A grin spreads across my lips. “You fucking broke into that room?”
“Goddamned right I did.”
It’s my turn to sigh, just not the annoyed way he always does.
20. Dinner and a movie
I sit back with the footage and my Bluetooth in my ear so Antoine can talk me through it. “Okay, what am I seeing?”
“The first part of what I was able to do is tour the room. See that hatch above? It’s the way in. One of those rooms you were in, it’s got a hatch in the floor. I bet under a rug. These douche bags always go for the hatch under the rug. Keeping it old school.”
“Stop nattering, I have to drive to Tanner in an hour. Let’s focus.”
“I miss Rory not being a creepy fuck. You’re not nearly as fun.”
“I also am not nearly as disturbed. And let’s not forget it’s Rory who made all this work for you and me.”
“Right. I actually forgot that for a second.” He moves the mouse on my laptop, having fully taken control of it, and clicks on a small box in the corner. “This is the bank; they have a video bank. I’ve been doing facial recognition on the footage for the three hours it took you to get to the computer.” I catch the tone he’s giving off loud and clear.
“The FBI has a lot of paperwork, and I had to check on Dash. The city needed me to fill out a bunch of forms explaining the massive gas leak one of us let off in their area. It isn’t all play on my side of this on the Internet.”
He chuckles. “You have it easy, trust me. I’m the sorry bastard watching the porn from slave hell. I might never have regular sex again after this.”
My skin crawls as he starts a video and narrates. “It’s seven hundred hours of footage. Games and sexcapades and sexathons. The girls are a bit of a story. So far I have found eleven missing girls in the lot. Three are Italian, two are Saudi, and one is Haitian. The other five are Canadian, believe it or not. All missing from the East Coast, suspected to have been moved by a gang out there that’s notorious for human trafficking across the border. I can’t even begin to tell you how fucking insane this is.”
The footage clicks over to the rooms, the harem first. “So this is the horse game, I guess. It’s some kind of kinky group thing.” He sounds annoyed, but I think we are both a little scared.
In the video, girls are on all fours, with long, straight ponytails and bridles on their heads, and that is it. They prance, still on all fours, swinging their ponytails as several men strut about the room. One man drops to his knees, pulling his erection from his pants and mounting a girl with dark hair. He grips the reins and pumps wildly but only for a moment. He then gets up and struts again, erection to the wind, until choosing another girl, this time a blonde. He grabs onto the reins and bucks. Her face is turned toward the camera; she seems to be enjoying it. The other men do the same. “What the fuck?” The words slip from my lips.
“Right, that’s about how I felt. This is the gentle shit. It starts to shift here. This little chestnut goes on for an hour.”
I don’t know what to add to that.
He clicks the mouse, and the movie switches to the room with ancient Greece as the decor. A woman in a toga and a wreath made of ivy walks about in a figure eight. She plays a small instrument.
A fat old man in a cloth diaper sits as two girls in nothing but long necklaces and crowns fan him with huge palm leaves. Another girl feeds him grapes by hanging them over his face. Nothing sexual appears to be happening until the camera scans about the room, revealing two men and one woman. One is pumping into her face, then ejaculating on her face, as the other man thrusts wildly behind her. These men appear to be slaves like the woman. They finish with her and go and bow before the fat guy.
“So, I’m going to go because this sort of feels like we are watching porn together, and I don’t know how I feel about that.”
I have forgotten he is there on the phone. “Right. Okay, so I’ll call from Tanner.” I hang up the phone and sit there watching as the big fat guy gets up, pulling a long dick from his diaper, and gets behind one of the men. I close the laptop, hating where that was going and how I feel about it all.
“Human trafficking, not porn. Human trafficking, not porn,” I mutter, cringing. I remind myself of the cages and open the laptop again. The footage starts back up immediately. I click, and it switches to another room where the brothel is. It’s got several types of beds and lounging chairs and drapes hung all around. The girls look like hookers from the Old West, with garters and feathers in their hair. They wear lingerie and hold platters of food and drink. The men wear cowboy hats and chaps. One man smiles, laughing and stroking the head of the woman sucking him off.