Page 52 of Factory Controller

“Oh yes, I know all about the Factory. Let me ask you a question, Heather. What are you going to get from the Factory now that your mission’s complete? A pat on the back? Freedom? What about the rest of your life? Do you really want to pore over spreadsheets until you get a migraine forever?”

“I like poring over spreadsheets,” I reply.

Isabella chuckles. “I don’t doubt that you do. I’ve got a counteroffer to whatever the Factory is proposing. Five million dollars, in your account, and all you have to do is forget everything you saw since setting foot off the plane in Macapá.”

I frown suspiciously. Five million dollars is a lot of money, just for my silence. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. You take your money and do whatever you wish with your life. You just don’t make your report to the Factory, and hopefully neither of us will see each other ever again.”

I fold my hands carefully in front of me so she won’t see them shaking. “If you know about the way the Factory works, then you know you don’t want to cross them. Even if you’re not smart enough to be afraid of them, I am.”

“Oh, come now—”

“Five million dollars isn’t worth much if I have to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. The Factory has their tendrils everywhere, all over the world.”

Isabella chuckles. “Do they now? Either you accept my offer, forget all you’ve seen and receive a handsome windfall for your amnesia, or I will see to it you die.”

I glare at her. “What?”

“Don’t act so shocked. You might run away far, you might hide for years, but sooner or later I’ll find you, or the people I work for will. Then your life is worthless.”

I sputter, trying to find my footing. Where in the hell is Trent? He should have been back by now.

“The Factory—”

“There are people at the Factory who are well aware of what I’m doing down here in the jungle,” Isabella says in an icy tone. Her eyes glitter like those of a serpent. “Oh, you didn’t know that? You don’t believe it’s true?”

Isabella laughs and leans back casually in her chair. “Do you know what your problem is, Miss Duncan?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to be kind enough to tell me.”

“Oh, such wit. Your problem is you think there’s still good guys and bad guys in this world, and that the Factory is firmly entrenched in the camp of the former. That’s not the case at all.”

Actually I have my doubts about that. I don’t think of the Foundation as a perfect white knight. I know there are layers I haven’t been able to reach yet. Still, I play into her hand and ask, “What, you’re saying the Factory are the bad guys?”

“No, Miss Duncan,” Isabella snickers. “I’m saying thereareno bad guys. No good guys either. Just everyone trying to get a piece of the pie for themselves.”

“So says the human trafficker.”

“Please. Those children are going to the homes of the richest people in the world. They’ll want for nothing.”

“Except freedom.”

Isabella’s nose twitches. “You have until your flight leaves to make your decision. I’ll be in touch.”

With that, she rises from the table and leaves me lost all over again.

TRENT

When I return to the restaurant, I notice the strange woman speaking with Heather. I know it has to be Isabella. Maybe it’s the palpable sense of evil oozing off her. Or the way Heather struggles not to show how scared she is. I don’t know how I know, but I do.

Whatever she says to Heather has its desired effect. When the smug middle-aged woman gets up from the table, Heather’s a sputtering mess. I turn around and pretend to consult a map of the airport when Isabella comes strutting out. The heavy clack of her chunky wooden heels is like a siren’s call that urges me to follow her.

Is Isabella the one running this human trafficking ring? It’s very likely. Right now, she’s all alone and ripe for the picking. I don’t have anything planned. Nothing at all. I only know I’m following her and imagining scenarios where I might be able to put hands on the ‘charitable’ head of the fake charity.

I can forgive her for trying to kill me. Hell, the entire Amazon has been trying to kill me for ten years. What I can’t forgive Isabella for, what I can never forgive her for, is trying to kill Heather. That was a mistake.

I’m no Rambo, but I know how to end a fight decisively and swiftly. I have a hundred pounds on Isabella, easy. If I can catch her in the restroom or outside waiting for a taxi, I can end her before anyone could stop me.

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