Page 39 of French Escapade

Ken

Isimply hate running in blind. Especially when the stakes are so high. We’re going to save my sister and several other girls from a fate I don’t even want to imagine. How many of them have already been sold like cattle by Arkady?

“Shall we call Élodie?” Jimmy asks.

She’s already done so much for us without telling her bosses … I hesitate, and then I no longer have a choice. A waiter has just poured wine on her dress. She follows him to the back of the room near the kitchens.

“Well, that’s our answer,” Jimmy says.

Talking into my wrist mike, I let Ted know we’re on. “Let’s go through the service hall,” I tell Jimmy as we leave the room.

We walk right past the two goons who guard the door to the auction room. They ignore us. Once we’re in the service hall, we have two choices. To the right, the service hallway leads to the auction room; to the left, it leads to the room where I abandoned the girl a little while ago, and where I assume they will be keeping the other girls.

For a second, I put myself in Arkady’s shoes. If I were in charge, how would I organize the sale? Once the clients had settled in the auction room, I would show them the goods. Would I bring all the girls at the same time, or one by one?

I get the answer to my question when two of Arkady’s men walk by us. They are escorting two young girls to the auction room. They look like they’re out of it. They can barely stand. No doubt they have been drugged to the point they cannot walk without assistance.

Because I fear I won’t be able to do anything for those two, I look away. I also ignore the questioning looks from the two men, who are probably wondering what the heck we’re doing here. We walk to our left, minding our own business, and soon reach our destination.

Manning the door is only one guy. His eyes are on his cellphone. I’m not surprised by his presence. After all, even pumped full of drugs, one of the girls could try to make a run for it. She probably wouldn’t get far, but it wouldn’t look good for the owners of the place if someone were to run into a young woman crawling away on all fours.

Concentrating on his video game, the guard never sees us coming. Jimmy puts an arm around his neck and squeezes. When he’s lost consciousness, Jimmy lets him slide to the floor. He checks his pockets and confiscates his gun.

Considering the possibility of the presence of another guard inside, we push the door open, our guns out. All for nothing. No one in here is in any condition to hurt a fly.

There’s the girl I left here earlier, plus three other girls on the floor. Their hands are tied behind their backs, and their heads are covered with a sort of bag. Two of those girls could be Madison. The third one is way too tall. While Jimmy drags the unconscious guard into the room, I free the head of the girl closest to me.

Wrong girl. It’s not my sister, but a cute blond who’s not looking that good. She must have tried to run for it, because she’s got a spectacular shiner. She’s so out of it that she doesn’t even open her eyes when I gently nudge her.

With my heart in my throat, I crouch by the next girl, sending a silent prayer to the universe. I pull the bag away, and…yes! It’s Madison. My sister opens her eyes. Her pupils are the size of a pin head.

“Madison,” I whisper. “I’m here. It’s okay. We’re going to get you out of this place.”

She tries to speak, but the sounds that come out of her mouth do not form words. They have drugged her, too.

Jimmy’s closed the door and is taking care of the third prisoner. He’s removed the bag from her head.

“Don’t be afraid,” my friend says in French.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” she answers in English.

Her words are slurred, as if she’s had too much to drink, but at least she can still talk. I’m betting they gave the same amount of drugs to everyone without realizing that what’s good enough to knock out someone as short as Madison will only slow down a tall woman.

Jimmy unties her hands and helps her stand. The pretty stranger is almost as tall as he is.

“Who are you?” she asks. “Do you speak English?”

“I’m Ken,” I say. “I’m Madison’s brother. We came to take her back.”

“Please, take me with you,” she begs.

“Of course you’re coming with us,” Jimmy answers. “Do you think you can walk?”

“Without these stilts, I think so,” she answers, shaking one foot after the other to get rid of her shoes.

“We’re not leaving you behind. With us, you’re safe, I promise. I’m Jimmy Summers. I live outside of Los Angeles. What about you?”

“Tiffany, Tiffany Gimbles, from New York.”

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