Chapter 29

Edward Pembroke entered the dimly lit club, his eyes scanning the perfect, nubile bodies of the strippers dancing on the poles. The lecherous crowd of Marseille’s seedy underbelly gawked at the girls, who pranced in G-strings, dancing robotically or writhing on customers’ laps.

Pembroke could use a dance himself; he never passed up the sight of nearly naked young women. But tonight, he had serious business. He approached the bar, where a young woman with a beehive hairdo, wearing a revealing bra and tight denim shorts, smiled at him warily. She had seen enough predators to know this man was to be feared.

“What do you want, stranger?” she asked.

“A tall glass of Scotch ... and have one yourself, pretty,” he winked and smiled. “And tell Amir I want to see him. Tell him Eddie the Rat is here.”

The woman looked puzzled but disappeared. A few minutes later, a swarthy, sinister-looking man appeared.

“Eddie, my God, I thought you were dead!” he exclaimed. The two men hugged.

“Good to see you too, Amir,” Pembroke replied with a grin.

Amir Ziani led Pembroke to the back of the strip club. “Business is booming,” Amir boasted, introducing him to his girlfriend, Sophie, her outfit leaving little to the imagination. She wore an outrageously short skirt that barely came past her crotch, dark makeup that accentuated her sharp features and black hair, fishnet stockings clinging to her long legs, and a tight, skimpy top thatjust about kept her breasts in place.

Chewing gum loudly, her eyes sizing up Pembroke with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

“And who’s this?” she asked, blowing a bubble and popping it with a smirk.

“Sophie, meet Eddie,” Amir said, a hint of pride in his voice. “Eddie the Rat.”

“Eddie the Rat, huh?” Sophie leaned closer, her body language both inviting and defiant. “Yeah, well, just keep your hands to yourself, old man. I’m not one of your opportunities.”

Amir grinned, clearly enjoying the exchange. He slapped Sophie on the bottom, causing her to narrow her eyes at him. “Go on, babe. We need to talk business.”

“Wow, Amir how old is she?”

“Fifteen, Eddie, that’s the age of consent here, dont look at me like that! “ Amir laughed as he said, “I just can’t let her on stage even though she wants to. Wild girl, parents a doctor and a surgeon. They aren’t too happy, but there’s nothing they can do!”

“Well, I’m just looking out for the girl’s best interests” smirked Pembroke.

“Ha, right! Thought you’d disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“Had some things to take care of,” Eddie said, smiling. “But I’m back now. Thinking of setting up a club myself.”

“Really?” Amir raised an eyebrow. “I could use a partner. Someone with your ... experience.”

“Maybe,” Eddie replied, his tone hinting at deeper plans. “I hear you’re into more than just strip clubs these days.”

“Ha, well the Belhadj Family are behind me, I just have to make payments, you know,” Amir said with a casual shrug.

The two men continued talking business. Amir was interested in Eddie’s life. The man had always been a mystery and a magnet for trouble.

“Have a dance on me, and mention my name, and you’ll get more, OK?” smirked Amir as they parted.

Pembroke made his choice. A young-looking blonde girl, possibly with dyed hair, caught his eye. She had dark eyes and a lost expression, appearing unsure of herself and nervous. Despite her lingerie and the crude leers of the men around her, she carried herself with an air of dignity. There was something in her eyes—an innocence mixed with a fierce passion. She danced athletically around the pole, moving with a grace that seemed out of place in the seedy strip club. Pembroke was enchanted.

The girl was about to tell him to clear off, but at the mention of Amir’s name, her expression shifted to a nervous, forced smile as she adopted a faux sexy look. Touching Pembroke’s shoulder, she took him by the hand and led him to a private booth.

As the music started, she began to dance for him. Her body was a perfect blend of softness and strength, with long, toned legs and a slender waist. Moving with a practiced grace, she robotically removed her bra, letting her perfectly poised breasts spill out. Her hard nipples brushed against his face as she moved her chest around him.

After the dance, she sat down beside him, slightly out of breath and putting on her bra, but maintaining her composed demeanor. Pembroke leaned in, curious about the girl who seemed so out of place in this world.

“Where are you from?” he asked gently.

“I’m Violet,” she replied with a hint of hesitation. “But my real name is Kasia. I’m twenty years old, a film studies student from Poland.”

“Kasia, I don’t think this is the place for you.” said Pembroke.

Kasia nervously tucked her breasts back into her bra, uncertain about what else this “friend” of Amir wanted. “I need the money. I would do something else, like act, if it paid any money,” she shrugged, her voice tinged with resignation.

Pembroke tried to keep his eyes on her soft brown eyes, avoiding the temptation to look at her elegant bare torso, legs, and the tiny film of material between her thighs.

“There is always a choice, and the money here is good, I’m sure. Amir told me you would dance for me for free, but I feel I should owe you something.”

“No, no, if you are a friend of Amir’s then ... it’s right that you ... get things for free,” Kasia looked down, as if ashamed.

“Don’t worry,” whispered Pembroke. “I just want a chat. I don’t normally go into these kinds of places. Amir and I, we go back a bit, but I was never much of a ... ladies’ man.”

“Are you married?”

“I was ... I had a wife and two children. My wife died five years ago, so it’s just me and the kids. If it were not for Amir, I wouldn’t have come here,” he laughed softly. “You are a lovely girl, of course, but I don’t want anything.”

“Oh...” Kasia felt a bit heartened. “I am sorry about your wife, what happened?”

“She...” Pembroke looked away, a tear forming in his eye. “She was in a car accident. A drunk driver hit her head-on. She was on her way to pick up our kids from school. It happened so fast, and we lost her instantly. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through, and it’s been a struggle every day since.”

Kasia’s expression softened with sympathy. “I’m so sorry to hear that. It must be so difficult for you and your children.”

“Like you, well, I had to make compromises with myself to make money for my family. Since my wife died, it has led me to do things I am not proud of, but I still have a code. Frankly, I don’t think Amir follows that code. I think he is bad news for you, my dear. I think you should get out of this place.”

Kasia looked at this tall, wiry, muscular man, feeling a kind of safety with him despite wondering about the bad things he might have done. She wondered if she should dare open up.

“But, I don’t really have a choice, you see,” she began hesitantly. “I partied too much at university here. I even borrowed money for a stupid movie project and got scammed by my ex-boyfriend who took all the money ... I kind of owe him a lot.”

Pembroke’s eyes softened with understanding. “That sounds tough, Kasia. But maybe there’s a way out that doesn’t involve staying here. Sometimes, all it takes is finding someone who can help you get back on your feet.”

Kasia hesitated, then asked, “Do you really think there’s a way out for me? He says he would follow me all the way back to Poland.”

“Amir, he doesn’t have to live like this,” said Pembroke angrily. “Kasia, you should not be spending the best years of your life in fear and doing this for him.”

“But he knows my family, he has the key to my apartment, he has my passport, even my bank cards,” Kasia whispered, her voice trembling.

“Why can’t you go to the police?”

“Well...” Kasia shrugged. “I was an idiot. I agreed to buy drugs to sell to clear the debt, and of course, it didn’t work. He said I would get arrested for it if he turned against me.”

“Oh, Kasia,” said Pembroke sadly. “Listen, I am going to be back here in a few days. I can help you, maybe then. Just stay strong, okay?”

Kasia looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and hope. “You really think you can help me?”

“I do,” Pembroke replied firmly. “But until then, try to stay safe and avoid Amir as much as you can. We’ll find a way to get you out of this mess.”

“Okay,” she whispered, feeling a small glimmer of hope in the midst of her desperation.

Pembroke gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be back soon, Kasia. Hang in there.”

As he stood to leave, Kasia watched him go, feeling a strange sense of relief, but also wondered how this man would help her, and if he ulterior motives.

Pembroke looked back at the solemn blonde girl in the white bra and panties, so out of place among the wild girls. Her limbs were close together, knees touching, feet splayed wide, and elbows resting on her knees. Her eyes were in a daze, daydreaming. Suddenly, she was touched and manhandled by a rough customer.

Startled, she awkwardly got to her feet and broke into an excruciatingly awkward dance for him. Her movements were hesitant and uncoordinated, a stark contrast to the confident, practiced performances of the other dancers. Pembroke suddenly felt an all-consuming desire to procure her and have her in his complex.

A few days later, Pembroke was in the German city of Achen.

The funeral in Aachen for Frau Rosa Fischer was a somber affair. Her many relatives gathered to mourn at the Aachen graveyard and attend the church service. Now, they were at the after-funeral reception. One person everyone avoided was the morose and odd-looking Konrad Fischer, her youngest son. It wasn’t just the ankle tag around his leg, marking him as a prisoner on day release, that kept people away.

Konrad had been granted compassionate leave to attend his mother’s funeral after spending ten years in prison for a crime so unspeakable that his family refused to talk about it or acknowledge him. Standing alone, apart from the rest, Konrad mourned in isolation. Tall, with long blond hair now balding and greying, he was approaching forty.

Years ago, Konrad had raped a young girl, and been caught and jailed. It had been a long sentence, and Konrad’s face was marked with scars from vicious beatings and slashings from fellow inmates. He only had a few years left now, but had little to look forward to, either in prison, or out.

Konrad cut a lonely figure at the bar, the barman barely looking at him as he served him his drink.

The lanky German was greeted in broken German by a stranger staying in the hotel.

“Sad day, are you one of the relatives?”

“Yes, she was my mother,” said Konrad, his guard up.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man replied. “My name is Ritchie Kessler, American. I’m a tourist, so this is not my thing, but hey, at least she had a long life, right?”

Konrad looked at this avuncular American, with a baseball cap and curly red hair peeking out from underneath, and dark glasses. There was something disarming about Kessler’s casual demeanor, but Konrad remained cautious.

“Yes, she did,” Konrad replied stiffly, not offering more information than necessary.

“Well, if you need anything, I’m around,” Kessler said with a sympathetic smile. “It’s tough losing someone, even when they’ve lived a full life.”

The barman felt like warning the American tourist about who this man was, but thought that as long as there were no kids around, it was safe.

The German did not respond.

“You are a bit weird, aren’t you?” said the American.

“Yeah, I guess,” shrugged Konrad apologetically.

“It’s a shame, with all that electrical engineering knowledge and the systems you designed in prison, I’m sure you could contribute to society if they would let you.”

Konrad pricked up. So this man knew exactly who he was! He became frightened. What did he want? Why had he lied?

“What do you want?” Konrad asked, his voice low and tense.

Kessler took off his sunglasses, revealing sharp, penetrating eyes. “Relax, Konrad. I’m not here to cause trouble. In fact, I might have an opportunity for you.”

Konrad’s heart raced. “Opportunity? What kind of opportunity?”

“A chance to use your skills for something worthwhile. I represent a group that values your ... particular talents. We can help you start anew, make a real difference. Interested?”

Konrad studied Kessler’s face, searching for any sign of deceit. “And what do you get out of this?”

Kessler smiled. “Let’s just say we believe in second chances. Besides, a man with your abilities shouldn’t be wasted.”

“I have to go back to prison after this. I have two more years of my sentence.”

“Two more years of hell. A lot of those inmates will not want you to get out; it gets more dangerous the closer you are to release. And trust me, this is a good opportunity; you won’t get it in two years. In two years, if you’re alive, you’ll be in a bedsit, working in a warehouse, looking over your shoulder, like now.”

Konrad felt a chill run down his spine. He knew Kessler was right; the closer he got to his release date, the more dangerous it would become. The prospect of constantly living in fear after his release wasn’t appealing either.

“What do I have to do?” Konrad asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “I am going back to prison later today.”

“Leave with me now. I can cut that ankle tag off. In an hour, we will be across the border. And in a week, we’ll be in the Middle East. Just a word of warning, there won’t be a return trip. So say any goodbyes to your family now.”

Konrad looked around. He would not be saying anything to his family.

“What work, how would I be paid, would I be your prisoner?”

“I don’t suppose anyone would believe a criminal child rapist like you if you told them, would they?” smiled the American. He looked around to ensure no one was listening. “Come sit with me.”

Konrad hesitated but then followed Kessler to a table in the corner. The American pulled out his phone and began showing Konrad videos.

The footage depicted young women being trained, tortured, and raped in an underground facility. Konrad felt a mixture of disgust and horror as he watched.

“Is this ... just porn?” Konrad asked, his voice shaking.

No,” whispered Kessler. “This is these girls’ lives. They are sex slaves. We procure, process, and sell girls as sex slaves, and we require someone with your talents to work in our processing facilities to aid expansion. Here, have a look at this girl...”

Kessler swiped to another video, showing a terrified young woman being forced into submission. Konrad felt a deep sense of revulsion, followed by awe, curiosity, and an unsettling hint of lust.

“Now, take a look at this girl.”

It was a photo of the missing girl, Charlotte Spencer, believed to have been kidnapped in Paris months ago. It was the same girl as the naked captive. Konrad’s eyes widened. He looked around, fearing being discovered more than the American who had shown him the video.

“I can delete these videos the second you make a scene, Konrad, but I don’t think you want to, do you? I think you want to see more...” Kessler’s voice was smooth, almost hypnotic.

Konrad nodded, sweat pouring from his forehead.

Kessler swiped to another video, this time of another naked girl being trained, brutalized, and mistreated. The footage transitioned to Anna Gao, another girl who had gone tragically missing on a hiking trip with her girlfriend, Sabine Muller. The next video showed another tall German brunette being tortured, matching the description of the missing Sabine.

Konrad’s heart pounded in his chest. The realization of the enormity and horror of the operation Kessler was involved in began to sink in.

“So, Konrad,” Kessler continued, his voice low and commanding, “do you understand now what you’re getting into? This isn’t just a job. It’s a new world, one where you can either be a part of our operations, enjoying those girls, and a lot more besides, or remain trapped in your own miserable existence. What’s your choice?”

Konrad swallowed hard, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. He had barely been able to take his eyes off his young cousins in knee-length dresses earlier, this had sent him spinning.

“What do you need from me?”

“Your skills in electrical engineering and system design,” Kessler replied. “We need you to upgrade our facilities, improve security, and ensure everything runs smoothly. In return, you’ll be well compensated, not necessarily with money, but with ... females, and kept safe. You’ll have as much sex as you dreamt of, a chance to live out your fantasies, and a chance to live without fear.”

Konrad’s mind raced. The offer was both tempting and repulsive. He despised the idea of being part of something so vile, yet so ... attractive.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do it.”

Kessler smiled, a look of satisfaction crossing his face. “Good choice, Konrad. Welcome to your new life.”

As they left the hotel, Konrad couldn’t help but wonder what he had just agreed to and how it would change his life forever. Kessler easily sawed off the tag, and they climbed into his car.

By the time the authorities realized Fischer was missing, he and Kessler, AKA Edward Pembroke, were already in France. Pembroke smiled reassuringly at Fischer, who knew now there was no turning back.

Fischer did not know that Pembroke had planned for every eventuality, including his refusal. After being shown the evidence of the complex, Pembroke had reasoned that no one would mourn a murdered child rapist. He had brought a large knife, ready to kill Fischer if he turned him down or chickened out at any point from here on in.

Fischer soon got to know the real Edward Pembroke. On his first night in Marseille, he was treated to a night out in Amir’s strip club and a night with a prostitute. Grateful for his newfound freedom and the attention from women, Fischer grew more and more interested in traveling to “the complex.”

Meanwhile, Pembroke was waiting for the Zephyr to arrive. Traveling by sea was a discreet way to transport stock, but time was money, and weeks had been spent sailing the seas with nothing to do but indulge in his own product. He was eager for the fresh arrivals and the new business they would bring.

He had another concern. Of the sixteen girls he had kidnapped so far, and the numerous murders and other crimes he had committed in the process, it had almost all gone surprisingly well.

No one was looking for the Libyan girls. The Russian prostitute sisters were only cared about by their families, who had already lost hope and were more in fear of their angry pimps missing their own product.

Dilan Talebani was supposedly dead, mourned and buried. The inability to find the bodies of Freja and Ingrid Johansen had puzzled authorities but only fueled anger against NATO and the authorities, sparking conspiracies and political arguments rather than a serious search for kidnapped sex slaves.

Elena and Vitaly were presumed to be victims of the long arm of the Russian government or mafia. Cassie Johnson was presumed burned alive along with her mother in the tragic forest fire around their secluded cottage.

Anna Gao and Sabine Muller’s disappearance had attracted a lot of interest, with stories circulating that their ghosts haunted the forest. However, the police had absolutely no leads as to what might have happened to them.

Holly Streatham was looking to be the only girl whose disappearance led to a conviction. The boy Pembroke had framed was looking at spending decades in prison. His defense of having no memory of the night in question, yet being found covered in blood in her bed, combined with a history of violent drunken attacks, did not look good. Her other male friends were facing prison sentences for rape, violent assault, and in two cases, murder. The girls had escaped criminal charges but were still processing the aftermath of being raped while out of it on Pembroke’s cocktail.

The disappearance of Camille LeClerc had been unsatisfactory, Pembroke chided himself. Yet, the police proved utterly unable to find any suspects, locate the body, or track down the hapless Karim Al-Faraj.

Rebecca Parker had been widely presumed to have killed herself or been murdered, and the search for her seemed half hearted.

Charlotte Spencer, on the other hand, had attracted a lot of interest, a lot of investigation, and eventually, some progress.

Kwame Okor had been named as a chief suspect in her disappearance. Kwame had either not realised this, or had kept quiet about it, but for Pembroke, it was not good.

As Fischer slept in with his prostitute, Pembroke, or Eddie the Rat, was having lunch with Amir. Sophie was with him, this time not caked in emo makeup, looking fresher and prettier. She wore a sleeveless blouse that highlighted her fresh, toned arms and, under the bright sun, subtly revealed her pink nipples. A short, flowy skirt danced around her thighs, occasionally lifting with the gentle summer breeze to reveal a hint of bright pink knickers. Stylish sunglasses obscured her eyes, making her expression seem immutable and making Pembroke wary of her, yet curious.

“You men are so boring,” yawned Sophie. “Amir, can you take me to the mall afterward? I’m all out of lingerie,” she flirted, stroking his arm.

“Sophie,” Amir said irritably. “Why don’t you go get yourself an ice cream or something? We need to talk business.”