Abel Discovers Alice, A Hotcake Of Traffickers, Has Been Moved To London; Moves Quickly To Save Her There

12 Sep Abel Discovers Alice, A Hotcake Of Traffickers, Has Been Moved To London; Moves Quickly To Save Her There

Lola stood over Abel, laughing. “You don’t like my cooking!” she said.

They were in her sister’s apartment at Elephant and Castle, where Lola had been staying since her arrival in London. With her family away on holiday, she had the place to herself. Abel had been back in London a week. They had met a few times for meals, but this was the first time they had been alone. She wanted to cook her version of shepherd’s pie and was testing it out on Abel.

“I do too like it”, he said. “It is delicious. You’re becoming an expert cook of English food!”

She put a hand on his shoulder. Physical contact. Abel felt an electric charge run through him.

There had been something between them the last few times. Although unspoken, they both felt it. Perhaps it was the highly emotional crusade they shared that created the attraction. When Lola had invited him over for dinner, Abel was excited, but nervous. Lola was beautiful, and Abel a normal male with high levels of testosterone. He often joked that the only thing he could not resist was temptation.

This evening, she wore blue jeans below a tight-fitting red t-shirt, her hair neatly woven in cornrows. She allowed her hand to linger on his shoulder.

“You haven’t given me an update on your progress”, she said.

Abel patted her hand in a paternal way and indicated she should sit opposite him. He wanted to put some distance between them. As much as he was attracted to her, he didn’t think the timing was right to begin anything. And besides, his investigation had yielded big results, and he was ready to move on them.

“Since you told me Alice could be here, I’ve been using a journalist friend to help me track her down.” She looked up at him and saw a face plastered with doubt, “you know I will do everything to support you …”

“Yes. He was helping you check out the various houses of ill-repute and massage parlours. Have you found her?”

“We think it’s possible. There is an African girl who works in a place off South Audley Street behind the Hilton. Someone who said he had been there identified her picture. But I won’t be sure until I see her myself.”

“You should talk to the police. Have them check it out.”

Abel shook his head as he took a bite of the shepherd’s pie. “No. The last thing I want to do is tip off the people who have her. I don’t trust the police, even here in London. The only way these places stay in business is by paying off the cops.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“Go in as a customer. See if it’s really Alice. If it is, I’ll sneak her out of there.”

Lola smiled. “Sure you’re not just lonely and looking for a nice evening?”  She reached across and placed her hand on his. The meaning was clear to him.

“Lola, you are a beautiful woman. But Tunde’s death is still an open wound for both of us. We should not fall into something neither of us is prepared for. So let’s move slowly. Tonight we have business.”

Lola nodded. “Of course. How soon are you going?”

“Maybe tonight. Can you help me?”

She nodded, anxious to be of service. “Whatever you need.”

“I want you to plait my hair. I need a disguise. If Alice sees me in front of the others, and recognises me, she might give the game away before I’m ready to move.”

Lola got up and moved behind him.

“All right. How do you want it?”

“I think in the cornrow style you’re wearing. After you finish, we’ll need to pick up some clothes.”

An hour later, they returned to her flat with Abel’s outfit. He had decided to dress up as a stoned-out reggae musician. And when they finished, he looked the part: a silky shirt, loose-fitting pants and a long, black winter jacket. The outfit was completed with a pair of dark, wrap-around glasses.

Lola smiled at him. “You look cool.”  She moved to him and kissed his cheek.

“Good luck, Abel. Come back to me, safe.

 

*****************

Abel’s first stop was at an ATM, where he used his company credit card to get cash. He’d been spending lavishly and restocking his funds frequently. He hoped when the bills began arriving, they wouldn’t elevate Chief Benson’s blood pressure even more.

He located the massage parlour in a small nondescript building off South Audley Street. He walked confidently up to the lone receptionist, a tall lanky Jamaican, and registered as Roy Brake. He was dismayed to see he had to queue behind six men to have his turn. The place was popular, even mid-week.

As he took a seat, he tried to look more laid back than he felt. He was almost shaking in anticipation. Alice could well be behind these walls. As happy as he was at the prospect of finding the girl, it depressed him to think she had wound up here servicing overweight pasty Englishmen.

After about 45 minutes, he approached the lady of about 22, who tried to look tough with a straight face. Abel suspected she could only be working for the owner of the parlour.

“I’ve been waiting a long time. Don’t tell me you only have one lady here”, he said and pouted his lips impatiently.

“I’m sorry, Sir. We have three women, but our customers all seem to like Nanny, the African”, the lady whispered.

This gave Abel hope that he’d found Alice. “That’s okay. I’ll wait for Nanny. She must be something special.”

The lady gave him a tolerant nod, although Abel could see disapproval in her eyes. He didn’t blame her. Abel returned to his seat.

Apart from the two hefty men at the gate, he hadn’t seen a security person on the premises. Abel decided they must rely on cameras. A potential problem if he wanted to spirit Alice out of the place.

After another half hour, the lady finally called Abel. “Go straight up to the second floor. Third bedroom on the left.”

Abel headed up the stairs, almost breathless. His heart beat quickly and he broke out in a sweat. He had no idea what Alice’s reaction would be if he actually found her.

Abel counted three doors on the left and stood before the third. Music played somewhere down the hall behind one of the other doors. Abel put on his sunglasses and knocked. After a beat, a young girl whom he couldn’t see clearly in the dim light, made worse by his shades, opened the door and let him inside. Before he could get a good look at her, she turned away and disappeared into an adjoining bathroom.

“Get undressed.”

Abel didn’t recognize her voice. Maybe it was Alice, maybe not. He looked around the room, which was furnished sparsely. A double bed and a mirrored wardrobe were pretty much it. The wardrobe door stood open and he could see a shelf housing various sex toys.

After a minute, the girl, obviously high on something, re-entered. She wore only a white bra, covering orange-shaped breasts, and white panties. Her eyes were glassy as she swayed back and forth. Abel stepped forward so he could see her better.

It was Alice. His knees went weak as he studied the girl who obviously did not recognize him. This didn’t surprise Abel. He figured they probably kept her so high she couldn’t tell you which continent she was on.

“I’m two hundred and fifty pounds an hour. I don’t do massage. You want that, hire one of the other girls. I do foreplay and sex only. People who have been with me come back.”

Abel could hardly believe that this was the same girl. Tears stung his eyes. Somehow after all the miles and all the pain, it was heart-breaking to see what had become of her. He wondered if there was anything human inside this shell left to save. What would her mother think when she saw her?

Alice had grown impatient. “So, are you going to undress? Time is wasting.”

It was strange. When Abel had rescued her that night in Lagos, she had been so full of life, so seductive. Now she was offering a body devoid of a soul. Who would want to make love to such a creature? Did the men who came here really not notice? Didn’t they care?

She started to undo her bra. Abel reached out and stopped her.

“Alice, don’t.” She looked at him blankly, as if he had spoken in some strange unexpected language. Abel took off his sunglasses.

“Alice listen carefully and don’t say anything. I’m Peter Abel. Remember me? From Lagos?”

She stared at him as if listening to a faint voice spoken from far away. Her memory searched for the answer.

“I have come to take you home.”

“Peter Abel … I don’t …” Suddenly tears appeared in her eyes. “Yes. You cooked me dinner.” The kind gesture made so long ago was still alive in her and this gave Abel hope she could be saved.

“Yes. That’s right. You spent the night in my guest room. I need to get you out of here.” Abel went to the wardrobe and dug out some jeans and a shirt. He tossed them to her.

“Come on.” But Alice wasn’t clear-headed enough to make the connection between the clothes and her need to put them on.

“Dress!”

“No. It’s all right. I’m going away from here. Tomorrow. To Washington, D.C. That’s in America.”

“Then we really need to get out of here quickly.” As Abel began to help the girl into the jeans, he worried about the security cameras. He glanced around the room and as he feared, there was one in the corner over the door.

Abel was struggling with a pant leg when he heard heavy footsteps running down the hallway. Before Abel could react, three hefty men in uniform burst inside.

“Get her out of here”, ordered the shortest of the three.

Abel stood up. “Hold on. You can’t take her anywhere. I’ve got agents outside and you guys are fucked. Now stand back!”

Abel figured his only hope was to bluff. For a second, the guards froze. Abel took the initiative and grabbed a robe from the floor, then flung it around Alice’s shoulders. No time to dress her now.

“If you’re a cop, I want to see some ID”, the guard finally said.

“Come downstairs. My men will show you a dozen IDs. Look, we don’t want you. We want the people who sell these girls. She’s a material witness. You let me take her, we’ll turn a blind eye this time.”

The men seemed to be considering the proposal as Abel steered Alice toward the door, hands on her shoulders. Just as he reached the open door, a middle-aged woman he suspected to be the owner of the parlour appeared. She was the Madam, who must have bought Alice.

“He’s no cop, you fools. He’s a journalist. Hello, Mr. Abel.”

Abel stopped in his tracks. How the hell could she know?

“Word gets around when someone is snooping about our business.”

Two more security guards appeared at her side. One grabbed Alice by the arm and led her away down the hall, leaving Abel alone with four very angry Neanderthals.

“Take him downstairs to the basement”, the Madam ordered.

“Wait!” Abel said. “How did you know?”

“We’ve been expecting you. For days.”

Abel shook his head, signalling that he did not understand.

The man who brought the girl here, Lawal, he had been warned that you were looking for him, and he, in turn, warned us.”

The truth hit Abel in a rush. The phone call Lawal had gotten in the restaurant in the desert, the call that upset him so. That had to be it, the warning. And Abel was willing to bet a week’s salary that the alert had come from The Lion.

He wanted to ask something more, but the Madam had turned on her heel and was disappearing after Alice.

Abel remembered Lillian and her gun and thought he’d hit a very bad streak with the opposite sex. And as he was led by the arms toward the other end of the hallway, he wondered if this was to be his last night on Earth. For some reason, the fact that his final meal was Lola’s shepherd’s pie seemed grossly unfair.

When they reached the basement, one of his escorts shut the door. The leader of the team didn’t wait long before smashing Abel in the jaw, sending him crashing into some old furniture.

The man grunted and pulled Abel up. His knees were weak, and he had a cut streaming blood from his chin.

“What do you want?” Abel managed to ask.

“Nothing”, the man said as he kicked Abel’s feet out from under him, which sent him sprawling on the floor. Abel realised with growing horror that the only thing they wanted was to stomp him to death.

They all jumped in, kicking Abel with their heavy boots. He tried to protect his ribs to little effect.

Several kicks later, the leader stopped his minions.

“Keep an eye on him, Von. I’m going to ask the Madam what we do with the body”, he said and left.

As soon as the door shut, Von started kicking him again. Apparently Von wasn’t going to wait to find out what was next on the fight card.

Abel groped behind him for anything with which to fight back. He found a broken leg of a chair with some nails protruding. When Von’s black boot came down again, Abel thrust the nails as hard as he could into his attacker’s knee.

“Aoo!” Von moaned, bending over to hold the torn knee.

Abel took the opportunity dig the nails into Von’s eyes with all the strength he had left.

Von yelled and crashed into the furniture. Bleeding from the eyes, he tried to stand but he tumbled over a fallen stool and collapsed to the floor in agony.

The weapon still in his hand, Abel stumbled from the basement and made his way up the staircase to the first floor, where he found a window. He pushed it open and climbed out.

Abel made it to South Audley Street, where traffic was heavy. After a few seconds, he spotted a taxi and waved it down. He fell into the back seat and said simply, “The nearest hospital.”

Once admitted, Abel called Lola who arrived a half hour later. She was there when Abel was brought to his private room, patched up and looking terrible.

Later the police interviewed him. They said when they raided the massage parlour it was empty. They traced the owners through the recorder’s office but were certain it would lead them only to a dummy front company. The people who had beaten Abel and run off with Alice were no longer in England. Of that, he could be sure.

After they left, Lola held Abel’s hand and stroked his bandaged head. She was sorry it had all turned out this way. Abel smiled at her.

“It didn’t turn out so badly”, he said. “I know where they have taken Alice. And as soon as they release me, I’m on their trail again.”

“Where?”
“Washington, D.C.”

“But why would they take her there?”

“That is what I’m going to find out. They have not seen the last of Peter Abel.”

And then, as Lola sat by him, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.