ESCAPE FROM AMBERGRIS CAYE (20 page)

Following the
girl’s advice, Zac headed over to Lil’ Mo’s on Barrier Reef Drive. Like the
first club he’d stopped at, the place was hopping. He slipped inside, happy to
go unnoticed. Not that anyone would have become aware of him considering that
all eyes seemed to be riveted on the floor show.

Girls were on a
raised platform and one by one put on a lewd performance. It appeared to be a
contest for the loudest applause. He idly wondered what the prize would be.

A light tap on his
shoulder told him to order a drink or be on his way. He knew the drill. For
want of anything better, he ordered a Belikin—his third of the night. It wasn’t
bad, just not his favorite alcoholic beverage. But it was cheap and money was
tight, so it would have to do.

He scrutinized the
dancers, hoping to find Izzie among them and wondering if he’d recognize her if
she was. He’d only seen her photograph and on the videotape Jackson had shown
him. Considering that most of these girls appeared to be Hispanic, Izzie would
likely be easy to spot.

Glancing around
the crowded room, he wondered if Jackson was around there somewhere. What would
traffickers want with a white man? They’d probably agreed to take him off
Leon’s hands as a favor. But what would they do with him? He wasn’t as controllable
as some young girl and he certainly wouldn’t become one of their male
prostitutes. Then what? Maybe he’d be sold to do forced labor.

His beer arrived
along with what Zac thought was a brilliant idea that just might work. As he
paid for his drink, he said, “I’m looking to buy a white male to work in
construction and heard this is where to go for that. Who do I need to see?”

The server just
stared at him as if he didn’t comprehend the question. Zac was about to repeat
himself, when he said, “Stay here.”

Ten minutes went
by during which three different young girls had shaken, twirled and writhed
suggestively. His beer bottle empty, Zac began to wonder if the server had
forgotten about it, when a beefy man motioned him over.

The expression on
the man’s face said he was not one to be trifled with. Well, Zac wasn’t in the
business of trifling—he was serious too, so … God, he hoped this worked.

He followed the
man to a makeshift office down the hall, well beyond the din of throbbing music
and cheers.

“Have a seat,” he
said, and parked his ample body on a worn swivel chair behind a desk. “Before
we get down to business, tell me about yourself.” When Zac hesitated, he added,
“Yeah, I know, but in this business you can’t be too careful. I mean, how do I
know you’re not some
kinda
cop?”

Zac gave him what
he hoped sounded like a jaded laugh. “Sure as if the cops give a rat’s ass
about your business as long as they get their cut, right?”

The man nodded. “Understood.
But, look, I’m curious. It’s clear you’re not from around here. If I had to
guess, I’d say you’re from the States or Canada maybe?”

Zac nodded. “You’d
be right.”

“So, you’re trying
to buy cheap labor for your construction business back home?”

“Yep,” Zac nodded
enthusiastically.

“Mexicans aren’t
cheap enough?”

“Not as cheap as
slaves, I mean, you pay for them and they’re yours, right? All I got to do is
feed them and keep them out of sight and I’m home free. With immigration
clamping down, it’s harder to hire illegals and besides you have to pay them,
even if it is a lot less. With my profit margin, this is a better way to go.”

The man had been
scrutinizing Zac as he spoke, looking him up and down and staring him in the
face as though trying to detect any hint of deceit.

“What I’m looking
for is a white guy. He’d be less noticeable, see what I mean? You have anyone
like that?”

The man rubbed his
chin as if he was thinking, then said, “Actually I do. Young guy came in just
today. I’ll let you have him for two thousand American.”

Zac’s heart sank.
That was all the money he had, including what the traffickers had given him for
Jackson.

“That’s too rich
for my blood,” he said and stood, hoping his bluff would work. “Thanks anyway.”

As he turned to leave,
the man said, “Wait, now, don’t be in such a hurry. Let’s talk about this.”

Zac returned to
the wobbly chair and sat down.

“What did you have
in mind?”

“I
dunno
. I’ve never done this before. How’s five hundred?” He
crossed his fingers. If the man went for it, he’d have more than enough to
somehow find Izzie and get them out of the country.

“That’s
ridiculous. You’re not buying a used car, for god’s sake. I mean this guy’s
gonna save you a bundle working for free.”

“Yeah but I’m
taking a hell of a risk. If I’m caught I go to jail. In the U.S. they don’t
look kindly on this sort of thing.”

“You have a point.
Look, the guy we got today’s a real pain in the ass. He’s gonna be nothing but
trouble. I can let you have him at a loss, just to get him
outa
here. How’s a thousand and we call it a day?”

“Not as good as
five hundred, but you got yourself a deal. He have papers?”

“Yeah, we got all
that covered. Just make yourself comfortable and I’ll go get him.” The man
pushed back from the desk, stood and shook Zac’s hand. “Nice doing business
with you. By the way, I’m Mo. Come again, you hear?”

After the man left
the room, Zac wiped his hand on his jeans trying to obliterate all contact with
the monster who obviously had little regard for human life. As he waited, he
wondered what he’d do if it turned out Jackson was not the white guy he’d just
purchased. What then?

Five minutes
later, the door opened and Jackson entered, or rather was shoved inside. Zac
was astonished to see how beaten up he’d become in only a few hours. His
clothes were torn, his face and arms covered with cuts and bruises. Standing
there, his head down, he didn’t look up when Mo said, “
Gimme
the money and he’s all yours.”

“Whoa, not so
fast,” Zac saw an opportunity and decided to go for it. “You never mentioned
the condition he’s in. I mean, look at him. How am I gonna get any work
outa
him? Looks pretty beat up to me.”

“Those’re just a
few bruises and scratches, nothing serious. He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know
about that. It’ll take some time to get him in shape for any kind of
construction work.”

Mo’s eyes widened,
his forehead crinkled up. “You
sayin
’ you don’t want
him? That what you’re
sayin
’?”

“Not for a
thousand
,
not in
that
condition. I’m afraid eight hundred’s the best I can do.
Take it or leave it.”

Zac noticed
Jackson’s head slowly begin to rise, his eyes making contact.
Don’t react,
bro, don’t screw this up.
He prayed and held his breath as the man
considered his offer.

“Oh, all right.
Take him. Anything to get the sonofabitch
outta
here.
You’re getting a real bargain.”

“He don’t look
like much of a bargain to me. I doubt I’ll get any work out of him for a while,
but since you say he’s such a dick I’ll take him off your hands.” Taking
another long look at Jackson, he shrugged and shook his head. “I just hope I
get my money’s worth.”

He stretched out
his arm to shake hands with the trafficker. “We’ll be on our way. Good doing
business with you.”

“I almost forgot.
Here’s his papers.” Mo handed Zac the same envelope he himself had given the men
who’d picked up the trunk that afternoon. It seemed more like weeks than mere
hours had passed since then.

“Oh yeah, thanks.”
Stuffing the envelope in his pants pocket, he took Jackson firmly by the arm in
imitation of what he thought passed for ownership, and they left the club.

****

They were more
than a block away before Zac dropped the charade of master and servant. He
looked in every direction to make certain they weren’t being followed. The
people around were obviously tourists intent on having a good time.

“You can drop the
act now. We’re safe.” If Zac expected gratitude from his brother for rescuing
him from the slavers, he was sorely disappointed.

“
Eight hundred
dollars?
You were going to leave me there if they didn’t reduce the price
because of my
condition
? What the hell was that about?” He punched Zac
in the arm.

Zac laughed. “I
was calling their bluff. If they hadn’t budged I would have paid the thousand.
Look at it this way, now we’ve got two more hundred to spend.”

“
Eight
hundred’s
all I’m worth?”

“Look, if you want
I can sell you to someone else for more.”

Jackson punched
Zac in the arm again. “No, that’s all right
Master
, this works for me.”

“They said you
were a pain in the ass; couldn’t get rid of you fast enough.”

“Thank God for
that. By the way, you won’t be getting your knife back. It nearly got me
killed. After they found it on me, they beat me up. When they said that I was
sold, I thought I’d be heading to some plantation to pick bananas. Honestly, I
never imagined you’d be the one to …” He didn’t finish his thought, just
grabbed Zac in a bear hug and held on. “Thank you so much. I love you—even if I
am adopted.”

Zac pulled back.
“Adopted? What’re you talking about?”

“What you said the
last night you were at the apartment. You said I was adopted; that Mom never
got around to telling me.”

“Oh that. I made
it up so you’d get mad and throw me out. I wanted to do the undercover thing
without you mucking it up; thought if I got you good and mad, you’d think I
took off and leave things alone. I never dreamed you’d stake out the house and
get caught. You’re lucky Leon didn’t kill you.”

Jackson nodded. “I
know. God, Zac, how’re we gonna find Izzie? And if we do find her, how will we
ever get her out of here?”

Izzie repeatedly
wiped off tears that kept flooding her face. She had to get control of herself
and put on a strong front. If she copped an attitude like some of the low-class
women she’d interviewed as a reporter, maybe they’d let her go. The women here
seemed so frightened, willing to do whatever they were told—probably to avoid
getting beaten. Somehow she’d have to stand up to these monsters, no matter the
outcome.

She wished she
could press a “restart button” and go back to the point where Jackson warned
her to stay away from Leon. If only she’d listened. That was her problem, she
never listened; always thought she knew better. Would she ever get out of this
mess? Or would she spend the rest of her life as a slave, doing what she was
told in order to stay alive?

She’d rather kill
herself than submit to the nightly rapes she’d read trafficked women were
subjected to. Although at this point she didn’t know what their plans for her
were, she assumed it wouldn’t be pleasant.

The men who
“bought” her made her put on a provocative outfit. Her own clothes were torn
and smelly, so she was more than willing to oblige despite feeling conspicuous
in the scanty apparel. Escorted out the back door of the establishment, she was
whisked away in a waiting car.  As they drove, she tried to spot landmarks
that would help if she managed to escape, but it was too dark out.

The road was
narrow, with what looked to Izzie like a tropical forest on either side,
replete with enormous potholes. They lurched, swerved and bumped along; she had
all she could do to keep from vomiting. From the looks of her captors, they
wouldn’t take kindly to having their vehicle befouled. She swallowed hard and
braced herself for the next sharp curve.

Twenty minutes
later, they arrived at their destination. It wasn’t at all what she expected.
At best, she’d anticipated a shack with machine gun-toting guards and snarling
dogs out front. Instead they drove up to a well-lit, gated complex on manicured
grounds of lush palm trees and shrubbery. The brick drive curved around past
several buildings, some appeared to be individual villas while others were more
in the style of a hotel or apartment complex.

This looked
nothing like a brothel, or what she assumed a brothel might look like. With the
exception of movies or television, she’d never seen a house of prostitution.
Maybe they’d had a change of heart and decided to let her go.

The car continued
past the elegant entryway around to the back where it stopped and the men got
out. They opened the back door and motioned to her. When she hesitated, one of
them stooped down and yanked her from the car, wrenching her shoulder. An
involuntary cry of pain escaped her lips causing the man to throw her a stern
look. Not wanting to invite more rough treatment, Izzie slapped a hand across
her mouth and waited for what would come next.

After stopping at
a thrift store to replace the rags Jackson wore, they went to Zac’s hotel to
clean up.

“I’m starving,”
Jackson announced and rubbed his stomach. “Haven’t had a thing to eat since
they took me off the boat.”

“Guess they don’t
treat the ‘help’ well,” Zac said with a grin.

“You got that
right. Seems like every time I turned around I got punched. Most of the time I
had no idea why.”

“They said you
were a big pain in the ass. Couldn’t wait to get rid of you.”

“Then it worked.”

“What worked?”

“My plan. I
thought the only way I’d survive was by giving them a hard time, so they’d be
only too happy to sell me.”

“Why didn’t you
just pretend to cooperate and wait for a chance to get away?”

“It’d never
happen. They keep a close watch on the ‘help’ while they work. And afterward,
they’re locked up.” The sour expression on Jackson’s face reflected an
unpleasant thought. “They’re kept in dungeon-like rooms, crowded to the gills.
It’s horrible. Think of everything you’ve ever read about slavery and how
blacks were treated worse than animals. It’s pretty much the same thing. If I
hadn’t seen it for myself, I would never believe it was happening. I mean, for
God sake, this is the twenty-first century and we’re dealing with slavery?
Un-freaking-believable.
”

They’d left the
hotel and were headed out for something to eat. Except for a few cuts and
bruises, Jackson looked no different than any other tourist. It was late so the
bar they found not far from Mo’s was fairly quiet with only a few patrons
nursing their drinks.

“So, how do we
find Izzie?” Zac directed the question more to himself than to his brother and
was surprised when Jackson spoke up.

“Maybe you do a
repeat of what you did earlier; go to Mo’s and say you want a white girl. Act
like you’re a racist and wouldn’t consider having sex with someone who wasn’t
of the white persuasion.”

In between bites
of his taco, Zac listened intently. “You know that might work. I just paid
eight hundred for a white
boy
—he stressed the word ‘boy’ and waited for
Jackson to react. When he didn’t, Zac continued. “It wouldn’t be hard to
convince them I’m interested in either buying or being serviced by a white
woman. Even if Izzie’s not there, they might let it slip where she’s gone.”

After eating, they
went their separate ways—Jackson back to the hotel for badly needed rest and
Zac to make yet another purchase.