Page 118 of Being Lost

“You’ve been tricked,” I tell him. “These men were bad. They were going to sell you, not let you walk free.”

His eyes widen, letting me know he got the gist. He speaks rapidly to the group surrounding him, and they huddle together.

Realising they don’t have any fucking idea what’s going to happen to them now, I try to keep my tone friendly. “Have you all got plans? Where were you going from here?”

“We’ve got a little money.” The words rush out. “Not much after paying to get here. That was manypesos. Many manypesos.”

“No, I don’t want your money. You’re free to leave.”

I give them a moment to process the change in their fortunes again. I doubt I can help them. They’ll presumably have some sort of idea of what they’d do when they got out this side. Their plans wouldn’t have included Alder, and he wouldn’t have bothered to arrange them rides, that wasn’t on his agenda. Presumably they expected to make their own way once they got here, so that’s what I’ll leave them to do. If the authorities don’t catch them, they’ll be able to make their fresh new start. I wonder if it will be anything like as rosy a future as they’d expected, but they’d made their choice.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this.” It’s too much for him, so Enrico, at a nod from me, translates.

“Here.” Dart pulls out his wallet and empties it of notes. He passes it to the father of the two children.

Well, I can’t be outdone by my VP. I also empty my pockets of cash.

It looks like no one else is going to be left out, and all the immigrants are soon gratefully stuffing the little we were able to scrape up into their pockets.

Then, as Brakes indicates the way to the front door, the man with the family pauses by me and shakes my hand.

“Thank you,” he says slowly and carefully. “Thank you.”

If we had a common language, I think he’d say more, but his expression, the look of hope in his eyes and the hesitant smile as he holds tightly onto his child speaks volumes. Silently I wish the family well and wonder what will become of them.

After they’ve left, Grumbler says urgently into my ear, “Can I free the fuckin’ women now?”

“You ready as we discussed?” There’s a pause before he replies, his tone resigned. “Yes.”

I turn to Dart. “Close that trap door and put the floor back down. Keep Enrico occupied. I’m going to the shop.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Lost

If Satan doesn’t come calling and I live until I’m a hundred, I don’t think I’ll ever forget what I found when those rooms which Grumbler, as it turns out quite accurately, called holding pens were finally opened up.

Empty, they looked okay, but now, each filled with eight women, the ten foot by ten foot rooms appear cramped and crowded. They smell, as well. The women only had use of a bucket between them, one in each pen.

Grumbler opens the first, Niran the second. At first, the women don’t move, just looked at them with suspicion. And so they might. I fucking hate what I’m doing, but we’d been through it time and time again at church. Immigrants who’ll do their best to stay as far as possible from any sign of the authorities are one thing, American citizens are quite different and with them we can’t let our faces be seen.

“Come on,” Niran says, gentling his normal tone. “Let’s get you out of here.” His calmness is lost though, to them he’s a man wearing a balaclava, probably appearing every bit as bad as the men who brought them here.

The women seem to be undecided, then one, a tall woman probably in her late twenties or early thirties puts her arms around a couple of girls and pushes them forward. “You don’t want to get hurt again,” she warns them, making my gut clench.Again.I hate that we have to scare them.

Grumbler’s encouraging the ones on his side as well, and I can hear his voice break, but he clears his throat to cover it up. As the women appear one by one, shaking with fear, I run my eyes over them all. A couple appear to be in their thirties, one looks to be a pre-teen, and the others are a range of somewhere in between.

For a moment I’m glad my face is covered as I wouldn’t be able to hide my look of derision and disgust. Not at the state they’re in, they’re not to blame for that. But that these women were stolen away from their homes, or even if some were hookers taken from off the street, they didn’t deserve to be sold like animals instead of human beings.

They cling to the rungs of the ladder attached to the sides of the pits, climbing slowly as though reluctant. Even when they’re at the top, they huddle together as though broken. If I’d been worried about them making a run for it, I now dismiss that thought. These women seem beyond making the attempt. I’m glad Grumbler had the foresight to move the bodies of the men he’d killed. The sight of them would only have traumatised them further.

“Smoker’s here.”

Oh fuck no.I lean over the edge of the pit, my chest rising and falling as I fight to control my rage. Not only had the women been penned like cattle, half of them had been forced to share their accommodation with a dead man. No wonder they look traumatised. I wonder if there’s enough therapy in the world to help them. That Smoker wasn’t in the room with the youngest is the only glimmer of light.

“Bring him up.” My instruction is terse.

Leaving Brakes and Blaze watching the women, Niran joins Grumbler back in the pit, then in a fireman’s lift brings Smoker up. Reverently they lay him down, crossing his hands over his chest. I stand beside him for a moment, my head bowed, knowing I’d give anything to hear him coughing again. The only blessing is, he looks peaceful.

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