Part 2
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of those depths.
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
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Chapter 12
Victory Baptist Church
Theresa, NY
January 2011
Spencer hated winter.
Winter in Upstate New York meant cold. Cold days and colder nights and snow banks plied up against buildings and roads. Because it was cold it also meant heaters, in hotel rooms and police stations and most of all in automobiles. And heaters meant dry air that sucked the moisture out of hair and skin and sinuses and eyeballs. And that last meant that he'd switched to his glasses for this trip. His contacts were driving him batty.
"I've never been so glad to have 20/20 vision." Ashley said.
She was driving while Spencer sat in the passenger seat and put in eye drops to help combat the dryness. "I always wondered what that would be like." He replied.
"Less fuss if nothing else. Okay, here we are." She looked at the building in front of them and then checked her rear view. "That car behind us is turning around. Guess they weren't following us."
"See." There was no reason for anyone to be following them out here, but Ashley's fresh academy training had made her misread the behavior of the driver behind them. He put his glasses back on and peered out at the building in front of them. "Why did they even bother with a steeple?" He wondered.
"Not every church can be a cathedral." She said.
"No, but a simple white clapboard country church has grace. This is an airplane hangar." They got out and walked around the back of the church, where it looked like people were loading things into a semi. "Excuse me." He called out as he pulled out his badge. "We're looking for William Maesden..."
"Gun!" Ashley called out.
It was an automatic reaction to go for his. But just as he cleared his holster something heavy landed on him from behind. It was a brief fight, but there were more of them than they had seen and they were pretty much all bigger. Neither he nor Ashley had a chance.
They ended up on their knees, their hands cuffed behind their backs, large men pushing down on their necks and shoulders to make them stay. Spencer looked up at this mountain of a man examining their badges. "What do you think we should do with them JD?" Someone asked.
The man looked from their badges to their new prisoners. "Take them with us." He said. "The Lord must have sent them this way for a reason. And I won't complain if my Master buys her. Get them in the truck."
After that it was the simple efficiency of an old-fashioned kidnapping. They were gagged, hooded, bound and tossed into the back of the semi. They drove for a while, were transferred, drove again, were transferred again, and then they felt the distinct motion of a boat.
Candlewood Suites
Watertown NY
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation
October 2011
"How many of them were there?" Hotch asked.
"Ten." Spencer replied. "They were moving two Elder's families to the island. The people had already gone, they were moving the household goods. Ashley and I surprised them."
"All right. What happened when you got to the island?"
"An auction."
The Castle
Grindstone Island
In the St. Lawrence River
January 2011
They were carried off the boat much the way they had been carried on it, one man at shoulders, one at ankles, swinging like sacks of grain. It was bitterly cold, but they weren't in it for long. Spencer felt them moved indoors, into warm spaces that smelled of leather and polish, of wealth, until they were taken into another room, this one cooler, and placed on the floor.
There was some kerfuffle as they tried to get his cuffs off and his scarf, coat and jacket were getting in the way. "Fuck it." The man leaning over him said, and once his wrists were free he felt them grab everything at his collar and pull back, pulling off all of it in one move. By the time he recovered from that the cuffs were back around his wrists and they were being attached to something hanging over head. Thankfully they freed his ankles before they hauled him up by the arms. He ended up standing there, his arms stretched high. Then they pulled the bag from his head and the gag from his mouth.
"We are Federal Agents!" Ashley said as soon as her mouth was free. "Do you have any idea..."
She didn't get to finish that thought. One of the men stepped up and backhanded her full force across the face. Spencer opened his mouth to say something when one of the men behind him reached around and clamped a hand the size of a dinner place around his jaw, painfully locking it in place. "We got six rules in this place. The first rule around here is no speaking to your betters until you're spoken to." The huge one they called JD said. "If you do I'll personally whip the hide off you pigs. Now, do we understand that?"
The pressure on Spencer's jaw lessened. This was some kind of killer pack, men who felt isolated and alienated from society and took their anger and resentment out on their victims. Speaking to them from the higher power position of law enforcement would only increase their anger, as would attempting to address them as equals. Only by supporting their belief in themselves as the superiors here could they get through this with little violence, and hopefully get to a point where they could find a way out of here. Which meant only one answer was the right choice. Hopefully Ashley would follow his lead. "Yes, Sir." Spencer said.
"Yes, Sir." Ashley repeated.
"Good." JD smiled. "Now, rule two is that you don't look your superiors in the eye." Spencer felt a hand on the back of his head pushing down until he was looking at JD's worn work boots. "That is a right reserved for persons and since you are not persons under the law of God you don't have the right. Understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. The third rule is that only persons have names. You are not persons so from now on you will have numbers." Spencer felt something cold pull around his neck. Then something was pressed against the back of his neck and someone threaded a fist in his hair to hold him still. He smelled the hot reek of welded metal. "If we hear you using names we'll have to spend some quality time reminding you that you are less than human." He looked Ashley over with a leer. "Which I would not complain about. At all. You are number 9543." He said to Ashley. "And you are number 9544." He said with a look at Spencer. "Now who are you again?"
Dehumanization. That and that these Unsubs weren't hiding their faces was not a good sign. "I am 9544, Sir." Spencer said.
"I am 9543, Sir."
"Very good. You two pigs learn quick. The fourth rule is that you do not fight. You two pigs may think you got moves but there are ten of us for each of you and we all carry. We've got tazers and nightsticks besides, and we've got no reason not to use them. Ain't no one every going to find you out here, you or your body. Understood?"
"Yes Sir"
"Yes Sir."
"The fifth rule is simple, we tell you to do something and you do it. Period. No debating, no fooling around, no nothing. First time obedience. You got that?"
"Yes Sir"
"Yes Sir."
"The sixth rule is that the Master's word is law. What they say goes, like the word of God coming down from heaven. And we are the cops who enforce that law. I don't have to explain to you two what that means, do I?"
"No, Sir."
"No, Sir."
JD nodded, satisfied. "All right. All right, let's show the Masters what they've got." He pulled a large knife from his pocket and walked up to Ashley with a smile. He took her by the collar and pressed the knife to her throat, causing her to hiss and pull back in surprise. But he didn't cut her, instead he turned the knife and drew it through her clothing like butter.
All of her clothing. Including her underwear.
When her top came open and her breasts fell free Spencer snapped his eyes away and kept them there. He heard the men's murmurs of pleasure as her clothing was peeled off and he felt the waves of rage coming off the young agent. Don't fight, he thought at her, don't fight. Pacify the Unsubs, don't antagonize them.
Then he felt hands grab the back of his collar and he had to fight down his own whimper. They were highly efficient and their knives extremely sharp. Five strokes, down his back, up each arm, down each leg, and he was peeled like you'd peel a banana, leaving him naked in the cool of the room. He fought back the sudden sense memory of a hot Las Vegas afternoon on a football field and the reek of burning fish livers and focused on the here and now as best he could.
Thankfully they barely spared a glance for his naked body. Their attention was focused on Ashley. Another reason to be thankful, they seemed to be standing back, not actually moving to touch her in any way. "Oh, I do hope you end up at my farm." JD murmured, looking over every inch of her body. "All right, I'll go tell the gentlemen we're ready."