Among the Shrouded (15 page)

“So do people ever surprise you or do you always know what to expect from
them?”

She
immediately thought of the commissioner.  He was clearly an instance of someone who, by his actions, should be bathed in light.  But she saw the darkness.  She could only assume his public actions masked his true intentions.  She hesitated briefly, wondering whether to share information about the commissioner with him.

“If I tell you something, it has to be just between yo
u and me.  Can I trust you?” she asked.

“I’m here
, Mia.  I’m sticking around.  You can trust me.”

She
closed her eyes, filled her lungs with air, and breathed out slowly through her nose.  When she opened her eyes again and saw the compassion reflected back to her in his face, somehow she felt she could trust him with her life.

“I don’t know if you’ve been fol
lowing the news, but a few weeks ago, Baltimore got a new police commissioner.”

“I think I heard something about it on the radio at work.”

“Well, I’ve met him.  He works closely with my father.  He comes highly decorated.  And highly recommended by high ranking people.”

“And?”

“And there is no light surrounding him.”

“He’s a police officer.  The head of the police departmen
t.  How can his aura be dark?”

“I don’t know.  My father’
s convinced I’m short circuiting or something and that I’m wrong about him.”

“Have you been wrong about anyone before?”

“Not that I know of.”

“So why would you be wrong now?”

“I don’t know.”

They sat in silence as the bill arrived. 
He scooped it off the table before she had a chance to react.  He handed the waitress cash, enough to pay for both meals and an ample tip.

“That was really good,”
she commented about both the food and the company as the waitress disappeared into the kitchen.

“It was,” said Thomas glancing at his watch.  “I hate
that I have to leave.”

“Me too.  But it’s
Monday night so I guess you need to hurry down to the hotel.”

“Yeah.  There are a bunch of conventions in town this week, so I should do well.  Have to wow the crowds
for the big bucks now that I have a beautiful woman to woo.”

“Is that what you’
re doing?  Wooing me?” she laughed.

“What?  Are you not sufficiently wooed?”
he asked, feigning devastation.

“I’m perfectly wooed.  In
fact, I’m so wooed, I think I would like to be wooed some more.”

“I would like to woo you some more,”
he said.  “Are you free next weekend?”

“I work the early shift Sunday.  It’s the
worst one of the week.  There’s all the Saturday night idiots to deal with, so I would love something to look forward to after that.  I’m off at three.”

She could see he was considering their options
.  “How about the zoo?  Do you want to meet there after work?  We can spend the rest of the afternoon with the animals.”

“That sounds wonderful.  I haven’t been to the zoo in years.  And I can guarantee the animals will be far better behaved than the people
I’ll have spent the morning with.”

“Even the lions?”

“Even the snakes.”

Thomas laughed as he stood
up from the booth.  She was sorry the date was ending but was ecstatic they had made plans to see each other again soon.  As they left the diner, he reached for her hand.  Each time she had held his hands she was struck by how strong and sturdy they were.  So different from the hands she imagined would be capable of playing such beautiful music on the piano.  Her tiny hand was engulfed by his firm grip and it seemed as though he was holding on to her for dear life. 

“Can I give you a ride to the hotel?”
she asked as they approached her car.

“Nah.  The bus stop is
right across the street and gas is far too expensive to have you chauffeuring me around.”

“It’s no trouble.”

“Mia, it’s fine.  Traffic downtown this time of night is awful.  I won’t have something happen to you on my watch.”

“Thomas, I’m a cop,
nothing is going to happen,” she laughed.

“The answer is still no.  Get home safe and I’ll meet you at the front entrance to the zoo on Sunday.  Can you
be there around three thirty?”

“Yes,” she
relented, disappointed at not having a few more minutes with him.

“Okay, then I’ll see you Sunday, my mystical law enforcement agent.”

“See you Sunday, Mr. Lineup Virtuoso.”

Without warning,
he stepped forward so he was only inches away from her.  Since she was a full head shorter than he was, he slipped his hand gently under her chin to tip her face up to meet his.  She caught her breath, fully aware of what was about to happen.  For a moment, she hesitated, allowing the doubt she was still harboring in the recesses of her mind about him to bubble to the surface.  She looked into his eyes and saw what his aura was unable to reveal.  Thomas Pritchett was a good man.  She closed her eyes and stood on her toes.

His
lips met hers with a tender fierceness.  The kiss was soft and yet it carried an intensity that traveled into her soul.  When at last he pulled away from her, she placed her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. 

“Goodbye
, Thomas,” she said.

“
See ya,” he replied.  He kissed her once more on the top of her head and turned to walk toward the bus stop.  She watched until he was out of sight and finally exhaled.

CHAPTER

23

KATE

Kate had spent three
miserable days locked in the tiny cell of the warehouse basement.  During that time she had made several discoveries.  Of the thirteen other women being held captive with her, none of them were American and each of them had been brought into the country under false pretenses.  Most of them had at least a working understanding of the English language, but there were two Romanian women who spoke no English at all.  She, Lera, and Anya were the most recent women to join the group.  She learned Svetlana had been living there the longest, 147 days by her own calculations.  The rest of the women had trickled in in groups of twos and threes over the course of the past four months.

Within several hours of her arrival, she began to piece together the details which would reveal the reason for her capture.  After settling Anya and consoling Lera, she took stock of her surroundings and began a discussion with the woman across the corridor in the cell beside Anya.  She was a petite Asian she suspected was from Vietnam.

“Can you tell us what is happening?”
she asked.

“Please
don’t ask me.  I cannot tell you,” the woman replied.

“You can’t?  Why not?” Anya said.

“I can tell you.  But you will not want to hear.”

“
Are we here to work?  Is this a labor camp?” Lera asked.

“Not work like you are expecting.  Not with tools or mops or
shovels.”

“What work
then?”

“The men will come
for you,” said a voice from several cells away.

“What men?”
she called.  “Henry and Patrick?  Are they part of this?”

“I don’t know any Henry or Patrick.  I know only the men who take us to the others.”

“What others?” Anya yelled.  “You aren’t making any sense!  Just tell us what is
going to happen to us!”

From the far recesses of the warehouse, the hinges of a metal door groaned and a slamming sound echoed throughout the basement.  The
women fell silent.

The footsteps of the men could be heard as they approached the cells.  There were at least four of them and
she held her breath as they came into view.

“Where are the new ones?” said one of the
men.  He was dressed in a three piece suit and he was cleanly shaven, his hair slicked smoothly atop his head.

“Down the end,” replied the man
who had come with them from the airport, still wearing his red sweatshirt.  He was accompanied by the van driver and a second man wearing a suit and tie.

They started down the corridor and
she cringed at the sight of them as they approached.  She forced herself to look into the eyes of the man in the tailored suit.  Strangely, she wasn’t scared of him although somehow she knew she should be deathly afraid.  He stood before her, his eyes scrutinizing every inch of her body.  She felt somehow violated, as if she were on display at some bizarre museum where people were the main attraction.

“This one’s a find,” said the man in the suit to the one in the
sweatshirt.  “She’ll do well on Friday night.”

“What do you think about the other two?” the second suited man asked.

“This one is fine,” he said motioning toward Lera.  “This other one is a little big.  We probably have clientele for her but she won’t bring top dollar, that’s for sure.”

“She’s still better than that
one they sent us last month,” the sweatshirt man commented.  “I have no idea why that brute was ever picked in the first place.”

“I’m surprised
we didn’t have to pay to have her taken off our hands,” the second suited man laughed.

As the conversation between the others had been going on, the
man in the tailored suit had continued staring at her.  She returned his stare, matching his intensity with her own.  She refused to succumb to his degrading expression by lowering her eyes in submission.

“Is Vancini in town?” he asked the others w
ithout taking his eyes from her.

“I don’t know
, Boss.  I can find out.”

“Get him on the phone.  He’s going to want in on this one.  Good work boys.”

With that, the men returned to the far end of the corridor.  Three of them disappeared up the stairs, but the man in the red sweatshirt returned, passing small packages of food between the bars of the cells to each of the women.  He spoke to her when he reached the end of the row, handing her the package.

“What’
s your name, Honey,” he said smoothly.

She
snatched her food from his hands and pretended to ignore him.

“I asked you for your name,” he repeated
, unable to contain the irritation in his voice.

She
tore into the box and removed the rolls and crackers.  She broke a small bite from the bread and placed it quickly into her mouth.  It was stale and rough against her tongue but she continued eating it until she had finished every crumb.  The man watched her critically as she ate, furrowing his eyebrows and licking his lips.  When he finally realized she had no intention of engaging in a conversation with him, he headed down the hall and disappeared without another word.

“Tell us what all of this is abo
ut,” she demanded of the other women as soon as they were alone once again.

“They will
take us to the others.”

“What others?” Anya asked.

“The other men.  The ones that will pay.”

“Pay for what?” Lera cried.

“For whatever they want.”

The gravity of her situation settled over her during the course of the following day. The women spoke to one another but no longer dared to broach the subject of the reason for their imprisonment.  They discussed their families and their homelands.  And they discussed food.  At length.  They described for one another different types of food, amounts of food, and ways to eat the food.  It was clear to her that, with the exception of the men, hunger would be one of the greatest obstacles she would encounter.

In addition to the lack of food, there were
also the cold and the unsanitary conditions to consider.  Although the women were being housed underground in a relatively temperate environment, there were no heating or cooling systems.  Therefore, although the temperature in the basement hovered between 55 and 60 degrees, she spent a considerable amount of time balled up on the thin, filthy mattress in the corner of her cell attempting to preserve her own body heat.

Since
her arrival, she had not been given the opportunity to bathe or perform any other acts of personal hygiene.  On her third of day of imprisonment, she spent the morning obsessing over her desire to brush her teeth.  She closed her eyes, concentrating on the simple pleasure of cleaning the residue from the surface of her teeth and walls of her mouth.  She was startled from her daydream by the familiar sound of the metal door at the top of the stairs.

Imme
diately alert, every muscle in her body became rigid.  The man in the red sweatshirt appeared in the corridor, as he had on each day of her confinement, with the day’s rations.  After passing packages of food to each of the women, the man disappeared up the stairs, only to return moments later with a large box.  Her heart leapt with the hope of additional food.  She quickly finished her small sandwich and waited patiently by the door of her cell.

The man made his way down the hall, distributing items to each of the women. 
She strained to see what was being handed out but was unable to catch sight of the delivery.  Instead, she began to hear wailing from the far end of the corridor.

“No!” cried one of the women.  Her hysterical sobbing immediately pierced through the silence of the basement.

Within moments, the man appeared before her, a large paper bag in his hands.  He handed her the bag, squeezing it carefully through the cell bars.  Without a word, she opened it, unsure of what horror she would find tucked inside.

After dumping
the contents of the bag on the mattress, she was initially disappointed to discover there was no extra food.  However, when she saw the bottled water, toothbrush, and toothpaste, she couldn’t keep from grinning.  Once again her unspoken desires had been fulfilled, just as they always were.

Closer inspection of the remaining items unnerved her.  There was a dress, tiny and sequined
, as well as an assortment of cosmetics and a pair of heeled shoes.

“You have fifteen minutes,” called the man as he disappeared again from view.

“Fifteen minutes until what?” she asked her companions.

“Fifteen minutes until they come for us,” came a quiet voice from the far end of the hall.

“Who?  Who is coming?” Anya cried.

“There is no time,” cautioned Svetlana.  “Make yourself as presentable as possible.  There are terrible
consequences if you do not.”

Without another word,
she removed the clothing she’d been wearing since leaving the Ukraine days before.  As she took off her coat, the gift her father had given her on the morning of her departure fell from her pocket onto the concrete floor.  She picked up the box, opened the lid and ran her fingers over the length of the pins.  The irony of the opulent life they represented was not lost on her and she knew she could never wear them in her current situation.  Carefully, she closed the lid and hid the box under her mattress, hoping one day she would have the opportunity to wear them under better circumstances.

She folded her
dirty clothes neatly and squeezed into the form fitting dress she’d been given.  She used the bottle of water to wash her face and her hands as best she could and then attempted to brush her teeth.  The minty freshness of the paste in her mouth was heavenly and she relished the feeling, rubbing her tongue carefully against the smoothness of her teeth.  Convinced she was as clean as she could be given her lack of provisions, she opened the handful of cosmetics and began to make herself presentable as Svetlana had instructed.

As
she smudged the ruby colored rouge across her lips she heard Lera praying quietly they would be taken to the job interviews they had been promised so many weeks before.  She closed her eyes, unable to face Lera in her blissful naivety and unwilling to face the horror she suspected was lying just ahead. 

Sadly, as she sat waiting for the men to arrive, she found for the first time in her life,
she was beginning to doubt herself and her abilities.  Never before had she imagined her gift would prove insufficient in the face of adversity.  However, listening to Lera’s appeals to God in the adjacent cell, she couldn’t help but question whether her gift was powerful enough to assist her in escaping from hell.