each of them stepping toward him with murderous eyes. Out of instinct, Rory’s legs begin sprinting for the door before he even realizes the decision was made. The dogs immediately charge him, barking and snarling their way toward the soft, fleshy parts of his body. He reaches for the door handle praying to God it isn’t locked, and it turns a bit, but his hand slips off as the round handle is covered with some type of grease. He frantically uses his shirt to grip the door handle, turning it all the way clockwise, then he pushes inward, and to his relief, it opens up to the next room. Rory swings his body behind the door and uses his weight to push it closed, but one of the larger dogs is able to wedge its head and part of its chest through before the door and frame tighten around its body. When he sees the dog trying to use its strength to push past the door, he panics and kicks the door as hard as he can, hearing the dog yelp in agony as the blow must have broken a rib or shoulder bone. The pain causes the dog to retreat, and he pulls the door back half an inch, then slams it shut as the dog gets out of the way. He breathes heavily now, alone in the hallway, leaning against the door, sweat dripping from his brow as he grabs the handle to ensure it is shut tight before moving forward. The shepherds are barking and snarling wildly on the other side, pushing at the solid door with their massive bodies and sniffing at the floor where he is standing.
Rory searches through the lonely dark corridors of Anthony’s security building for a few minutes, trying to get a feel for how the facility is organized. As his eyes adjust, he is able to walk through the hallways with just the moonlight. This part of the building has cold cement, bare electrical conduits, pipes running along the walls, and no sign of anything of comfort save for the occasional leather swivel chair. He steps up to a locked door and peers through a small window with wire mesh squares embedded in the glass. There are six large LCD surveillance monitors showing video from various sections of the property. The room is empty except for a black steel computer desk and matching padded swivel chair. As he explores the rest of the first floor, Rory finds it to be unremarkable, with empty offices, storage for cleaning supplies, and a large bathroom that is equipped with showers.
When he doesn’t find anything of value on the ground floor, he makes his way up to the second floor. Rory climbs the two flights of bare concrete stairs, peering cautiously around the corners, feeling suspicious of even the shadows as the thought of the shepherds attacking him from behind creates a cold shiver in the base of his neck. At the top of the stairs, he finds a glass security door with a magnetic lock similar to the dog doors out on the property. The glass is tinted and appears to be extremely thick. On the right side there is a small, rectangular security reader that is encased in stainless steel to match the door frame. When he passes the dog collar over the magnetic fob reader, nothing happens. He reaches down and grabs that handle in vain, trying to figure out a way into this area, and to his surprise, the door opens despite the red light showing near the locking mechanism.
Rory steps slowly through the glass security door, his heart beating at jackhammer pressure as he wonders what lies ahead. When he closes the door behind him, he tries to push it open and realizes that this area is designed to let you in easily, but not out. As he steps forward a few feet and turns his head to the right he sees a medical prep station with a few white uniforms, a sink, and two stainless steel examination tables. This area of the building is by far cleaner and warmer than the rest of the facility. It has the appearance of a hospital with white tiles on the floor, and a medical cart with various supplies such as: scalpels, gloves, cotton balls, medical tape, and bandages. There are two large white cupboards above the stainless steel sink; both secured by combination padlocks. There is a white medical curtain leading to the next room and Rory stares at it with curiosity, listening to the light hum of a humidifier nearby.
He approaches the medical curtain with caution, grabbing the left side of it slowly as he peeks in at the next room. To his relief, nobody is standing guard, which gives him the confidence to slide the curtain back and slowly move forward. This room is cut off from another room by a second medical curtain. His gaze lowers to six, small stainless steel tables in the center of the room and Rory’s heart drops when he looks at the top of each table. There are six cribs covered in Plexiglas that are each protecting a small, newborn baby. Rory looks down at these little faces and he is immediately in shock; opening and closing his eyes with disbelief. The tiny babies are sleeping peacefully in their cribs, each of them having facial features similar to Rory, including cheekbones and hair color. With the thought that most of his life he had been too busy or selfish to ever be a father, this revelation is like a spear through his gut. He swallows hard, feeling sick all over, as if he had been dragged into the house of Satan himself fifteen months ago. He puts his hand over his forehead, simultaneously feeling shocked, ashamed, betrayed, and wounded; a sickening array of emotions smashing down upon him like dominos made of stainless steel.
“It’s okay, Daddy’s here.” He says slowly, swallowing hard while he starts thinking of a way to rescue his children.
As he looks around the room, Rory doesn’t see anything large enough to safely transport the babies; only a few sanitized bottles and some equipment for checking blood pressure and temperature. He steps up to the next curtain and slides it back slowly, peering inside with hopes of finding something to save them. When he gazes into the next room, Rory falls to his knees. He puts his head down feeling the most awful shame of his life as he sees over fifty more cribs in the massive room; most of them holding babies at various stages of growth from one to six months. His body shakes with rage as he tries to hold himself still on all fours. He breathes in heavy gasps from his nose like an angry bull, and his body is convulsing inside with something that is between a panic attack and a heart attack. Rory grabs at his right side as he feels physical, stabbing pain from all of the stress. In this state of shame, he is beyond suicidal, beyond vomiting, and beyond counsel; there are no words for this feeling.
“I see you found the nursery.” Anthony says from behind him standing in front of the newborns and looking down with admiration at his own work.
As Rory turns, he sees Anthony Pezzloni staring at him with wicked affection, dangling a black semi-automatic pistol near his right leg. The older gangster is dressed in a black sport shirt and a pair of loose fitting carpenter jeans. He is wearing a thick gold chain and a pair of black running shoes. His gaze is sickly sweet as he looks at Rory with a disturbed fondness; almost as though this is a beautiful family moment for him.
“I never knew how much work went into keeping a baby healthy; there are so many products, and most of them are shit! Did you know that without the proper amount of Zinc, a kid can have an underdeveloped brain? There are so many vitamins and minerals a baby needs in their first few months to ensure health and optimal growth; it’s stressful finding the right mix, to be honest. We spent a lot of time on planning and research to find the best humidifiers, climate control- you name it.”
“What the fuck is this?” Rory asks with tears streaming down his face, still hovering over the concrete floor on his hands and knees.
“You know what this is, Rory,” Anthony begins with dark eyes, “this is you- paying me back… by any means necessary.” The muscular man nods his head slowly as he finishes his sentence, staring right through Rory.
“How many are there?” Rory asks, clenching his fists hard against the floor as if preparing to do knuckle pushups.
“We’ve delivered about forty-two healthy babies. Six of them have been sold to international buyers for five million each.” Anthony says in a dry voice. “Some of those buyers were at the silent auction a few months back. In order
for me to get you safely away from that auction, I had to promise to take care of everyone who had a seat at the table. This is how I can fulfill my promise and everybody wins.” He says, tapping the side of a crib with his free hand and not breaking his line of vision with Rory. “I make some new allies overseas, and build up enough cash so that I can take control of business in Miami and New York.”
“How the fuck do you do something like this and still look at yourself in the mirror?” Rory asks with a face full of anguish, seeking some type of humanity in his captor.
“Look, Rory, you’re the one who stuck your dick in all of those women. I just offered them an incentive to a better life and they took that incentive.” Anthony replies in a vindicated tone. “This isn’t so bad if you look at it from the right perspective. A lot of these kids will be treated like kings when they go overseas to start saving lives in other countries.” He speaks with a self-righteous smile, showing that he truly believes what he just said.
“But most of them will be treated like fucking cattle! And you know that! I’ve seen what they do to kids in Guam, and what they do to kids in the Philippines, and other hellish places of the world.”
From the far
The Golden Goose of Los Angeles Extended Edition Page 41
