Chapter 35

Danielle

I meet Mahdi first thing in the morning. We agree that a crowded bazaar in the heart of town is the best place.

I come completely prepared for my mission—outfit and all.

I’m wearing pearl earrings and a necklace, which would make me look like a buyer of humans.

Tailored pantsuit—smart and formal, but I can run in it. I already tested this out last night.

A silk blouse for effect—I need to look heartless, but not tasteless.

It takes me a while to find Mahdi. He’s sitting among the old men, playing chess. His warm face is pinched and worried.

He holds me by my shoulders and looks at me in the eye for few seconds before going in for the more traditional cheek kiss.

“Darling, I’m here to tell you not to do this.”

I just smile at him.

“Dani, I have your supplies. But I think you need to reconsider this and leave the country before it’s too late.”

I am immovable. I have a plan firmly in place. We both know this.

“I’m sorry Mahdi, I can’t do that.”

“Do you even understand how dangerous this is?”

For the millionth time in the last two days, my mind goes back to those girls crammed into that warehouse. My stomach churns, and my rage spikes.

I like my rage. It gets me to places that common sense can’t.

“Believe me, Mahdi. I’ve seen how dangerous this is.”

“Then why risk it? Ma cherie, go to loft. Call Janus. You need him by your side to do something this foolhardy. And it’s obvious that you need each other in more ways than one.”

You’re wrong, Mahdi. I don’t need him at all.

“Janus made his choice. I’ve made mine. Thank you for everything, Mahdi. But I am doing this,” my tone is kind, but very firm.

“Danielle, this is insane.”

“I understand.”

“It will most likely result in you getting yourself killed.”

“I understand. Thank you. The supplies.”

“Is there anything I can say to convince you otherwise?”

“No.”

“Janus is like a son to me, but he can be a little hot-headed when he feels vulnerable. Give him another—”

“This has nothing to do with Janus. The supplies, please.”

Mahdi’s face is bereft. I relent a little.

“Please, Mahdi.”

Mahdi gingerly passes over his briefcase.

I look inside. It’s small, but it contains everything I’ve asked for.

“It’s free. I’m sending you to your death; I’m not going to charge you as well.”

I’m moved—almost to the point that my eyes are beginning to water. But my resolve is not.

I hug him.

“Is it your love of opera that makes you so dramatic?”

He doesn’t laugh; he just sighs.

“I just hope I’m wrong,” he says, shaking his head, as I flash him one last smile before heading out into the streets.

Luckily for me, Janus did leave the car, and I spent a fair portion of last night poring over a map, memorizing the area around the warehouse where the women are kept.

It only takes me about half an hour to drive there, and I park right outside this time. I’ve called ahead. They know I’m coming.

They just think I’m here to buy from them—to feed their business. They don’t know I’m here to end their business.

I do a routine check. A quick look in the mirror confirms that my hair and makeup are perfect. I’m unrecognizable.

My fake passport is in my jacket pocket. The cameras and recording devices hidden in my clothes are charged and on.

I have mace, a gun, and a taser, all strapped to various parts of my body. I have a briefcase full of counterfeit notes.

For a moment, I wish that Janus was here at my side, but it’s a moment that quickly passes.

I step out of the car, lock it, and take one long look at the street outside.

I’ve chartered two buses from another one of Mahdi’s guys that should be arriving any minute. They’re enough to fit all of the women and girls.

This should work.

I take a deep breath, and step inside.

This time, I am greeted by some slimy little creep who believes I’m a rich slave owner.

“Welcome, ma’am. Name?”

“Wallace. Mrs. Abigail Wallace,” I don’t skip a beat.

He smiles a toothy smile like the little piranha he is. “Mrs. Wallace, of course. We’re just preparing the product for you. Can I offer you some tea while you wait? “He smiles a toothy smile like the little piranha he is.

The product? He just referred to actual human people ‘as the product’?

I am done waiting. I put on my most impatient, rich, and heartless voice.

“I’m sorry, but I simply don’t have the time to wait.”

I sweep right past him, through the entrance, and to the factory floor. If anything, the scene that greets me is worse than yesterday’s.

Someone is going to pay for this.

The scents of blood and urine from before are replaced by the artificial scents of flowers and the ocean.

I snap at the groveling little man, who’s rushing in after me. I’m so angry, I need to take it out on someone.

“I called hours ago to say I wanted to buy these women and girls. You’ve had hours. Why are they in such poor condition?”

“Ma’am, we’ve—”

“What is your name?” I snap.

“Hamza, ma’am, and if you accept my apologies, we’ve—”

“Oh, your apologies are not accepted. Your bosses will be hearing about this, mark my words.”

I walk around a little, for the look of the thing. I’ve put green contacts in, and am wearing a prosthetic nose, so that none of the captives will recognize me.

But truth be told, I’m still a tiny bit shaken every time one of them looks my way. Luckily, most of them are too broken to look me in the eye.

My rage deepens and boils with every scar I see—every bloodshot eye, every frightened face.

My fingers twitch for my gun.

Cool it, Dani.

I can hear my buses pulling up. Good.

“Alright,” I turn to sniveling Hamza. “They’re in bad condition, but I’ll take them. Tell them to get on the buses outside.”

“Thank you ma’am, but we require the money first.”

I show him an exaggerated sigh, and then open the briefcase to reveal millions of American dollar bills that he is hopefully too dumb to tell are completely fake.

He takes a note.

Don’t hold your breath, Dani. You are a heartless billionaire businesswoman, remember that.

He holds it up to the light, crinkles it in his fingers. He even sniffs it. Then he nods slowly.

He yells something in Turkish. My grasp of the language is limited, but I understand that his words are threatening. To whom, though?

The sound of people moving behind me tells me that it was the captives he was talking to, and they move toward the bus.

My body is coursing with adrenaline now. I have reached a whole new stage of anger.

Once I’ve gotten these women and children safely out of Turkey, I am going to come for you, Hamza.

I’m apocalyptically angry. But I’m also exhilarated that the plan seems to be working.

The women and girls walk dejectedly past me, filing out in single file, with armed men all around them. I notice some are silently crying.

I wait in the warehouse for them all to leave. I want to make sure that no one gets left behind. It seems to take an eternity for the warehouse to be empty.

By the time the last little girl finally limps out, I am completely jumped up on adrenaline.

I follow them outside.

The buses are almost full. It’s a pity I can’t ride in both at once. I don’t want to let any of these women out of my sight until we are at the UN. Headquarters.

If only Janus hadn’t rushed off, I could have him on one bus and be on another.

“Why is this taking so long? Get them onto the buses faster. I haven’t got all day,” I channel my anger at Hamza.

Finally, the two buses are full of terrified people—terrified, and eerily silent.

I climb into the first bus, my kitten heels clicking against the steps.

I’m turning to the driver to confirm our destination, when I feel the cold metal feeling of a gun being pressed against my temple.

“Don’t make any sudden move, Miss Robinson,” Hamza’s voice says. “We’ve been tracking you for a while.”