Cross Current - Kling Christine - Страница 23
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Interesting. When I saw him charge out of the room, there was no indication of his looking for a perp. Was he stretching the truth to look good for Wonder Woman?
“I’d like to have us all put our heads together on this,” Agent D’Ugard began. “Miss Sullivan, we are going to share some information that is privileged. I trust you will not share this information with anyone else.”
I nodded.
“We”—she made a circle in the air with her index finger— “local police, Immigration, and FBI, together with the Coast Guard, as an interagency group, have been conducting an investigation into an immigrant smuggling ring based in the Bahamas.”
“Yeah, Collazo told me. It’s called DART, right?”
She flicked her eyes in Collazo’s direction, and even I could feel the rebuke. “Yes, well, while we are concerned about the recent deaths, there are larger concerns. From the condition of the boats we’ve intercepted and of their cargo, we think they have traveled only a very short distance, probably from the Bahamas.”
Tough lady, I thought. She can refer to men, women, and children as cargo?
“Originally,” she continued, “it was just a local matter, but when these murders started, the FBI was brought in. Assuming they are taking place as this one did, beyond the twelve- mile limit, then they come under the category of ‘crimes on the high seas’ and only the federal government has jurisdiction.”
“The Border Patrol,” Rusty said, “became aware of an increase in undocumenteds around March. As the seas calmed down this spring, we’ve seen numbers like we’ve never seen before.”
“Miss Sullivan, this immigrant smuggling group is highly organized and efficient,” Agent D’Ugard continued. “It’s not unusual for them to lose boats like the Miss Agnes—they don’t care, as they have plenty more. At prices ranging from several hundred dollars to seven or eight thousand per head, smugglers are finding that transporting immigrants is as lucrative and less dangerous than the drug trade. If they get caught, the sentences are lighter than they are for drugs, too. We’ve seen quite a lot of crossover from the one trade to the other.”
“I get all that. I’ve seen the changes in the marinas. I know there are lots of go-fast boats switching over to human cargo. But your whole DART thing is about the murders, right?”
“That is one facet of the investigation, but stopping this entire organization engaged in human trafficking is my first priority. Miss Sullivan, this is more than just an assignment to me. It’s personal. My family immigrated to this country from the Dominican Republic.” I was surprised when she said that, as she had no accent. “These people are preying on Dominicans, Haitians, Chinese, East Indians, people from all over. The importers are increasingly brazen, and they don’t care about the lives of their cargo, as they have already been paid.”
“But why kill people? They’re in business to smuggle them in. I don’t get that part.”
“They do it because they can. If anyone complains about the conditions on a boat, they kill one person, and that silences the rest. We suspect that last fall they dumped an entire load of Haitians out in the Gulf Stream when they thought they were being intercepted. A local fishing boat found several bodies, but most of the others were never recovered. Sources in Haiti estimate there had been thirty people on that trip.” She leaned forward, over her crossed legs, and looked directly at Rusty. “We believe there is one man leading this group. Although we have not been able to identify him, we know he is extremely dangerous. He has absolutely no regard for human life.”
Although it seemed like I was intruding into a personal meeting between Rusty and Agent D’Ugard, I said, “Okay, I get it. There’s some really bad guy out there trafficking in human beings. What does this have to do with me?”
All three of them looked at one another as though trying to decide who would speak first. Agent D’Ugard seemed to draw the short straw.
“We believe that this young girl can identify several key players as well as the location of their camp in the Bahamas. Has she spoken yet?”
It had been fairly easy to dodge this issue up until now, but here I was being asked while surrounded by three cops of one sort or another. “Yeah, she has spoken to me a couple of times.” They all hitched up on their plastic chairs. “But that was before this incident in her room just now. I’m not sure what happened to her in there, but I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get her to open up again. I mean, this morning she was playing with toys and acting like a pretty normal kid. Now, she looks like some kind of zombie.”
“You don’t really think—” Rusty began.
“No, I’m not talking about Voodoo like in the movies. But let’s face it, after what she’s been through, she must be pretty fragile psychologically. Think about what she’s seen. She was in a boat with a dead woman watching seagulls eat the woman’s flesh.” I paused for a moment to let that one sink in. “So go easy on her, okay? Here’s what I’ve found out so far. Her name is Solange, but she doesn’t know her last name. She was a restavek, basically a child slave, in Haiti, in the town of Cap Haitien. A man she refers to as ‘the bad man’ was the captain of the boat that brought her out of Haiti. He came to her house and took her away to a boat that took them to the Bahamas.”
Wonder Woman interrupted me. “She is certain this man was the captain of the boat?”
I shrugged. “She seemed to be. She said they stayed in the Bahamas quite a while, and then they got on another big boat—possibly the Miss Agnes—to come here. The same man captained both boats.”
“What about the dead woman? Did the child know her?” Rusty asked.
“She said she was no relation, but she seemed to watch out for Solange, even in the Bahamas. Her name was Erzulie, I think. Oh yeah, and the kid says her father is an American, that she learned to speak her English from him. She doesn’t know his name, just that everyone called him Papa Blan— that means white father—and she was under the impression she was coming to America to be with him.”
“She saw who killed the woman,” Collazo said.
“She says the bad man did it. It wasn’t really clear whether she witnessed it, or was just told he did it. All I know is she’s terrified of him.”
Agent D’Ugard said, “Miss Sullivan, if she can identify this man as the captain of the Miss Agnes and the killer, then that little girl is in serious jeopardy. I believe we should take her into protective custody.”
“Isn’t that what you have here?” I pointed to her room. “A cop outside her door? And isn’t this where somebody just got to her? Come on. It’s not like this is some big mob case. I know she’s not going to be high priority to you guys. My attorney, Jeannie Black, has offered to take her in.” I told them about Jeannie’s background providing foster care and about the security she could provide. To my astonishment, they relented.
We shook hands all around, and then they wanted to see Solange. She was still curled up on her side and her hands were clenched in small fists, resting against her forehead. D’Ugard and Elliot took quick looks, as though they couldn’t bear to look at her, and then left to go have a little private t?te-a-t?te in front of the elevator.
Collazo stopped me outside her room. “There is something more. Something you didn’t tell us.”
Leave it to Collazo. It was like the guy had a sixth sense and always knew what I was thinking. “Well, there was something, but Mr. Border Patrol thinks it was nothing.” I told him then about seeing the sneakers under the curtain and chasing down the dubious Todd.
“We know somebody was in there, and I think he was the guy.”
Collazo nodded and took out that little notebook of his and wrote some notes, then stepped in way too close. I could feel the humid heat coming off his body, and I could smell his sweat. “You need to come in to sign a formal statement about finding the body yesterday. Maybe sit with an artist to sketch this orderly. I’ll drive you over right now. Elliot can stay with the girl, and I’ll have an officer drive you back.”
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