Paradise Burning (20 page)

“
May I?” Brad reached for the
recorder.

“
Please.”

As he turned on the recorder, everyone leaned
forward, as if close attention were enough to make the words
comprehensible. Nadya’s voice, precise and clear in a language only
Brad could understand, filled the room. Mandy’s heart rate soared.
Now, at last, they’d know what was happening in the old house on
the far side of the river.

After only a few minutes, Brad paused the
playback, his face grim. “I need a promise from you all,” he said.
“Wade is never to hear about this. If he didn’t have an immediate
heart attack, he’d go straight out there, shotgun in hand, and
roust the lot of them. And get himself killed in the process.”

“
That bad?” Peter asked.

“
I’ve barely gotten started, but it’s
going downhill fast.” Brad shook his head. “Looks like a bait and
switch, a Russian wrinkle on one of the oldest games in the world.
I just never expected to see it here.”

“
Tell us,” Mandy urged, seconded by
Claire.

“
Your Nadya’s an excellent witness.
Well-spoken, concise. She begins with her village in the Urals, not
far from Yekatarinburg. She went away to college, but when she came
back as a teacher, she found herself set apart from the others.
Almost a stranger. Even the young men ignored her. She was too well
educated. Too polished. Too well paid . . . until the economy fell
apart, her salary was cut, then frequently not paid at all. It was
obvious she had no future, so when she saw an ad in a newspaper
offering jobs in foreign countries, she decided to apply. Anything
was better than her present situation, and she’d always wanted to
travel.”

Mandy glanced at Peter, who nodded. He too
was recalling Jade’s story about the modeling job in Rome.

“
Anyway,” Brad continued, “this agency
was offering jobs as nannies,
au
pairs
, waitresses, dancers. They would arrange visas,
passports, transportation, etc. Nadya understood she would have to
pay back the costs. Eight thousand dollars, they told her, but
America was the land of opportunity, was it not? She was assured
she’d be able to pay the money back within two years.”

“
And when she got here, they took her
passport,” Mandy supplied, “and the only job available was
prostitution.”

“
Right.”

“
I’d think you were all crazy,” Claire
said, “but I read about the FBI raiding several brothels with
Mexican girls as young as thirteen right here in
Florida.”

Peter ran an agitated hand through his short
dark hair. “Mandy and I have been searching the world for evidence
of forced prostitution, and here it is, right under our noses.”

“
Brad,” Claire demanded, “are you
saying they’re running a brothel on
Wade
’s land?”

“
Well, let’s find out.” Brad switched
the recorder back on.

Five minutes later he had an answer. “There
are eight girls,” he told them. “Three Russian, one Ukrainian, one
Serb, two Mexican, and one Thai. Their security chief, Karim
Shirazi, is Iranian.”

The soldier. Marching purposefully down the
driveway. How could she have missed the menace?

“
According to my sources,” Peter said,
“Iran is very much involved in the Central Asian mafia, trafficking
in both drugs and women. But, let’s face it, all that tends to get
lost behind terrorism, arms sales, big oil, and the threat of
nukes.”

“
Afraid so,” Brad agreed, “but Nadya’s
problem we should be able to handle.”

“
You’re retired,” Claire snapped in far
from her customary mild-mannered tone.

Brad held up his hands, palms out. “I never
said anything about charging in there, guns blazing. Wade, yes. Me,
no.” He offered a lopsided grin to his wife, who was still
scowling. “Now . . . back to Nadya. “There’s a guard, named Yuri
Saltikov and a boss—known only as Misha—who comes by every few days
to check up and collect his cash. And behind Misha, of course, is
some form of international organized crime. In this instance, the
big boss appears to be a Russian based in Miami.”

“
But why don’t the girls run away?”
Claire demanded.

“
Several reasons. Their passports were
confiscated—and may have been fake anyway. They don’t speak the
language, and they’re afraid of being arrested for both
prostitution and illegal immigration. And as if that weren’t
enough, Nadya says the men told them their families back home would
be harmed if they made any complaints. This is a very real threat.
Each girl is required to give the names and addresses of her
relatives before receiving her airplane ticket.”

“
Good God!” Claire breathed. Mandy and
Peter nodded. Their research into international trafficking
confirmed what Brad was saying. But in
Golden Beach
?

“
And then there’s classic physical
violence,” Brad added. “The girls perform as ordered or they’re
beaten, starved.”

“
I read about a case in Eastern
Europe,” Mandy said. “A few years back a trafficker chopped off a
girl’s head in front of the others. Since then, that’s been
considered the ultimate intimidation. The girls do as they’re told,
or else.”

“
And, of course, they never see enough
of the money to get out of debt,” Peter added.

“
Exactly,” Brad agreed. “And if a girl
actually manages to escape and find a cop who will listen to her,
her only reward is being deported back to the poverty she was
trying to escape. Only worse, because she is now damaged goods.
Extremely damaged goods.”

“
You’ve got to get Nadya out of there,”
Claire exclaimed, her fears for her husband seemingly
forgotten.

“
No.” Brad’s handsome features were set
in stone.

“
What do you mean
No
?”

“
It’s common sense, Claire,” Peter
explained, taking Brad off the hook. “We’ve got a federal case
here. Saving Nadya is only a small part of what has to happen now.
We can’t go charging off on our white horses to rescue a Fair
Maiden. Sure, we might save Nadya, but if she disappears, the bad
guys will take off, along with the other girls. Poof. Gone. Into
the wind.”

“
Unfortunately, he’s right,” Mandy
said. “Every instinct tells me to go upriver tomorrow morning and
haul Nadya into my boat, but this is a case for the FBI. We have to
inform them, then do as we’re told.”

“
Yeah, right,” Claire snorted. “If I’d
counted on the FBI, I’d be dead now.”

“
And without Doug Chalmers and the FBI
Jamie would be dead,” Brad pointed out, soft and bland.
Unanswerable.

The room reverberated with unspoken
questions. Jamie, Mandy thought, her darling Bubba’s older brother.
Now
there
was a story even
Glenda Garrison hadn’t passed along. A swift glance at Peter
revealed that he was equally baffled. And curious. But this wasn’t
the moment to pry.

“
Trafficking is big business,” Peter
said. “Like drug-running, there’s major money involved. A few years
back, when I was in Israel—where prostitution is legal—I talked to
a brothel owner who paid five thousand dollars for a Russian girl.
Since he could earn fifty to a hundred thousand a year off that
girl, and he had maybe twenty girls working, he was making one to
two million on an investment of a hundred thousand dollars. So even
in little old Golden Beach we’re talking big bucks, which means
good security and the will to protect their investment. The Russian
Mafia is never to be taken lightly.”

“
Definitely a job for the Feds,” Brad
concurred. “And, besides, I need to keep my happy home.”

“
You have any contacts at the local
office?”

“
Doug Chalmers. Good man. A few years
ago—before I met Claire—he was the agent who coordinated the search
for Jamie when he was kidnapped. He’s not likely to be so busy
chasing terrorists that he can’t spare time for your
girls.”

“
Chalmers.” Peter nodded. “Do you make
the call, or shall I?”

“
I will. And one more thing,” Brad
added. “Nadya says that Misha, the boss, and the Russian goombah
called Yuri are the bad ones. According to Nadya, the Iranian major
has a few redeeming qualities. The concept of beating the girls,
let alone head chopping, doesn’t sit well with him. He seems to be
some sort of a straight stick who wanted to come to the states a
bit more strongly than he cared about what he was going to do when
he got here.”

“
Will he roll over?” Peter
asked.

“
Hard to tell. It may depend on whether
his loyalty lies with money, a valid green card, or with honor, but
it’s a possibility.”

“
An honorable pimp?” Peter
snorted.

“
Nadya said all this?” Claire
asked.

“
She seems to be very bright, very
thorough. And definitely describes the major in more kindly terms
than the others. Although she admits Shirazi’s job has a few perks.
Herself being one of them.”

Mandy had to bite her lip to keep from
bursting out with something stupid. Karim was as much of a pimp as
the rest of them. Yet Nadya had shown only pleasure when he’d
defended her from Yuri.

So who was Mandy Armitage to be surprised by
Nadya’s tangled emotions? She hadn’t set any sterling examples
herself.

“
So what do I say?” Mandy asked. “I
have to tell Nadya
something
.
Give her hope.”

“
You’re going to tell her exactly
nothing,” Peter snapped. You’re not going back.”

“
Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I’m
going back.”

“
No way.”

“
You’re not my keeper. I’ll go if I
want to!”

“
Time!” Brad’s command cut through
their quarrel. “Look, Mandy,” he said, “you say your meetings with
Nadya have been pure chance?”

Mandy had a few doubts about what had
brought her to the river that morning, but she gave Brad a
simple
yes
.

“
Then wait for the FBI to get
surveillance in place. They can let you know the next time the girl
comes to the river bank. Then you can take Peter with you. Leave
him in the boat if you think the girl will spook, but I have to
agree you shouldn’t go alone.”

“
How can the FBI watch a house in the
middle of nowhere?” Mandy scoffed. “A little international
prostitution isn’t important enough for the FBI to set up a
round-the-clock camp where the guys are going to freeze their
you-know-whats off.”

Brad scowled. “You may be right. We might
have to conjure a whiff of terrorism to get their attention.”

“
They could be running the brothel as a
cover,” Mandy suggested, grinning.

Peter choked, Claire giggled. Brad flashed an
answering grin. “Good one,” he said. “Fortunately, Doug will take
us seriously, and he’s already familiar with the area around
here.”

“
What I don’t understand,” Claire said,
“is how customers can go in and out of there without everybody
knowing about it. I mean, that area is
small
. Everyone knows everyone else. Strange cars
parading in and out would have aroused comment in a matter of
days.”

“
Which is why surveillance is so
important,” Brad said. “There’s obviously a great deal we have to
learn before the FBI can move in.”

“
But what do I tell Nadya?” Mandy
persisted.

“
Tell her to hang tight, we’re working
on it,” Brad said. “Tell her we’re devising a way to get all the
girls out of there, lock up the men, and throw away the key.” With
a wolfish curl of his lips he added, “Kidnapping is very much
frowned upon in the U. S.”

“
It
is
kidnapping, isn’t it?” Mandy’s spirits perked up. “I hadn’t
thought of that.”

“
Oh, yeah, we’re way beyond
prostitution. We’re talking kidnapping, international trafficking
in women, assault, probable forgery. Pimping is a just a drop in
the bucket.”

Eight girls, Mandy thought.
Eight
. Who would be rescued because
Mandy Mouse had come out from behind her computer screen and rowed
an aluminum boat up a jungle river.

Eight’s not a lot, Kira. But it helps. I
ventured out of my snug little box for me, because I wanted to test
myself, see if I was worthy of newfound freedom. And I found . . .
payback. Not that eight’s much in the grand scheme of things, but
I’ll see they’re rescued. For you. For me. For women
everywhere.

“
Then we’re agreed?” Brad said. “I call
Doug Chalmers tomorrow.”

“
Right.” Mandy and Peter spoke in
unison.

“
Fine. Let’s have another drink and get
down to the nitty gritty, like gossiping about my ex who is going
to produce a first cousin who’s damn near forty years younger than
I am.”

Peter didn’t so much as flick a glance at the
BLT Mandy plunked down beside his computer. He was thoroughly
enjoying the wifely services, but if he made too much of them, her
hackles would rise and she would retreat behind the iron curtain of
rectitude and wounded ego she had so firmly erected around
herself.