Mention of the king got the SEAL’s attention. He wanted to meet him. His fellow Frogs, training buddies, and even his gnarly biker friends would get a kick out of that.
“You see, Mr. Crocker, in the last four or five years an increasing and alarming number of young men and, especially, young women have been disappearing from my country. Snatched off the streets. They’re never heard from again. Their bodies are never found.”
“How many are you talking about?”
“Dozens. Last year over fifty.”
Crocker remembered that Norway had a population of about five million. He said: “That’s a hell of a lot.”
“You might ask, What do they have in common? They include boys and girls but are predominantly female, all between the ages of twelve and eighteen. They’re in good health, usually from good families, with good educations.”
“You make it sound like something out of one of those vampire movies.”
“It’s worse. We have evidence that they’re being smuggled out of the country for two very sinister purposes. The physically attractive ones are sold into sexual slavery. The others are used in something called the ‘spare parts program.’ ”
Crocker felt a throb in the pit of his stomach. He’d heard rumors about the latter, but had never seen hard evidence that it existed.
The corner of Klausen’s mouth curled into a snarl. “Our investigators have traced some of these children to Central and South America, and to Middle Eastern countries, particularly Yemen, Syria, and Saudi Arabia,” he explained. “They believe they have been kept on farms and used, after being blood-typed and cross-matched, by wealthy Arabs and sheiks for organ transplants for their children when these are needed.”
“Disgusting.”
“Barbaric.”
“Besides collecting evidence, what have you done to stop the animals who are doing this?”
“We passed along our findings to a special committee of the European Parliament. They followed up and issued a report, which was referred to a special rapporteur of the United Nations. Warnings and information were then sent to member governments.”
Diplomatic maneuvers like that weren’t likely to accomplish much.
“Has any direct action been taken?” Crocker asked, clenching his fist.
“Of course in matters of this kind, getting countries to act is problematic. The nations accused of haboring such criminals protest vociferously. They claim to have looked into the charges and usually dismiss them as rumors.”
“So what you’re telling me is, nothing has been done?”
“I can’t speak for other countries besides my own, but it takes individuals with special abilities and international experience to track down the kind of people who commit these acts. For political reasons we can’t use our own people to eliminate them. That’s why I’ve been hoping to connect with someone like yourself.”
“I see.”
“What do you think?”
Crocker scratched the stubble on his chin. After the climb he and his team were scheduled to take a week to rest and recuperate, and he would then await further orders from his CO at ST-6 headquarters in Virginia. Hopefully, Zaman would surface by then, and he and his team would get another shot at him. But after what had happened in Karachi, he doubted they’d get that chance.
He said, “I’d like to help, but I can’t do anything without authorization.”
Mikael’s eyes lit up. He explained: “Like I said before, our ambassadors here in Pakistan are poker buddies. Also, the king and I have many important friends in Washington, especially some key decision makers at your Pentagon and White House. I believe I can prevail on them for a few weeks of your time. Unofficially, I can arrange for money to be wired into an account to cover your expenses. The king and I are hoping you might convince other members of your team to cooperate as well.”
Crocker figured that the Norwegian understood little about the command structure of SEAL Team Six. He said, “Even if you manage to get authorization from my superiors, what are we likely to accomplish in a short period of time?”
“Wait.” Mikael got to his feet, reached into a backpack, and returned to the table with a thin Apple laptop. “We’ve had a very recent case,” he said, eagerly firing it up and punching keys. A case file appeared on the screen, along with the photo of a lovely young woman.
“Malie Tingvoll. I know the family. Good, solid people.”
Crocker leaned closer. He thought she looked familiar.
“She recently turned eighteen. Disappeared a week ago from the small hotel she was working at in Oslo. Nobody has seen or heard from her since.”