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Far From Grace - Painful Truth
Driving down the street, a blanket of dead, featureless night covering the entire city. No stars in the sky, city's so polluted that it even blots out the moon in some nights the chief told me. After spending a few days here, seven girls turning up missing doesn't sound like it would surprise people here. Doesn't mean I'll forgive it. My knuckles go white as I clench the wheel. It all plays out in my head like a bad nightmare; seven girls, crammed into a cargo container like tuna. They're shipped overseas, tied up, force fed just to keep them alive. Then after God knows how many days at sea, they're flown somewhere else, to Kazakhstan, to be prodded and sold like cattle. Human trafficking, I've heard about it but I never thought it was real. I try to think of why anyone would want to take girls away from their families to sell them overseas like that. Only one answer stands out and then I remember Annie. Annie, youngest of the seven. She's nine years old. Nine years old and that bastard Khan is going to send her to Kazakhstan to... to... The image flashes in my head for a moment and I make the car roar like an angry beast.
I takes less than ten minutes to get to the docks, it felt like hours inside my head. I leave the car about two blocks out. Don't need any unwanted attention. No cops yet, at least I can get some work done without any interruptions. The docks are surrounded by a chainlink fence standing at about fifteen feet tall with barbed wire at the top. Honestly, getting past something like this was boring even back when I was twelve. I climb up quiet as a spider, lean my body in through the space between two looping wires and land a free-falling dismount without even bending my knees. Seriously, this place needs a guard dog.
I came here thinking I'd smell salt water but the air is thick with this nauseous stench. Hard to describe, must be rusted metal mixed with diesel fuel mixed with the content of every flushed toilet in the city. When this is done, I'm so totally starting a petition to get this place cleaned up. It's so bad I have to stop, lean down and spit out the nasty taste floating in my mouth. It's an evil smell, it can't be man made, it must be something supernatural. It sounds crazy but it's true, every step I take it feels like the stink is trying to strangle me, push me away. It's the stink of evil, it doesn't want me here, it wants me away from those girls. That's why I press on.
People in the distance, I can hear them. Keep my head down, try to see who they are. They don't look like dock workers, no uniforms. About four of them, can't make them out, too dark, one of them looks huge I see some cars nearby; a pickup, a ratty SUV, and something familiar, a sports car. Detective Pewter, you son of a bitch. I try to look around, trying to find the right freight container, one with a Kazakhstan symbol. It takes some time but I find it.
Five of them, just like Wade said. I pick the locks one by one. First two were filled boxes that were sporting labels from a company that makes bargain basement computers. The third one opens and I can't believe what I see. All seven of them are there... and more! A quick head count. Twenty girls, twenty girls, all under sixteen and Annie isn't the youngest in the bunch anymore. Dear God... how did so many of these girls go missing without the police knowing? Is this even all of them? I try not to lose it but it's hard, especially when I look at them. They're scared, they're in pain. Judging by their clothes, some of them have been in there for days, maybe weeks. Problem with my mind is that it's always thinking, always looking at all possibilities. I see some of them with dried blood on their inner thighs, I just want my brain to stop working. These poor girls.
Damn it, I let my mind drift off, concentrated too much on what these girls must've suffered through that I wasn't aware of my own surroundings. Someone grabs me from behind, someone big, arms as thick as tree trunks. Lifts me straight off the ground, can't stomp on his foot. Arms pinned, they're useless. Must be near his head, I can feel his chest heaving on my back. I trust up my head and connect to his chin as hard as I can. He groans, I get a massive headache but it's a chance to escape. Try to slip free but his grip hasn't let up. Damn it.
A split second after my failed escape, he starts squeezing. It hurts, bad. This man... not strong naturally...steroids, the kind you can only buy off the streets. I can feel every last one of his arm veins cutting into me during that anaconda squeeze. I try to resist, keep my arms stiff, it helps a little until he rams me into the metal wall of the freight container. Makes me lose focus for a second, long enough to feel the full force of his freakishly enhanced strength. Feels like my lungs are being crushed like cheap soda cans. Can't breath, at all, body goes limp. Bastard... I can hear him breath out a content groan against the back of my head.
He drops me on the floor and puts his giant boot on my back before I even have a chance to try anything. Looking at the ground, trying to catch my breath, someone puts their wingtip under my chin and forces me to look up. Pewter, you'll pay for this. "Well, well Ms. Possible. I must say I'd never expect you to figure it out so fast on your own. I guess now that you know my dirty secret, I suppose I'll have to turn myself in and give up the millions of dollars I'm being paid for this little business venture."
"Save the act... the police are on their way... those girls are going home, one way or another."
He smirks, he did something. Shit... "Yeah, about that. Since I was already at the docks, investigating a lead, I radioed the chief and told him that it was all quiet here when he tried to fill me in. See, he had this silly notion that something was happening at the docks because you're little fat friend told him you cracked the case. Took some time to make it sound convincing but they're probably all back at the station by now."
"You'll never get those girls on that ship... I'll make sure of that."
He kicks me across the cheek. Doesn't hold back either, my neck hurts as bad as my face from how hard it snapped to the side. "Fucking little skank, you can't help them. But I guess I should be thankful that you did come. I was wondering what kind of price I could get for someone with your kind of name recognition and now I'll find out." Head's spinning from the kick, didn't see the chloroformed cloth until it's already over my face. That stink, that evil stink, it wants me away from those girls, passing out... I failed.