A joke. My friend is in hospital, having been shot by two guys claiming to be the cops. A refugee he was protecting has disappeared.”
“And we can help, how?” Caleb wasn’t done being angry.
She slumped her shoulders and wrapped her arms across her chest. “I don’t know. I didn’t think this through.” The fight was gone. “Maybe this was another mistake. I’ll go. Figure something else out. See if Griff can do anything.”
“How d’you know they weren’t really cops?” Jonathan asked. “And I don’t get why you wanted to search the Immigration network. Something to do with your refugee friend?”
Her gaze swivelled from Jonathan to Caleb and back again. “She’s not really a refugee.”
Caleb gestured at the chair. “Sit down. Start from the beginning.” Why was he inviting her to stay, instead of kicking her out? Sometimes he didn’t understand his own reasoning.
Tentatively, as though she’d bolt at any second, Andi sat. “A few days ago, my friend Dane was speaking at a rally outside Parliament. He lectures at Vic Uni, and in his spare time, he’s a human-rights activist. He was campaigning about refugees and trying to gain support for changes in the law to give them more protection. When he finished, a girl came up to him and asked for his help. She’d been sleeping rough, wearing clothes she’d stolen in order to keep warm, and was starving. He could no more say no than he could fly to the moon. He took her back to his apartment, fed her, and asked her what happened.”
Andi let out a long shuddering breath. “She was a victim of a trafficking scheme. Brought here from Samoa on the promise of a job and a work visa, and then dumped in a brothel in Wellington and raped. Repeatedly. She was tied to a bed and sold to the highest bidder. Over and over again. The more she cried and fought back, the more the perverts enjoyed it. She’s sixteen, by the way. Her family were killed in a tropical cyclone, and she was despatched to her only relative, an uncle, who raped her when she was twelve and told her that was how she’d earn her keep. After four years of his abuse, she thought she was escaping for a new life.”
The angry voice inside Caleb’s head was silent, for once. “Jesus,” he muttered. This felt like the truth, ugly and twisted as it was.
“Dane said she had friction burns on her wrists, ankles, and throat, and bruises on her inner thighs. Lots of them. When she came to him, all she had on was a pair of oversized shorts and a baggy t-shirt. She escaped from the brothel with nothing at all, by climbing through a bathroom window.”
“She took a gamble, going to your friend. Didn’t she?” Jonathan asked.
Andi’s lips quirked. “Dane’s gay. He reckons she saw him kissing a guy after the rally, and figured he was a safe option. She was right. He called me, and I went over to see her. Talk to her. Her name is Kaali.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” It was a typical Jonathan-question, from a guy who believed in the power of law enforcement.
“Because she was scared. Her passport was confiscated by the brothel owner. She has no paperwork. She’s either an illegal immigrant or a refugee, but either way, she’s terrified of being sent to prison, or deported and sent back to her uncle.”
“What are you planning to do?” Caleb asked.
“I know a female lawyer in Auckland—one I’ve done some tracing work for—and she specialises in immigration matters. She’s out of the country at the moment, but we talked, and she wants to help. She needs evidence, though. One girl isn’t enough to make a case.”
Andi looked down at her hands. “You probably don’t know, but New Zealand is officially a destination for human trafficking. It’s the second largest illicit crime in the world, and Kaali and the girls in the brothel like her are just the tip of the iceberg. The US government called out EnZed as a target over ten years ago, but our government is only now starting to take notice. Unlike in most other countries, human-trafficking cases in New Zealand are investigated by immigration authorities, rather than police, which changes the focus and means there are fewer resources available.
“Add in the fact that, because of loopholes in the labour laws, something like ninety percent of what you and I would call trafficking is technically legal, and there’ve been hardly any convictions. And because there are no convictions, the government can look the other way and tell itself this isn’t a problem, while allowing it to flourish. Talk about a vicious circle, aye.”
It was a lot to take in. Caleb sifted through her
story. “Your searches on the Immigration servers were… What? Trying to find evidence?” Annoyance prickled deep inside him. “That’s why you wanted to join the Red Team—to use our connections.”
Her head shot up, and she glared at him. “Not at first. I like red teaming, and I needed the work. When you asked me to join, you didn’t give me any clue about who the target was. How could I know?”
She was right, but Caleb clung to his principles. “You had the opportunity to tell me before you tried to break into their network.”
Her look was withering. “You’re telling me that you, the mighty Captain Mal, have never broken into a server? Yeah, right.”
“Quit taking cheap shots at each other,” said Jonathan. “Stick to the facts, Andi. What changed? Why did you come to ask for help?”
She scowled but continued. “I went to see Dane and Kaali today, but when I got there, Dane was being loaded into an ambulance, and Kaali was missing. Some students told me they saw undercover cops talking to Dane about drugs, right before he was shot. The cops wanted to interview me, but I did a runner. I came here.”
She turned to face Jonathan. “I need to get to the hospital, to see if Dane is okay. I’m beyond worried about him, and I’m scared that Kaali might have been snatched by the brothel owner. The lawyer in Auckland told me to be careful who I trust—she thinks there’s corruption at the highest levels of the Immigration Department..” She held her hands out. “Apart from Griff, you’re all I’ve got right now. Will you please help?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You have to promise me you’ll be honest with us,” said Caleb. “Fuck knows I’ve enough trouble in my life at the moment. If you hide anything else, no matter how small, I’ll walk away. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.” She met his gaze, and he saw the naked worry in her eyes. “One of the reasons I didn’t say anything was exactly that. I don’t want to add to your problems,” she said.
