Dro directed them to the side of the road with his gun.
“You are going to get us fired,” the driver yelled. “This unit is refrigerated, and we need to go before everything is rotten.”
“You left the engine running, so it’s all good,” Ryan said dryly. “We’ll try not to keep you long.”
Bashir pursed his lips while his eyes twinkled.
Daron, Nicco, and Angela left the SUV and approached the back of the truck, where Daron attached an oblong silver object near the electronic lock. When it started beeping, he waved them back with one hand. “This won’t affect the cooler operations, but it’s loud. Cover your ears,” he warned Bashir and Ryan.
With a bang, the doors flew open.
Dro and Ryan climbed into the back. Pallets loaded with white boxes lined both sides of the forty-foot container. When they had gone halfway down the length of the body, Dro and Ryan exchanged a look. Although there was nothing to prove the women were inside, adrenaline rushed through Ryan’s body. He tapped one container. Though it felt solid under his hand, he had the uncomfortable thought that some of these foam boxes might be transporting body parts encased in ice. He turned his mind away from that scenario. He had learned that positive thoughts encouraged him and assisted with good outcomes.
They were now deep inside the container and stood in a wide space between the boxes and the cab, which made little sense to either of them. The same curiosity he felt was reflected in Dro’s eyes. Ryan tapped on what seemed to be a solid wall, then laid the palm of his hand on the metal. It was freezing cold.
He angled his head closer, certain he heard movement. He rapped harder on the surface. The noise from the other side increased, as if someone was letting him know they were inside. Ryan and he shared a knowing look, then turned their attention to the sheet of metal. They searched for the lever that would give them access to the hidden compartment.
“Can you hear me?” Ryan asked, raising his voice
A titter of excitement rose beyond the wall, plus a jumble of indistinct words that neither he nor Dro could decipher.
“I think that’s a yes,” Dro answered as a grin lit his eyes. “And I believe I’ve found the hinge.”
The panel slid toward them, and they moved out of the way. The door opened to reveal a group of women all standing side by side along the walls of the narrow metal box, wearing the hospital gowns they had been given the day before. The compartment had been built so that they couldn’t sit or move close together. Fear clouded their eyes as they shivered, their hands confined in front of them with handcuffs.
The blast of frigid air angered Ryan, who wanted to have a face to face with whoever locked them inside without adequate protection from the cold. Then a darker thought hit him. These women were in a refrigerated truck, with barely any clothing, and at a temperature level that would kill them. This set-up would preserve their organs until they made it to their destination.
“We’re not here to hurt you,” Ryan said in a soothing tone.
“That is what those two drivers said before they were killed and those other men lumped us into another van,” a Black woman with a British accent said indignantly. She glared at Dro and Ryan, as if she was the protector of the group.
“We understand and respect your feelings.” Dro held up both hands. “As we speak, the police, the Sheikh, his wife, and other officials are on their way.”
“And if you don’t feel you can trust them,” Ryan added, “the media is aware of your situation. That puts a spotlight on what has happened to all of you.”
Their Kings’ plan to expose the kidnappings was intended to put the perpetrators at a disadvantage. The trafficking of women and harvesting their organs were too important to pretend they weren’t happening. The Kings’, as experts brought in to clean up the crimes, would have to share their findings. In support, the Sheikh had scheduled a press briefing to take place immediately after they finished the operation. They all agreed that once they found the women, it would be time to lean harder on those doing the dirty work for the people at the top of the chain of operation.
The women shuffled their bare feet and whispered to each other, as if unsure they could trust the two men.
“I’ll be back in a second,” Dro said as he walked away.
Ryan held his position outside the doorway, sickened by the fact that the women preferred to stay in the cold, rather than trust another man—even if he didn’t look like the ones who kidnapped them. When the phone vibrated against his leg, he put a hand over it and slid it out of his pocket. Only Aziza could be calling him at this time. He’d told her the operation could take anywhere from two to three hours, but she insisted that she needed to know the minute they found the women.
After he explained that the extraction might mean hand-to-hand combat and an intensive clean-up operation, Aziza insisted that he talk to her as soon as was humanly possible. She hadn’t given an inch. Her face flashed across the screen, and he smiled. This time, her stubbornness was helpful. He now had a way to convince the women that Dro and he were legit.
“Did you find them?” Aziza asked.
What about a hello, he wanted to ask, but this wasn’t the time for jokes. “D’you mind if I put you on speaker, Aziza?”
“Why?”
“We just found the women, but after what happened they’re not about to trust us.”
“Of course,” she said.
He tapped the button, then Aziza said, “Ahaba, are you there?”
A teenager stepped forward, her eyes filled with relief. “Aziza, is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me. Hey, everybody.”
They greeted her in a chorus,
