Scarcity (Jack Randall #3), page 10
“Almost there,” she heard.
It was the reverse of their departure. The van stopped and sounded its horn. A door was opened manually this time before the van pulled inside and was quickly shut off. This time only three sets of hands grabbed her, and she was once again set on the floor and covered as the van departed. The remaining hands grunted as they hoisted her up and soon she was swaying as they mounted three flights of stairs. This time she was placed on a bed. Two sets of feet left the room. The young one spoke to her.
“Hold very still. I don’t wish to cut you.”
He quietly cursed the tape as he cut her free with rapid slices of the knife. She froze in fear as she slowly felt the pressure ease. Next the straps were undone and she lay free but still blindfolded.
“You are in a new room. The same rules apply. Don’t break them, Anita. These men, they are worse than the others. I’m sorry for the tape. I don’t know why they have to use so much. The lotion works to get it off your skin.”
She heard him walk across the room and there was a pause as he turned on the ever present radio. The music barely covered his footsteps as he left the room. This time she heard only two locks being thrown before the steps continued on. Only when she heard the sound of the TV coming on, did she dare to move.
She first peeled the tape from her mouth and took her first unlabored breaths in over an hour. The towel came off next and she gazed about at her new prison. It was smaller than the previous room, but cleaner and with fresh paint. She lay on a double bed that was pushed up against the corner. A single window, with the now familiar blanket nailed over it, let in the cool night air. She saw a small bathroom in the opposite corner—surprisingly cleaner than the last. Searching the bed coverings for blood, she was relieved to find none. A box on the nightstand contained some toiletries and a bottle of lotion. She remembered what he had said and pulled the lotion from the box. She set about pulling the tape from her skin.
She held the sobs back for as long as she could. The pain of the tape removal was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. If he heard, the young man never said a word.
More than 8,000 people are waiting for organ transplants
in the New York Organ Donor Network’s service area.
New York Organ Donor Network
—NINE—
Angel shifted in the chair and re-crossed his legs. The panel before him on the large TV screen was made up of three men and two women, each of them better dressed and sitting in a much more comfortable chair than he. He had no doubt his handlers had given him the metal folding chair on purpose. It was just another petty way for them to kick him again. He had been in the chair for two hours already and was growing tired of the questions. He had already given them every name and address he could think of. Tunnel locations. Corrupt government officials. Ship’s names. What more did they want? Didn’t they realize it would all be replaced within months? It was an exercise in futility. A total waste of time. But he really had no choice did he? So he sat in front of the camera in the basement of the row house and spilled his guts.
He watched two of them have a whispered conversation while they chose the next topic for their endless questions. He had shocked them a number of times when he reported the actual quantities of drugs crossing the border and had to smile at their naïveté’. They really had no clue. He had thrown out the figure of eight hundred tons of cocaine and they had simply refused to believe it. He had simply shrugged. Screw ’em. He didn’t really care if they believed him or not. Reality can be a real bitch when you’re on the losing side.
The older woman, with her hair pulled back so tight it seemed to raise her eyebrows, loudly shuffled some papers and brought everyone’s attention back to her. She hadn’t made any attempt to hide the fact that Angel repulsed her, and he had decided to treat her in kind. He braced himself for her condescending tone. She talked to him like he was a child and she had caught him misbehaving.
“Mr. Sanchez, we would like to steer away from the drugs for a moment and talk about the human organs you had on board with you. Our information says that you had a total of two human kidneys on board destined for people in an Orlando hospital. The cooler had the seal of Doctors Without Borders and the transplant was in the UNOS computer, yet they claim to have no knowledge of the transplant organs’ origin. What can you tell us about this?”
Angel took a deep breath. They were gonna love this.
“The smuggling operation needed a legitimate cover to get the product through customs. We noticed that medical flights are hardly looked at, and even receive preferential treatment. So we started an air medical company and used animal organs at first to get through customs. The seals on the coolers were easy to forge and the paperwork was even easier. People wanted the organs so bad they were willing to believe anything. Somewhere along the line someone needed a real kidney, so they found a donor, some peasant farmer down in Oaxaca, and a doctor that would do the operation. The recipient paid a fortune for it. So we saw it as a bonus. It gave the flights credibility and another source of income. Sometimes the cooler was worth more than the drugs we brought in. We could pay some farmer five k for a kidney, and sell it for a hundred times that in the States. The problem was always time.”
“Time?”
“I don’t know a whole lot about the science end of it, but evidently a kidney is only good for so long once it’s taken out of someone. On top of that, it has to match the person it’s going to. We didn’t really have a source that would provide us with a list of people and their blood types. It was kind of a custom-order type business.”
“So you found a solution? How?”
“The surgeons we had weren’t really top of the line and there were a few deaths, so the peasants weren’t really eager to take the money, no matter how much we offered. The bosses needed to find another source. Evidently they did, because we soon had all we needed coming out of Mexico City. I wasn’t privy to the source myself, but I would meet the plane, load it with product, and an ambulance would just show up with the cooler and a legitimate destination. I just wore a flight suit and acted the part. An ambulance would be there to meet us when we landed, and that was it.”
“So where did the organs come from?”
Angel squirmed again. Drugs were bad enough, but this was really unsavory. At least he had immunity.
“I can’t say for sure, but I have an idea.”
“Go on.”
“The cartels are tied in with a lot of Mexican gangs. It’s mostly just to move product and buy influence with the police and government. Most of these gangs have a kidnapping business going, also. It’s become a big money maker for them. They’re mostly small, very compartmentalized sections. One group does the actual kidnapping, another transports the victim to a safehouse, another guards and takes care of the victim, and another makes contact and negotiates the ransom. These people never see anybody else within the group. If one is caught, the trail ends with them. It’s very hard to catch them, and the police have basically given up on it.”
“They’ve given up on it? You mean they don’t even look for the kidnappers?”
“Exactly. They refer the families to professional negotiators. Most families with money in that part of the world have K and R insurance. The kidnappers count on it.”
“K and R?”
Angel rolled his eyes and shook his head with a smile. These people were truly naive.
“Kidnapping and Ransom. Most of the big insurers are out of London these days.”
He paused while they all made notes on their ever present legal pads. He felt as if he were giving a lecture on the true nature of the world to a group of children. He played with the laces on his cheap shoes until they were ready.
“You were saying that the police do nothing?”
“A kidnapping negotiation is a month’s-long process. The police have neither the time nor the resources to pursue kidnappings. They’re too busy chasing drug runners, eh? And the army is now engaged with the gangs on the border. They have no time either. It has become a rather safe and profitable business.”
He watched them as they once again had a whispered conversation among themselves, each of them holding his hand over his microphone. Angel shifted in his seat again and fetched the bottle of water, now warm, from the floor beside him. Finally the uptight woman in the power suit took her hand off her mic.
“So how do these kidnappers get the organs?”
Angel traded a look with his handlers sitting against the wall. My God, were these people really that stupid?
“I would assume from some of their victims. Maybe they somehow know their blood types before they snatch them, or maybe they test them after they have them, but since not everybody gets released, even after the ransom is paid, I’m guessing that’s where they come from.”
“You’re saying that people are being kidnapped just for their organs?”
Angel shrugged. “I guess I am.”
“How do you know this?”
“I don’t for sure, but I can tell you that a couple of the gangs have grown very brutal in the past year. The police think they just had bad negotiators, or that the gangs killed a couple of them just to prove that they would and force the other families into higher ransoms. I don’t know. But the bodies that were found were never complete. It was always just a head in a box, or a hand or something, never the full corpse. Makes you wonder.”
“And these gangs work for the cartels?”
“They’re independent gangs, but yes, they work for the cartels. Everybody works for the cartels. If the cartels need someone kidnapped, the gangs do it for them. I think the organ thing is just a bonus, so to speak.”
He waited again while they made more notes and talked with each other. Angel scratched an itchy spot on the side of his head. The damp basement made his skin crawl.
“You have names and addresses? Phone numbers?”
“Yes. The names will be aliases, but the addresses will most likely be the same. They really have no reason to change them. Like I said, they aren’t really in any danger from the police. The phone numbers change daily, but I had a contact at Mextel who would give me the updated numbers. Most of them have criminal histories. You should be able to find them in a computer somewhere, I would think.”
“Are there any names within the government tied to this?”
“. . . a couple.”
Angel spent the next half hour listing names, addresses, and phone numbers for the camera. The written transcript had grown to over forty pages today. It was about their usual and Angel was tired. Soon the panel had determined they had heard enough for that day and they left his view on the screen. Angel rose and silently followed the Marshals up the steps and into the main floor of the house. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes left on the table by one of them and hurriedly lit up before flopping into one of the old recliners. The two agents regarded him with contempt.
“You’re gonna burn long and hot, Angel.”
Angel waved the remark away with his cigarette.
“Yeah . . . tell me something I don’t know.”
• • •
“This is all of it?”
The negotiator’s name was Luis, and he stood in the family’s living room, examining the documents the father had provided. He paced while he read and they watched from the couch while he did so. The wife sat on the edge, hanging on the man’s every word, while the father sat back with a drink in one hand. He was not pleased with the prying questions being asked by his newest employee.
Luis stopped and dropped the papers on the pile already stacked on the coffee table. He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation before stopping in front of the couple.
“This is not enough. They’ll demand several times this. We must be able to negotiate from a point of strength. If we offer this, they’ll think we’re playing games and we’ll get nowhere. I need a figure we can work with.”
“That’s all I can get right now!”
“Right now? Right now? I don’t think you heard me before. This’ll most likely take months. We’ll start talking with them soon, and it will be once or twice a week if we’re lucky. You have time to get more money. If they think we’re not negotiating in true faith, you’ll get her fingers in the mailbox! Do you understand?”
The father shook his head in disgust. “I don’t like this. How do we know they’ll even give her back once we pay them?”
“They’ll give her back. If they don’t, no one will ever pay them again, and they know it. This is nothing but a business deal for them. You are a businessman. You must look at it from that point of view. We both have something that the other wants. There is only the matter of price to settle. But you must be willing to work with them, or they’ll make an example of her and that is what we don’t want.”
The father drained his drink and fingered the empty glass. His wife gripped his hand and he relented.
“I . . . I will find more money.”
“Good. They’ll be calling soon. We must be ready.”
“And if they demand money up front?”
“We give them nothing. First we’ll demand proof of life. We’ll do nothing until we get it. We give nothing unless we get something in return. They’ll expect this, and it will show that we are professionals, also.”
“Professionals? They’re fucking animals!”
“This is true. But they’re very smart animals. We must be careful.”
“Where do you think she is?” the wife asked.
Luis softened his tone for her. The woman looked ready to break down crying at any moment.
“She’s somewhere in this city, to be sure. They most likely have her in a house where they can keep her confined and quiet. She’ll be moved periodically to other places, but no one but her captors will see her. She’ll be fed and clothed and kept healthy. Most of them who come back were treated well. You must understand that she’s worth a lot of money to them. It’s in their best interest to take care of her. Other than being quite scared, I doubt that she’s been harmed.”
The wife just nodded as she tried to wrap her mind around the situation. The father was still pissed and couldn’t let it go.
“Those useless police. If she’s in the city like you say, they should be out looking for her.”
“If we try to locate her, we put her life in danger. Anytime the kidnappers have been cornered by the police, it has not worked out well for the victim. The police go in shooting and the victim . . . they tend to get caught in the crossfire. Something we don’t want.”
“So how long will this . . . negotiation last?”
“With luck, maybe two or three months.”
“And if we have no luck?”
“I can’t say.”
“Why so long? Can we not just pay these bastards and get it over with?”
“If we pay too fast they’ll see it as a sign of weakness and just demand more. We don’t want that either. This is a game to them, but we both want the same thing. You have to trust me to see it through.”
The father contemplated his empty glass further and Luis watched him closely. Finally he saw the man’s muscles relax in surrender.
“Very well, we will do as you say.”
• • •
Luis drove away from the family’s gated home and entered the crowded streets of Mexico City. Once he had determined he had no tails, he found his way to the freeway circling the city. Only then did he open the glove box between the seats and select a cell phone from the many present. He dialed the number from memory.
“Yes?”
“I’ve met with the family. They’re not ready yet. I want them to wait two days before they call so I can work on the father some more. The money is there, he’s just reluctant to show me it.”
“Good. He’s worth more than the financial reports say, I’m sure. Do you have a figure in mind?”
“Between eight hundred thousand and one million.”
The detective was ecstatic but tried not to show it. His question still revealed his greed.
“My cut will increase?”
“Your cut will remain as agreed! Do not try to alter the agreement or I’ll find a new employee, you understand?”
“Yes, yes, I understand.”
“Good. Now do as I said, and tell them to have the damn picture ready.”
“It’s already been done. They moved her to the second location, as we discussed.”
“All right, do nothing else till you hear from me. Wait for my call.”
“Si.”
Illegal kidney transplant case
exposes human organs black market
Oct 29, 2011 in Health
—TEN—
Rita Lamar was wide awake. She had finally relented to both her husband’s and the doctor’s wishes and gone home for a night to get a shower and some needed sleep, but after tossing and turning for several hours, she had stopped fighting it and gotten up. She fixed herself a small meal and was now wandering the house with a drink in her hand. Her robe hung loosely around her, and she could tell she had lost several pounds since the accident. She now ventured down the hall, forcing herself to avoid her daughter’s room. Her husband had closed the door for the night before going to the hospital, so it would not draw her eyes as she passed, and she soon found herself on the stairwell.
It proved to be just as bad. Her only hobby was photography and the walls of the stairwell were adorned with hundreds of pictures of her family—her daughter predominant among them. Birthdays, sports, class pictures, family reunions, all of them together on the campaign trail with her father, they chronicled the life of a successful and loving family. Her daughter’s prom pictures were the latest, and she saw her smiling face next to the young man in his rented suit. One of the few boys her father had approved of, she had somehow found a flaw in him a few months later, and was soon dating another. There had never been a shortage of boys.
