I don't want to be a product of my environment. I want my environment to be a product of me. God will forgive them. He'll forgive them and let them into heaven. I cant live with that. People trust me with their secrets. But who do I trust with mine.? You, and only you. Who am I? You sure you want to know.
The phone rings, I look at it and grumbled, “Fuck me,” as I rubbed the dull throbbing ache in my temples.
The night before last...
It was clear, the smell of the city sharp. The cold bit through my jacket. The faint sounds of traffic. I was looking at a warehouse in the old business district which used for the outsourcing storage of vendors big and small. The buildings also housed traffickers, illegal drugs and such. You name it, it was found here. The street lights were broken. The streets are pocked with holes. The buildings in disarray.
In the prone position atop the warehouse, I brought the night vision scope to my eye. My objective lie directly across the thruway. The warehouse was dark but the ambient light allowed clear and concise vision. My reconnaissance revealed little movement around the perimeter of the building until the loading dock door opened and I saw two men inside.
"Jackpot!" I thought. There he was in a nice suit, the blob that hurt Angel and the second one I assumed was his bodyguard.
A small delivery sized truck came down the thruway from my left. It backed in to the dock and my guts twisted as I saw a young man in the front seat, a young man blindfolded and gagged. The driver grabbed the kid and half dragged him inside. His wrists were zip tied . He looked ragged, his shirt torn. He looked pretty beat up.
“Fuck,” I barked softly. "This guy is an innocent." My gut instinct seldom wrong. Hence, my decision to change my plans.
Swiftly I got up and hauled in my backpack. In it contained explosives connected to remote a detonator.
Keeping to the shadows, I approached the truck and placed a charge to the frame near the fuel tank. I made my way to two lower story windows. two charges placed on each lower window corner as they were potential firing points from inside.
Next I headed to the loading dock entrance where I placed the next charge, top dead center. "It should give them a small headache," I smirked to myself.
The door was a quarter way open and I squatted to take a quick peek. As I palmed my Walther 9 I rolled inside. A good day to die I told myself as I took a knee gun sweeping, checking the immediate front...' Secure'... I moved into the depths of what I assumed to be a bad day.
I glided along the leading wall to the open floor of the warehouse. I almost laughed as I thought of a joke. The one about being quiet as a mouse in church., I stopped short and took a quick peek. There was the driver not more than twenty feet away heading my way. I waited.
He approach and as he rounded the corner I cuffed him on the back of his head, he groaned to his knees not fully aware of what hit him. I kneed him in back forcing him prone, My silenced gun was at his temple, pressing hard.
“Breathe wrong and Ill put a bullet in ya,” I hissed. “Nod if you understand me,” I growled with stone cold steel in my voice...
A nod.
“Smart guy,” I said. From my pack I retrieved black duct tape. I bound his wrists and his ankles. I wrapped a loop around his head covering his mouth. Checking my work I dragged him back to the loading dock. A support pole was near the entrance.. I pulled my coil of rope and tied him to the pole..A couple of loops and a quick fireman's coil knot, I secured him.
I hurried back to the floor and saw a corner office and made my way there. As I made my way through the warehouse I noticed something. Contraband. Stolen goods from the military. Crates of medical supplies. Pallets of electronics.
And then I saw it.
A large square area that was dimly lit. A large bed near the far side. Two leather easy chairs close by. Racks of women's clothing..Assorted dresses formal and casual. A makeup station and two closets. They were both open and what I saw made my blood cold.
Seen were assorted sexual toys of all kinds and shapes were in one and the other... Items of sadism. Nipple clamps, straps, whips, chains.
The realization hit me. Women were being trafficked here. I could not fathom the depredation that may have taken place here. I reached in my pack. Four charges left...I used one... The closet of pain must be destroyed.
Toward the back of the building were office spaces.
I heard shouting voices and then quiet. I crept to the door where I thought I heard the voices. I glanced in quick and there in a chair was that guy. He was conscience and no worse for wear since I first observed him.
Holstering my gun I went over to him. “Quiet,” I'm going to cut you free,” I said barely above a whisper. I cut his zip tie and asked his name.