AMELIA
“Whuhhh.”
That’s all I hear at first. It’s still dark and it feels like I’ve only been asleep for a couple of minutes. I don’t want to wake up. My head hurts.
The voice talks again, piercing my unconscious mind. It’s jabbing at me and I gradually realize it’s because someone is poking me in the side.
“Gerroff,” I mutter, shoving the arm away.
“Wake up, Amelia.”
Hands are on my shoulders, shaking me to life. I blink and look up and Molly is standing there, looking scared.
“What’s happening? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know where to begin,” she says. “We’re in deep shit. Real deep shit.” It’s the most serious I’ve ever seen her.
“What is it?” I ask, sitting up in bed. I blink away the fuzzy vision and she comes into focus properly for the first time.
“Leo’s dead,” she says. “I’m so sorry, Amelia.”
“What? What happened?”
“Some men turned up. He ran out after them. They shot him. I’m sorry,
Amelia, I don’t know what to say.”
“Where’s his body? I need to see him.”
“They loaded it into the trunk of his car. Listen, the FBI is here. They want to take you into protective custody. They think you might be in danger too.”
“What?” I’m still trying to wake up properly. I’m not sure if I might be dreaming. It would make sense. This can’t be happening. Leo can’t be dead.
“There’s a car outside ready to take you right now. You need to go.” She holds out her dressing gown. “Wrap this around you and grab your shoes.
You need to move.”
“Molly, I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
She’s pulling me out of bed. “The men that came for Leo. The FBI said they’re going to come back for you. You need to go with them right now.”
“But what about you?”
“There’s another car for me. It’s on the way, but you need to move. We haven’t any time.”
I’m out of bed by now, wrapping the dressing gown around me. I’m in a pair of pajamas Molly lent me, and that’s about it. “Have I got time to get dressed?” I ask.
“Just move. Come on, before it’s too late.”
Afterward, I have plenty of time to think about it all. At the time I couldn’t process anything, not even the news that Leo was dead. A part of my brain was so certain Molly was wrong, it refused to accept any alternative version of events.
He can’t be dead. He just can’t be. The last thing that happened between us was an argument. I was pissed at him for leaving and putting himself in danger. The last thing that happened between us was an argument and now he’s gone forever. Is that even possible?
I let Molly guide me to the front door. I get my shoes on and look outside. A black SUV is sitting on the roadside. Two men are standing beside it, wearing plain black suits. Molly squeezes my hand. “I’ll be right behind you. Go.”
“But where are they taking us?”
“Somewhere safe. Somewhere none of the families can find us. Just go.” She shoves me toward them. I’ve enough time to take a couple of breaths of night air before I’m in the back of the car, the tinted windows making it seem pitch black in there.
The two men climb in the front and then the engine starts. “Don’t worry,” the driver says, glancing back at me. “We’ll keep you safe.”
“Where are you taking me?”
We start to move out. The guy in the passenger seat turns and takes over the conversation. “A safe house. One the mafia doesn’t know about. We need to keep you safe while we get the chip.”
“Chip? You know about the chip?”
“We know it’s got all the details about the Belucci business on it somehow. Do you know where it is?”
“No idea. I gave it to Leo at the casino. Is he really dead?”
“Try to rest. It’s not that long a drive, but we need you to keep your head down. Okay? Can you do that for us?”
I slouch down in my seat as we head along the quiet streets. I glance up and work out we’re not heading out of town. We’re heading to the docks. “Are we going on a boat?” I ask.
“Yeah,” the driver replies. “A boat out of here. Just keep your head down. We can’t risk you being seen.”
I don’t know when I work out something is going wrong. My stomach is bubbling like I’m going to be sick the entire journey, but I put that down to nerves. I saw the sniper shoot from the top of the casino, taking out Franco like he was a rabid animal. One shot and he was dead.
The car swings into the docks. There are a dozen warehouses behind wire fences. The entrance is tightly controlled. I used to try to get in when I was a kid. I think we all did. No one ever managed it. We had no idea what was being stored down here.
I watched sometimes from up near the Mansfield place. I saw fish coming in and out once or twice. Sometimes a truck would load up crates and boxes and drive out, but nothing exciting ever seemed to happen.
It would make sense for the FBI to use one building as a safe location. It was secured behind barbed wire and glaring lights with only one point in and out.
We drive down to the last warehouse. Number 12. To the side of it is a solid wall made of the cliff face. There’s nowhere else to go from here but up the cliff or out to sea. It’s a suitable spot to defend and a hard one to get to. I can see why they chose it. Shit, I’m thinking like Leo.
The engine dies. “Wait there,” the driver says as the passenger gets out. I watch as the door to the warehouse rolls up. A moment later we’re moving again, heading inside. They have divided the immense space in there.
The first section is like a loading bay. The floor is six feet above us, presumably so crates can slide easily in and out of trucks.
A solid-looking wall blocks the rest of the space from view. A metal shutter is closed at the minute but the door beside it is open and I can see bright lights further inside but nothing much else.
“This way,” the driver says, getting out and then pulling open my door.
“We need to wait for the boat to arrive to get you out of here.”
“Where’s Molly? Why hasn’t she caught up with us?”
“Don’t worry. She’ll be here soon.”
We walk over to the door. The two of them move so one’s in front and the other behind. “What’re your names?” I ask.
The driver glances back at me and says, “Rob. He’s Peter.”
“Is Leo really dead?”
“We didn’t see it. Molly did. What did she say to you?”
“That his body got taken away.”
“Then that’s what happened.”
We’re through the door by now, and I stop. The place is piled high with things. Different piles in different places. At the far end are shipping containers, one of them with its door open.
I look left, and there are boxes of cigars. In front of me crates with straw sticking out from the top. To my right are guns. Lots of guns are neatly stacked. “What is this place?” I ask.
“Contraband gets put here,” Rob says. “This way.”
We weave through and I see books, magazines, pill bottles. Shelves filled with cans, no labels. Other shelves have what look like antiques. There are clocks, candlesticks, even paintings. It’s an Aladdin’s Cave of stuff.
We turn a corner, and I stop again. This time Peter shoves me forward. “Keep moving,” he says.
I don’t want to. I’ve seen something in front of me that’s turned my blood cold. “Who are you?” I ask, turning to look at him.
He grins at me. “FBI.”
“Bullshit. Who are you?”
Rob laughs. “She finally cottons on. What gave it away?”
I look again at the sight that has chilled me to the bone. In front of the open shipping container, a group of women is being walked along in single file. They all look scared. I don’t recognize any of them. Then I spot Moira.
She’s not looking my way. She’s looking down at the floor. She’s got bruises on her neck and suddenly I don’t know what’s going on. Three men in suits are pointing assault rifles at the women. The men look like they’ve got murder on their minds.
About a dozen women are heading into the shipping container. They look scared, all of them, ranging in ages from about twelve up to about sixty. “What the fuck is going on here?” I ask.
Peter shoves me over to join them. “Lucky thirteen,” he says. “Get in there before we have to bust up that pretty little face of yours.”
“In where? What’s happening?”
He leans close to me, pulling out a gun and pressing it to my chest. I freeze. All thoughts of disarming him have vanished. All I can do is listen as he explains. “You go in the container. You go on a boat. We keep you safe. You get out. You get fucked. Repeatedly. We make money.
“Eventually, you get worn out and then we sell you to a man who can make use of damaged goods. The cutter, we call him. By the time he gets done with your body, you go into the ground in tiny little bitty pieces.” He grins at me. “So get in the fucking crate with the rest of them.”
He shoves me again with the barrel of the gun. I think about running but there are five of them, including the two who brought me here. I wouldn’t stand a chance. I can’t believe this is happening. I can only hope Molly works it out quicker than I did.
They’re not FBI, that much is clear. I can’t believe how shit my life has become. I’ve lost Leo. Dead or not, he does not know where I am. I’m being kidnapped. I’m being pushed toward a shipping container with twelve other women and girls.
The darkness inside the crate looms like an open mouth, the mouth of Satan himself. I want to run, but there’s no point. All the guns are pointing at me now. Do I let them shoot me? Isn’t that better than what might wait for me in there?
If Leo was here, he’d save me. But he’s not here. He’s never coming back here ever again. He’s dead and I’m all alone. I just wish the last words I said to him weren’t in anger.
I want to tell him I didn’t mean it. I want to tell him something I didn’t even know until right this second.
I want to tell him I love him.
I can’t do it. I can’t ever tell him that. The thought paralyzes me. All hope leaves me as the door swings shut and I’m left in total darkness with the others.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and Moira whispers. “What’s going on?” she asks. “Who are those people?”
“Mafia,” I tell her. “Belucci family, no doubt. Human trafficking.”
“Oh, Amelia,” she says, crying. “They told me I needed to help them with a case. I had no idea. They pulled out guns when we got here and I saw these people all huddled together.”
Some of them are crying. I can hear them, but my eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark yet. Things couldn’t look much bleaker. I’m locked in a shipping container and we’re going to be loaded onto a boat to be taken to God alone knows where.
I feel Leo’s presence. Don’t give up. Always fight to the end. His strength courses through me.
“We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Moira asks.
“Not if I can help it. Listen,” I say in a low voice to the entire group.
“I’ve got an idea.”