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Making a list for her weekly trip to the grocery store, Robin went to Hua’s apartment to ask what he needed for upcoming meals. The pocket doors that separated the wing from the main house were usually left open, but she never entered without announcing her presence in some way. When she tapped lightly on the door frame, Hua jumped as if he’d been slapped. He touched a computer key, collapsing the image on the screen.
“What are you doing,” she teased, “plotting the takeover of the US government?”
He smiled, but it was a weak attempt. “No plot, Robin. Only wishes.”
There was such sadness in his tone that she approached and put a hand on his arm. “What’s wrong?”
Instead of answering he touched the screen, recalling the image he’d minimized. A dozen somber-faced children stood in a line, holding numbered placards to their chests. Below the picture was a list of information that corresponded to the numbers: names, ages, and attributes. One said che, 10, trained in housekeeping. Another said, Louisa, 8, Excellent English.
It took a second. “These children are for sale?”
He nodded. “As I was sold to Senator Buckram.”
Shock made her words come in clumps. “Where—? Can they—? How did this get on the internet?”
“This is the Deep Web, the internet not catalogued by Google.” As usual when Hua lapsed into computer jargon, Robin struggled to keep up. “Much of the information here is unstructured data gathered from sensors and other devices. It does not reside in a database that can be scanned by search engines. Often pages are temporary, removed before search engines can crawl them.”
She understood that keywords helped Google, Yahoo, and the like find information. It was weird to think there was information out there, a lot of it, not meant to be easily located.
“Some areas of the deep web are accessible only by special software that allows people to share information anonymously via peer-to-peer connections rather than a centralized computer server.” Hua shrugged delicately. “I spent much time trying to find this site, and now—” He gestured. “You see.”
“Doesn’t the government stop things like this?”
“The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, known as DARPA, works with researchers from companies and universities to devise search tools that provide new ways to analyze and organize data pulled from the deep web.”
“But as of right now—”
“The only way to locate a site is to know the exact address. Criminals pass the information to other criminals. For the authorities, it is like searching a dark football stadium with a key-fob flashlight.”
Robin couldn’t look away from the faces of twelve frightened children. “Who does something like this?”
“These are the people who brought me to this country.”
“They’re still operating after all these years?”
Hua’s smile was grim. “Do they not say success brings success? They call their business All-Hands, and the woman in charge is Linda Billings. She is perfect for the task of training slaves, being—” He searched for a word. “—single-minded.”
“You want to go after her.”
He put his hands up, palms out. “I know I said I would help with your KNPs, but I feel quite strongly about this.” His usually sweet expression turned hard. “I will stop this woman.”
Robin was still staring at the screen, unable to look away from the children’s sad faces. ““No, Hua. We will stop her.”
***
Robin realized right away she shouldn’t have spoken for the others. Going after a member of a human trafficking ring wasn’t the same as kidnapping cheaters and scaring them semi-straight. For starters, they’d be up against hardened, professional criminals. It would take all the skill they could muster to isolate Linda Billings and convince her to leave the organization.
Hua explained another problem. “Human trafficking is a difficult crime to prove. Of the 2.5 million victims worldwide, the United Nations found in 2014 that forty percent of countries surveyed had fewer than ten convictions. Many report no convictions at all.”
Still, any blow struck against the group seemed worthwhile to Robin, and Hua was determined. That evening in Em’s sitting room, Robin proposed Linda Billings as the next KNP target.
“This is very different from what we’ve done before, and much more dangerous,” she warned. “Hua has experience with Linda Billings, but it was years ago. We don’t know what’s changed since then. Even if we’re successful, she’s just one cog in the machine. Without her, the organization will go on.”
“Better to light a candle than curse the dark,” Em argued. “We do what we can with what we’ve got.”
“One bad guy at a time,” Cam agreed. “Or bad lady, I guess it would be.”
“These people won’t hesitate to kill anyone who gets in their way,” Em said gravely. “We need to have our poop in a group.”
“If it turns out the case is beyond our abilities,” Robin promised, “we’ll accept that and move on.”
Not that Hua would do that. Not that he could.
Though All-Hands was an international organization, Linda Billings controlled incoming “goods,” for the Southeastern United States, overseeing training, sales, and distribution for their “candidates.” Sixty-five years old, she currently lived somewhere in Florida, from what Hua could determine. “They choose isolated places,” he said, and his eyes darkened at the memory. “We had no idea where to go if we ran away, and they told us there were wild animals in the area. If we escaped the beasts, Linda said the police would put us in jail forever.”
“Disgusting,” Em commented. “Show us what you’ve got on Mrs. Billings.”
Hua produced his tablet, and a few efficient taps brought up the photo of a well-preserved woman with light hair and a long face. She had beautiful eyes, but Robin thought her mouth revealed a hardness that belied her otherwise gentle appearance. Knowing what Billings did for a living might have colored her perception.
The slave dealer presented herself as a semi-retired entrepreneur who matched competent staff with elite clients. Her website invited visitors to write a short essay describing their needs. One tip-off to the dark side of her business was that no salary for prospective employees was ever mentioned.
Em made the initial contact, which involved filling out a form. She’d developed several alternate identities in her days at the Bureau and kept a few as “rainy day necessities.” To contact All-Hands she became a wealthy woman named Jane Canty who wanted an English-speaking female to take care of my home in a way that satisfies my demanding standards. When asked who had recommended the site, she filled in the name of Senator Buckram’s deceased manager, Paul Dotsun.
A day later Em received a reply suggesting she fill out an “ancillary document” outlining her exact needs.
“It’s a test.” She rubbed her hands together. “If I say the right things, I’ll get some sort of personal contact.”
“Don’t go too fast,” Robin cautioned. “We need time to set things up.”
“I’ll tell them I’m visiting my children and won’t be back in Florida until next month. If they’re interested, they’ll wait.”
She was correct. Once she’d submitted the second form, Em got a phone call. With acting chops that made Robin grin with admiration, the fake Mrs. Canty whined about her greedy family, her distrust of anyone under thirty, and the lack of loyalty among those who would in another age have been pleased to be good servants.
Mrs. Billings was very understanding, and soon they had plans to meet in person at the Tampa airport, where they would discuss All-Hands’ proposal to address Mrs. Canty’s needs.
Ending the call, Em watched Bennett gobble the lima beans Hua had picked out of his soup. “Is there anything he won’t eat?”
“It is very efficient, having this dog,” Hua commented. “There is no wasting of food.”
“When you’re done spoiling him, get me a flight from here to Detroit and then on to Tampa on the twenty-third. Billings will check my itinerary, just as she’s already checked my bank account and my identity.” When Robin looked surprised Em finished, “She hasn’t stayed in the slave game this long by being sloppy.”
***
“I think I’ve solved a problem,” Linda Billings told her son as she ended the call. “I’ve got a customer who’s perfect for the twins.”
“Oh yeah?” Luther sounded unimpressed, and she wished for the hundredth time that he cared more about the business. She wasn’t getting any younger, and she wanted him to take a more active role. Though he favored her in looks—blond hair, blue eyes, and a tendency to roundness—his slightly mean and definitely shiftless disposition came from his father. Luther was, she had to admit, too dumb to plan and too lazy to care.
It had been a mistake to accept the twins. Mai was delayed—or whatever you were supposed to call it nowadays, and Jai was too rebellious for her own good. Linda kept them in line, because she didn’t take crap from any of her charges, but it took constant effort. She was tired of being the tough one all the time.
Lighting her last cigarette of the day and blowing the smoke to one side with an audible puff, she navigated to the site on the deep web where her business associates let her know what was going on. She was scheduled for a shipment in forty-nine days, which meant she had to clear the house by then. That was doable. The girls had been whipped into shape, and she already had nibbles on several of them. It was almost too easy with girls: housemaids, nannies, and “companions.” She sometimes wanted to ask, Who are you trying to kid, pervert? Of course she didn’t. Repeat business was like a gift; you didn’t even have to work hard for it.
“So what you got going?” Luther asked from the couch.
“This old woman is afraid she’s losing it. She wants someone to make it look like she’s okay so her son doesn’t stick her in a nursing home and take control of her money.”
“She wants the twins?”
“I’ll offer them to her as a two-fer.”
“You’re going to give one of them away? That’s stupid!”
Billings turned angry eyes on her son. “Who are you calling stupid?”
“Losing money is stupid. Sell Jai to the old lady and the retard to Greg’s guys.”
“If we separate them, Jai will kill herself. Mai can keep house while the woman teaches Jai to do her accounting.”
“If Jai kills herself, so what? No refunds.”
Billings pounded a fist on the table. “I make the decisions, Luther. Stick with what you do best: following orders.”
“I’m just saying—”
“You’re always ‘just saying,’ and it never contributes one positive thing to the conversation. I’m sick of it.” She kneaded her forehead. “I’m tired of arguing, tired of figuring all this out. I’m really tired.”
“From what? All you do is sit around and think about stuff.”
“If I died tonight, you’d be in jail by tomorrow, because I think about all the ‘stuff’ you don’t. You just run your big mouth.”
The sound of a key in the door distracted them. When it opened, Luther said, “Hey, Gary. My mother says I got a big mouth. Is she right or is she full of crap, like always?”
Apparently used to this sort of thing, the newcomer said, “Nice out there tonight. Real pretty.”
***
When Em entered the airport Starbucks, Linda Billings rose and approached, her hand extended. Em had dressed the part of Mrs. Canty, wearing an expensive but slightly outdated dress, shoes that reminded her with each step why she mostly wore tennis shoes these days, and an inordinate amount of costume jewelry. After they introduced themselves, they bought drinks and sat down at a small table in a comparatively quiet corner. There was some small talk, and Em knew she was being judged, so her answers were carefully worded. Without going too far, she managed to hint she was stingy, misanthropic, and convinced that anything she wanted from life should be handed to her without question.
When the general conversation wound down, Em realized it was decision time for Linda Billings. Had she been convincing enough?
“I can help you stay in your home, Mrs. Canty, but you need to understand that the service we offer isn’t the usual employer-employee situation.” Billings moved her coffee cup rhythmically back and forth a quarter turn as she spoke. “I’m sure you’ll agree there’s nothing worse than a domestic servant who tattles on you or leaves just when you’ve got her properly trained.”
“That’s exactly what I told you on the phone,” Em commented. “I want a girl who’s loyal.”
“What if I offered someone who can’t leave?”
“And why can’t she?”
“Because you own her.” Behind the counter, a stack of trays fell to the floor, making a tremendous clatter.
Em winced but remained focused on Billings. “I own—”
“We provide competent personal servants that buyers may use as they like.”
“Where do you—? Where do they come from?”
Billings took a sip of her iced coffee. “Does that matter?”
“I guess not.” Em feigned confusion. “You want to sell me a person.”
“Yes.”
“And she’ll do whatever I need her to?”
“We have a young woman at this time who has great potential.” Opening a folder she’d brought along, she placed a photograph on the table. “This is Jai, who is very intelligent. In the future, if you become...unable or reluctant to deal with financial matters, she is capable of taking them on—with permission from you—and continuing your affairs exactly as you wish.”
“But you say she would belong to me. What does that mean, um, legally?”
“There is no ‘legally’ here, but practically? It happens all the time.”
“But surely she needs papers, identification—”
Billings’ expression turned amused. “Where will she go? Who will she see?” She chewed at her lip, choosing her words carefully. “No one is searching for this girl. She has no past, and her future is whatever you decide it will be.” She let her companion think on that for a moment before adding, “Some of our clients even adopt the children. If that’s the way you choose to go, we can help with reasonably believable documentation.”
Em huffed a laugh. “That would certainly surprise my son. Competition for his inheritance!”
Setting a second picture beside the first, Billings went on. “This is Mai, Jai’s sister. Mai isn’t very bright, but she can do simple household tasks, and she doesn’t mind hard work.” She cleared her throat. “We’re prepared to offer both girls for the same price.”
Em frowned peevishly. “You want me to take two foreign females into my home?”
Billings’ sales patter rose to the next level. “In two weeks’ time you’ll wonder how you did without them. Our people are trained to be obedient. Though Mai is...less than gifted, her presence keeps Jai in line.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Her mouth tightened. “We find that if we discipline Jai, she becomes defiant, but if we even threaten to punish Mai, Jai immediately turns submissive.”
Imagining the beatings and deprivation used to keep the girls compliant, Em struggled to keep her expression blank. “I would own two human beings?”
“We don’t think of it that way,” Billings said smoothly. “You’re more like a mentor to them—a godmother.” She sipped at her drink, letting the kinder motive sink in. “These children come from impoverished areas of backward countries. You will give them lives they could never have imagined.”
“As slaves?”
Billings put the plastic lid on her drink with a snap and made as if to rise from her chair. “Perhaps you aren’t the person I thought you were.”
“No, wait,” Em reached out a hand. “I didn’t mean to imply disapproval. It’s just unexpected, that’s all.” Billings sat back down as Em asked, “What would these, um, workers cost me?”
“Seven thousand dollars.”
Em made a yelp of alarm. “Are you kidding?”
Billings remained calm. “Think about it, Mrs. Canty. You’re getting a lifetime of service for less than the cost of a year’s work from a cleaning company. And the girls will protect you. No one can say you’re incompetent or unable to stay in your home as long as they’re looking out for you.”
Em let herself appear half-convinced. “What if they don’t work out?”
Billings shrugged. “There are no refunds. Some clients re-sell unsatisfactory workers. Or you can make other arrangements.” Her direct gaze said what her words didn’t, and Em suppressed a shiver. Billings went on, “You can even release them if you like.”
“Wouldn’t they report me—and you?”
Billings raised her brows. “Any risk would be yours. Our children don’t know where they’re kept during training.” Her smile absolved All-Hands of responsibility. “Once you’ve paid our fee, what happens to them is your choice.”
“I’m going to have to think on it.” Crushing her cup, Em looked around for a recycle bin, the result of Robin’s influence. “You make a good case, but I never considered something like this.”
“It’s easier than you think,” Billings replied. “One secure room in your house is all it takes. Once they’re used to the situation, our people almost always accept their lot and stay put.”
Em rose. “I’ll be in touch. It was...interesting to meet you.”
Billings rose too, leaving her cup and other trash on the table for someone else to clear away. “I’m sure you understand that this information may not be shared with others.” Her eyes turned a colder shade of blue. “That wouldn’t be good for you, no matter what you decide about my offer.”
