Page 43 of French Escapade

Ken

Everything is happening too fast. Still with my face on the ground, I see a foot land on Jimmy’s back, and then I feel Madison push me. No! She’s picked the worst moment to come out of her fog. All her weight rests on my back as she slowly lifts herself up and then, hell no, I think she’s running away.

Hoping she’ll recognize my voice, I scream at the top of my lungs, “Madison!”

That’s when another barefoot woman runs by. Élodie? No way for me to check. I can’t turn and look. It’s my turn to be cuffed.

In the surrounding noise, I recognize a voice. Ted’s voice. “But I’m telling you, they’re not the ones you want!” he protests very loudly.

“And who are you?”replies someone with a bossy tone.

“Ted Carter. I run a security firm in Monaco that…”

“Oh, a private eye.” The voice is now dripping with contempt.

“Are you the guy who was supposed to have Élodie Cossa’s back?” a new voice asks.

“Yes, yes, it’s me, but we’re losing time, we must …” Ted’s answer is covered by the first voice, which I assume is the commanding officer.

“What the fuck is happening here, Christophe? This little meddler still didn’t get the message? I always thought it was stupid to let her stay. I know they did it not to ruffle her father’s feathers, but let me tell you, if I had my way, she would have been fired six months ago.”

“Will you listen to me?” Ted is now screaming. “If you keep on acting like morons, we’re going to lose the girls!”

“The girls?” the boss asks.

“Élodie told me that Arkady Oushkin had organized an auction tonight.”

“Yes, andso what?” the stupid man inquires.

“Well, the items for sale were women,” Christophe explains.

“And that’s your scoop? Everyone knows they hire whores for their parties.”

“I’m not talking about working girls, I’m talking about young women who have been abducted, and…”

I can’t hear the rest of the conversation, because the cops who cuffed me are barking orders at us while making us stand. I obey. No point in resisting. Even if I’m enraged.

We were so close.

My only hope is that the French police have surrounded the building and made sure no one could leave. If they slip away, I’m afraid I’ll never see Madison again.

We’re roughly escorted toward a small group of men who are arguing. Ted is with them.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to talk down to me when human trafficking was organized in your city, under your very nose, and you knew nothing about it. And when Kenneth Dylan came to your police station to ask for help, he was sent packing. The only person who paid attention to what he was saying is Élodie Cossa. One could wonder if …” Ted doesn’t finish his sentence.

The man he’s talking to, a senior member of the group, has turned crimson. He’s like a cartoon character about to explode.

“ One could wonder what?” he asks, looking as if he’s about to burst.

I could answer his question easily.

One could wonder if they are stupid, lazy, or if there is something really wrong in his unit. My gut tells me someone is corrupt, but given my present position, I’ll keep my feelings to myself. No need to come out of West Point to understand that it’s never a good idea to insult someone when your hands are tied in your back. Especially since I have now recognized the voice of the man in charge.

“Monsieur le Commissaire.” I’m not sure if that’s his actual title, but a little flattery can go a long way, and it’s the highest rank I know of in the French police hierarchy.

“What?” he growls.

“Would it be possible for you to send some of your men to search the premises? I know several young girls were drugged and may be walking around aimlessly—”

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