Surrender: Keeping Her in the Dark Vol. 4 (7 page)

They were all looking at me as if I was supposed to say something. All eyes were on me like I was getting ready to make this big speech. But I didn’t have anything to say. I had no speech to make. I wanted to curl up in bed and wait for this entire mess to be over.

Chapter Four

Liam

I arrived at my hotel in Paris just before lunch. The bellman placed my bags in the bedroom, I tipped him and he quickly left the room. It was like he knew what I was there to do and didn’t want to disturb me. I laid on the bed and took a couple of deep breaths.

I was told I would be contacted soon after arriving and I wasn’t to make any calls to contact anyone on my own. So I waited. Waiting isn’t my strong suit.

After a few minutes there was a knock at the door. There stood the bellman with a box in his hand.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hastings. This was left at the front desk for you,” he handed me the box and walked away.

The box contained an old pre-paid flip cell phone and a note. The note had the name and address of my contact. It also read that I was supposed to meet him in 45 minutes.

I went to the bedroom to freshen up and then headed downstairs.

I traveled by cab to a dark little road almost at the edge of town. From the dark road the driver told me to walk down two other streets passing old shops that were abandoned to get to a large warehouse. The warehouse was my destination. I wanted to ask why he wouldn’t drive me but I didn’t.

The first street was short and cobblestone. The shops were all boarded up. I passed an old barber shop, what looked like an ice cream shop and a ladies boutique. At the corner the street ended and the dirt began.

The second street was a long dirt road with high grass on each side. I could see the warehouse so I walked toward it. There weren’t any lights or movement.

When I finally made it to the front of the building a light came on and the door opened. A tall man, about my height stood in the doorway.

“You must be Mr. Hastings,” he said. “Come on in,” he stood to the side so I could pass.

I walked into a small room. The floors were all wood, there was a small table with an oil lamp on it in the middle of the room and 2 chairs.

I turned to face him. He was of Middle Eastern decent, his hair was jet black and his skin was deep brown. He was wearing a white suit with a pale pink shirt with an unbuttoned collar.

“You must be my contact,” I said. “A mister,” I paused because I couldn’t remember what the paper had said. “Bendi,” I said after I took the piece of paper out of my pocket. He nodded and gestured for me to sit down.

“Please call me Nasun. I apologize for having to meet you in a place like this, but because of what I do I can never take any chances about being watched.” We both sat down.

“Let me tell you a little about myself,” he started. “I have been working for the United Nations office of Drugs and Crimes for 10 years. I work both in the field and behind the scenes. I have 6 years experience with drugs and human trafficking. I’ve been undercover with the Salam organization for almost 2 years but I only met Rashad Salam 2 months ago. I haven’t been able to tie any of the crimes I have witnessed to him. I am hoping that will change now.” He started to go on but I stopped him.

“Nasun, please, I don’t want to date you, I just want to know what I need to do to fulfill my agreement with the UNDC so I can go on with my life,” I said. “Please get to the point.” He nodded at me.

“A man with little patience and a lot of gumption,” he paused. “That’s good. You will fit right in.” He took out several papers from a briefcase on the floor and passed them to me.

“We will be attending a dinner with these men,” he took out several pictures. “This is Abdul Amir, Salam’s second in command. I mentioned that I had heard from an old friend that had every reason to be thankful to Salam. Of course Amir wanted to know why, so I told him about you, and how you had purchased a girl from one of his auctions 2 years ago and couldn’t be happier. I asked if it would be possible for you to meet Salam himself and thank him in person.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows a little.

“Of course, they are tight on security and don’t like to take chances on new people. They are stricter than the mafia. Having another man vouch for someone isn’t good enough for them. Like I said, I have been with them for 2 years and still haven’t met him.” He nodded his head to the side.

“But with you, I think I have an in. I gave him your name and an estimated date of your purchase. He said he would get back to me. Well he just got back to me and we have been invited to a dinner tomorrow night.” I guess sex traffickers keep paperwork on all the people they sell. That would probably please the group of men that also made purchases that night in Paris.

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked.

“Meet Amir, rub shoulders, talk about your purchase,” I interrupted him again.

“My purchase as you keep referring to, is my wife, Norah, and I do not wish to discuss her with a man that was probably responsible for having her kidnapped in the first place.”

“Well you are going to have to get over it,” he held his hand up. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. But you purchasing your wife is the reason you are here. Buying her from Salam’s auction is how we are getting access to him. So I suggest you swallow your pride and understand that this is serious. They are going to ask you things you don’t want to talk about, they are going to refer to your wife as a whore, and they may even ask if you are willing to sell her for a nice new piece of ass.”

I could feel my heart racing. I didn’t know if I was prepared for Norah to be referred to as a whore. I wasn’t sure I would be able to hold my temper in check. Asking if I wanted to sell my wife was not only rude but it pissed me off just hearing him say the words. But I knew he was right. I couldn’t be sentimental over this. It was a job.

“Look, if it makes you feel better, just lie.” He held up his hand again. “I mean lie about your relationship, not the buying process. Don’t make it personal.” I understood what he was saying so I nodded.

“We’re hoping that if you can impress Amir, that he will take you to meet Salam and the auction. Did you get the phone?” he asked. I nodded and took it out of my pocket.

“Ok. Good. Don’t take your own phone with you. Only use this phone. The first contact is the agents that will be listening to everything. If you have to call them, they will answer like it is a bread shop. You give them this password,” he passed me a piece of paper with numbers on it, “and then they will talk to you.”

“The second contact is me. Don’t call anyone else from this phone.” He leaned down to the briefcase and then handed me something that looked like a credit card.

“This is a tracking device. Put it in your wallet and it will monitor your vital signs as well as track you. If they ask you to go anywhere else the agents want to know where you are going in case something happens. I will pick you up from your hotel.” Then he took something out of his pocket. It was a little black box with a man’s ring inside.

“Lastly,” he held it out to me. “Make sure you are wearing this.” I took the ring from him.

“What does it do?” I asked.

It’s the listening device we need to record your conversations. They may ask you to change your clothes, or take off your belt and shoes. This is simple. If they scan you, and they will, it won’t be detected. To them it is just your wedding ring. He stood up.

“Your job is to just be yourself. Try not to act like this is life or death, but just a mere stop in your life, and you just want to thank them. Be confident, entitled, and even arrogant.” I stood up too. We shook hands. “Don’t worry, this is going to be easy,” he smiled.

Confidence, entitlement and arrogance was something I was very good at, because I was all of those things. But somehow ‘easy’ wasn’t how I would describe this dinner.

It was a few nights later when we found ourselves riding an elevator to the 33rd floor. The only sound was the noise of Nasun’s shoes. They made a squeaking noise as he moved his weight from foot to foot.

“Could you please stand still?” I said gruffly. He looked over at me.

“Am I making you nervous?” he asked with a stupid grin on his face.

“No,” I snapped. “You are annoying the fuck out of me.” I adjusted my tie to loosen my collar a bit. It felt snug, like I was swallowing with a noose around my neck.

The elevator opened to a small parlor room. A butler dressed in a tuxedo with tails was standing next to a coat closet. He nodded and politely greeted us both. He asked if we had anything to check and we both declined.

He held out an electronic device that looked like a calculator and a tablet combined. Nasun held out his hand and the screen lit up as it scanned his palm and finger prints. He then punched in a code on the number keys and three long beeps were heard. The butler nodded and opened the door to the apartment. As he started through it, I tried to follow close behind.

“Excuse me, sir,” the butler said quietly as he put his hand on my shoulder. Nasun turned back to see that he was now asking for my palm print on his little device. He started to say something but we were interrupted.

“Hawthorne please, don’t be rude to my guests,” a deep voice said. The three of us looked up and saw a very debonair gentlemen, about 6 feet tall with deep brown skin and black hair standing in the double doorway. He was wearing a light brown three piece suit complete with a gold pocket watch hanging from the vest.

“Ah, Mr. Amir,” Nasun said as they shook hands. “Allow me to introduce,” but Mr. Amir stepped forward and took my hand in his before Nasun could finish.

“Mr. Hastings,” he said as he waved the butler away. We walked through the doors and they closed behind us. “It is very nice to finally meet you. It isn’t often that we ever get to meet and converse with a former client. Everyone is always so eager to make a purchase and then run back into hiding,” he smiled. “Understandably,” he added.

His teeth were white. I prided myself on good dental hygiene as well, but his teeth seemed abnormally white. Perfectly white, as if he bleached them every day.

“Well I’m not usually one to come out of hiding myself, Mr. Amir. But I have been very pleased with the outcome of our last business transaction two years ago and I wanted to thank you personally.”

It repulsed me to refer to Norah as a business transaction, but it had to be done. Tonight I had to talk about my wife like she was a piece of furniture. I tried to put myself in the mindset that buying Norah was just like buying one of the companies in my business. For this charade to work, Norah had to be reduced to another part of my mergers and acquisitions.

“Please,” he gestured toward the hallway.

We walked down the long hallway entering a large dining room. There was a large dining room table with enough seating for at least 16 people. There were several little groups of men standing all around chatting quietly.

They all stopped talking when we entered the room.

“Gentlemen,” Amir announced and held out his hands welcoming them to gather around him. “Please, let me introduce you to Mr. Liam Hastings, he is a new friend of ours,” he paused and held his hand out to Nasun, “and you all know Mr. Bendi.”

A bell rang and another butler in a tuxedo with tails announced that dinner was ready. The other men began taking their seats. Amir asked me and Nasun to join him at the end of the table.

Waiters started moving around the table like they were gliding on the tops of clouds. They brought us bread, and shrimp cocktails and then filled our glasses with wine and white liquor.

The conversations were about normal things. They talked about real estate, stock markets and bank statements. They discussed birthday parties for their children, school events and even family vacations. They spoke as if this was a completely normal dinner party. As if all of these men at this table hadn’t done horrible things, including myself.

I talked about ‘Nantucket Oil’, a small oil company my group had just acquired. I talked about my recent travels to Venice and Belgium for business.

We were served lamb chops with rosemary and mint sauce, escargot with a rich herb butter, quiche lorriane and as a main course, beef bourguignon that tasted as if Julia Child herself was in the kitchen.

Just before dessert we were given a sterling silver chalet with a scoop of lime sorbet to cleanse our palate. Part of me was amazed at how civilized it all was, the other part expected nothing less.

It was a fine meal. Despite my company, the food was some of the most delicious cuisine I had ever tasted.

When our chalets were taken away I was speaking with a man sitting at my left who was in the process of planning his daughter’s Quinceanera, a celebration in the Latino community for a girl’s 15th birthday. Her dress was being made by a very prominent American designer.

For a short time I actually forgot where I was and what I was there to accomplish. Then Amir asked me a question that brought me back to reality.

“Mr. Hastings, I’ve been told you recently got married. Is that true?” he asked. Have you ever been asked a question by someone so arrogant and full of themselves, with such confidence that you know, they already know the answer? Besides Detective Shaw it had never happened to me, but I know it when I hear it. Usually I am the one asking the questions I already know the answers too. He asked, but he knew, so I didn’t lie.

“Yes it is, but I don’t know if I still can say recently. Although it feels like yesterday, it was over nine months ago.” I took a sip of my wine. A few of the men at the table started to laugh. Including Amir.

“Nine months, did you say?” he laughed. “Well that means that you’re still wearing training wheels, doesn’t it,” he laughed again. They all laughed. I smiled even though I didn’t find it funny at all.

“Tell me something,” he said, again like he was about to ask me something he already knew the answer to. “If you have only been married for nine months, why do you need my services again so soon? Mr. Bendi tells me you are in the market for another girl. Please, I have been married for 17 years, don’t tell me the novelty of marriage has already worn off in just nine months?” he laughed again. He took a long sip of his wine but his eyes never left mine. He expected an answer and I knew it better be good. If I wanted to be invited to the auction and even be in the presence of Rashad Salam, my answer better be a good one.