Disclaimers: All characters from CSI: Miami are property of CBS. I own nothing connected with CBS or with CSI: Miami, I don't know anyone connected with CBS or with the show. I gain nothing from posting these stories save self satisfaction.
Title: Mutual Valor
Pairing: Horatio Caine/OC
Rating: NC 17 I know, 'M' is an accepted rating, but this is just in case you don't know, this is what 'M' means. This is not only for sexual content, but also for violence and references to sexual child abuse well.
Spoilers: There are references to previous episodes through fourth season.
Challenge: For you true experts on all CSI: Miami, the J's I use for story breaks, and the Sorority House, are references to one episode in particular. It will be up to you to figure out which episode and why I used the lines of J's.
Comments: Both negative and positive comments are always appreciated. I learn from the negative and enjoy the positive.
Thank you: Many thanks to my betas, Elena and Tonie. If not for you, this would have been a mess! I am truly grateful for your efforts.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!
Summary: Story: Sometimes the rescuer becomes the rescued.
Chapter 11: Horatio gets the clue he needs. The raid.
Chapter 11:
First thing in the morning, coming from the elevator, Horatio saw that both Ryan and Calleigh were on a collision course with him from two different directions. Of course, both started talking at once, stopped, and started again until the look on Horatio's face stopped them entirely. Since each had separate business with him, Calleigh's seniority put her first.
"I just heard from the District Attorney's office. They want us to hold off on arresting the guy who shot our canal vics. Haffman says they've been after the 14th Street Boyz' weapons cache for over a year. Since I've proven the gun that was used for this crime was hidden for four years, he says that means our guy is directly connected to the cache, which means the amount of firearms outweighs just taking one more gang member off the streets. He also says he wants to find this person and track him until he leads us to the place where the guns are kept." Her eyes seemed to sparkle in anticipation.
Horatio's hands flew to his hips, his eyebrows shot up and, as he did when agitated, he started talking to the floor. "When he says 'he' wants to find this person that means 'we' find this person and 'we' track him. You know that, don't you? Our manpower, our time."
Calleigh heard an edge in his tone he seldom used with his personal team members. She straightened her back, looked over at Ryan and back to Horatio, smiling up at his face. "Hey, we can handle it, you know that." She fluttered a hand in casual dismissal. "We've never been overloaded yet and this little thing isn't going to do it. I think it just makes this case more interesting." Being cute and blond, having a killer smile, and being right, all worked as usual; she saw Horatio's face relax a little.
"You'll be taking over the department, when?" He'd been appeased, and there was even something of a shine of admiration in his eyes.
She cocked an eyebrow into a mischievous look, "About the twelfth of never," and slowly stepped aside for Wolfe.
"Horatio, I got a hit on that search you had me do."
This was what he needed to hear. "Good work, Ryan! What have you got?"
"The license plate search in the Wyoming database revealed that in the last ten years only twelve Peugeots have been registered in that state. From there, it was easy to get drivers' licenses and from the photo IDs, I got three that sort of matched what you said about the ears. I called each one and, of those three, one, a Casper resident, is currently here in Miami, so I talked with a housekeeper but she didn't know where this guy stays when he's in Miami. I asked her what he did here but she wasn't very forthcoming."
"Did you find out where he is, Mr. Wolfe? I need to know where he is!" Horatio's urgent tones betrayed, his excitement.
"Ah, here's where I had to think. This one is a newer car and a luxury model, at that. That thing costs over fifty K! So of course the company wants to make sure the car is running well and keeps track of their clients so they can schedule maintenance." He almost paused for effect, but he could see his boss was running out of patience. "So, I called the American office for Peugeot and found his last scheduled maintenance was done at their dealership here in Miami. I called this dealership and they had his Bal Harbor address. Here." He handed the paper over to Horatio and watched as the man wheeled about and nearly ran to the elevator, pulling the phone from his pocket as he went. "Um, I guess I don't need to add I didn't find anything on the chauffeur?" He said this last partly to himself and partly to Calleigh.
Smiling in sympathy, she explained, "Always give the bad news to Horatio first, Ryan, otherwise you'll never get it out."
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Followed by a squad car and Frank Tripp, Horatio was murderously calm by the time he arrived at the address Ryan had handed him. It was a modest mansion of merely five thousand square feet, with a private slip large enough for a fifty-foot yacht. He instructed the uniform that had accompanied Frank to stay at the front, and the other two to drive around to the delivery alley in the back, while he and Frank then buzzed the front gate.
Inside, the two were kept waiting for nearly half an hour, which, by the standards of the rich or the political, was not too bad, according to Horatio's experience. They were finally greeted by the owner of the Peugeot, Howard Kern, a tall, almost spare man, in his early sixties, who, if not for his large fleshy ears, would have been considered, by most, to be good-looking.
Horatio and Frank had their cover story down pat, since their first aim was to find the chauffeur. First, inquiring if the driver was around, told he'd quit suddenly the day before, they inquired as to his present whereabouts, saying they had reason to suspect him of a crime. Kern started out by saying he had fired Torquemada for being argumentative and failing to make an important delivery, not mentioning, of course, the nature of the delivery. After going on at some length about the unreliability of the "local Spanish help," he finally provided them with the man's name, cell phone number, and what he thought might be his home address. They thanked Kern and left.
Frank exploded, outside at the cars. "I wanted to bust that guy's face in! Why not arrest him?"
"In due time Frank, in due time. I'm fairly certain this guy doesn't know the address of where his "pleasures" came from. He's the type who doesn't inquire about such trivialities, he just gets what he wants. To arrest him now might mean losing the case on him and we need to find the girls first and, to do that, we need to get to that driver. Rest assured, we'll soon be dealing with Mr. Kern." Horatio settled his dark glasses over his eyes. "We have a witness ready to testify."
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On the way to Alvaro Torquemada's address, Horatio put in a call to their audiovisual expert at the lab, to give Dan Cooper the cell phone number, he knew he would hear back before he arrived. As expected, Cooper returned the call after ten minutes and not only had verified the address but also corroborated that the phone was at that address, having called and held a meaningless conversation until electronics traced the location.
Alvaro was easy to find and, much to Frank's disgust, gave up without a fuss. Sure enough, the elderly man smelled of old lard and vanilla. This was enough to take him to the department for questioning.
Basically, an uncomplicated man, the chauffeur had been, at first, unaware of the use his employer had for the quiet little girls he picked up and returned, every couple of weeks. In broken English, Alvaro explained he'd had to call a different phone number each time to receive route and timing instructions, although the location was always the same, a warehouse in the port district. Each time he called, he was told from how to approach the warehouse, from which direction, and at what time. He'd drive into the warehouse, the child was deposited into the back seat, and he'd return to his employer's residence. When returning to the house, he'd park the car in the attached garage, with instructions to leave the child and to 'go about his business.' The employer would tell him when it was time to return her, and he'd follow the same procedure in reverse. Thus, he seldom actually noticed the child he carried.
This last time, however, for whatever reason, Kern had simply told Alvaro to get the girl from the entry hall in the house, put her in the car, and take her back. Seeing her skimpy attire, asking her a few questions, he realized the awful thing he'd been party to. Not liking his boss anyway, and since he was considering leaving the temporary job as it was, he'd simply dumped the child where she would be found, brought the car back to his boss, handed over his keys, and quit. He was greatly relieved to give up the address of the warehouse he had frequently visited.
Within minutes of concluding the interview, Torquemada's description having cleared up many things, Horatio was on the phone to all concerned parties, including Manuela.
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Five hours later, a council of war was being held in a large PD conference room where large monitors displayed maps and routes to the warehouse. A surveillance helicopter with cameras, as well as heat sensors, was always feeding information, continuously updating the displays.
"Ladies and gentlemen, here is the situation as we currently understand it." Horatio stood in front of the largest display monitor showing a map around their target. "Our primary is a group of approximately twelve to fifteen girls, aged about nine to perhaps fourteen. I wish I could be more precise for you, but our information is not exact.
"They are kept in a substructure within this warehouse, basically a box within a box. The heat sensors indicate there is approximately a twenty-foot perimeter around the substructure holding what we think are cartons of supplies. There are three large bay doors, one per side of the target warehouse." He pointed out the fact that two of the bay doors could be approached from only two directions each but the third was faced by a long boulevard leading directly out from it as well as a cross street in front. Additionally, there was also a fourth entry, a street door.
"There may be surveillance cameras on the streets so our approach will have to be covert until we are ready for entry. We have no idea how many men are in that warehouse, nor do we know if they are armed, so the plan, ladies and gentlemen, will be to blitz the place with an armored SWAT vehicle."
After outlining the procedures they were all to follow, the logistics of the operation, which was the easy part, he began the hard part, explaining what to do with the girls once their captors were taken into custody.
"These children have been so mistreated we have no idea what their emotional condition might be. They will not, I repeat, not, look at you as rescuers; some will undoubtedly try to hide from you or even possibly try to escape. When you find even a single girl, you will not touch her, but you'll set up a guard team, both to prevent her escape and the captors from reaching her." He briefly looked to Manuela and saw her slight nod in agreement.
"At no time are you to touch these children; men are not their friends and trying to remove them will only make matters worse for them. As for you female officers, I'm sorry, but dressed as you are, you will look too much like a man, especially to a panicking child; you are not to touch the children, either. Even if a child is injured, you are to wait for the medical rescue team. This team, by the way, will be all women."
"This is going to be hard, folks. We are going in to rescue the children, but we can't touch them, not even to remove them to safety, so we are to concentrate on taking their captors, making the area safe for them. There are going to be a lot of us creating havoc around a very delicate primary, so please think about every action."
He had purposely refrained from warning the team against bringing any harm to the loathsome criminals that were holding the children. He couldn't urge them to stomp the vermin into the ground, but he wouldn't tell them not to, especially when he wasn't sure what his own reactions were going to be.
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About ten o'clock that night, everybody confirmed they were in place around the warehouse. Twenty medical rescue personnel, plus Manuela, in seven medical vehicles, were on side streets, scheduled to come in last; five unmarked cars with ten heavily armed officers who were to cover exits, were ready to move at the signal; finally, five armored squad cars, an addition to the MDPD since nine-eleven, a heavily armored truck packed with fourteen SWAT members, and two CSI Hummers with six officers were also in place.
At this point, the SWAT team leader took over. As soon as he heard the last team radio in to confirm position, he gave the signal to go, setting the rescue operation in motion.
From three blocks away, on a wide, deserted boulevard—the one approach that was straight into the warehouse—the driver floored the armored vehicle. Built along the lines of a bank truck, powered by an engine that was barely a step down from a jet, its wheels noisily laid a rubber trail. Fifteen seconds after the drag-race scream of tires, the truck rammed through the bay door and ten seconds after that, four of the SWAT team had two men on the ground, weapons aimed at their heads, and nine more had made sure the two other bay doors were secure while one stood point. This brought in the second wave of officers, four of whom yanked the two men to their feet, cuffed them, and hauled them out.
Twenty seconds after the door was down, Horatio, Delko, Wolfe, and two CSI's from the night shift, entered the warehouse, guns drawn. Already, two SWAT members had battered down the locked door to the central structure and entered with the rest of the elite team following behind. The smaller structure, the house, had thin walls and only sheets of plywood laid over supports as a covering, so the yells of the men and the screams of children could be plainly heard echoing against the metal roof overhead.
Just before Horatio reached the splintered door to the house, he heard the unmistakable sound of a man running. "Delko! Wolfe! One's coming out! Don't let him reach the bay door! Get him!"
Three guns swiveled to the house door and tracked.
Bursting out over the remains of the door, as he came up against two guns pointed at his eyes, the man skidded to a stop just in time to feel a third gun nudge his ear. From behind gun number three came a voice with a tone he would never forget; if death itself could speak, it would sound like Horatio's thick snarl telling him, "Get down on the ground now. I want you face down, arms stretched out above your head." The man dropped hard and put his face down so quickly he bashed his nose.
Waiting for the man to be removed by officers gave Delko a chance to take a look around, and he was astounded by the similarity between the setup he was looking at and one he had seen about three years before involving a so-called Sorority House, a house built within a warehouse. Only then, the girls had been of age, and not captive by any means. Seeing this, he made a mental note to look into any of the possible connections.
The trio continued into the house through a hallway so narrow, Delko had to turn slightly sideways to avoid scraping his broad shoulders on the walls. The first two rooms they encountered, one on either side of the hall, were empty, but one glance told them what they were used for. Each eight by eight cell held only a block of foam on the floor, slightly larger than a single bed, rudely covered over with a mattress pad, and a wrinkled sheet on top of that, all of which had what looked like brown splotches interspersed among many other lighter stains. Both rooms had several piles of more soiled sheets.
The house itself was a square within a square, the inner one, a large single room, was where the girls were apparently kept. Coming upon that room, Horatio saw that three of the walls were lined with six, triple-tiered, metal slat beds, the bottom tier of which was literally on the floor. None of the top tiers of the beds showed occupancy, being without mattresses, and were apparently used for storage, if the open cardboard boxes on them were any indication. The beds had only crumpled sheets and miserable little pillows on wafer thin mattresses. Two more mattresses, hardly wider than a child's torso, lay in the center of the barely forty foot square floor.
In that room, as instructed, two SWAT officers, stood at the door, one facing inward, the other out. Inside, nine naked children, most of whom were wailing loudly, sat grouped together on the two mattresses on the floor.
Looking over the shoulders of the two men, Horatio, quickly noted the fourteen beds, and if one was Viola's, he hoped that would mean thirteen girls kept in the house at max. Nine were in here, so, there were four more to find, but one or more might be out 'on call.' 'Damn! But this was not going to be easy.'
Standing in a doorway directly across the hall from the girls' room, an officer was facing outward, staring at his spread feet, another screaming child, cowering in the doorless bathroom behind him. That made ten children found.
Child number eleven was in the middle of a standoff situation. One of the captors, a man in his thirties with dark brown, curly hair, was crouched on another filthy mattress in one of the rooms, his back against a wall, holding a knife to the throat of the little girl he had in front of him. Facing him were three SWAT officers, rifles aimed and behind them were two uniforms with drawn pistols. The girl was being used as a shield, held in such a way, as the man swung her from side to side, that none of these men had a clear shot.
Out in the hallway, hidden from the man's sight by the partially closed door but with a view through the hinged side, Horatio quickly assessed the scene. The man was screaming to let him go, threatening to cut the child and one of the SWAT officers was shouting for the man to release her and lay the knife down. The girl, her solemn face showing no emotion, was quiet, arms tossing about as if boneless, allowing herself to be manipulated like an inanimate doll.
Simultaneously, the knife moved, the child shrieked, and Horatio, aiming through the crack that gave him the only clear shot, fired his pistol.
A second later, Horatio, holstering his gun and shouting, "No! Oh, no, sweetheart, no!" ran into the room, shoved the SWAT team members aside, scooped the bleeding child from in front of the now crumpled man, and ran with her in his arms out of the door. Seeing Wolfe and Delko to his left, who had been behind him in the hallway, he raced right, yelling, "Get out of the way! I'm coming through," and, "Medic," as he thundered through the halls and out the battered entry.
The SWAT team leader had already alerted the medical team, which had rolled to the scene as soon as all of the police had reached their positions. A gurney was ready in the warehouse rubble as Horatio erupted out of the house doorway, and a doctor grabbed the moaning child from his arms, laid her on the bed, and started immediately administrating aide in tandem with an assistant.
Panting from his efforts, watchful of the child's care, Horatio was catching his breath when he saw both Manuela and Calleigh coming towards him from the bay door entry. They had been standing by, ready to start their jobs. Calleigh, who would be collecting any physical samples from the girls, and then evidence from the warehouse and substructure, was helping Manuela maneuver through the damage.
Manuela, seeing the child being taken care of, turned to him, "My God! You have blood all over you. Are you okay?"
He had to stop and think—had he been shot at? He shook his head, "No! I'm okay. It's from the child. One of those shit-bastards slit her throat!"
"Was that the shot I heard?"
As his breathing slowed, Horatio nodded in response to Calleigh's question. Then, realizing where he was, he instructed, "Manuela, get ready to come in; there are at least ten girls in there. They're protected, right now, but I think there are more. As soon as we've cleared the scene, gotten all of those...men out of there, I'll give the signal."
Calleigh and Manuela watched after him until he disappeared back inside, looked at each other, and then over at the bleeding child. Seeing how dangerous the situation was, both were anxious for Horatio, but Calleigh was also envious of the action, and Manuela felt concern about how he might be handling it all.
Hearing commotion from the other side of the building, Horatio wound his way through the hallways, his gun drawn, until he reached the hall near the front entrance. There, he encountered two SWAT officers bravely trying to follow orders to not touch the children and yet keep a screaming, scrabbling girl between them from getting around their legs. They were both facing her, tracking her efforts to dodge around their boots, dancing clumsily from side to side and countering most of her moves, but occasionally, one had to bend down to use a hand to stop her head from squeezing past a knee or ankle. She was mostly on all fours, making little whining sounds between the screams, as she ran back and forth trying to find a way out.
Beyond, at the front entry that had been set up like a grand foyer, his hands up in a defensive posture, a man, dressed in a suit and tie, was crouched on the floor surrounded by four SWAT members, rifles aimed at his head.
One of the men trying to keep the child corralled shouted to the Lieutenant, "He was trying to take this one out the front way. We got him just in time."
Seeing the incident was well in hand, Horatio holstered his pistol and stood by while the officers arrested the man.
Several minutes later, after the man in the foyer had been taken outside under custody, Horatio was stooping in the hallway, peering between the other SWAT member's legs, who, he suddenly realized , was a woman. He shifted to a squatting position, to get a better view of the child, which put his head just about level with the woman's rear end; he hoped she was either unaware of this or that they would be able to laugh about it later.
By this time, the naked child, who was probably not more than eleven years old, was crouching tensely, knees drawn under her, face down between the two SWAT members, obviously terrified out of her mind and exhausted by her efforts. Her back, rippled by a show of ribs as well as her spine, heaved from the exertions.
Horatio wanted to get the hallway clear and, so, needed to get her moved. Knowing it was too early to bring in the medical team, he realized he'd have to, once again, violate his own directives he called out as gently as he could. "Hey, sweetheart? Can you hear me? My name is Horatio, and I'm here to help you. I know your friend, Viola. Did you know she's safe, now?" His voice changed to a softer, gentler pitch that he hoped was just loud enough for her to hear. "I'm a police officer and these people are, too. We're all here to help you just like we helped Viola." He paused, watching for any reaction, but there was none. "I know, we're making an awful lot of noise and being scary but, say, I bet you'd like to join the other girls in the bedroom—they're all safe in there. Would you like me to take you there? It's just around the corner, a really short way."
Would she believe him? Would she ever be able to listen to a man's voice without shuddering? Her head moved just the slightest iota.
Standing, he whispered quietly in the SWAT member's ear. He got a nod and a quiet reply and, when he hunkered down again, thought he saw another head movement. "You know what, sweetheart? The officer on this side is a lady. Officer Williams? Would you say hello?"
"Hi. My name is Carlotta. Would you come to me? I'll help you," she offered in a warm contralto voice.
Another head movement, this time a quick look at the black boots near her head followed before she returned her face to the floor.
"I know, I'm dressed really awful. You poor angel." Without urging, the woman knelt at the child's side. "Please, little darlin', come on; the floor's all nasty and cold." Turning to Horatio with an inquiring look, and getting a nod in response, she plucked gently on the girl's shoulders, pulling her up.
Horatio stood as the woman knelt, ready to block any exit attempt, but there was none. The child listlessly allowed herself to be raised to her feet and guided down the hallway; she had given up all hope. Sending up a silent prayer that these damages could eventually be repaired, he drew his gun again and resumed the hunt.
Ten minutes more of searching, opening what cupboards had doors, and peering under piles of sheets revealed no more occupants, an "all clear" was declared.
Standing at the door to the house, Horatio first radioed the SWAT leader to signal the medical team to enter the house, before calling Frank, who had been put in charge of holding the men in custody.
No sooner had Frank answered than he had to say, "Hold on a second, Frank," and turned to the medics, "Ten girls in the central room down the hallway, turn left; door on the right. Another girl in the bathroom directly across the hall from there." He gestured at the people in line carrying stretchers, medical kits, and blankets and nodded to Manuela as she passed.
"OK, Frank, did you hear that? There were fourteen beds and, figuring the one we have in the hospital, there should have been at least thirteen girls in the house, but we only have twelve. I got the impression that one of the men you're sitting on out there—the snazzy purple suit—would be the one to know where the business was. Would you maybe like to persuade him to reveal the number of children he's got out and where they might be?" He paused, listening, his lips spreading into an evil grin. "Frank, I don't give a damn. Just get him to tell you how many girls are out and where and as quickly as possible." He closed the phone with a snap.
"Calleigh!" His powerful shout echoed as he pulled his weapon from its holster and waited for her to come from a corner of the warehouse, where she had begun her visual sweep for evidence. When she arrived, already dusty from crawling over some boxes, he handed it to her and said, as if announcing the time of day, "I believe I killed one in there."
Calleigh, reaching for the weapon, replied almost primly, "Only one? Pity." She paused, thoughtfully looking at the pistol, and then handed it back. "Isn't there at least one girl left to find? This isn't over yet, and you might still need a weapon. Between getting trace from the girls and doing this place, I'll be on this scene all night and then back at the lab, so I'll be easy to find. Just give it to me later when you think you're done."
Retrieving it, he nodded slowly. "I think, in these circumstances, that will be close enough for procedure."
Calleigh smiled, "Close enough for government work, anyway." She knew she'd get flak from IAB brass at best and from Stetler at worst, but she didn't really care.
Horatio went inside, ostensibly to check on the medical rescue efforts, but he was really looking for Manuela. Having witnessed her reactions to Viola, he wondered how she was holding up, here. Dodging the first team coming out with a girl on a stretcher, he went to the central room and peered in.
Unseen by her, he saw Manuela, on her knees, sitting back on her ankles, amidst the victims and the medical team. She was smiling, patting one girl's arm and talking in a reassuring manner to another. All of the children were calmer than before, looking around in wide-eyed wonder.
To him, Manuela appeared younger looking and seemed almost relaxed. 'She's in a familiar element,' he thought, 'surrounded by a harem of children, as she had been so many years ago.'
His phone chirped. "Yes, Frank?" He listened, his eyes glinting. "I'll meet you at your car. The CSI team needs the equipment in the Hummers, so I'll ride with you." He glanced again at Manuela, who remained unaware of his presence, and turned to leave.
"Eric, Ryan, I'll meet you at the lab after you've finished here. Calleigh, come with me, please, we have the location of the other little girl, and I'll need you when we transport her." His bark resounded sharply from the metal girders above.