Among the Shrouded (25 page)

“No,” she said
, “don’t think that way.  We are going to figure something out and quickly.  And if you think your sisters have been imprisoned as well, we’ll find them.  I promise.”  She paused to consider what her training would have her do.  “Tell me,” she asked, “how many men usually come when they let you out?”

“
At least two.  As many as four,” Anya replied.

“And there are fifteen of us.  So that would mean
a maximum of four women for every man.”

“But our hands are tied.  We can’t use them to defend ourselves or attack the men,” Lera lamented.

“That’s true, but what if I told you there’s a way to free yourself from your restraints.  I can teach you how to hold your hands while they’re tying you so you may be able to wriggle free.  We’d have to practice first though.”

She
thought back to her police training and felt confident she would be able to teach the others.  “Maybe you can give it a try tonight to see if you’re able to slip out of the ropes.  If most of you are able, then perhaps there’s hope for an escape.  The only way it’ll work though is for everyone to be involved.”

“Just tell us what to do,” said Kate.

She spent the rest of the morning teaching Anya, Kate, and Lera how to hold their hands to create slack in the rope while being restrained. 

“You want to hold your wrists crossed with your thumbs facing up instead of to the side.  This makes the distance around your wrists larger
than usual when they wrap the rope around them.  As they pull the rope tight, slide it up one arm slightly by spreading your elbows apart,” she demonstrated.

“Then what?” asked Anya.

“Then, when they’re no longer watching because they think you’re secure, turn your wrists together like you’re praying and slide the rope to the thumb of one hand.  There should be enough slack to get one thumb out.  Once you do that, you can pull your whole hand out and the other will come free as well.”

“That sounds easy,” Lera said.

“It’s not easy, but it can be done,” she said.  “Now pass the information down the line.  Teach the others so tonight everyone can give it a try.”

She
watched and listened as Lera and Anya explained the plan and instructed the women in the neighboring cells about how to escape from their restraints.  It was encouraging to hear the women sounding strong and empowered.  She hoped at least a few would be able to free themselves so they would be able to put the rest of her plan into effect. 

Once everyone in the basement was schooled in the art of escaping from their restraints,
she asked each of the women to recount the events that brought them into the basement.  Several refused, stating they had no intention of dredging up the harshness of the past.  Most, however, were eager to share their stories.  Although different in many ways, she was struck by how the same lies were told to lure each of the women into captivity.  Promises of work, money, and bright futures were held in front of the women, tempting them into an offer they couldn’t refuse.  She found herself crying with several of the women who described the families they had left behind.  It was especially heart wrenching to hear about Kate’s twin sisters who had already signed up for the same program.  She felt Kate’s desperation as she described the torment and responsibility she felt for their situation.

If
she had felt resolve toward helping the trafficked women before being locked away with them, after spending the day hearing their stories, seeing firsthand the horrific living conditions they were forced to endure, and witnessing the terror on their faces as they described the atrocities they had suffered, she now took it as her personal duty to save the life of every last woman in the room.

Knowing they would soon be taken to the auction,
she used the opportunity while they prepared to give them something of a pep talk regarding her plan of escape.  She knew teaching them to shed their restraints and uniting to overpower the men was a long shot, but it was the only shot they had.

“Ladies,
” she began, “I want to wish you good luck tonight.  Practice what you’ve learned but don’t let the men see you trying to free yourselves.  Don’t take your ropes all the way off or they’ll know for sure you are up to something.”

She
paused for effect, to emphasize the seriousness of what she was about to say. 

“You may be tempted to try to escape on your own
tonight, but believe me when say that you have a better chance of escaping as a group than as individuals, so use tonight as practice.  If enough of you feel confident that you could free yourselves when the time comes, then I’ll teach you how to defend yourselves against the men and we’ll all escape together.”

The hum of the
fluorescent lighting bouncing off the concrete walls was the only sound she heard as she waited for someone to respond.  Finally, Kate broke the silence.

“Thank you
, Mia.”

“Yes.  Thanks
, Mia,” Anya said.

“We’ll do our best
, Mia,” said Lera.

“We can do it,” came a voice from further down the hall.

“I believe in you,” said Svetlana, “and I believe in us.”

The sound of the metal door
groaning on its hinges signaled the arrival of the men who would take the women to the auction site.  Kate threw her a conspiratorial glance.  She hoped the confidence she had spent the day building in the women would survive the ordeal they were getting ready to endure.

Sadly, she doubted that it
would.

CHAPTER

36

THOMAS

Thomas threw the bobby pin across the floor, furious with himself for his ineptitude.  After spending the better part of fifteen minutes attempting to pick the lock, he resumed his search for the key in his mother’s nightstand drawer.  Among the hand lotions and packs of travel tissues, he finally found the keychain for which he’d been searching.  He returned to Mildred’s closet and placed the tiny gold key into the lock of the box on the floor.  The key turned smoothly and he breathed a sigh of relief as he opened the lid.

The handgun felt wrong in his hands as
he looked down the barrel and attempted to focus on an unseen enemy.  He questioned whether he would have the intestinal fortitude necessary to actually use the weapon should the need arise, but he hoped he would feel more confident having it holstered to his hip for the night.

He returned the box to the top shelf of Mildred’s closet and
was certain she would never suspect the gun was missing.  It had been his father’s and he was grateful for the time Howard had spent with him at the firing range teaching him to use it so many years ago.  However, he knew firing at a paper target was much different than firing at a human being and he questioned whether or not he would have the ability to pull the trigger.  He prayed he wouldn’t need to find out.  Before leaving the house, he buckled the holster to his waist and wrapped his jacket over top in an attempt to conceal the weapon.

The car keys in his pocket
felt as foreign as the gun had in his hand.  At work that afternoon, Belinda had happily agreed to allow him to borrow her car for the night, no questions asked.  He had dropped her off at her home and promised to return the car to her before morning.  He hoped it was a promise he would be able to keep.

On
his way out the door, he grabbed a large bag of chips from the pantry, a soda from the refrigerator, and a mystery novel he had picked up at the library earlier in the week.  He wasn’t expecting to be gone for very long but wanted to take something to keep his mind occupied in case he needed to wait longer than he planned.

He
drove carefully around the outer loop of the Baltimore beltway.  He was thankful the rush hour traffic was all but gone as he merged onto the expressway and headed north toward Owings Mills.  He didn’t really have a plan.  All he knew was that he had to do something.  Be active.  Find some way to convince Mia’s father she needed his help.

As he pulled off the exit ramp, he tried desperately to re
member which way Mia had turned when they had traveled together the weekend before.  He felt sure they had headed west and within several minutes his suspicions were confirmed when he happened upon the entrance to the sprawling neighborhood where Wayne Brookins resided.

He
turned off the headlights of the car just as Mia had done.  When he pulled in front of the Brookins’ estate, he was relieved to see there was but a single car in the driveway.  He doubled back and parked the car three houses down from Brookins’.  From his vantage point, he could easily see anyone coming or going and if necessary, he was poised to pursue a suspect or make a hasty escape.

Alone and unsure of what to do next,
he found himself drumming his fingers idly on the steering wheel after only a few minutes.  He opened the novel and began to read but worried immediately he would miss something happening.  He laid the book on the passenger’s seat and opened the bag of chips.  Without taking his eyes from the house, he placed one chip after another into his mouth.  The bag was almost empty when he noticed the garage door of the house opening slowly.

He
quickly licked the salt off his fingers and turned the key in the ignition.  Wayne Brookins appeared from the garage and climbed into the vehicle that was parked in the driveway.  Within seconds, Brookins was speeding down the street toward the main entrance of the neighborhood.  Without turning on the car’s headlights, he eased the transmission into first gear and followed Brookins onto the main road. 

He
found it was relatively easy to keep a safe distance and still maintain visual contact with Brookins as they drove toward the city.  Traffic was light and Brookins maintained a consistent speed in the right hand lane which kept him from having to jockey around others cars to keep up.

Unsure of where he
was heading or what he would do once he got there, he followed Brookins, who exited off the interstate onto North Avenue.  As a precautionary measure, he allowed several cars to merge between them as they traveled east, away from the city.  Before reaching the historic Baltimore Cemetery, Brookins made a series of right hand turns and he found himself in a deteriorated neighborhood surrounding the old American Brewing factory.

He
watched as Brookins parked his car inside of a fenced lot which surrounded a long abandoned warehouse.  There were three other cars parked in the lot along with two white commercial vans.  Brookins disappeared inside the building and Thomas turned off the car’s engine.

He became aware, for the first time since leaving the Brookins’ estate, that he was sweating profusely and his heart was beating rapidly. 
The voice inside his head cautioning him to drive away confirmed the involuntary reactions of his body. He had spent his entire life listening to the advice of his inner voice and it had always kept him from being seriously harmed.  And now, even though he knew Mia would have immediately followed Brookins into the building, he couldn’t bring himself to get out of the car.

Moments later, from the
relative safety of the vehicle, he watched a small group of women, each with her hands bound behind her back, being led out of the warehouse and into the vans.  He knew at once he had stumbled upon the holding facility and that somehow, Mia was involved as well.

As the vans pulled away,
his instincts continued urging him to head in the opposite direction.  He knew with every fiber of his being he was in danger and that the best course of action would be to alert the authorities at once.  However, thoughts of Mia compelled him to ignore the anxiety he was feeling and to follow the vans downtown to where they parked outside of a small renovated brownstone tucked away down a side alley. 

From his vantage point on the street,
he could see neither the vans nor the women contained within them.  Desperate to confirm what he assumed to be the truth about what was happening, he reluctantly got out of the car.  Each step toward the building caused him physical pain as an internal war raged inside of him.  Nonetheless, he crept cautiously along the far wall of the building and peered around the corner into the alley where the vans were parked.

There appeared to be about a doz
en women lined up beside the entrance.  While a few held their heads high, most of them stared down at their feet and he was saddened by how frail all of them seemed.  As he continued to watch, he was struck by how awkward and cartoonish they appeared, each of them dressed in a cocktail dress with matching heels. However, it wasn’t the clothing that disturbed him as much as their faces which were painted with garish cosmetics that distorted what he assumed were beautiful faces beneath. 

Without realizing
what he was doing, he found himself scanning the lineup for Mia’s face.  He was both disappointed and relieved to see she wasn’t there.  As the women were led inside the building, he hesitated at the corner, questioning his own motivations.  After several moments of quiet contemplation, he decided he would risk going inside for the opportunity to see the faces of the men involved even if he wouldn’t be saving Mia directly.

He
unconsciously touched the firearm holstered to his hip as he crept silently to the entrance.  The door was warped with age in its jamb and had not shut completely when the last of the men had gone through.  He pulled at the door slowly and found that, despite its weight, he was able to open it with very little effort.  Once inside, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room. A heavy navy blue curtain was draped from the floor to the ceiling and he could hear men’s voices coming from the other side.

He
felt his heart throbbing in his temples and although he was terrified, he slid the curtain to the side just far enough to make out what was happening in the room beyond. 

During his life, he had
known evil.  He had been beaten by men who were supposed to be fathers.  He had felt the anger of strangers and seen the unspeakable violence that came as a result.  He had witnessed the naïve being preyed upon by conmen.  And yet, the evil he saw beyond the curtain exceeded anything he had ever witnessed.

A dozen men milled around the girls, examining them as though they were museum pieces or in some cases, livestock, instead of human beings.  He watched as the women were groped and ogled and his stomach churned with disgust.  He looked carefully at each of the men and recognized a handful who had attended the party at Wayne Brookins’ home.  Some were selling the women while others were buying their services.

As he stood digesting the new information,
he was able to make out a conversation between the two men who had driven the vans from the warehouse.  He remained frozen in place and quietly listened to what they were saying.

“
Whadda ya think they are going to do with the woman cop?” the first of the men asked.

“Walt said they’
re gonna keep her for a little while until somebody realizes she’s not coming back and then they’re gonna kill her and dump her out in the mountains somewhere.  No one will ever find her,” the second sneered.

“I don’t get why they didn’t just off her from the
get go.  Make it look like a robbery gone bad or somethin’.”

“I think the boss just needed her out of his hair right away
and didn’t want to have to deal with a murder investigation.  I heard she was on to all of us.  Had photos of us at Brookins’ place the other night.”  The man paused to take a drag on the cigarette he was smoking.  “All I know is I’m glad she can’t make a big stink from where she is now and soon whatever she had on us will die with her.”

He
felt violently ill and struggled to keep from throwing up.  Between the heartbreak of watching the women being auctioned off and the realization that Mia’s life was in immediate danger, he could no longer maintain his composure and quietly hurried outside.

In the alley behind the building,
he fell to his knees and vomited repeatedly until the violent spasms that shook his body finally subsided.  After several moments, he attempted to stand up and steady his breathing.  He leaned against the wall and thought about the events of the night, trying desperately to make sense of all he had seen and heard.  He closed his eyes and focused on what Mia would have him do next.

And then, w
ithout warning, a wave of anxiety overtook him.  It was so severe, he began to run without having any idea of the reason for his flight.  As he crossed the street to where he had parked Belinda’s car, the door of the building opened and one of the men who had driven the van from the warehouse emerged.  He was wearing a red sweatshirt. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” he
called out, drawing his handgun from behind his back.

Without responding
or thinking to draw his own weapon, he continued to run toward the car, aware only of the extreme danger of his situation.  He heard a shot fired and instinctively covered his head with his arms as he ran to the far side of the car in an attempt to use it as a shield.  He hastily opened the passenger side door, climbed in, and straddled the console to make his way into the driver’s seat.  As the engine roared to life, he glanced out the window to see his assailant barreling toward him, gun still pointed in his direction.  He heard two more shots fired as he took off down the street.  Glass shattered all around him.  The next thing he saw was the blood.