Connie paced her room, gnawing on a rich dark chocolate with blueberry cream inside. It was one of the best of the random bars she'd grabbed at the checkout when she'd been trying to hide the pregnancy test. She'd told herself she'd take it after the chocolate bars were gone—and there had been twelve of them, since some of them had several pieces in one package. She'd eaten one each day. This was the last one.
It seemed like months.
Months since she'd seen him.
Months since she'd held him.
That was why she had thought she needed to take the test as soon as she noticed her missed period, but she had learned that pregnancy tests weren't always accurate until a month had passed.
It's almost been a month.
Maybe it would be better to know.
She hadn't been able to do much; it was hard for even professional agents to find anything about Yavesh. The agents were scattered to the four winds, but they had yet to find anything definitive. It seemed like they were chasing phantoms; a lead would seem solid, but then it would vanish in their hands as if it had never been.
She hadn't wanted anything to distract her from finding Jason. But she hadn't found much of anything since Valhad. Connie hadn't even heard anything from Sierra except a cryptic message, "I'm getting warmer!"
Dana was still looking for the elusive Dr. Farlin, staking out his house to find a possible match for Nika's description. Saul had gone home and was working behind the scenes on the human trafficking task force with Leila. Tasha had left the palace as well and was working closely with her NSA colleagues. Occasionally she'd call Connie or Whit with updates. She was one of the lead interrogators of some of the human traffickers, including Karl and Samar. Markov and Amber checked in occasionally; they were deep into their 'unofficial missions' since being sidelined and couldn't say much over the phone.
Whit had called his contacts, gone out occasionally, but his leads had gone cold, too. That didn't stop him. He forged tirelessly forward; he'd seemed to find a relentless inner strength despite his anguish.
I wish my faith was that strong… Whit is all that's keeping me going sometimes….
Maybe a baby would help with that.
She hadn't wanted to distract herself with stress— if she knew she were pregnant, she'd be scared she'd lose the baby.
But if she were already pregnant, it would be good to know, so she wouldn't do something that would risk the baby's life.
This was a crucial stage. It was so easy to lose a baby….
If I didn't know I was pregnant, I wouldn't be as devastated if I lost a baby…
If I take the test, and it's positive, I'd better confirm it with a doctor… better start taking his recommendations…
Or just act like I'm pregnant now. I'm so limited anyway—I won't be able to do much when it's challenging for actual agents. I have to do something but…. It's more to keep myself busy than anything. Trick myself into thinking I'm doing something…. rather than collapsing. Which only drags everyone else down.
Her heart filled with longing to know—
To have something of Jason with her. To cradle a life inside her. It would give her hope. Something beautiful amid all this pain.
I'd just have to trust God he knows what he's doing…. He would not let me lose another baby. Not after all this.
Even if he did—
Even if Jason was taken from me and never came back—
Dear God. Don't let me lose hope… help me hold onto faith even when it's the worst… when I can't bear it….
Jason being torn apart flashed in front of her eyes – replacing Elliot in that video. Only worse—his body crushed almost beyond belief. These visions had been haunting her increasingly, adding to her almost nightly nightmares.
It was only because of Whit—and the spare chance she might actually find something—that kept her going.
She raced over to the closet and dug under the clothes on the top shelf. Grasping the small box, she pulled it out.
Sank back onto the bed and looked at it.
The picture showed two pink lines.
The picture seemed to grow, encompassing her entire vision, everything else fading except the test. Almost as if she could pick it up and it would be real.
Longing filled her. To have a baby, hers and Jason's. To hold him in her arms. Fill the emptiness that had been a gaping hole in her heart since Jeremiah had died.
To give her something good when everything seemed so desolate.
If I use the test, and I'm not pregnant—maybe I will be even more devastated. It'll crush me, keep me from moving forward…
She flopped back onto the bed, letting the test fall from her hand. The ceiling was blank, just the hints of the misty blue canopy to the side.
She laid her hand on her stomach, wondering whether a little baby was forming there. His little heart beating. Or hers.
She kept thinking of him as a him lately, although Jason had envisioned the baby as a girl. I probably see it as a boy because… I had a little boy before. I thought of him every day. His beautiful little face…. As a newborn… as a toddler… as a five-year-old… sweet and round with bright blue eyes just like Jason's….
Tears slipped down her cheeks, savage pain wrenching her heart.
I could've been five months along by now… he could've been with me… comforting me in Jason's absence…
If we'd have had a baby, we probably wouldn't even be here. I'd be lying in bed with Jason and he'd be cradling me in his arms, one hand resting on my stomach as Jeremiah kicked—
Sorrow attacked her and she buried her face in the covers, tears soaking the fabric.
Her scream muffled by the blanket.
Lying on her back, her eyes closed, she didn't think she could bear another disappointment, so she just left the pregnancy test where it had fallen on the floor, and got dressed, feeling wrung out, her heart hollow.
She found herself in front of the window, not sure how long she'd been standing there. The birch leaves were tinged with gold.
Turning another season. And still he's not here.
What if it's another year and I'm still standing at this window…
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
It could've been so beautiful… we could've escaped to the glade… immersed in the golden light and the scent of crushed leaves…. Jumped in the icy water then climbed out and warmed ourselves with each other…
If he hadn't been so selfishly unselfish.
She turned from the window, ripping up the images that encroached on the edges of her mind.
She could not bear more shreds of nightmare. It was enough living without him, knowing in theory what they did.
She walked to the breakfast room and grabbed a granola bar, then headed out to see if Whit was awake yet. He probably was; she'd slept in after being drowned in nightmares in the middle of the night.
Have to do something, focus on something, even if it ends up being another dead end…
When she didn't find him in the living room, she headed onto the veranda. He was there, but he was on the phone, with Jana apparently. She could hear desperate pleas at the other end, the words indistinct.
She headed back into the living room and sat in front of the fireplace. The triplets must not have been up yet or were in a distant part of the palace; everything was silent. Of course, that wasn't unusual nowadays; Luna and her family were gone. After her father and grandparents had left, she had stayed with her mother. Then James had proposed to her.
He'd been so excited, but she'd denied him; after her ordeal, she needed some time and space to herself. James had taken it hard, since he'd thought marriage would help her heal. He had to understand that sometimes love meant letting someone do what they needed, even if it meant leaving. Luna needed recovery more than anything now. She might never be the same again. He had to accept she might never come back to him.
Most days James wandered the grounds, coming back for one meal, if that. Darya had grounded him, so he couldn't go further than the outer gates. Connie suspected he was going to the glade, where he'd proposed to Luna.
Roderick and Darya allowed him this space; a bodyguard accompanied him at all times, but from a distance. They didn't have much time to pay attention to him; the king was swamped with preparing for the new session of Parliament tomorrow. He was always on the phone or at meetings in Rakima. Darya had her hands full with a semi-secret project—the new task force, which was more formalized now. She was also involved in taking care of the triplets and spending time with them, especially since their friends Lexi, Tanya, and Mina were gone. Connie didn't see the triplets nearly as much as she wanted. But she was glad their new mom was bonding with them. Reassuring them for good that they'd never be abandoned again.
Perhaps we're not meant to adopt, either… it keeps falling through. And if I can't get pregnant…
Well. Maybe we're supposed to help others.
Maybe just me. Maybe my mission is to be alone, to empathize with people in pain…
She'd accept that future if it was what God wanted, but the thought of living in such desolation made her feel like she was falling headfirst into darkness.
Yesterday, she'd called the fosters of Tatiana, Hannah, and Daniel—but the kids had disappeared without a trace. The task force was looking into it. So she'd at least accomplished that.
If we find them—it will be wonderful to break them free.
If them—why not my Jason?
If only they'd send me a video. It might be horrific, but at least I'd know. Nothing could be worse than these visions of the most grotesque torture imaginable, as if demons crafted them to taunt me.
The nightmares though… they feel different than before. Not the premonition of something bad; that's already happened.
In my dream, Jason eventually returns.
He's not himself—but I can't believe he'd be forever ruined.
I would give him strength, fill him with light—heal him with kisses, if that's what he wanted. Or never touch him again….
Anything so my Jason is back with me and isn't being cut apart by evil beings.
The visions converged again and this time she couldn't shake them—
To escape them, she headed toward the veranda—
Her phone rang.
It was from a number she didn't recognize. It was a Muldavian number, though, so she answered it.
"Hi Connie!" said a familiar voice. Trysta, who they'd met at Valhad Castle. "I've got something!"
"Really?" Her heart jumped.
"It's not really definitive yet, which is why I'm calling you and not the authorities. But we've got to follow every lead, no matter how tenuous."
"What is it?"
"I've been asking around. Speaking obliquely to the people I trust and observing the shadier side of the nobility. Companies as well. We've got connections with both. I did find something from one of my friends. She heard about a potential secret operation. My friend's friend, who works at a company in Konterr, found some different versions of the books on one of the computers by accident. She wasn't able to save the data, but she took a picture of one of the pages. It doesn't tell much, but it does imply something is going on."
"What makes you think it's connected to human trafficking?"
"The pages have numbers with descriptions of people. Along with place names in Muldavia and Austria. I think they may be locations where slaves are working. I've heard about migrant workers from Muldavia being taken advantage of—it may just be that. In which case it'd be good to break up that trafficking ring. But if it's connected to Yavesh—"
"I'll take anything at this point."
"Do you know anyone else who'd be able to investigate informally until we have more solid evidence?"
"I could ask them."
"You're at the palace?"
"Yeah."
"Why don't we meet in Konterr?"
"Would it be dangerous?"
"Well, just talking to Cindy's friend wouldn't be dangerous. I'm no professional agent, so there's only so far I can go. Actual agents will have to do the rest."
"Where is the company?"
"Western Konterr. Massive tech giant. If this is true, it'll shake the foundations of Muldavia. But there are more important things."
"What if…. It's a masquerade for Yavesh headquarters?"
"It does have branches all over the world. It could also have a separate secret headquarters. We have to start in order to get anywhere. I'll text you the location."
Connie sank into the couch, her head spinning. A possible break! Could she dare to hope? It seemed pretty tenuous…. But it could be something big… could tie everything together…..
When Whit came back in, she told him what Trysta had said, and his eyes, which had been brimming with tears, sparkled with hope.
She called Markov, who said he didn't have anything better to do since his leads had gone cold. After a moment he said he'd meet them at Konterr in several hours along with Amber and possibly Ana.
Trysta texted the restaurant, the Crystall. It sounded fancy, so Connie got dressed in a nicer shirt; it was a cool fall-like day, so she didn't want to wear one of her summer dresses, the only kind she'd brought along. She did wear the sapphire necklace, which made her feel like Jason was close to her heart.
As Connie steered the car onto the highway, Whit told her that Jana was totally distraught. He'd tried to reassure her, but she'd been inconsolable, more so than the other times they'd spoken since Jason had been taken.
"She's always been protective of Jason. More so since Jerry died and she was all he had. Last time Jason was taken… it happened so fast, I didn't have time to inform her. And she was furious at me for that. Now… she's angry I'm not doing enough. Maybe I'm not—but at least we have a lead now. She is right—I need to do all I possibly can and not hold back, even if it means… I don't get out unscathed."
"Whit—" She stopped, her heart unsettled. "I… would say don't do that, but I can't tell you to stop looking for Jason. I'd do the same if I actually had the right skills. I feel so… helpless."
"You are helping. One of your contacts followed through!"
"It's funny she called me."
"Not at all. You're the reason she found us."
"If not for him… I wouldn't have gone into that abandoned area…. Trysta was so nice, she didn't even yell at us like the first guy did."
"I thought of something while talking to Jana," said Whit.
"What is it?" Her chest felt tight.
"They might just have taken him as a hostage. He is a valuable asset."
"That's true."
"It might mean they're trying to… wring all the information they can out of him first. That might be what they're doing now." His face ashen, he looked out the window at the rolling hills. Then he looked back at her. "But it might mean their endgame is to release him. Just get the info—then use him as a bargaining chip. If we have something valuable to them…."
"We have some of their people."
"They've seemed rather expendable so far. If we keep going, we might find a valuable hostage. Or something else they want."
"Then we can get him back!" Light burst through her heart.
"That's what I told Jana. It was the only thing that would console her. I didn't tell her they might use him as a threat—like with Elliot. If they sent a video, at least we'd know he was alive. He might even be able to send a message."
"Or they could—" The horrific images splashed across her mind and she felt as if she were imploding. She pulled over to the side of the road, her heart throbbing as if it were in its death throes. She leaned her head against the steering wheel, clinging to it.
Whit laid his hand on her back gently. "I'll drive."
She nodded, in no mood to argue.
She got out into the wind on the edge of the highway, the grass rustling in the ditch, high white windmills in the distance. She'd never been this far west. Jason had been to Konterr… perhaps she was driving closer and closer to him….
She huddled into the back seat. Whit looked to the left and pulled out in a gap in traffic. Then the car raced down the road again.
Her heart numb. As if it had already died.
After a moment, or an hour, a thought crept into her mind. It wouldn't keep them from sending a video… wouldn't keep them from interrogating him and beating him up. But—there was an advantage to him being older than she was. He wasn't the age of a typical trafficked person. Someone close to forty… why would they want him? Why would they sell him?
She thought he was beautiful, but it would be very unusual if they actually wanted him for a slave.
So the worst case scenario was out of the picture. Probably. She couldn't rule anything out.
But for her sanity, she crossed off that possibility. Immersed in the hope they'd contact them about him soon. After all, they'd taken him for a reason.
He'll be safe. Maybe injured… but that's happened before. He recovered. He was rescued.
Dear God, thank you for giving me this comfort.
As they neared Konterr, the signs saying, "25 km", another thing occurred to her.
Some of the kids they'd rescued had come from Konterr. Perhaps she could follow up with them. Ask them some questions now that that some time had passed and they had settled back into their homes.
The twins, Livi and Sari.
And the little girl, what was her name… Eva. She wasn't sure if she'd gone home, though.
One of the foster homes was also in Konterr, the one that Hannah had disappeared from. Perhaps she could ask them some questions…
The gleaming city sparkled up ahead, blazing jewels, columns of silver, misty in the distance.
Could such a city hide horrific shadows?
Jason had already encountered them. So had Tasha and Saul. Gray had been taken by Yavesh, too… Jason had described the gunshots in the rain, and Gray disappearing across the lake.
I could look into that…. maybe a Yavesh hideout nearby….
Perhaps this city is the key.
The Crystall was on the ground floor of a tower which shot toward the heavens, dazzling in the early afternoon sunlight. Inside, the rugs were luxuriant scarlet, decorated with curlicues of gold. The chandelier in the lobby looked like an upside-down castle, delicate yet massive, sending scintillating iridescence sparkling through the air as if it were laden with magic.
Although Whit wasn't wearing anything fancy, just a dark blue shirt and black pants, he didn't seem to feel out of place like she did. He strode up to the host at the little black desk near the bottom of an elaborate golden staircase. "We're here with Trysta," he said.
The young woman with a slick black ponytail nodded. "Ah, Trysta Zephyr. They are right in here." She led them to the left, into the grand dining room.
Elegant women with sparkling necklaces that matched the chandelier glanced at her as she passed. It might've been her imagination, but their sly eyes glinted with disdain.
Thankfully their table was in a corner a little removed from the others. It was near a window; the other side was a mirror, and above that was a portrait of a woman in bright colors, splashes of flowers surrounding her at the edge of a sunsoaked house.
At the glossy round table sat Trysta, who wore a sapphire dress, her blond hair pulled back and folded into an elegant bow. Beside her sat a young woman with brown hair who wore a blue blazer and skirt. She looked rather nervous. Her eyes lit up when she saw them, though.
"Hey!" said Trysta, standing and shaking their hands. "It's good to see you again." She sat back down. "This is Chayana."
Chayana shook their hands quickly, then darted back to her place again. She slid a loose strand of hair back to her single braid.
"You don't have to worry," said Trysta gently. "They're friends."
"Cindy trusts you with her life. So…. it's just." Her voice fell to a whisper. "Them."
"I understand," said Whit. "You don't have to tell anything if you feel you're in danger."
"That's why I have to tell about it. If they're doing something wrong, they shouldn't get away with it." She glanced around the room surreptitiously. "Are you sure we should be discussing this here?"
"You're right," said Trysta. "There are private rooms upstairs where we can discuss things. I couldn't resist starting out here though—the food is to die for." She licked her lips. "I wonder where the others are? They won't know where to meet us if they don't get here first."
As if on cue, Markov wove through the tables. He looked fit and confident, no hint of the gunshot wound. Behind him was Amber, her hair a coppery cloud in the suffused light. Behind her, the light struck gold, shimmering a subtler reddish tinge.
"So I hear you've got a lead for us," said Markov as he shook Trysta's hand warmly.
"We'll discuss that later," said Trysta.
After everyone was introduced, they settled in to look through the menu.
"Is there anything you recommend?" Whit asked Trysta.
"Mm…I'm always partial to the Wiener Schnitzel. Or the Ratatouille. You just have to try the French Silk Pie. Or the Apfelstrudel."
"I'm sensing a theme here."
She laughed. "It is French and German cuisine. Or rather, Austrian, since we're so close to the border." She pursed her lips. "That's the whole thing. The border offers lots of opportunities—and risks. The same with this city. It's glorious—but with its fast money comes a lot of problems."
"I have to admit," said Amber, "I haven't been to Konterr very often. So I'm not too familiar with it."
"Then I'm your girl."
"You've been here quite a bit?"
"I dart here and there. I'm always on the move for Papa's business. It's mine as well, but sometimes…. Well. Eventually I'll branch out on my own. With all the skills I've learned. Unless…. I'll have to probably wait until one of my siblings gets old enough to take over the business." Her face pensive, she buried herself in the menu.
Amber helped Ana read the foreign names. Connie looked through the menu, perplexed at some of the descriptions; Whit translated for her.
She thought she would try the Wiener schnitzel, since she'd heard about it but never had it. And the French silk pie. When the waiter appeared, Trysta ordered appetizers and two bottles of wine with tongue-twisting names.
While Whit spoke with Markov about his case and Amber conversed with Chayana, Connie turned to Ana and asked her how she was doing.
"Good," she said, looking like she meant it.
"You've been shadowing Amber?"
"Mostly at the headquarters. I love learning everything about investigating." Sorrow sparked in her eyes. "Connie—how are you doing?"
"I have to not think about it too much. Or—" She shook her head to avoid the horrific visions.
Jason—tied down as the monster advanced on him, leering—
A hand on her arm. "Connie?"
She broke back into the present, trembling. "I—saw—what they might be doing to him. What if it's real and now they're—" Her chest tightened.
"You can't know what's happening."
She nodded, trying to make herself believe it, her heart locked in her throat. "He's probably just a hostage. Or worst case scenario, he's being tortured. But that's better than—" She sliced off another attack of the visions.
Ana laid a hand gently on her shoulder. Connie's pain reflected in her eyes.
She held out her hand and Ana took it, pressed it softly.
"Maybe we should talk about something else," said Ana.
"Good idea. Have you heard from Nika and Natasha lately?"
"Natasha moved to the farm a few days ago. They're having a great time. I can't help but be jealous—and I know not everyone can move there. But I miss Nika."
"Oh, Ana…. That has to be hard."
"At least she's with her friend. They share a stronger bond—because they were together in slavery. I'm happy for them. I got to see Nika the other day when she came to town to have her baby checked. He's doing really well! Natasha's so excited for Dima to have a playmate. She's good at consoling Nika's worries about having the baby. I'm able to call any time I want, so… it's not like I'm totally cut off from them. And I'll probably visit soon. I can't wait to see the farm. There are goats and ponies and chickens… I might not ever be adopted, but I really hope I can get to a place like that someday. It'll take a long time till I can do anything…. Especially with how scared I am a lot of the time." She looked around the room. "This isn't so scary though." She smiled.
The waiter came with the hors d'oeuvres and the wine. When the waiter was about to pour some into her glass, Connie said, "No, thank you."
"You're missing out!" said Trysta. "This is no time to be puritanical. There is plenty to go around—money is no object."
"I um…" She wasn't sure she wanted to say this, but she didn't want people to be misled. "I might be pregnant."
Whit looked at her rather sharply but didn't say anything.
"Really? That's wonderful!" Then she frowned. "You don't know for sure?"
"It's a little early. I want to be on the safe side, though."
"Makes sense. It… must be hard, knowing you could be pregnant, not knowing where the baby's father is."
She nodded.
"That's why we're going to do all we can to find him. I've got my network—hopefully we'll find out more, and that this lead will bear fruit. Perhaps we'll find him by the time you're able to find out if you're pregnant—and it'll be a doubly joyous occasion!"
"I'm…trying to keep up that hope…."
"There is no way to know," said Markov. "All our leads so far have turned to dust—but there are a lot more out there we haven't followed up on yet. This one could fall through, too."
"I think there really is something going on," said Chayana meekly yet firmly.
"There may very well be," said Markov. "We're not sure if it's connected yet. That's what we're here to determine. I want to crush anything that hurts Muldavia. But right now—my main focus is finding Jason—who has done so much for my country. And my child—Elliot."
"Your son is captured?" said Trysta.
The ghost of a smile appeared on Markov's lips. "He's like my son." His eyes grew grim. Dark with desolation—and a burning inner rage. "They wanted me to stop investigating—so they…hurt him. I can't stop looking for him—but it's good I'm in a rather informal capacity now. They might not be tracing my steps as closely." He narrowed his eyes, as if he was reconsidering saying so much.
"Then we've got even more motivation to get to them. If this lead doesn't work, I'll keep moving to another clue."
"I appreciate the help. What is your interest in this, anyway?"
"Part of it is selfish. I want to show not all elite are corrupt. We're not the type to… hurt people, just for financial gain. I also want to use my resources to help—because now that I'm aware of this problem, I see how horrible it is. Whit and Connie's personal story caught me—now I'm invested."
"It's certainly nice to have people with resources." Markov looked at Chayana. "And people with inside connections."
"I'm glad I stumbled on it," said Chayana. "Even though I'm scared out of my mind."
"Have you had any unwanted attention?"
"I feel like I'm being watched. I don't know if it's because I'm paranoid—or because something's actually going on."
"I've learned never to discount your intuition. Now that we're here, we can take over. Unless you'd like to keep helping."
"I do. Until it actually gets dangerous."
The food came and Connie was starving so she dove into the schnitzel and potatoes and didn't come up for air until there was barely any remnant left on her plate.
They all ordered something for dessert except Chayana, who looked a little pale. The French silk pie melted in Connie's mouth and lifted her into ecstatic heights, erasing everything dark.
She wished she could stay in that chocolate oblivion forever. Perhaps keep eating pie….
But that wasn't practical. She couldn't retreat, not when Jason needed her.
She sought a distraction and remembered that Viktor and Adela had planned to move in with Amber. She asked about them.
"They moved in a few days ago," said Amber.
"How are they doing?"
"Okay, all things considered. They didn't have much, so moving wasn't hard. We went shopping for other things they'd need. The problem is, Adela has a hard time accepting charity. I keep telling her it's just until she gets on her feet, but she wants to be able to take care of things on her own. It's always been just her and her brother. If not for him, I don't think she'd have accepted the offer to move to my house. But she knows he needs help. She's out every day looking for a job—but she can't spend too much time away from him, either. And it's hard for her to admit she's had trauma, too. Even if it's not severe like Viktor's."
"How is he doing?"
"Better, I think. He stayed in his room the first few days. Yesterday though he came out into the living room. Got some food from the fridge. Even stepped out onto the porch for a minute. It does him good to have some space—I think he's just realizing that. How he can breathe free there." Her eyes sparkled. "I'm glad I can help in some way… although it'll be a long road. The trauma he went through is unimaginable. I can't begin to understand. Neither can his sister. There's this gap… even though I studied psychology, I'm no expert at PTSD, especially the kind coming from prolonged sexual abuse. That's why… Ana has helped."
"You've gone to see them?" asked Connie.
Ana nodded. "I helped them move. I… really want to help him. With things that helped me when I first escaped. I was so alone then… I don't want him to be alone."
"After all you've been through – that's really amazing of you."
"Well… if I can get something good out of it…. I just wish…he hadn't gone through it in the first place."
"If we can take Yavesh down," said Amber, a fierce light in her hazel eyes, "that'll rip out a huge part of the problem in our country."
Their desserts finished, they headed up to a conference room. After what she'd seen in other hotels, she couldn't help but wonder if some nefarious dealings were done behind closed doors…. People being abused, enslaved…. She wondered if the hotel knew about it. Perhaps they should check this place out…. So many angles. The only one that mattered right now was the path that led straight to Jason.
Dear God… please let this be the one… I can't stand much more of this…. You know how much I can stand but… I might collapse soon, not be able to pull myself up at all….
They settled in the lounge chairs on the left side of the room. Out the huge floor-to-ceiling windows Connie could see people walking on the sidewalk below and silhouettes moving in the building on the other side of the street.
The office building where Chayana worked was at the edge of town; headquarters had moved there about a year ago. The company was Kazfaq, a play on words in Muldavian that sounded like "hilltop" but was spelled differently, also a shortening of the founder's name, Kazimir. Chayana had worked there for several years and seen nothing out of place. She'd enjoyed working as an administrative assistant who also did some accounting work, mostly as a double-checker.
A few days ago she'd gone into the wrong folder and discovered the strange excel sheet. She had just enough time to take a picture when her boss came in. She forgot about it as she finished up work. When she went home, though, she realized it looked suspicious, so she called her friend to talk about it. With her permission, Cindy told Trysta.
Chayana showed the photo on her phone. As Markov examined it, he said, "Not typical company records. It's a good thing they forgot to encrypt it. How many files were there?"
"A lot."
"They may have found the error and encrypted them by now. Still… it'd be worth it to get in there and get some more evidence. Would you be up for that?"
"Maybe. I don't know if they found me out yet…."
"Let's see if there's any indication you've been followed. In any case, we'll be able to give you protection."
"Yavesh—might take me." Fear blazed through her eyes.
"If you're not up for it—I wouldn't blame you if you weren't—we can follow another option."
"Like what?" said Amber.
"Go in and download it."
"Steal it?" said Trysta, her eyebrow raised.
"We need it ASAP. Especially if we can get a non-encrypted version."
"Who would you send in?" said Whit.
"Myself, of course."
"Are you sure?" said Amber. "You're still recovering—"
"I'm fit as a fiddle now. I'm still capable of being an agent. Not just sending young things in to get torn up. It'd actually be less dangerous for me. Who's going to sell me?"
"You're the deputy director," said Whit. "You're valuable to your agents."
"With how things are going now, how strict Andronova is, I may never get reinstated. I have to do something where it counts. I've got to make the most of what I've got—use all my assets. Which right now is my experience."
"It's been a while …" said Amber cautiously.
"You're trying to say I'm rusty? Maybe so, but I still have an edge. I never let my guard down, always kept in shape, always kept practicing."
"I've gotten good—I might still be faster—"
"I'm not sending you in there. Not letting anyone else do my dirty work anymore."
"I'm capable of it—"
"Not saying you're not capable. You've come to mean a lot. I—don't want… to lose you." His voice faltered slightly.
"I won't let myself be captured."
"Elliot was the best, for his stage in the game. They still took him—" He stood and strode to the window.
"It's kind of a moot point," said Whit. "We still have to figure out our approach."
"He's… he's under a lot of stress," said Amber quietly. "It's taking its toll on him. Knowing Elliot is out there."
"They hurt him…. Like they hurt me?" said Ana.
Amber nodded, sorrow overtaking her face.
Chayana sent the photo to each of their phones and they studied it. To Connie, it just looked like a lot of lines, some rather random words, and a bunch of numbers.
First they looked at the place names, which were the most recognizable part of the document. "What do each of the places have in common?" said Whit.
"Well…" said Amber. "They're all rather small towns that are known for their industry. I may not know western Muldavia, but I know Austria. My cousins live near Vienna. One of the locations is in a town not far from the capital."
"As well as the two on the Muldavian side," said Markov.
"They're also tourist towns," said Trysta. "People go there to see the local color. Which also have their seedy sides. Some elite outside my circle go there to…exploit the desperate. Some may be trafficked."
They continued to study the document, examining the people described. Some were young women—their ages listed as 18, 19. Others were young men. Some were a little older. Their physical condition was also mentioned, along with what looked like measurements.
"They could be using some as labor—and some for… other things," said Whit, looking concerned.
"Some possibly for both," said Amber.
They examined the codes but couldn't decipher them. Perhaps just number labels in lieu of names or locations.
"Doesn't mean there isn't a pattern," said Markov. "That's why it'd be helpful to get more documents."
"I… will try," said Chayana.
"Meanwhile, we will check out these locations. The ones in Muldavia, anyway."
Trysta glanced out the window. "It's getting a little late. If some of you would like to stay here overnight, I'll pay for it."
"It's too expensive!" said Connie.
"Nonsense! You deserve the best. Besides—money for me really is no object."
"They could stay at my house," said Chayana.
"No—that'd look suspicious. In fact, from now on, you should probably keep your contact with us to a minimum. We should work out a way for you to contact us securely. And an emergency alert in case you're not able to call or text."
They worked out the details; Chayana would go home and go to work like usual. In the meantime, tonight they'd check out two of the Muldavian locations. Tomorrow, Markov would keep an eye out for anyone following her and call his colleagues in Austria to ask if he could do some unofficial investigating there. A few people would also stake out the company to see if there were any suspicious characters going in or out. Or any signs of trafficked people. It would be a 24/7 job, so they'd have to rotate out. He thought he might be able to get Sam and perhaps Dana to do it. Sam was doing much better now that the poison was out of his system.
Tonight, they'd split up and check out the towns in Muldavia and see if they could scout out precise locations, since just the general districts were named in the document. Since they'd just be looking around, it probably wouldn't be dangerous, so Connie agreed to go with. They'd meet up back at the hotel later that night.
It took a little while to figure out their groups; Connie felt like the last person picked for the team. In the end, of course, Whit had confidence in her, even if no one else did. Markov headed their team. She had a feeling he saw her as a liability, but he didn't protest her inclusion.
They headed to the town closest to Austria, just twenty miles from the border. Border towns were especially volatile, Markov said. Constant traffic of all kinds. They were always a wild west of sorts. Lots of opportunities for criminals.
"We should have focused more on the borders in the first place," he said. "You never know—Jason could've been taken to Austria."
"He could be anywhere!" she said, looking out the window as they headed toward Ovlesk.
"I bet Yavesh headquarters isn't too far from Muldavia—if it's not inside it. It's a homegrown monster, after all."
Markov called Sam Kant to see if he'd be up to staking out Kazfaq, since it wasn't too strenuous. He had shown how capable he was during the shootout; he'd also shown he could be trusted, something Markov couldn't say about a lot of others at HQ right now. Markov asked how he was doing and apparently he said he'd be able to help.
"He's tired of just sitting around," said Markov, after hanging up. "I know what that's like. Dana's not too sure about it—she did almost lose him. She's going to call in a minute."
When Dana called, Markov put her on speakerphone. "I found Doctor Farlin!" she said. "Thanks to Nika. I looked through the employees for someone matching that description. A couple men did… and then I had the long job of investigating them and staking out their houses. I was thrown off a bit at first because he wasn't a doctor. But he was the only one that acted suspiciously."
"What's his real name?" said Markov.
"Logan Morgan. He's just a technician at Kovane. But he's apparently got enough access he can funnel the drug out onto the street. I'm thinking he and perhaps a small cell inside Kovane used the girls for guinea pigs in order to get the drug approved faster. Morgan is just the outside contact, too low-profile to be noticed, someone they can get to do their dirty work. I don't think he's the ringleader. But he may lead me to him. He's admittedly good at clandestine games. If not for showing his face to the girls, we may not have found him. I've lost him several times. Not that he knows I'm there, he just takes precautions. But he'll probably mess up one of these nights. He feels pretty secure in his tradecraft, but he is just an amateur, after all."
"Be careful," said Markov. "He's gotten away with it so far, so he's not to be underestimated. And he has connections to some dangerous people."
"Just the connection with Kovane is potentially dangerous. And they still could be a front for Yavesh. I'll be careful."
"You do take unnecessary risks sometimes."
"You also know I'm the best."
"You'd be a great asset here."
"I'll join you when I close off this op. It'll feel great to get this finished."
"It could break this case wide open, who knows."
"So could yours, I hear."
"That's the hope."
"You're stealing my Sam away from me, though."
"It's his choice."
"He's…still so weak."
"Surveillance will be easy. Just watching a building."
"From a safe distance?"
"Yes. I won't send him out on another life-threatening mission yet. He's not ready for it."
"Yet."
"He's the one who wanted this job."
"Away from a nice cushy security guard job."
"Well, maybe he doesn't want you to have the monopoly on danger. You wouldn't stop—so why should you expect him to?"
"I love his passion. That's one reason why I married him. It would be hypocritical of me to try to stop him. All the same… I can't help but be scared."
"That's understandable. Especially after what you've been through. He's also shown what he's capable of."
"I really can't be blamed for wanting to hold onto one of the good ones."
Markov smiled. "That's true."
"It was touch and go there for a bit," said Markov, after hanging up. "We almost lost him. I'd not only have lost a promising agent, but a good friend. I might've lost Dana too—she was a wreck after her ex left. Sam was the one who… brought her back to life." His voice caught. He steered to the left; the sun was setting over the hills, glancing into her eyes as they headed west.
"Have you ever been to Austria?" she asked Whit, sliding forward a little so she could talk to him.
"Not yet. If they need me to, I'll visit one of the Austrian towns."
"I'll have to contact my colleagues on the other side," said Markov. "I don't want to be crossing the border illegally. Too bad we can't just jump right over there …. Once we do, we will need people to go there, so if you're up for it—"
"Anything to find my son."
"Me too," said Connie. "As…long as it doesn't get too dangerous."
"It's true we can't have amateurs messing it up," said Markov.
"Kris—" said Whit.
"That's just the way it is. Everyone needs to be in their proper place for this operation to work." He glanced back at Connie. "We have plenty of behind-the-scenes roles. Less central."
"I know," she said. "I know what my limitations are. I just want to do all I can to find Jason. But… even if I could… I probably shouldn't go into danger."
"You think you might be pregnant?" said Whit, his eyes searching hers. "When did you find out?"
"Well… it could've been… any point since… the Centennial." Her cheeks heated.
"I see," he said, looking toward the road.
He looked back, serious, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "So it could be…"
"I could be almost a month along. I got a test but I wasn't sure and then I… procrastinated then I looked it up and they said the test won't be accurate till at least a month anyway so… I thought there was no point in telling you till I was sure. I… didn't want to know in case…. I worried too much. After…."
Whit nodded with understanding.
"I'm still not sure if I should take it… I could just wait until I get more signs… but maybe it's better to know. So I make sure I don't…lose the baby."
"If Jason didn't come back…."
"The baby would be all we had left of him. If I lost the baby too—"
She took Whit's hand and held it until they reached the low mountains.
As Markov drove up into the mountains, the pines plastered against the deepening purple, he asked, "Have either of you looked any more at Elliot's video?"
"We have," said Whit. "We haven't found anything so far."
Markov shook his head in frustration. "Me neither. I can't do it anymore. Amber's getting to that point too, although since she didn't know him, she can shut her mind off a bit. She is almost as motivated now as me to find him. She sees what a good man he is." He was pensive for a moment, then said, "I'm almost hoping for another video. Then we could have something else to go on. But they're probably smart enough—they don't want too many possible correlations. I don't want to see any more of that either." He slammed his fist on the dashboard. Looked at Whit, then Connie, rage in his eyes. "I sent it to Serafina too. I thought she should know. But…."
"She's his fiancée?" said Whit.
Markov nodded, gripping the steering wheel as if strangling it. "She said he must've done something to consent to it. How anyone could see him being brutalized like that and— I thought it might upset her, and it did, but not the way I expected. I always thought she wasn't good enough for him. I couldn't tell Elliot that… he wouldn't hear it. Now…" He gave a half-choked laugh. "At least he won't have to worry about that when he gets back. He won't need anyone dragging him down—he'll need all the support he can get."
"I don't know how anyone could react like that…." said Whit. "It was… pure torture. Knowing he's probably endured more…" He sank down in the seat as if weighed by a heavy burden.
"She said—" Markov's voice was laden with restrained anger—"That she'd never be able to see him in the same way again. They could never be together, now that he'd…betrayed her. As if he had any say in the matter! I told her that it wasn't his fault. How could it be? Even if it was, even if it was possible for a man to be raped, she couldn't get over how weak he'd been. Couldn't get that vision of him lying there out of her mind—As if he didn't fight as much as he could!" He trembled.
"There is still this… stigma," said Whit quietly. "A belief that men can't be….raped."
"That's true, and it's prevalent in this country, among the more ignorant. I was kind of on the fence myself, but when I saw the video—it was clear he couldn't have done anything against them. When you're in someone else's power—when they have weapons—there is nothing you can do. Perhaps let yourself be killed—and Serafina implied that would be better! Perhaps to cut off his own pain—but to suggest that it would be better for anyone else! When he returns—I'm going to do everything I can to help him. Not say anything about it if that's what he needs. Protect him from anyone who even thinks about blaming him."
"Do his parents know?"
"Yes, and they're supportive. So is his sister, Olivia. Whether he recovers depends on our support… and how much they've done to him. People… can come back from that… but it's… long years of suffering… he may never be the same again." His voice was hoarse with grief.
"Perhaps… they've left him alone… since the video."
"I have to hold onto that. No guarantee. They could be just…. Using him for pleasure—" He shook his head.
"I will keep praying for him."
Connie's heart broke for Elliot. How anyone could abandon someone in that much pain—it was unfathomable. She would never abandon Jason. No matter what they did to him. She knew if—anything was done to him—he would never agree to it. By definition, it would be violent. He would never betray her.
He's safe, he's safe, they're not assaulting him. No reason for them to do it.
But still—that had been the tactic with Elliot. It hadn't been done for pleasure, but for coercion of those on the outside. What if they sent such a video? She couldn't do much against them anyway, so they probably wouldn't send her one. Even Whit was limited.
So maybe they wouldn't send one after all. Most agents would probably keep investigating anyway; it hadn't stopped Markov. Maybe they'd taken the hint.
She could breathe a sigh of relief.
Except—she couldn't. Her chest was tight, her lungs stifled. A horrific image of Jason being whipped, like Ana had been, slicing into her mind.
Thankfully, they were nearing Ovlesk, so she had a distraction.
A faint hint of melon orange hovered over the town, the last remnant of the sunset. Its lights glittered in the dark; there were no high rises here, just an array of houses and at the center, a cluster of brick buildings. Markov drove down the hill to the main street that led downtown. A few fast food places and other stores were on the outskirts, then residential areas, pleasant tree-lined streets, and sparkling storefronts brimming with invitation.
Markov pulled up next to one of them. "Connie, you can play the role of a tourist—which shouldn't be hard, since you are one. Just look around and see if there's anything off. Don't engage, just report, and get out of there. I'm going to the industrial district. My job will be considerably more dangerous, since I'm going where I'm not supposed to be, but I'll just observe this time too, unless something goes wrong. Whit, if you'd like to come with me, you're welcome. Or if you'd rather stay with Connie…"
"I'll stay with Connie. I want to make sure she's safe."
"Probably best I stake out the location alone anyway. The tourist district wasn't mentioned in the document for Ovlesk, but there could still be suspicious activity here. Look for any signs of shady dealings. I'll look for signs of workers shuttled in secretly, any kind of abuse. This is just the preliminary recon. An operation this big—we will need quite a few more agents. Best case we get the NSA here since they've got the big guns. This seems big enough for them to take notice—we'll look for anything interesting and share it with them and the MNS—more their jurisdiction, but we need all eyes on this." He glanced at Connie. "Your contact really did come through—you can be proud of that."
"Thank you."
Connie climbed out of the car onto the sidewalk and Whit joined her. Markov saluted and drove away.
"When will he be back?" said Connie. "We didn't really set a time…."
"We might end up getting a hotel," said Whit. "Or we might find something right away. In any case we'll probably contact him to tell him." He held up his phone.
Of course. Cell phones existed.
Connie peered into the window of the nearest shop. It had cute little handmade toys in it. Other things made out of wood like birdhouses and clocks. The store closed at 10; thankfully it wasn't quite 9.
They headed into the shop and she adored all the little things. She was tempted to buy something…. What drew her the most were the toys. She wanted to buy something for her baby—who she didn't know existed yet.
Maybe it's my intuition, she thought. I sense the baby is there before I know.
She held a little toy truck in her hand and rolled it back and forth on her palm. Her heart ached with longing to see her little boy rolling it across the floor. Or girl.
Maybe I'd better think of her as a girl, since Jason did. That way, I can be closer to him.
Maybe it's both. Maybe God is restoring double what we had… How would that work with Jason, though. I don't want another of him. I just want him. Healed completely, perhaps. Everything restored the way it was—no more darkness.
She cuddled the little toy to her cheek. Its smooth wood was cool and soothing.
"Connie?" said Whit, stepping into the little alcove with the toys.
She set the toy down.
"Do you want it? I'll buy it for you."
"Well… I probably should be sure first…"
"I could get it just in case."
"If Jason never comes back… and I'm not pregnant… I'm never having another baby."
"He will come back," said Whit, picking up the toy.
"How can you be so sure?"
"I just have this feeling…. It might be just wishful thinking. But I think it's God-given. He's sending me peace." He pressed his hand to his heart.
"Then why doesn't he give me that peace!"
"Are you listening to him?"
She frowned. "Maybe… not as closely as I should…."
"Try to take refuge in him. He won't fail you."
"I will." I'll try, anyway. It's just so hard…. Amidst all this darkness. I don't think I can ever have Whit's level of faith.
If Jason never comes back… I may lose it.
The fear of that jolted her heart and she vowed to keep moving. Slogging through the mire. Toward some grace somewhere in the future, light on the horizon she could not yet see.
Whit bought the little car. It made sense they blend in, anyway, by being active tourists. They headed to more stores; she bought some earrings and a pendant for Ana. In the last shop before they all closed down for the night, she encountered a knife with the engraving "Jason." Just holding it, touching his name, made her feel closer to him, and knowing she'd have something to give him when he got back gave her a spark of hope.
She slid it into her jeans pocket as they headed out onto the street. "Now what?" she said. "That was fun, but… we didn't really find out anything."
"It was mostly just a cover," Whit said. "Now… we've got to be careful. Act kind of like lost tourists… Maybe stumble on something we're not supposed to. If you don't feel comfortable doing that, I can go …"
"No—I'll go with you. I mean—it can't be too dangerous, right?"
"Unless we really do find Yavesh."
"What are we looking for?"
"Would you like some supper first?"
She had been full from lunch for hours, but come to think of it, she was a little hungry now. She'd need to keep up her strength.
Whit led her to the area of downtown that looked a little more dilapidated. Some abandoned storefronts, bricks crumbling, graffiti in back alleys. There was a nice little Asian restaurant, though, and they headed inside. It was rather spare but clean with a glowing menu above a counter and a large golden dragon on the wall.
Connie ordered two spring rolls and lo mein with vegetables. Whit ordered pho. They sat at one of the two-person tables along the wall. There was a small burn spot on the surface of the table, and some scratches, but otherwise it was white and clean. There were only a few other customers and they were quiet and polite.
I don't want to go into danger—but if it means finding Jason—
If I'm not pregnant, I'll risk my life if I have to. Maybe offer myself—although that would hurt Jason too.
But I can't risk hurting my baby.
The potential danger thrummed the reality of it through her.
I'll take the test as soon as I get back.
After they finished supper, they wandered out onto the streets. "Just let me know if you want to turn back, okay?" said Whit. He led them down the alley behind the restaurant. Lights shone from basement doorways; music throbbed up through the pavement.
At a cement stairway up ahead, a woman lingered against a black iron railing. She wore a long, elegant magenta dress with a plunging neckline, ruffles at the hem. She waved laconically. "Good evening. There is classy entertainment for all inside."
"What exactly does that mean?" said Whit.
"We have singers onstage… dancers… but it's very tasteful. You don't see anything you don't want to see." She winked.
He looked at Connie. "Maybe you'd better go back to the restaurant."
She shook her head. "I don't want to be alone. Besides," she whispered, "it doesn't sound too dangerous."
"I want to find out," he whispered back, "if there's more to find out."
"So you've discussed it among yourselves," said the woman, "You want to come in?"
Whit nodded, looking a little reluctant still. He took Connie's arm and headed up the stairs.
"Stick around and you may see me inside." She waved as they stepped in the door.
Connie felt like bursting back out as soon as she got in. She pressed her palm to her stomach without hardly realizing it.
White tables were scattered across the floor, which was carpeted in rich maroon with abstract patterns. Crystal lights spun on the ceiling. There was a stage in front; it looked like it could've been an old theater. Old dinner theater, like the Harlequin.
Waiters and waitresses carried platters of food and drink deftly among the crowd. Some people were milling around, talking and laughing. There was a piano onstage but at the moment the curtain was pulled over the rest of the stage. Light music trickled through the air.
Maybe it's not that bad, she thought. Except there was a distinct tang of cigarette smoke, which she hated. Her father used to smoke when she was a kid. She hated the smell of smoke clinging to her clothes when she went to school. Her mom even began to smoke when her father started driving her crazy a little too often… but she quit after they divorced.
They stepped down some carpeted stairs and a waiter offered to lead them to a table. They sat in the middle by a large weight-bearing column, which was decorated with little lights. The waiter offered them drinks but they both refused and he walked away.
"She wasn't wrong," said Whit. "This place is rather classy. In a suspicious kind of way."
"You see it too?"
"There is something wrong here. We'll just stay long enough to make sure. Agents can do the rest."
"Spying, not covert action," she said, remembering Jason's insistence on the distinction. Although he said often the lines were blurred, especially in his case….
Unable to crush the ache in her heart, she looked around the room. A few women, rather scantily clad, were hanging around some tables in the back. Some of the men were dressed in gaudy silk shirts with prominent jewelry who looked like mobsters—or perhaps just petty criminals. One of the men grabbed a woman by the waist and pulled her closer; she pushed him away and waved her index finger, then held out her hand and he stuffed cash into her shirt and she led him away down through a doorway to the left of the stage.
The woman looked like she was consenting (which still didn't mean it was a good thing), but Connie had learned through investigating it wasn't always easy to tell.
A waiter came by with more drinks and Whit asked for some water for the both of them. A moment later, the curtain parted and a woman appeared onstage in a long, pearlescent gown. Gentle clapping reverberated through the room. A man sat at the piano and began to play, then the woman joined in with a song.
Her voice was elegant and smooth; it transported Connie to a romantic time in the misty depths of the past. Where everything was good, yet with the poignant pain of imminent loss.
After the song crescendoed, a woman sauntered up to them. She had a blue dress that enhanced the vibrance in her eyes. "Good evening. How can I make your night more enjoyable?"
"I think we're good," said Whit.
"Are you sure? Our club has the best entertainment—but there are even more delights backstage. Some of our singers will oblige you with a private performance."
"You mean—"
"Anything you want. From a song, to… the sky's the limit, really."
He glanced at Connie. "I'm not sure if she'd—"
"Is she your girlfriend or….?"
"My daughter," he said quickly.
"Hey, we don't judge. We have things for her too. Whatever she prefers."
"I—I don't think—" she stammered, her face heating.
The woman laughed indulgently. "Newbies are welcome to just take in the atmosphere. But the more experienced might find they long for a more multi-dimensional experience…."
Whit looked around, seeming to consider something. Then he looked at Connie. "If you don't mind…."
"You want to-?" She was shocked for a moment before she realized what he meant.
"I won't go if you don't want me to. I don't want to leave you here alone."
"I'll be okay. Go ahead." She sent a message with her eyes. Find him. Any means necessary.
He nodded, still looking a little unsure, but the woman led him back through the door the gangster had gone through.
Desolation shot through her, creating a black hole in her heart. The next song barely imprinted on her mind. Lost in a daze, the haze of cigarettes and the strange environment hypnotized her. At the edge of it all was a sense she should be on her guard…
I need to keep spying, she told herself, mentally slapping herself awake. She looked around the room; the men were up to the same disgusting behavior, getting away with as much as they could. In one instance a bouncer had to intervene and stand in the way of a large brute and a girl.
So fragile they were…. At least they have some protection… but what about the ones in the back?
A man came by with some hors d'oeuvres. Some sort of mini wraps, crepes with something inside them, and some mini eclairs. They looked delicious so she took some.
Setting down the platter on the table, the man asked if she wanted anything else.
"No, thank you," she said.
"How about some wine?"
She shook her head.
"Something stronger?"
"No, thank you."
"Perhaps something more…pleasurable." He traced the back of her neck.
She jolted away, pushing his hand away weakly. "No—not that!"
"Are you sure?" He took a step back, spreading out his arms, showing off his slim, muscular physique clothed in loose black, a silver pendant at his throat. He had tousled dark hair and deep blue eyes and was so young—probably just eighteen or nineteen.
All she could think of was how he was so much more than his body. He had so much potential— if he would only see it. No one should be simply exploiting themselves…. though he could also be a slave, which was so much worse.
She wanted to ask him, but that would be too dangerous. Instead she shook her head and he disappeared among the crowd.
After what seemed like hours, Whit reappeared, his arm around a young woman's waist. She almost had a heart attack. The woman had long blond hair which was in a complete disarray and she wore a tight red dress and heels, one of the straps off her shoulder.
He held out a hand as he approached. "Let's go."
"Whit?"
"We're leaving." He guided the girl, who looked a little disoriented, up the stairs.
The two guards at the door stopped him. "Where do you think you're going?" said one.
"Out," said Whit.
"She's staying here."
Connie reached them on the landing, trembling with confusion.
"No, she's coming with me."
"Who do you think you are?" said the other guard, advancing, hand on his pistol.
In answer, Whit lifted a wad of cash from his pocket and stuffed it in the first guard's hands. They looked at each other, then let him go.
Connie raced after them into the cool darkness, her shoes echoing on the alley cement. She gasped – cool air rushed down her throat. They hurried down the alley, past a homeless man pushing a cart, past crumpled paper blowing in the street, until they reached the Chinese restaurant. It was still open, its window gleaming into the night.
Whit leaned against the brick doorway, breathless, and took out his phone. He called Markov, and when he didn't get an answer, texted rapidly then put the phone back into his pocket. Carefully he helped the girl lean against the wall. She looked at him wonderingly, a crease in her brow.
"It's all right," said Whit. "I won't hurt you."
"Where am I?"
"Remember? I told you I'd take you out of there. You're free."
She nodded, looking uncertain.
He looked at Connie. "Sorry about that. I couldn't exactly explain things. I wanted to at least find out what was going on back there. It's worse than – you could imagine. I just glimpsed things but. It's a wonder the police haven't raided it. Could be collusion… or protection. Could be Yavesh."
"She's… a slave?"
"You can't exactly consent when you're drugged. Her name is Monisha. That's what she told me, anyway." He looked around. "We'd better meet a little further away. Would you mind helping her? It's men who have… I don't want to hurt her."
Connie took over, helping the girl across the street. She was very thin; Connie didn't have any trouble guiding her except when she almost stumbled in those ridiculous high heels. They continued until Monisha's knees gave way and they sat on a bench in the better part of town, all of the little shops closed.
"She'll be able to tell us more when she's feeling better," said Whit. "Meanwhile we need to get her to a hospital and check what type of drug is in her system. Help her with any injuries. I'm just glad I could get her out of there before any more had a chance to…."
"You saved her," said Connie, the full implications slamming into her.
"I'm glad that gambit worked. That I got out before management could get to me. They might try to come after me… which means I can't really come back to this place. Unless I can get a cover story… I did get an idea—you can tell me if it's a good one."
"What is it?"
"I can't exactly just go in there like this all the time. They'll be onto me. But I could act as a competitor…. I could buy some victims and they could tell me about their operations. A lot more could be set free."
"That sounds like a good idea. Dangerous, but…."
"I'm done being safe. Businessman is a role I know well; I'd just have to flip it onto the dark side. Not many know me here. And on the border, there are many people from other countries, so I won't be out of place."
"I could help."
"It might get dangerous."
"I could be your secretary or something…."
"Behind the scenes. So you don't go into danger at all."
"Just do some spying like today…." It hadn't exactly been a roaring success on her part. But maybe…. She could help some young men like the one who'd talked to her… And get info.
She longed to do more.
And yet….
Jason's child was the one she was most responsible for protecting.
If he or she existed.
I'll find out. Soon.
Markov picked them up; he there was definitely something fishy going on, so he'd return later after more prep.
Monisha sat in the back, looking dazed. Connie tried to reassure her she was free, but she seemed to think she were just going to another place of slavery. She leaned against the window and soon she was asleep.
Whit told Markov about his idea and Markov roared with laughter. "That's genius!" he said. "I'd do that if I weren't so recognizable. I'll help tailor your role for Muldavia if you like."
"Any tips would be greatly appreciated."
"You'll need a mob boss alias…." He chuckled. "Just don't get too important or Yavesh will see you as a competitor."
They raced back to Konterr and took Monisha to the hospital. Whit insisted Connie go back to the hospital and get some sleep; he drove her there and then returned to help the investigation.
Ana and Amber were arriving at the same time. Ana looked pale and shaken. Apparently they'd gone to a hotel with some shady dealings going on; she'd panicked and almost revealed their secret. She looked sheepish as she told her part of the story.
"I guess… it is too soon for me."
"We should never have taken you there," said Amber. "Trysta insisted it'd be okay, but I know you, I'm your protector…."
"I'm okay now," said Ana. Amber held her close.
Once upstairs, Connie collapsed into her luxurious bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
When she woke up, she was sore all over for some reason. At first she didn't know where she was. Then it gradually came back to her—the wild night, the rescued girl. It felt good to have freed someone and be perhaps a sliver closer to finding Jason.
I've got to get a test today. Find out at what level I can help Whit.
I want to find out about the lost foster kids too….
She went down to have a continental breakfast, and Amber met her there. Ana was upstairs resting.
"I think she needs to go home," said Amber. "I can take her, but there are some leads I want to follow. She's in my care; you're the only person she'd trust to take her back."
"I'll have to find out what Whit's plans are," she said.
She called Whit and found out that Monisha had been drugged with zyx. He would need to stay and follow up with police. She asked about Ana and he said he could get a ride back later with Markov to begin getting his persona and fake organization built up.
Connie helped Ana out to the car; she was nervous and jumpy after last night. "You'll feel better once you get home," she said as she slipped into the driver's seat.
"I want to do more…"
"One step at a time."
Ana smiled and soon she was asleep in the reclining seat. Apparently she had hardly slept all night, so Connie was glad to give her some peace of mind.
Amika the collie greeted them when they returned to the women's shelter, and Connie spent some time out in the yard with her. She agreed to take her out to the farm next time she went; despite everything going on, she wanted to see Nika and Natasha's foster home, get closure.
Connie got a burger on the way home and took the remnants of fries to her room. Exhaustion hit her and she just lay back against her bed, staring at the ceiling.
What next… I need to do something… but I need some space to breathe.
Go outside for a walk…
Then it hit her.
Before anything else—
She snatched the pregnancy test from the closet and headed into the bathroom.
It might not be accurate, she told herself.
After a moment, she leaned against the sink to look at the results.
Lightning exploded through her mind.
She grasped the sink, her head spinning.
The test on the white marble in front of her.
Two pink lines.
She stumbled out into her room and collapsed on the bed.
I'm pregnant!
She laid her hand on her stomach, and she could almost feel the little life stirring there.
Jason! Tears streamed from her eyes. We're going to have a baby!
She reached out for him and it seemed that she could almost feel his hand, his fingertips just a hair's breadth from hers.