“Okay.” I think that’s the end of it, but what he says next surprises me. “Court, here’s what I’m prepared to do. This isn’t a negotiation; this is not my opening offer. You get what you get, and what you get is all you get.”
“I’m listening.”
“We’ll reach out, quietly, to all the federal law enforcement agencies along the route of the pipeline. Not the state or regional or municipal agencies, but the big guys. At the highest level.”
I start to speak but he cuts me off.
“We’ll pass on any information Talyssa Corbu gives us, and then we’ll tell these agencies that we’ll be checking back to see if the pipeline is shut down and the women safely recovered.”
I think there’s more coming, but when he says nothing, I reply with, “That’s it?”
“That’s it. You are too precious a commodity for me to let you run around the world saving individual girls. The next job I have for you . . . frankly, kid . . . it’s bigger than that.”
“What about Kareem and Rodney and Carl?”
“I assume those are the men who helped you and survived.”
“Yeah.”
“The Agency will assist them. We’ll get them out of custody.” He adds, “Eventually. Quietly.”
Hanley ends the call before I can put up any fight, and Hightower takes the phone from my ear, disconnects it, and drops it back in his bag.
The Ground Branch guy called Teddy pulls the knife out of me; I scream in agony, but he knows what he’s doing, and instantly he’s cleaning and then bandaging my shoulder, while another guy pours antiseptic on my arm and rib wounds. Chris Travers reaches out from behind me and gives me a squeeze on my good shoulder, then leans forward. “We gotta stop meeting like this, bro.”
I don’t reply.
We pass through a police line unmolested, then leave the Hollywood Hills a few minutes later.
Soon I can tell we’re heading towards the airport. “What’s our destination, Zack?”
“There’s an Agency Citation waiting for us at LAX. We’ll land at Andrews around twenty-one hundred hours. Hanley’s going to want you wheels up pretty shortly after that, so you’ll need to be treated on the way. Something big’s brewing.”
I’d put my head in my hands if my hands weren’t cuffed behind my back. Instead I just let my head hang down to my chest.
To the other guys it may look like it’s exhaustion, frustration, disappointment. They’d be right about that; I am feeling all these things.
But they’d be wrong if they thought it was a sign I was giving up.
Fuck no. I’m just getting started.
Zack misinterprets my demeanor. “It’s all right, kid. You kicked ass.” He slaps me on the back, and I hate when he does this. “You’ll be off killin’ bozos again before you know it.”
I’m too tired to give Zack a “fuck you,” so I just sit here, and I think about this entire damn thing.
I hope Kareem and Rodney and Carl are taken care of by the Agency. I hope Talyssa and Roxana and the other girls from the ranch can all go back to their lives, putting this behind them. I hope Liliana made it back to Moldova safely, and I hope the twenty-two women and girls sold into bondage in Italy can be found and rescued.
All these people need so much help, but I can’t help them. I can’t help any of them.
All I can do is hope.
I close my eyes and lean my head back now. Men continue to treat my wounds as I sit there.
Hope isn’t a strategy, but sometimes it’s all you’ve got.