The man watches as the others half lead, half drag the women into the steel containers.
It was a good haul he thinks as he counts the girls. Twelve, fourteen, fifteen...
he doesn't know their ages, doesn't really care except for the fact that all of them weren't old enough to drink. There were some pretty ones among them and hopefully those were the virgins of the group. They're wearing party clothes, thick make up on their face which barely hid the fact they were obviously underage and did nothing to hide their flushed cheeks. At first glance one could mistake them for a group of girls who had a little too much to drink. A second glance and they'd notice the half lipped smiles, glazed bloodshot eyes and immediately turn the other way. After all, it was simple logic to avoid dopeheads.
He chuckled. If there was one good thing the Merchants had done for this city it was the fact that they had provided plenty of targets for their trade. With them around someone was never simply 'missing'. Not when said person was seen with the very well known dealer that sells out of their boot behind the school. Especially so if they were last seen willingly sneak into a night club which no minor was normally allowed to enter. By the time the authorities would finally decide that they really were missing said person would be on the other side of the world enjoying their new... accommodations and he'd be, well.
Lowest price was half a grand regardless of gender or age.
Double that if it was a girl.
Double that once again if said girl was below eighteen.
Couple that with his skill in the business, pointing out their age, their smooth skin, highlight their pretty faces, how they'd never been with a man and you could get as high as four grand a piece.
Of course he never got the full cash off, only a... barely equitable cut. Without the organization he could never capture so many girls unnoticed not to mention finding a buyer to take them from him. But the cut wasn't bad and now that the tyrant Lung was out of the picture it could be possible for him to haggle a raise. The Asian gangs were taking on a new shape. More ambitious, more profitable. With his much valued contribution to the group it would only be fair for him to take a bigger slice of the pie. With his reputation in the business higher than ever this being his thirteenth sell; sixteen girls being sold straight to the-
wait.
"Li!" he yells, "Why do I see only fifteen? Where's my sixteen?"
"Li's stuck at the truck." another man, Qin, answers instead, "He's having trouble moving sixteen."
"Then go help him!" he hisses, "Don't you idiots know how important today's shipment is? Go! I'll watch the cargo." I scowl pulling out my handgun as I watch my idiot partner walk off into the dim lights.
It wasn't cheap making the dockworkers turn a blind eye to a few 'security glitches' or to have them 'accidentally' forget to log a shipment but using the cargo docks was the best option for trade in the bay and that was the only reason they were willing to pay such a pretty penny for its services. It was crucial that every second was used to it's fullest. Speaking of which...
"Qin! Where the fuck has he gone off to?" I look to the only remaining man, Shin, who only shrugs as he shoves the last girl (excluding sixteen) into the container, "Do I have to do everything my-"
"Oh, look." one of the druggies point upwards, "An owl. Coo."
An owl?
He look towards where she's poi-
.
He taste blood and concrete on his tongue and he has to blink spots out of his sight.
What?
Happened?
.
Two people are fighting, one of them clearly better than the other. They're quick, dodging and ducking while delivering lightening quick blows to the other's face, ribs, arms... The opponent finally swings a fist but the other grabs the arm and twists hard. Crunch.
There's a scream. It's familiar. It's...
The fight finishes with a vicious kick to the throat and the victor of the fight turns to him. Circles of dull yellow bore into him.
It's her.
shit. shit. shit. shit. shit!
He lunges for the fallen gun whirling the weapon towards...
Shin falls to the ground alone. The yellow eyes are gone.
He holds the gun with both hands, trembling.
He needs to hide. The containers! Hide among them.
Tap-tap-tap.
Footsteps. The psycho's above him!
Tap-tap-tap.
He fires a shot and flinches as the bullets ricochet off the steel walls.
Tap-tap-tap.
Another shot creates sparks.
.
Tap-tap-tap
.
Tap-tap-tap
.
.
.
...tap-tap-tap
.
"Where are you!" he screams, "Show yourself! I-"
Then there's a painful stab in his leg and he barely has time to look down at his feet before his feet are yanked out from beneath him and he's being dragged from behind.
He drops the gun his fingernails biting into the asphalt, desperate to gain some, any leverage but the grounds too smooth. He's pulled deeper into the shadows and suddenly the force pulls upwards and he's hanging from his feet and-
Yellow eyes stare at him from the dark.
He screams.
.
.
I watch as the officers finally manage to haul the blubbering man down from the lamppost. His face is beaten blue, eyes bloodshot and he's covered in his own piss. The police will learn he'd been hanging upside down for eight hours.
"That's wrong." Kurt says from the driver's seat, "Torturing someone like that. That's crossing a bad line."
"He's alive." I murmur just loud enough for him to hear, "That's more than what he deserves."
"Taylor-" He's going to lecture me, something about being better than them but I'm not in the mood to hear him.
"The dead girl." I say, "The one they found in the trunk. I knew her."
I'm still looking at the perp through the car window but I know Kurt's staring at me.
"She was at Winslow." I continue, "She was... She was getting bullied too. She has a little brother at home who likes chocolate too much but their family's too poor so she works overnight jobs so she could support her family and buy her little brother chocolate bars." I finally look away to look at Kurt in the eye, "Maybe I'm biased about the whole thing but every breath he takes is a waste of human resources and I hope that every breath he takes is just... painful."
I don't look away. Challenging him to argue with me.
He doesn't.
He knows better now.
"Let's go." he looks away and they drive away from the docks.
.
The Docks.
Looking out there, seeing the brand new gear, all those shipments, the ferry operation going strong. Dad would've been ecstatic. It'd had been his dream to see the Bay come to life again but looking at it now...
The Union wasn't what it used to be. It still wasn't a very successful enterprise but things were getting better. Money was starting to flow again, people were starting to get work. The problem was that too much was happening too fast. The Docks had been cutting jobs left and right trying to stay afloat but the sudden influx of shipments and opportunities meant that they had to accept any hands that they could get... even if the hands had specks of blood on them. Maybe dad could have kept the gangs out, made sure that the dockside stayed clean, stayed true but it's hard to think that when you know how much dirty money goes through the docks every day. It was too big a target to stay free.
Kurt did his best, ran the place, kept the numbers, met every new face that joined the Union and others tried to help but simply put, there was too much work, too many corners they couldn't cover and at the end of it all... too many people were tired of staying poor.
It always began with simply looking the other way for a few seconds.
The only positive side to it all was the fact that the vast amounts of profit ensured that no single gang could take over the docks. Try and...
nobody wanted a repeat of the dockside massacre.
.
It's thinking of those bad nights that make me glad that he never got to see what it had become. And it makes me gladder still that I never got to see the man he would've become if he saw the docks as it was today.
Barring my last conversation with him he'd been the happiest I'd seen him in a long long time.
I hope you're happy dad where you are dad.
You fucking bastard.
.
There's a few hours to burn before the meeting with Fortress Constructions so Kurt drops me off at the library where I pick among the new books along with a few old. Reading the same old book ten times over may be dull to the average reader but there were people like mom me who found new beauty in every fresh read. It's also my own little way of escaping reality for a short while.
I'm halfway through City of Thieves before I'm disturbed.
Footsteps and the irrhythmic sound of a cane against marble.
"Never took you one as an enjoyer of historical fiction." Horace murmurs as he sits down next to me, "Always thought you'd enjoy the real thing more. Definitely took you for a lover of classics. Any chance of Moby Dick among that pile of yours?"
"Moby Dick's for particularly depressing tuesdays." I look up and nod to the rat on Horace's shoulder, "Hello Hugo. How's school?"
The rat squeaked and waved while the man scowled. "Unsuccessful."
"That's a shame." I go back to my page, "Am I allowed to ask what the problem was?"
"Social." he grunts, "as always. It's nobody's fault really. Probably would've been much worse if it were Winslow."
"Not probably." I say turning a page, "I guess homeschooling then?"
"Need to find a good tutor first." the rat squeaks in terror and buries itself under his coat, "Oh, shut-... Anyway that's enough about school. I'm not here for that."
"You shouldn't be here at all." I close my book, trying to pretend to read any longer would only spoil my joy from it, "And that makes me imagine things. None good."
"After your spectacular dismantlement of the ABB." his voices reaches a whisper, "The Asians have been busy. New factions have been forming and dissolving. Triads, Yàngbǎn, Korean Mafia, Japanes Mafia etcetera etcetera. Lot's of new players have been peaking their heads in BB the last few weeks but things have somehow stabilized."
"I've heard," I admit, "I haven't managed to figure who's the big player though."
"That's the thing." his hands grip tight on his cane, "Neither have I. He's had his pet thinker working on the problem too but she's got nothing either and my employer doesn't like that very much. It's scaring him. Look Darling-"
I glare at him. "Call me that again and I break your arm."
He smirks, "If you want my honest opinion-"
"I don't."
"You should embrace it. You already use people's prejudices during your night walks. Use them during your day too." he shrugs, "There're worse names to be called by than Darling of the Docks."
"I don't-" I stopped myself.
Inhale. Exhale.
Slow down.
"Horace why are you here?"
Horace's smile faded and he look away, through a window where the sun shone. "Someone's been looking for you. Using your old looks. Using your old words. And if they're using the old you as a template..." he trails off before looking at me, "You know how much I owe you. So please... take a break. When the moon rises and someone shouts for help, ignore it. Just for once."
I stay silent as he throws me a pleading look before leaving quietly.
Oh, Horace.
Maybe I gave you too much credit.
You clearly don't know me as well as I thought you did.
I wait for a moment before standing up and returning my books.
Reality called once again.