"Hello," said Ali. "Annika let me know you're back here. Wow—you really went all out." He looked around the room at the kids and their toys.
"It was Roderick," said Jason, more on guard after Lexi's revelation. "He gave us these things."
"That was generous of him. But now—I'm afraid it's snack time." He winked at the kids.
"Ohh-kayyy," said Livi and Sari in unison. Karma and Abbi ushered the kids out. Mina, Lexi, and Tanya lingered in the doorway, looking back at Jason and Connie. Then the volunteer gently pulled the door shut and they were gone.
It was even more urgent now that they get these kids away from this orphanage. He wanted to ask Lexi more about the disappearances. But perhaps he could later. Perhaps, like Connie had said, the three girls could come to the palace while the adoption was pending. Or perhaps he could at least get them into another house….
Something was wrong here. Ali was at the heart of it. Jason was sure of it…although he couldn't prove anything…yet.
Ali sauntered into the room. "So, I've got a proposal for you. I've contacted the police chief of Zelise, Elise Holz. She says she's working to crack Leon Kohl, get the names of his accomplices and see if he's part of Yavesh. She's putting maximum pressure on him, but she thinks an actual agent might have more luck. Are you up for it?" He gazed at Jason searchingly.
"What do you mean, maximum pressure?"
"Oh, in Zelise they don't handle criminals with kid gloves. Asking nicely won't do." Ali grinned.
"That's a euphemism for torture."
Ali shrugged. "What of it? These guys are the lowest of the low. They don't deserve pleasant treatment, nor will they respond to it."
"That's not how I work."
"Perhaps you'll make an exception for a man who sells kids."
Jason's stomach turned over. Just recently, he'd hit a suspected trafficker. He didn't want to sink that low again. "If I hurt them, I've become them. There are better ways."
"Suit yourself. But I'm not sure if these people will respond to anything else."
"He hasn't given in so far."
"Could be a matter of time. An incisive strike could do it—from an experienced agent. But who knows, maybe another approach could work. Can't say I'm an expert. Are you willing to try your hand at him?"
"Well…" Jason didn't want to be tempted into lashing out in anger again; there was no guarantee, with these traffickers. But it was a chance to get information to rescue kids…perhaps even a clue to bring down Yavesh. And this way, Jason could divert a brutal interrogation—to, frankly, a more effective method…though it might take longer. And this wouldn't be a very dangerous mission. "I'll do it."
"Good. I'll let Elise know. Actually, I think I might tag along."
"Really?" Jason tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
"Don't worry, I'll take a separate car just in case I have to leave. Right now, though, my day isn't especially full. I've got time. This way, I get to see you in action. You might even get to act on a tip, if you wring something out of Leon today."
"Depends on what it is."
"Maybe this time I can help. I've always wanted to be a secret agent. Not just sit on the sidelines, feed you clues. The business world has a lot in common with the spy world. Nothing is as it seems. We neutralize adversaries… and wear many different masks, maneuver in many different environments. Plus, I grew up on the streets. I haven't forgotten the lessons I learned there." He looked at Connie. "Hey, you could come in my car to Zelise. It's got all the amenities; I could treat you to lunch."
Horror tingled over Jason's skin. To go with the enemy…. Alone.
"I think…I'd rather stay with Jason."
"I don't blame you. You are newlyweds, after all. I wouldn't want to separate you. It was just a suggestion; you can't blame me for wanting to be in the company of a beautiful woman."
Jason's heart lurched. His skin burned; he wanted to shield her from him, cut him down if he dared advance. "Ali—" he said, almost choking.
Ali spread out his hands. "Hey, I mean no offense. I'm an admirer of beauty in all its forms, doesn't mean I'm going to make a move on another man's wife."
"It kind of sounds like it."
"No matter, I can admire beauty in other ways." His eyes narrowed slightly; his gaze flickered from Connie to Jason, glided effortlessly over Jason's form. He fought the urge to cringe away from the unabashed admiration. Was it simply aesthetic appreciation, or something else? In any case, Jason was glad they'd be going separately. He didn't trust Ali at all and wondered what he was up to. Could this be a trap somehow? Or was he helping them? If so, why? What exactly was his game? Should they keep following Ali's tips…or should they just cut him loose? He was a direct link to Yavesh… and so, perhaps, was Leon. The police station shouldn't be very dangerous. Although Zelise was a rough place…. Perhaps Connie should stay at the palace.
Ali headed to his car, and Jason breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you think I should go?" he said. He wanted to include her in all decisions from now on.
"Well…it doesn't sound too dangerous. It is an interrogation, though. It might…be traumatic."
"I think I can handle this. But if you'd rather stay behind…"
"If it's not dangerous—I don't want to be away from you." She pressed a hand to his forearm.
"Maybe, when we're done, we can…do something fun. Probably not in Zelise though."
"What about that town you went to for the stakeout? That sounded nice."
"Probably even nicer in the daytime. Maybe we could go see the castle."
"I'd love that. A real castle!"
Jason headed to the car with Connie, slid into the driver's seat. "I wonder…" he said. "Ali hasn't let on that he thinks I was spying on him…maybe he bought the line I gave him. If he suspects us…he would keep up his guard, and he'd watch us for any indication we suspect him. That might be what he's doing now…keeping an eye on us, leading us on. I don't know. We'll have to be careful."
"Yeah…" she said, settling into the passenger's seat. "This way, we can keep an eye on him, too."
He glanced at her. "You're starting to sound like a spy." He started the car and it sped down the streets.
"Maybe you're rubbing off on me." She grinned. "I'm never going to be a secret agent…but I want to do as much as I can to help the kids. And I want to be with you, so…I'm gonna have to learn some things. I'm not going to be any good at interrogation, though."
"You can keep me accountable. Remember what I told you about…what happened in Aleem Center."
She nodded. "That was out of anger. Same with Gray. You realized it was a mistake right away. You wouldn't coldly torture someone. I know you, Jason."
A smile tugged at his lips, although the word 'torture' spread ice through his heart. He didn't let on it bothered him, though. He didn't want to let her know she'd hurt him inadvertently. It was just a word. It couldn't really hurt him.
However, phantom pains snaked through his hand as he turned the steering wheel…. Burrowing through the nail scars that would forever mar him. Part of him would always be there, in agony, pinned to the wall of that cabin….
He tried to banish those thoughts but they crowded in on him the closer he got to Zelise. It was an oppressive town, with darkness at its heart, shadows haunting its streets. Misery cried out in the alleys and drab apartments.
Then Connie touched his arm, perhaps sensing his distress, and all of his dread melted away. Her touch sent liquid fire racing along his veins. He almost swerved into the other lane; thankfully, no cars were coming.
"Oops!" she said. "Sorry!" She yanked her hand away.
"Don't stop. I'll stop instead." He pulled over along the side of the road. Zelise hovered in the distance, like a grimy castle in a shimmering mirage.
"Jason—"
"We aren't in a hurry. It's not likely we'll get something today anyway, just…a possibility." His eyes strayed to her, overjoyed he could look at her fully instead of at the road. He slid his hand in hers, reveling in the feel of her delicate fingers nested in his. He lifted her hand and kissed the top of it.
Her eyes caught his. What amazing auroras of green they were. Drawing him in, drawing him closer…
I'll be shattered inside them…break apart, be subsumed by her….
Like last night. She'd blown him into another dimension. Amazement burst through his heart at how astonishing she was. The barrier between them pulverized. Almost as if the darkness had never been. They were even closer than before. Now that there was no artificial wall between them…they could express their love as much as they wanted.
Before he knew it, he had pulled her into the back seat and she was kneeling over him and she was showering him with kisses. She rolled his shirt up to gain access to his stomach and blazed kisses across him, making him writhe with delight. Higher, until his shirt was a moot point, so he slid it off, barely recognizing its absence as he surrendered to her touch flitting over his body, tracing fire over it, bright elemental streams leaving brilliant afterimages in their wake.
He grasped her waist beneath her shirt, stunned at the wonder of her skin beneath his palms. So smooth…so glorious… her beauty beaming down on him, her hair haloing her face. He pulled her closer; she laughed, her eyes dancing. He kissed her, letting her know how much he loved her, letting her know how much he wanted this.
She pulled back.
"Connie—"
She pressed a finger to his lips, sending paroxysms of delight through him.
"That's enough for now."
But— he wanted to say, but instead it came out as "Mm—" because her finger was still on his lips.
She sat back on the opposite seat. "What if someone came along to check if we're okay?"
Heat spread over his cheeks. "They'd get quite the surprise… you're right. There still have to be boundaries. Even though…"
"There's none between us." She smiled.
He nodded. "This was fun, though." He slid over to her.
She rubbed his arm gently, driving him crazy. "A taste… of later."
"Later?" He could still hardly believe she was back with him again, fully. It seemed too good to be true after the interminable absence. He still hadn't quite caught up to it—and guilt spread through him he hadn't given her all she deserved. Swept away by her wonder, he could only react, not initiate things as much. And he was used to having to be careful with her… let her make the first move in case she… didn't want him…. But now. If there was any lingering trauma, she didn't let on. He still had to always make sure he was doing what she wanted. But now… it seemed she wanted him…if only in the proper context. Alone, not on an open highway.
"Back at the palace. Or if we find somewhere else that's secluded…. I don't want to keep away from you long."
"Connie, I…." So much emotion surged through him, he wasn't sure how to give voice to it. "I love you."
"I love you too." Her eyes sparkled.
"I want to give you—more. I wasn't exactly prepared … I should have made it more special."
"Are you kidding? You don't have to do anything else. Just—" Her eyes licked over him. "You're enough. Always." She slid her fingers softly over his hand.
They climbed back into the front seats. Jason held her hand as they drove the rest of the way to Zelise.
I would like to give her something, he thought. Some kind of gift…something to treat her with. I want to shower her with love of all kinds….
He pulled the car up at the police station. Lieutenant Estelle Bauer let he and Connie into the same back door as last time and ushered them through the hallway to the interrogation room. They stepped into the viewing room; Ali was already there, watching the proceedings through the one-way window. Another police officer stood a few feet away from him. Jason only glimpsed vague figures before Estelle indicated some chairs for them to sit in. Jason sat down near the policeman and Connie sat beside him, furthest from Ali.
"I figured you'd better get a sense of what's going on before we throw you in there," said Estelle. She rubbed her hand; Jason was startled to see her knuckles were raw and bloodied. A few flecks of blood spattered her fingers. "Right now, Ellis is having a go at him. It's his first real interrogation, and he's being a bit standoffish, if you ask me. But he'll learn. I might have to go in and give him a few pointers." She frowned, her hand on her hip, looking at the two men through the window. "You'll probably be a better teacher, though. Fifteen years an agent, isn't that right?"
"Off and on," said Jason. He turned his attention to Ellis and Leon.
Just as Ellis threw a hard punch.
"Ooh! There you go, El!" said Estelle, making a shadow punch.
Jason flinched. Horror slashed his heart. He didn't want to be here. Like before, the walls loomed, closing in on him in the dark. His chest tightened.
A hand on his shoulder. He jumped. "Are you okay?" said Estelle.
"Y-yes."
"Perhaps this wasn't the right course after all."
Connie grasped his hand, threading strength into him. "No—it's fine."
"Okay," she said skeptically.
"Wow," said Ali. "This sure is interesting. A front row seat to conflict at its rawest. Only thing more real would be if I was in there."
Sickened at Ali's enthusiasm, Jason tuned him out. Instead, he concentrated on Connie beside him, anchoring him, and the view before him. Forcing himself to see it through detached agent eyes. The violence was wrong, yes. But Jason could do nothing about it. What he could do was see how Leon reacted, look for any clues, get to know the subject, see if there were any weaknesses.
Leon's stringy blond hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. His face was a mass of blood. His nose looked broken. Blood drizzled over his gray shirt. He was bound tightly with handcuffs and leg restraints to a metal chair. But his eyes were defiant. A smirk painted his lips. His posture was riddled with pain but at the same time rigid with strength. He wasn't just any subject. He lived on these streets…and he was the ringleader. He wouldn't break easily.
A hint of admiration crept through Jason, doused almost instantly by the image of Leon in the dingy hotel, rattling off the selling points of a young girl. Callously offering her up to someone he believed would rape her. He'd done it with countless other kids.
Rage burned through Jason and he had to rein himself in before he burst through the window to cut that man down.
That would be counterproductive. Not to mention straying from his principles…. But this wasn't just a suspected trafficker, like Wil. This was an actual trafficker. So…maybe there were exceptions. If he wouldn't break by conventional means…. Jason's guilt for thinking such things was dulled by the heat of the moment, by not sympathizing with the man in the least, and by still trying to stave off the vestiges of panic. With Connie…he could do it. But if he wasn't close to her…would her presence be enough to douse the symptoms?
Ellis punched Leon again and Jason thought he heard a crack. A shudder ran through Jason; Connie squeezed his hand, steadying him. He turned to Estelle. "Is this really necessary?"
"It's the only language lowlifes like him understand." Her thumbs were snagged in her pockets as she gazed through the window.
"I don't know—if a…less aggressive approach works with terrorists, it might work with him as well."
Estelle shrugged. "Have at it. I'm not averse to any method. But—I've gotten things out of them before. I probably will again. I know these streets, I know these people, I know they won't cave in from niceties." She tilted her head. "I wouldn't have thought an agent would take it easy on a common criminal."
"I'm not just an agent. I'm a Christian. And I've been around the block." He couldn't blame a police officer from a rough town for not knowing the finer points of psychological interrogation. Perhaps he could teach her a thing or two. If he could hold himself together…be professional, not give in to past trauma or present rage….
He caressed Connie's arm, not wanting to leave her. Kissed the inside of her wrist, where veins showed through tender skin. Ali leered at them but Jason cut him out of his mind and squeezed Connie's hand. "I love you," he whispered. The sound was drowned by the humming fan…but he knew she'd read his lips. Her eyes shone with so much love she didn't need to give voice to it.
Bolstered by it, he headed into the interrogation room.
Ellis looked at Jason, his chest heaving. Flecks of blood spattered his shining uniform. "Are you taking over now?"
Jason nodded, stepping forward.
"He's all yours," said Ellis, veering away, emanating immense relief.
Jason took another step, steeling himself, stifling the panic as the door closed, shutting down the fear, gathering his professional persona—what vestiges of it remained. Recalling memories of interrogations he'd performed, before he'd been traumatized by it. And cutting off the impulse to anger before it sparked back to life.
Dear God, help me through this.
He cobbled together a semblance of a strategy—find a sort of rapport, not to the point of pretending to be sympathetic, but enough that Leon might let his guard down. It was often more effective not to be completely adversarial in an interrogation. The subject would always put up their strongest walls if you were in total opposition from the start.
Although it sickened him to try to find common ground, it was the best way to find information about lost kids without stooping to Leon's level.
Leon gazed up at him, squinting warily against the harsh fluorescent lights.
Hm. Perhaps acting like I'll keep up the same kind of attacks and then acting the opposite will catch him off guard.
PTSD is changing me. Rejecting spontaneity out of fear. Problem is, that's not who I really am…how I work best….
Leon couldn't hurt him. This room was a fortress, and Jason wasn't a prisoner.
He took a deep breath, disguising it as impatience. Along with showing some disgust at the prisoner, which wasn't hard to do. He crossed his arms, intensifying his glare.
Leon seemed to brace himself infinitesimally, but his posture mostly exuded indifference. His brown eyes sparked with a hint of curiosity and his chin tilted sideways slightly.
He tossed a strand of hair out of his eyes, although it stuck on the blood on his cheek. The scar along his cheekbone had broken open, an ugly gash that needed stitches.
"Hey—I know you," said Leon, eagerly as if latching onto a new distraction from pain. "A bit more clean-cut than yesterday. So you don't just do undercover work."
"I'm a veritable Swiss army knife of skills," said Jason, cracking his knuckles.
"They brought in the big guns—since they couldn't break me." Leon shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle." He grinned, his gold front tooth glinting.
"Maybe there are more inventive methods than you can imagine."
Leon shifted in the chair. "That's the thing about people on the side of the law. You think you're so tough, but if you haven't lived in the criminal underworld, you don't know what toughness is. You all have soft underbellies, tender little hearts that would be crushed in the meatgrinder of real life."
"So you haven't been ground up."
"Maybe I have, but I came out the other side. Refined like gold. If you strayed into our camp, we'd show you a thing or two about torture. Make you last for days and days, screaming in pain." He chuckled, seeming to enjoy that vision.
A chill spread through Jason in spite of his carefully constructed armor.
Use it. Don't avoid it. Don't descend into the depths…but pain is something we have in common.
"I don't know," said Jason, "I can think of a few interesting ways to torture someone." He reached into his jeans pocket and drew out his pocketknife. Opened the blade, slid his index finger over the flat of it. "Just hitting someone over and over—gets old. Kind of numbing, for both parties involved. A knife, on the other hand…."
He lowered the knife toward Leon, both enjoying the look of fear on his face and guilt-ridden for it. This was getting too much like Gray. He'd have to pull back. For the sake of the interrogation and for the sake of his soul.
Leon flinched as the knife nearly grazed his wounded scar. Jason drew the knife back, closed it, and shoved it back into his pocket, glimpsing a hint of relief on Leon's face.
Jason walked back behind him—it didn't hurt to also keep him on edge. Then he dragged the chair from the other side of the table.
Leon shook his head slowly, his eyes narrowed, as Jason sat down in the chair opposite him.
"I can see that normal methods won't work on you," said Jason. "I can see just from that scar—you're not to be trifled with."
"That's a funny story actually. First job I was on, forgot I was on the second floor and fell out the window." He laughed. "It does give me a tough appearance. Good for business. Most other things I've come out on top of. People who beat me up, put a knife in my back—they didn't live to regret it." He leaned forward, chains jingling. "Same thing with you. When I get out of here, I'll track you down. Take you out."
"What makes you think you're getting out of here?"
Leon smiled slyly. "I've got friends in high places."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"What I really want to know is, what happened the times you didn't come out on top."
Leon scowled. "Only reason I didn't is because…they're serious crime bosses. If I can go through that, nothing'll faze me."
"If those bosses were so tough, how did you escape?" Jason wondered if they could be Yavesh.
"I didn't. They let me go with a warning."
"Who are they?"
Fear flashed across Leon's eyes. "If they find out I gave you any info about them—they'd kill me. And it wouldn't be quick."
"So is that why you're holding out? Because of what they'd do to you?"
"Who says they have anything to do with this? They just didn't want me encroaching on their territory. I steer clear of them now."
"Have you heard of Yavesh?"
Jason wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a glimmer of fear flash across his eyes. "Let me ask you a question. Where'd you get your scar? When you double-crossed me, I thought it might be fake." He peered closer. "But I'd think you'd take off a prosthetic by now. What you do with the girl, anyway—keep her for yourself? I wouldn't blame you, she's a stunner."
Jason's stomach roiled. "I would never even think of hurting an innocent girl."
"Who said anything about hurting? You could be gentle and careful…"
"She's a child. Only someone with a sick twisted mind would look at someone like that with lust."
"I don't see how you can't. A man's lying if he says he doesn't want a piece of that. That's what I facilitate. Let me go, and I'll let you have the pick of the next batch." He grinned, his front tooth gleaming.
Jason fought back the rising tide of anger. Even if he'd have been able to keep from being outraged before, he couldn't now that he'd seen the kids' degradation firsthand. And after his own capture…he was extra sensitive to anything related.
"I'm just happy you're off the streets so no little girls can be preyed upon again."
"If I'm not doing it, someone else will. It's a fun income. I'm just giving men what they want. A sweet little morsel to keep on the side….Hey—if you don't swing that way, we got plenty of little boys—"
"Listen. I don't want to hear any more about your profession. There is no excuse for it. Leeching off kids for your own gain—there is no lower career. If you can call it that."
"Everyone has their price. Everyone has dirty little secrets. It's my job to find what you want, sell it to you. Maybe you don't want kids—fine. Plenty of other outlets with more mature women. Or men. Whatever you want, it's out there."
"There's only one thing I want."
"What's that?"
Jason wasn't bringing Connie into this. He felt tainted enough just being in the room with this man, who was somehow trying to sell him kids while being shackled to a chair.
"Well, if you won't answer that, we can go back to the other question. Where'd you get your scar?"
The man saw he could rattle him—well, maybe make him think he was succeeding in another way. Use my vulnerability to make him let his guard down…. Without collapsing completely.
"I'd rather not go into that."
"I told you where I got mine. It's only fair."
"I suppose… it doesn't matter that much. It was a long time ago. I was an agent."
"A secret agent? You mean a spy?"
"Yes."
"Now you're, what, a mercenary for hire?"
"Something like that."
"Please, continue."
Jason shoved down his misgivings at telling this man something so personal. Still, the unease lingered—he would never totally get rid of it.
"I was captured. By someone who—I'd hurt, inadvertently. Not that I deserved what they did to me—but I could see where she was coming from."
"She? How interesting."
"I'd taken something precious from her. Her bodyguard—let's just say he had a special talent for knives."
"Ah, I see. So you're no stranger to pain."
Jason flexed his left hand. "Pain is a…constant companion. Even if it's only a ghost." He opened his hand, reluctantly held it out for Leon to see.
Leon looked at him wonderingly. "You've gone through some…pretty inventive methods yourself. But are you willing to go that far? Can you impress your will on someone else's flesh?"
"It's not even a matter of will. You deserve all possible pain for what you've done. I know how pain works, what places hurt the worst, what methods give the most pain. But if I did that—I would lose a part of my soul."
"Maybe getting at me is worth that. Me, I'm not convinced souls exist."
"I'm rather attached to my soul, if it's all the same to you."
"Ha! That's a good one. But if these guys can't beat it out of me, and you're not willing to—there's not much point in you being here."
"Maybe there's something in it for you."
Leon's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean."
"I can get you things. Within reason. But you'd have to give me something first."
"Information." He sighed, sat back.
"It's only fair."
Leon smirked. "What might you have to offer me."
"What about food? Medical care?"
"Nothing you have I want unless you're gonna get me out of here."
"What about—starting with those ankle cuffs. I know from experience they're not very comfortable."
Leon winced. "You're right about that. But you're gonna have to prove you have the power. That you're not just the cops' lapdog." He studied Jason. "Do you even have a key?"
"Don't need a key." He took out his pocketknife and the special lock-opening mechanism sprang open.
"Nice. I need one of those."
"Sometimes the simplest tools are the best."
Jason knelt at the trafficker's feet. Reached toward the lock on the chain.
A voice echoed through the loudspeaker. "Jason, can you come here a minute?" It was Estelle.
Jason sighed. It had been a gamble whether she'd let him do this in the first place. Someone who knew him better might see he had a plan, but Estelle didn't, and this was her turf. He was only here by invitation.
He stood and looked regretfully down at Leon.
"It was nice while it lasted," said Kohl. "See ya later, good cop." He winked.
Jason headed out the door. He may have been making headway, but he was glad to be free of that room.
Back through the door to the viewing room, hands grabbed the front of his shirt, shook him. "What do you think you're doing?" Estelle's eyes blazed.
"Giving something to get something."
"This is no diplomatic mission! This is a war room!" She let go of his shirt. "No more of this fiddling around. I've got to cut straight to the heart of things. Show you how it's done." She marched into the interrogation room.
Jason sat down next to Connie. Her arm threaded around his. "Well, you tried."
"I shouldn't have expected that much leeway. But giving him something tangible was the fastest way to get him to talk. I'm not sure if Estelle's methods can get to him…only one thing seems to scare him, and that's those mob bosses, whoever they are."
"Could they be Yavesh?"
"Maybe. But he's not going to willingly betray them."
I'm not looking forward to this part… But if I leave, I might miss something…. The police might not be as willing to share it…might back off….
In the interrogation room, Estelle brought out her own knife. Chills raced up and down Jason's skin, riving random paths through the oppressive heat. Jason found himself looking for ways to escape, his eyes straying toward the exit. At least Connie was here, although he didn't like the idea of her being exposed to this, either.
Estelle paced the room, arms crossed, gripping the knife. The lights gleamed on her slicked back brown hair, her pristine uniform.
"I'm in this for the long haul. You might as well get it over with and tell me who your boss is."
"I don't have a boss."
"You don't have a boss."
"That's what I said. I'm an entrepreneur." He grinned proudly.
"Maybe so, but perhaps you're affiliated with someone. You call the shots day-to-day, but he oversees the operation."
"If so, I don't know about it. Actually, I was thinking of branching out myself, becoming a small-time boss. As long as I stay under their radar."
"So maybe you are on your own—or think you are. We'll come back to that later. What we really need is to rescue any kids that are still out there." She tapped the flat of her blade against her finger.
Leon shrugged. "That was my whole batch, in my apartment. Plus the one I was gonna sell to that good cop. I don't know how you broke through my system but—I had a good thing going. I don't pick just the riffraff but select the highest quality products."
Estelle gazed at him with unabashed disgust. "If I had any reservations before, I certainly don't now." She twirled the knife, then without warning thrust it into his shoulder.
A strangled cry. Estelle twisted the knife, burrowing it deeper.
Pain stabbed through Jason's shoulder. He gasped through clenched teeth.
Connie's hand tightened on his. Her thumb rubbed the inside of his wrist. Her eyes, shards of emerald in the low light, brimmed with empathy, their depths distraught. He yearned to leave, but…there was no real danger, he had to remind himself. If they could glean a clue to save kids, it would be worth some discomfort.
And perhaps he could beg for another session, or at least for some reprieve for the man. Not that he cared for him at all—his soul was too far gone—but there was such a thing as basic humanity. Better to show Leon that than to rip him apart. Show him something better, even if he could never aspire to it.
The knife stayed in Leon's shoulder. He leaned over, breathing hard, his hair dangling over his face.
"It's a mercy I keep the knife in there. I take it out—there'll be a lot more blood."
"Ah—yeah—I can feel your 'mercy' coursing through my veins right now…. Hey, why don't you send that good cop back in."
"Will you give him anything of value?"
"What makes you think I have anything else to say? You tore my op apart."
"Maybe you're organization is shot, but what about your fellow entrepreneurs?"
"What about them?"
"Give me their names and we can call it a day."
"Somehow I don't think you want what they're selling." His eyes stabbed undisguised malice at her.
She grabbed the knife, twisted it viciously, sinking it even deeper. Leon screamed.
Jason's stomach turned over and he looked away. Connie leaned her forehead against his, and the nausea faded, though he still trembled. She pressed her hand to his jaw. Enclosing him in their own little world. He breathed with her, his eyes closed. Still, he couldn't quite block out the screams….
"What's the matter?" broke in Ali.
Jason ignored him, concentrating on breathing, focusing on the one he loved, love burning over his skin, shedding the fear.
"It's getting to you, is it. Is that why you took it easy on him?"
Anger flared through Jason. Still keeping one hand in Connie's, he turned to Ali. "No, it's because I don't believe in it."
"He's forfeited his claim to any humanity."
"But I haven't. Besides—he's not the kind to give in to torture."
"Maybe not torture lite. But this…." Ali turned back to the window with avid admiration.
Estelle had yanked the knife from Leon's shoulder and was holding it in her hand, dripping with blood. She'd taken off Leon's shirt and made a makeshift bandage over his shoulder, which was already soaked dark red. His stomach a little queasy, Jason steeled himself for the next attack.
"I'm still not entirely convinced you don't have other associates you're protecting. Holding down the fort you're hoping to get back to." She swept the knife forward; Leon flinched. But all she did was wipe the knife on his pants, leaving a bloody smear.
Leon shook his head, his entire body trembling. "You—decimated us. Thanks for that. Now I'll have to rebuild from the ground up."
"What makes you think you're going back."
"This town? You kidding? It's always catch and release. Corruption doesn't stop with cops."
"The disease hasn't spread to everyone yet."
Leon narrowed his eyes. "You sure about that?"
"We've got our little cadre, insulated from the rest."
"If you say so. Methinks you're trying too hard."
Estelle cleared her throat. "Let's get back on track. You say we brought in all your accomplices. But we know for a fact that the man who brought in one of the kids doesn't exactly fit the description of any of them."
"What's the description?"
"Tall, brown hair."
"That could describe a lot of people."
"He's taller than average. He's probably a smoker."
"Again, not exactly specific."
"He looks for kids, snatches them up at orphanages or on the street. Brought in a young black girl not long ago."
"Oh, that one. She's a special little thing. Almost ripe. Where'd you put her?"
"Who's the snatcher."
"I don't know…some of them are freelancers."
"Who could be in league with other cells. Tell me who he is." She spun the knife by its handle.
"I don't keep track of the freelancers. They're all the same to me."
Estelle stepped close to him, caressed his cheek with the blade. "Tell me who he is."
"I don't know!"
She slashed down his cheek, crossways to the wounded scar. Leon screamed, straining against the handcuffs. Estelle didn't stop there. She carved over his collarbone, slicing into his chest, taking her time as she flayed his skin down to his stomach. Blood poured from the wound. He gasped, chest heaving, air rasping into his lungs.
Pain burned through Jason's palms. Then he realized it wasn't just a phantom pain. He lifted his hands to see his fingernails had cut deep. Blood welled up in the crescent slices.
"Jason—" Connie whispered in horror.
"I—mmm."
"Maybe…we better get out of here." She looked pale, shaken.
"I—I have to see this through."
Connie dug in her purse and drew out some Kleenexes. She pressed them to the wounds and Jason breathed with relief at her touch, at the slight lessening of the pain.
Leon hunched over, his wrists tugging against the bonds. "I don't know his name, okay?" he said, his voice quavering. He drew in a harsh breath through clenched teeth and groaned in pain. "We just go by first names. Makes it more secure."
"What's his first name, then."
"Karl."
"Like the premier."
Leon nodded.
"Could be an alias…. What else do you know about him."
"We're… professionals…. We keep secure as possible."
"And yet, we found you. I'd say you're just an amateur—your ego inflated by your profession. A bully who can't stand up to anyone bigger than a twelve-year-old." She tapped his leg with the knife. "You know… there are some rather large arteries in your leg… I could pretend not to know where they are. Then when I… nicked one… I could feign ignorance. Let you bleed out." She twisted the knife in a corkscrew motion. Burrowing through his pants to his thigh.
"Please—" he begged raggedly.
"Give me something. Anything. And this can stop."
"I don't know anything about him except—"
"Except-?"
"He…he's a supplier for some other clients."
"And who are they?"
"I don't know."
The knife sliced through the knee of his pants. "Who are they."
"I don't know!" The knife scored a furrow down his shin. He cried out, tears rolling down his cheeks.
Connie squeezed Jason's arm, tucking her hands gently beneath his, keeping him from damaging his palms again. Gratefulness poured through him.
Perhaps I should go in there…. but I doubt she'd listen to me…..
Estelle yanked off Leon's shoe. Poised her knife above his foot. Then it plunged downward.
Jason shut his eyes. Nausea flashed over him in a wave. He struggled to find his anchor—anything to distract him.
"Wait!" said Leon. Jason cautiously opened his eyes. Estelle withdrew the knife, crouching.
"Well?"
"I…don't know much. I just know… last time. He invited me along. I wanted to keep the ops compartmentalized but…I saw where it was."
"Where what was?"
Leon shut his eyes tightly. "If you want to get at clients, slaves, and sellers all at once, there's this…auction."
"Where?"
"In Valhad."
"Where in Valhad?"
"One of the hotels—I don't know. I don't! Please—please don't cut me."
Estelle scoffed. "For all that bravado… scum like you are always cowards at heart. Do you happen to know when it is?"
"The parties are always at suppertime. Karl said…it's great fun. He sells to high-end clients for the highest bidders. Picks up a few kids, conditions them… He gets sky-high prices. Sounded too good to be true. I wanted to get in on that game…but he said I'd need to shore up my brand first. I had the right idea, just that he takes it to the next level. Preps them for like six months, gives them an insane amount of conditioning—but it's worth it. He sells to the elite of Valhad—you know how swanky they are up there. They take the cream of the crop. The most beautiful virgins, pruned and carved into exquisite slaves that'll satisfy your every whim… dressed up in expensive clothes and jewelry. I do skimp a little, get the most out of basic material…. But if I spared no expense, I'd get even more money. I was interested so…he said he'd take me as a guest next time."
"So you're telling me you don't know where it is?"
"No—he was going to tell me when he picked me up. Security and all that. It's a revolving location. They have secret passwords and everything. It's not dress casual, either. You gotta prove you have enough money to buy. And look the part."
"What else? What do you mean, it's at supper time?"
"Just what I said. Anywhere between five and ten. The time's revolving, too. That's all I know, I swear!"
"I might be able to squeeze a bit more out of you. Make you remember a detail you forgot."
She brought her knife up to his chin, pressed the point to it.
"Please…that's all I know. Let me go." Tears flowed down his cheeks, probably stinging into the wounds.
"What makes you think we'll let you go? You deserve to be tortured until you can't think straight."
"I gave you what you wanted!"
She dragged his head back by his hair. He whimpered, his lips trembling.
Then she let him go. "Ah, you're not worth it." She spun on her heel and strode back into the viewing room. Snatched a handkerchief from the table and wiped the knife.
"Well, we've got something, anyway," said Estelle. "No thanks to you." She looked at Jason.
"He did what you asked him," said Connie.
"Some professional," she scoffed and turned to Ali. "You've been to Valhad. Any chance you've heard any whispers?"
"Not so far," said Ali, "but I can blend seamlessly in with elite circles."
"Would you be up to seeing if you can find this high-end auction?"
"It'd be my pleasure." He turned to Jason and Connie. "You can tag along, if you like."
Shaken, Jason had to reorient himself. "Yes, I'd like that." Was it a good idea? It seemed like a valid tip. And Ali could help… but Jason would have to play it by ear and get out if he sensed anything suspicious. Protect Connie with his life.
Traipsing about high society didn't sound too risky…. It could be fun. As long as Ali didn't suspect them. Then there was the auction. If they got in…they'd have to play the part…. Act like they were going to buy kids….
Worth it to save them. Maybe we can even buy one…. Get some tips on these clients and sellers…. Maybe take them all down.
"We'll have to coordinate with the police in Valhad," said Estelle. "They're not exactly on friendly terms with us… they see us as beneath them. But they can't deny we get results." She glanced at Leon, slathered with blood, head hanging in defeat.
Jason headed out of the police station, Connie holding his injured hand gently. He gulped in fresh air and it flooded him, assuaging the pain and horror.
They reached the car and he leaned against it, the warmth from the metal seeping into him. He closed his eyes against the sunlight.
Connie caressed his arm. "Are you okay?"
"I think so. I couldn't have done it without you."
"It was…horrible."
"I'm sorry you had to see that."
"Mostly I didn't look. I focused on you. I…couldn't shut out the screams though. It must've been even worse for you." She cradled his hand in hers, palm up.
He peeled the Kleenex away, revealing the bloody fingernail marks. Thin wisps of the tissue still clung to the dried blood.
"Hey—don't do that," she said.
"I need to clean it, get a proper bandage on it."
She dug in her purse. "I hope I have one. I—couldn't find one at short notice."
"It was—more than enough. I didn't even realize I was doing it…" A shudder shook him.
"Maybe you just shouldn't go to interrogations." She pulled out two Band-Aids.
"Maybe not. It was okay with my method…. Torture on the other hand…." The word still ripped through him on the way to his heart. Saying it, hearing it, didn't dull its sharp edge.
Connie opened the car door. "I think there's a water bottle in here…." She rummaged around in the back. "Aha!" She took out the bottle and glimmering reflections flashed off the car. He felt thirsty but his injuries were more urgent.
He held out his hands and she poured water slowly over them. He did his best not to wince but couldn't help a gasp as the water seared into the wounds. "I'm sorry!" she said.
"It's okay. This kind of pain…is good."
"It's too bad she didn't let you do it your way."
"I would've gotten somewhere. Without all this… At least I held back. And being in there, in that room… I could hold it together as long as…things stayed civilized."
"That was quite the show!" said Ali, bursting out of the back door. He strode toward them over the pavement. "Goes to show, torture is the only thing that works with hardened criminals. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," said Jason, pulling his hands away, hiding the damage.
"Is that blood?"
Connie crumpled up the bloody Kleenexes and stuffed them in her purse. "None of your business."
"It's fortunate I'm here. Otherwise…you'd have no chance of getting into the exclusive party. Even I'm a grudgingly accepted outsider in Valhad high society. But money is money."
"How much will we need?"
"Not sure. Don't worry, I'll pay your cover charge."
"That's generous." Jason doubted he'd pay to rescue a kid—in any case, Jason didn't want to depend on him for that.
"Happy to help out. Why don't you two meet me in Valhad for lunch and we can solidify our next steps. There's a lovely little restaurant near the castle. The best seats have a marvelous view of the castle and the valley."
"That sounds wonderful."
"I'll see you there." Ali strode off toward his red sports car.
Jason was about to slide into the driver's seat but Connie said, "No—your hands need a break."
"Oh. Right." He sat in the passenger seat, happy to rest. Before she started the car, she leaned over and pressed bandages to his palms, careful to avoid brushing the wounds. Jason laid his hands in his lap, palms up, giving them space to heal.
Part of him was mortified that he'd lost control that much. That it still affected him so deeply. But it wouldn't help to dwell on it. Concentrate on the mission.
Jason tapped the map on his phone, bringing up the Valhad Castle Restaurant. Then Connie guided the car down the highway, into the unknown.