The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 7

Monday March 2, 2009]
Both Tina and I were in the office this afternoon for the trafficking case conference call which was scheduled to start in about a half hour. For the past couple of hours, I had been going over the case notes again to make sure we did not miss something, and we had all the gaps filled before the call.

“Tina, play sounding board for me on this.”

Tina turned and looked at me, leaning back in her chair. ”Okay.”

“We have been approaching this whole case on the assumption we have a group of sickos out there that are kidnapping guys and transsexuals and turning them in to movie stars and sex toys for some rich perverts. Right?”

“I think that is pretty good summary.”

“Okay, so I can see a group of sickos having a piece of property, like the one that we found to work from. Makes sense to me. But how did they get the wherewithal to bury the ownership of that property in at least ten international dummy corporations? That would take some pretty sophisticated knowledge, wouldn’t it?”

Tina thought for a moment, “I would think it probably would.”

“Okay, another thing, this has to be an extremely lucrative business to pay for everything that we know about.”

“You mean to get the property and bury it in the dummy corps?”

“Not just that. … Go back to Gibson’s report on Steph.” I pull out a note sheet, “The implants she has are top of the line, they were using pharmaceutical grade hormones, and even the heroin found in her system was considered to be high quality. That stuff was not cut in a Mexican back ally.

“Add to that, walking away and leaving the property. It seems like they have a lot of disposable money.” Tina added.

“Or, someone backing them who does. Another thing that has been bugging me since Steph left last week. Something that Doctor Vasnev said, they were guessing that the people that did this have some kind of military training. So if you throw in military, with large amounts of disposable cash, where does that take you?”

Tina set up in her chair, “Some kind of government or military sanctioned activity?”

“I am glad you said it, and I didn’t, but that is kind of the picture I’m seeing. But, one more thing. If we have a group of highly trained people with that kind of money, why did they leave all of the fingerprints behind at the compound? Why not just burn the place down?”

“They didn’t have time! Someone tipped them off and they had to rush getting out of there. That would also explain why the cables we found were cut at the wall!” Tina was getting excited.

“If that is true, then they have someone on the inside, or someone that is close to our operation that tipped them.” I leaned back in my chair.

“Wow, that is scary. If we take that line of though another step, they were able to quickly move people and equipment, along with other victims to another location without anyone knowing. That means they had another place already set up.”

“According to what we have from Steph, memories of the long plane rides, and we know we have found bodies in 3 different countries, these people can move human cargo between countries without detection. That would take quite an organization with a lot of experience.”

“You going to bring this up in the call?”

“No, right now it is just our speculation. I think we need to write it all down and send it through Mike, see if he wants to run with it. But, there seem to be some big gaps there.”

The weekly conference call started on schedule, but the regular agenda was disrupted immediately by the Washington office. They had new data from ‘victim memory’. I don’t know why they don’t say it was from Stephanie. Okay, maybe everyone doesn’t know it was from Stephanie, but I do. Anyway, the report was that Stephanie had a nightmare after returning from visiting the compound. Though her nightmares are not unusual, this time she woke with a clear image of a face in her mind. The face of the man she called Miguel, who was the keeper of the victims. The FBI sent a sketch artist to work with Stephanie and were able to get a reasonable picture of the person she remembered. The new sketch is being routed to all law enforcement agencies, airport security offices and border stations. Orders are to apprehend on sight.

All of the finger prints that were collected at the compound are a source of frustration. Though the investigators are still not done with all of them, not a single hit has been found in all of the criminal databases available. Estimates are they are a little over have way through the collected prints and will probably take another two to three weeks to complete.

Tina asked why we are limiting the search to just criminal databases, which resulted in further online debate. Everyone finally agreed that we would try to search further into other databases such as Military, Security Clearances, concealed weapons, etc..

After the call ended, Tina and I spent the rest of the afternoon writing out the details of our brainstorming and getting a report sent to Mike. There seemed to be a lot of questions here that need to be asked and answered.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009
First thing this morning, Tina and I got a call from Mike that he wanted us in Phoenix at 1pm for a meeting. When quizzed further, he just told us there were some people that wanted to talk to us, and nothing further. Since the drive is just a bit over two hours, we planned to leave at 9:30 and have lunch in Phoenix before the meeting.

We badged through security at the main FBI office at ten minutes before the hour and took the elevator up to Mike’s office. Mike’s office was huge by the standards that Tina and I lived with. He had a large desk just to the left of the door, while the balance of the room was taken up with a conference table that would easily seat 12 people. Somewhere over the past year, I had picked up the unconscious habit of glancing at Mike’s desk whenever I entered his office to see if the picture of my mother was still there. It was.

As we entered the office, Mike and two other men were sitting at the conference table. All three stood as we entered.

“Dan, Tina, glad you could make it,” Mike started. “I would like to introduce you to Donald Baker of the Department of Homeland Security, and John Smith.”

We shook hands with both of the men but alarm bells were going off in my head. ‘John Smith? Okay, whatever.’ As we sat down I noticed the document lying on table. It was the report that Tina and I had written and sent to Mike a couple of weeks earlier.

“Agents,” Baker started, “Did you two write this report?” he indicated the document on the table.

“Yes Sir,” I responded. When dealing with people of higher rank that you do not know, the military taught me the best responses are the simplest.

“What prompted you to write such a report?” Baker asked again.

‘I was doing my job’ was the answer in my mind. “We were just trying to document some discrepancies in the case we were working on.”

“Do you have a theory on why these supposed discrepancies exist?” Baker was still asking the questions.

“I’m sorry Sir,” I started, “but I don’t agree with your term ‘supposed’. These discrepancies exist in the case. The people we are chasing seem to have a large amount of money, and don’t seem to have a problem moving people around undetected, even when we thought we were watching.”

“Okay,” Baker smiled, “I am sorry for the use of the term. However, do you have any theories?”

“No Sir,” Tina answered, “We think we are dealing with some kind of well-organized and well-funded group.”

“So, this piece, here, where you think you have a mole?”

“The report says ‘may’ have a mole, Sir.” I answered. I was not liking Mr. Baker very much. “If the assumptions are true about the money and the ability to move people, why did they leave the building behind so we could search it?”

“Because they didn’t have time to destroy it.” Smith spoke for the first time. “Donald, we need to stop the pussy foot’n here and get down to facts.”

Baker leaned back in his chair with a sort of frustrated look on his face.

“Can I call you Dan and Tina?” Smith continued and we both nodded. “Good. My name in not John Smith and I don’t work for Homeland Security, but that is all you need to know right now. I am a paranoid old bastard, and when I see activity such as you are describing, my mind screams terrorist cell.”

My internal alarms were going off at high volume. ‘This guy is a spook’. I felt Tina tense next to me as she probably came to the same conclusion as I did.

“Now,” Smith continued, “Donald here, does not think that is possible, because they refuse to believe that a terrorist cell could be operating in the states without their knowledge over at Homeland. I, on the other hand, think there could be ten or twelve of them at any one time.”

“Why do I get the feeling,” I spoke up, “that you are thinking we are involved in some way?”

Smith smiled, “I don’t, he does,” nodding his head toward Baker, “However, his job is to torment citizens. My job is to kill terrorist. I have been over both of your histories with a fine tooth comb and I see no red flags. I have lived this long trusting my gut, and I will keep doing so.”

“Why are we here?” Tina asked

“Mostly, because I wanted to meet you face to face and see if my alarms stayed silent, which they have. Second, and I have already discussed with Mr. Holiday, I would to establish a liaison with you as you work through the case.”

“Why with us?” I asked. My gut was in knots right now.

“Two reasons. First, you seem to have pulled more issues out of this case than anyone else looking at it, and second, your relationships with Miss Atkins.”

The mention of Stephanie caused me to jump, and my facial expression that was picked up on right away. Mike reached over and put his hand my shoulder.

Smith laughed, “Don’t worry son, we are not going to hurt her. The Vasnevs and I have had a working relationship for a long time. They are good people, and they will take care of her. They were also pretty impressed with both of you, which is another reason I am pulling you in. Mike?”

Mike slide two business cards to us. The cards were plain white with the name ‘John Smith’, and a phone number on them, nothing else.

“Starting today,” Mike said, “I would like you two to work directly with Mr. Smith. You can also communicate to me, and I will communicate with Smith, but it would be better if we can make it equal communications.”

“I am confused,” I spoke, “Why do you need us?”

“Other than the ones I have already mentioned,” Smith answered, “you are cops. Your job is to look into crimes. Nothing unusual there. If the people we are chasing suddenly see you stop looking and my people start looking, they will just go deeper undercover, and we won’t find them. However, if you just keep doing your job, they will be watching your progress … “

“Watching our progress?” Tina interrupted.

Smith smiled, “Oh, I am sure they are. But if they just see you doing your job, then they may not notice that we are looking for them too. Anyway, I have taken enough of your time and you have a plane to catch.”

“A plane?” Tina asked.

Mike spoke up, “Yes, about 6 hours ago the border station at Las Cruces, New Mexico, stopped a Mr. Miguel Garcia attempting to cross the border in to Mexico. Border patrol says he matches the sketch put out two weeks ago. I would like the two of you to fly down there and have a chat with him. You already have tickets on the shuttle flight that leaves in two hours.”

“Gee, I really packed for this trip.” Tina said.

“Sorry, Tina,” Mike said, “you should be home later tonight or first thing in the morning.”

Tina and I stood to leave. As we started out the door I stopped and turned back to the room. “Mr. Smith, this may be kind of a hollow statement, but you won’t like me very much if anything happens to Stephanie. I would just like you to know that.”

Smith just looked at me, “No, son, I don’t think I would.”

Between the shuttle flights and rental cars, it took us just over four hours to reach the detention center in Las Cruces. Mr. Garcia was being held in an ‘interview’ room with a one way mirror. Mr. Garcia appeared to be somewhere in his mid 30’s with black hair and a stocky build, broad shoulders and very muscular arms. His hands were tattooed similar to what we have seen on some Mexican gangs, with the letters ‘L’ ‘O’ ‘V’ ‘E’ on one hand and ‘H’ ‘A’ ‘T’ ‘E’ on the other. We were standing in the observation room talking with Tom Peterson, Investigative Agent with the Border Patrol.

“He has pretty much denied everything, says he doesn’t know why he is being held. Says he was just going to visit his family in Nuevo Casas Grandes. Best we can tell, that is the truth,” Agent Peterson explained.

“Do you have photographs of his tattoos? Tina asked.

“Yes, we take photos of most of the identification marks on people we detain.”

Tina pulled a piece of paper from her notebook and wrote on it. “Can you have them sent to this email address immediately?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Agent Peterson left the room and Tina was on the phone to Mike. She had the pictures sent to the Cyber boys in D.C. We were asking to have the videos checked for any male that may have the same tattoos. I was just standing in the window, watching Mr. Garcia.

Tina got off of the phone. Walking up beside me, Tina said, “Mike is going to put some pressure on them to get us an answer within the next half hour”

“Okay,” I answered, “Let’s go talk to Mr. Garcia.”

We locked our weapons in the vault in the observation room and entered the interview room.

“Mr. Garcia,” I started, “I am Agent McNeil, and this is Agent Warline and we are with the FBI. We would like to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” Garcia answered, “if it will get me out of here faster. I don’t know why I am here.”

“Well, Mr. Garcia,” Tina answered, “You are here because you look like a picture we have, so we just need to make sure you are not that person.”

“Okay, so how do I prove that?”

“Where have you been in the U.S.?” I asked.

“Had work up in Albuquerque.”

“What kind of work do you do?” I followed.

“I am a painter, been doing some house painting up there.”

“Okay,” I responded, “If you can give the name of your employer or some of the jobs that you did, we can clear this up really fast.”

“Sure, I can do that, if that is all you need.”

I pulled a piece of paper out, with a pen and slide them over to Mr. Garcia. “If you would just write down the information for us we can get you on your way sooner.”

Just then Tina’s cell phone chirped. After looking at her phone, Tina nodded towards the door. We both stood up. “We’ll give you a couple of minutes and be right back.”

As soon as we were outside the room Tina answered her phone. They had a hit on the first video they looked at and were sending the video to us. We followed Agent Peterson to a room with a computer, which he logged into and we waited for the email to arrive. As soon as it did, Agent Peterson launched the video.

I have been angry before, I have even been almost blindingly mad, but I experienced something new when that video came on the screen. There was a girl lying across a low table with her feet handcuffed to two legs, and her arms stretched across the table and handcuffed to the other side. She was being sodomized by a man. We could only see his body and his right hand. The girl’s back was bleeding, which we saw was being caused by solid strokes of a whip. The right hand that we could see clearly had the tattoo of the letters ‘H’ ‘A’ ‘T’ ‘E’. The girl was Stephanie.

I can’t describe the feeling that I was having at that moment. There was truly only one thought in my head. I was going to kill that son of bitch. I pulled my weapon, racked the slide turned and started walking for the door. I don’t know how she got in front of me, but Tina closed the door just before I could get to it.

“Get out of my way, Tina”

“Dan, stop.”

“Get out of my way Tina; I am going kill that bastard.”

“No, calm down. We have him, we can get the rest.”

I kept walking towards her. She put out her hand and pushed on the middle of my chest to stop me. “Dan, please.”

My weapon fell to the floor, I dropped to my knees in front of her, and cried like a baby as she held me.

Two hours later, Miguel Garcia was placed under arrest for so many charges no one wanted type up the report. Not only did the video match his right hand, but he failed to give us a single name of a person that could be contacted to confirm his story. Tina had contacted Mike and told him that we had Garcia and that we needed a different team to do the interrogation of the suspect. I was still sitting in the computer room with my head in my hands with Tina came back in.

“How you doing, partner?” She wrapped her arms around me.

“I’m sorry Tina, I lost it big time.”

“It’s okay, I do understand.”

“I don’t, I don’t understand any of it.”

Wednesday, March 25, 2009
With Miguel Garcia in custody, the wheels of the American legal system started to roll. How a poor immigrant painter, as he was being billed in the papers was able to obtain three of the most expensive defense attorneys in New Mexico has yet to be explained. However, they were doing a great job of billing him up as a poor working man just trying to take care of his family, being persecuted by the American government because he was a migrant.

The defense attorneys were also very quick to point out they were taking the case pro bono, just to avoid letting the government railroad another poor helpless immigrant. The legal jockeying between the defense attorneys and the federal prosecutors went on for weeks. Every piece of evidence submitted by the government was challenged by the defense. The video tape, though considered every disturbing by the defense, was held as not significant evidence that their client was guilty, as they could produce a thousand other people with the same tattoo, and insisted that the eye witness, referred to in the government filings, be produced for a positive identification of Mr. Garcia.

Our mysterious Mr. Smith tried his hand at sending another group of attorneys to argue before the judge that the witness needed to be protected on the grounds of a potential threat to national security. The attorneys for the defense thought that might be a good time to start yelling about a government cover-up. The Judge, though sympathetic to the governments concerns, still ruled that positive identification by the witness would be required before the trial could move forward. However he did rule that the identification could be done in private, to protect the witness. The government fought to allow that identification to be done by pictures but the defense insisted they needed to present during the identification, just to be sure the government did not try to pull a fast one on them.

In the end, the judge ruled that the only way the trial was going to move forward was for the government to bring their witness to Albuquerque to identify the suspect with the defense attorneys present.

With Stephanie needing to come to Albuquerque, both the Vasnevs and Mr. Smith asked that Tina and I be available as her escorts. She was also going to be accompanied by six members of the United States Secret Service who would be used to form a wider security net around her.

Tina and I were parked on the tarmac at Kirtland air force base watching the Lear on final approach. Though I don’t know exactly who Mr. Smith is, he seems to be able to move mountains when he wants to. At least we didn’t have to worry about a media circus this time. The Lear touched down, turned onto the taxiway, and pulled to a stop next to the car. As the engines spooled down, the door was opened and the stairs lowered. The Vasnevs were the first off of the plane with Stephanie behind them. Behind Stephanie, I was surprised to see Mr. Smith also exiting the plane. As soon as Stephanie stepped to the ground she walked straight over to me and wrapped her arms around me. Though surprised, I didn’t mind, because I wanted it too. I saw both of the Vasnevs smile as they got in the SUV.

I will admit it is fun traveling on the government’s credit card, especially if one is a super-secret spook of some kind. We had three adjoining suites on the top floor of a very prestigious hotel in downtown Albuquerque. Stephanie and Tina were to stay in the middle one, while I shared one with the Vasnevs and Mr. Smith took the other one. I guess when you are paying the bills, you get to have your own place. I had just dropped my bag in my room, and returning found Doctor Vivian Vasnev seated in one of the chairs in the living area.

“How is Stephanie doing, Doctor Vasnev?” I asked, taking a seat.

“Oh please, call me Vivian. She is making good progress. How are you doing?”

“I am doing well, thank you.”

“Hmmm,” She studied me, “You had some problems in Las Cruces though?”

“How did you know about that?” I was surprised and shocked.

She smiled, “Oh, we hear things”

I didn’t think there was any point denying what happened, “Yes, it was a bad time.”

“That is understandable,” she replied shaking her head. “Such a dreadful thing you had to see.”

We were quiet for a moment. “Do you mind if I ask, how it made you feel?” Vivian quizzed.

“I wanted to kill him.”

“But why? You have seen other acts of violence. Have you ever felt that before?”

I had to think for a moment. Not about the question, but the reason for the question. “No, Vivian, I don’t think I have ever felt that way before.”

She smiled at me. “Hmmm, you might want to spend some time thinking about why this time was different.”

We had a catered dinner that night in a room across the halls from the suites. Mr. Smith did not want to have Stephanie leave the hotel until we had to go to the courthouse the next day. Conversation around the table was light and entertaining, as our mysterious Mr. Smith seemed to have novels of interesting stories from around the world. I found myself constantly wanting to ask him who he really was, but I was pretty sure would not tell me. Once dinner was over, every one wandered off in separate directions and I found myself sitting on a patio off of the dining room, looking out over the lights of the city. I was lost in thought and enjoying the quiet time when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Hi!” Stephanie slid into the seat next to me.

“Hi, how are you doing?”

“I’m good. I am always better when I am with you.”

That statement was pretty forward and leading somewhere I didn’t think she was ready to go, so I just let it pass.

Stephanie smiled, “Don’t worry Dan, I am feeling the same thing you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“Strongly attached to you, and very confused, just like you feel about me.

I turned and looked at her. “You figured that out how?”

She smiled out into space, “Are you going to deny it?”

I didn’t respond right away. What was I feeling, and what was I wanting? The ground we were entering was very dangerous, and I was not sure what to say or do. I think that is what Vivian was trying to get to earlier.

I turned to look back out over the city, “No, I am not going to deny it.”

“Good.” She reached over and took my hand.

“I am sorry you had to see that video,” Stephanie said a few minutes later.

I had no idea how she knew, but she did. I also was not that surprised. I just gave a long sigh and she squeezed my hand.

We sat out there for about another hour with very little discussion, just enjoying the time and view. Later I walked her back to her room and said goodnight, then went to my room. When I entered the suite, both Ivan and Vivian were in the living area.

“Good evening, young man.” Ivan greeted me.

“Good evening.” I responded as I took a seat.

“So how was your chat with our girl?” Ivan continued.

“We didn’t really do much talking. Mostly just sat and watched the city.”

“She did tell you how she felt though, right?”

“Yes, she did. How do you two know so much about what is going on?”

Ivan just smiled at me. “Were you honest with her?”

I pause for a few moments, “Yes, I was.”

“Good, very good.” Ivan nodded his head.

“So what is going on here? I feel there is an agenda that I don’t understand.”

Both of the Vasnevs rose to their feet. “You will in time, you will in time,” as they left the room.

Thursday, March 26, 2009
Sleep was a challenge for me last night, between thinking about what Stephanie said and what the Vasnevs were leading to made for a lot of thought. We needed to have Stephanie at the court house at 9am so everyone was up and moving pretty early. As with the night before, breakfast was catered to room across from the suites, but everyone could eat at their own pace. When I entered the dining area, Mr. Smith was the only occupant. I grabbed a plate from the buffet line, selected a few items and sat down across from him.

“Good morning, Sir”

“Good morning, son. How are you today?”

“I am well, thank you. However, I do wish I knew what all of the hidden agendas are that seem to be floating around.”

Smith chuckled, “Talking to the Vasnevs can be a real challenge at times. However, I think you need to find a way to do that. I think they can help you clear up a few things a lot better than I can.”

I was about to ask what they could clear up for me when the Vasnevs, Tina and Stephanie entered the room. Everyone gathered around the table for their breakfast and I never got a chance to get back to the topic. As everyone was finding seats I noticed no one was sitting by me, then I noticed that Stephanie had not been seated, and I got the impression everyone was saving the chair next to me for her. The last time I’d met the Vasnevs they were warning me about taking care of how I expressed myself to Steph. Now I got the impression they were almost playing matchmaker.

We arrived at the courthouse ten minutes before the hour and used the police zone in front of the main doors for unloading everyone. Neither Mr. Smith nor the Vasnevs were allowed to accompany Stephanie as she made the identification. They proceeded to the waiting area outside of the courtroom to wait for us. Tina and I took Stephanie down the hall toward the Police identification room. As we entered the hall, two Secret Service agents took up positions in front and in back of us. Stephanie was walking between Tina and me, with me on her left.

We were half way down the hall when two men stepped out into the hall in front of us. The lead Secret Service agent signaled us to stop, at the same time announcing to the men they needed to leave the area.

Both men waved and started to exit through a side door. At the last second both men stopped and pulled handguns from behind their backs. The first shot hit the Secret Service agent that was leading. I immediately grabbed Stephanie and pulled her to me as I turned my back. Gunfire was going off through the hall and Stephanie was screaming, as I tried to move her back up the hall and keep her in front of me. Suddenly I felt like I’d gotten hit in the back with a baseball bat. The force drove me into Stephanie and both of us into the wall. I lost my footing and fell forward, taking Stephanie to the floor with me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see three more agents running up the hall and I heard the sound of automatic weapons fire.

When we hit the floor, I was focused on keeping Stephanie between me and the wall when I again felt the baseball bat hit me in shoulder. Blood sprayed from someplace and splattered on Stephanie. Suddenly hands were grabbing me and pulling me off of Stephanie. I was leaned against the wall as two agents grabbed Stephanie and took off running with her. She was reaching back for me, screaming, and I could see her tears.

Another set of hands grabbed me as I slid sideways down the wall. Then I saw Tina, who was trying to get my coat off of me. I tried to help but couldn’t seem to move my arm. I looked down at my arm and saw my whole left side was covered in blood. I looked back at Tina with the urge to ask what happened, but never got the chance.