One of the men at the table stands, smiling broadly. I recognize him right away from the briefing dossier I was given just the night before.
His name is Anton Volkov and he’s a real piece of shit.
“You must be Logan,” he says, walking over. “I hope Nicky here was gentle with you.”
We shake hands and I grin at him. “I’ve had worse pat-downs at the fucking airport.”
Anton laughs. “Good, good. Come, meet the others. We’re excited to get started.”
“I am too.”
Anton leads me over to the table where I shake hands with some of the most despicable men in this city. I recognize a few of their names, though one or two of them are new to me.
They’re all members of the Russian mafia at some level. They’re all killers, rapists, and thieves, the sort of men that my security firm both kills and works with. It’s a dirty, unfortunate situation, but we need them for their information, and they need us when they go to war with each other. For the most part, we have an understanding.
I’m going against that understanding. Sometimes, when the money is right, unwritten rules can be ignored. I have the blessing of my superiors, though they’ll deny all knowledge of what I’m doing if I get caught. That won’t stop them from taking their twenty percent if I pull it off.
After the introductions, Anton pulls me aside. I have to restrain myself for a second. He’s shorter than me and fatter, with a solid beer gut and a thin-looking beard. When he talks, spit flies from his mouth, which disgusts me. I want to pummel him for being such a horrible monster, but I have to hold back.
Anton is as bad as any of the other guys at the table, but he has a special place in my heart. Anton is a killer, thief, and a murderer, but he does one thing that sets him apart.
He’s a sex trafficker. More specifically, he specializes in finding young, foolish American girls and turning them into sex slaves for the Russian mafia.
Nothing disgusts me more than him. I hate his profession, everything about it. I wish I could kill him right here and now.
Instead, I have to pretend to be just like him.
“Listen Logan,” he says to me, standing too close. “We have a little surprise for you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What kind of surprise?”
“Well, well, you know how it is, Logan. We can’t be too careful in this business, right?”
“Sure,” I grunt. “But I don’t like surprises.”
“It’s not a bad surprise, trust me.” He gives me a stupid, evil grin. “You come highly recommended, you know that?”
“I’m good at my job,” I grunt at him.
“I bet, I bet. My bosses, they sang your praise.” He eyes me for a second. “But I’m not so trusting these days. So we have a little test for you.”
I stare at him, not sure where he’s going with this. From what I was told, my cover story was going to get me into this group of men without a problem. My superiors called in some favors with the Russians and they agreed to let me infiltrate this little sex trafficking ring in exchange for future favors. They don’t know what I’m doing here and they frankly don’t want to know. They promised they’d smooth my entrance over, and everything else is up to me.
There was no mention of any fucking test.
“I don’t like tests,” I say to Anton. “If I’m not wanted here, I won’t fucking be here.”
“Come on, don’t be like that,” he says. “Just listen. You’re going to like it.” Anton steps away from me and looks over at the guys sitting at the table.
“Boys,” he calls out. “Who’s ready for a fucking lineup?”
The guys all stop what they’re doing and cheer. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach as Anton grins at me then motions at Nicky.
The lights shut off suddenly. It’s very dark in the room and the guys all laugh, making spooky sounds. Suddenly, a light comes on, illuminating the room on the other side of the two-way mirror.
I stand there, transfixed and horrified. Lined up on the other side of the mirror are about ten girls ranging in ages from fifteen all the way up to maybe thirty. Some of them are beautiful, some of them are ugly, and all of them looked sleep deprived and miserable.
They’re wearing lingerie, though it looks dirty and used. Some of them look like they’ve been beaten and hurt, which makes my fucking blood boil with rage.
I have to control myself. Anton is staring at me though the other men are watching the girls and cheering. The girls, meanwhile, stare straight ahead blankly, clearly not able to see or hear us.
They’re the fucking slaves Anton has in his stable. I take a step toward them, trying to get a better look and working to keep myself under control. I can’t afford to slip up here and reveal any of my anger, or else Anton will see through me.