The Worth of Souls Page 15

  2330, The Grand Hotel, Kaohsiung, Taiwan

  Fang nodded to the concierge and headed for the elevators. The elevator operator smiled and asked politely which floor. Fang replied the 10th floor. Stepping off, it was not difficult to see which room was theirs. The two police officers stood on either side of the door and nodded to him as he showed his credentials. He knocked three times. The person on the other side asked who it was.

  “It is me, my Jasmine Flower,” stated Fang.

  “Come in, my dearest.” Mei-Li turned and walked back into the room. The door closed. Suddenly she turned, fear on her otherwise serene face. “Have they found us again? Will this ever end?” She was crying and it was apparent she had been crying for some time.

  “Come close, I have something to tell you,” he whispered. His mind raced to form the words and thoughts he needed to say. He enveloped her in his arms, their warmth and love forcing out the doubt in his mind. He had to tell her and not keep anything back.

  “Kevin called and believes he has found a lead on Lian-Na,” he struggled. She stopped and froze. Her body tense, she looked up at his face with tear-swollen eyes and streaked make-up. Fang went on, “He came across a lead from a woman who knew of a girl named Lian-Na. The timeline and background may, I say may, be a hint of where she might be or at least have been. I was preparing to go for a couple of weeks to help him and see what I could find.”

  Mei-Li started to cry again. The small choking cries gave way to the body-wrenching heaves of someone who had been almost overwhelmed with grief and relief combined. She clutched Fang with an almost ferocious embrace. Then between the heaves, she struggled to say, “I am going too. I need to go with you. She will not believe just you, but she will believe me. There are things only I know that will help make sure she is the one.”

  Quickly Fang responded, “My Jasmine Flower, I agree you know much more about her than I could possible know, but it will be extremely dangerous. She may not be anywhere that we go.” What he didn’t add was she may already be dead. Life expectancy was not known to be all that long for these children.

  “And she may already be dead,” Mei-Li’s voice was low and choked.

  “Can you handle that?” Fang responded tenderly.

  “It is better to know than always wonder. I have waited for so long to find her. I must know what has become of her,” she started to sob again.

  Fang continued to hold her close. He wanted to comfort her somehow, but, like most men, he did not know how.

  “Then let us find her together,” he quietly intoned. He now had a new and much more important partner; one he would not let down.

  Chapter 19

  Mohamed Rayyan

  1445, Saturday, Kuala Lumpur International Airport, Kuala Lumpur, Indonesia

  The flight from Kaohsiung to Taipei and then to Bangkok was filled with anxiousness. Neither Fang nor Mei-Li could unwind, much less sleep. Granted the stretch DC-8 was roomier than they first thought, but still the overwhelming concern and excitement was hard to contain.

  The flight from Bangkok to Kuala Lumpur, however, was ferociously overcoming. Both people had been so pent-up that they finally transitioned into a fitful sleep. The flight was too short for any kind of restful response to the human needs for rest. All too soon the cabin had to prepare to be ready for landing. Stewardesses were kind and offered warm washcloths to help revive them, but it would take more than that to really help.

  Kevin contacted Fang when their plans were delayed due to situations in Kaohsiung. The new destination was Kuala Lumpur, Indonesia. He gave no additional reasons, but told him to adjust his travel plans accordingly.

  Fang had just enough time to blurt out that he would be bringing a partner. Spoke figured out the implied meaning. Mei-Li would be with him.

  To smuggling operations, Kuala Lumpur was an excellent city to headquarter from. It was a principle hub for air transportation throughout Southeast Asia. Human smuggling as well as all sorts and forms of contraband flowed in and out with significant ease. Most customs officers as well as police officers lived a relatively easy life. Small things just seemingly appeared as “extras” in envelopes and packages delivered just for looking the other way at the right time. However, not all law enforcement and military personnel were disposed to such activities. True, many that did find better things to look at than the contents of containers or close scrutiny of documents had life much easier than those that did not.

  On occasion, someone was reminded of the harsh realities associated with upsetting the status quo. Police officers and military personnel were occasionally found, missing key parts of their anatomies; little things like heads, legs or arms. They were then dumped in the surrounding jungles to feed the local fauna. Occasionally it took a small reminder like this to keep everyone playing from the same playbook.

  Due to the predominance of radical Muslims using smuggling to fund their operations and their lusts, the methods of punishment bore striking resemblances to those prescribed by the Quran for Infidels. It didn’t take a religious genius to determine that anyone who went counter to the wishes of local radical clerics was on a hit list for these gangs of thugs posing as religious zealots.

  One of the principal forms of smuggling was the human trade. It could be “justified” by the teachings of Mohammad and besides, it was profitable. All who weren’t Muslim, and those who were but might be from a different sect, were fair game; Shiite to Sunni just to name two. Moving stolen children from infidel nations to other Muslim nations for profit was well within the justified teachings of these warped radical Imams and their interpretation of the Quran and Mohammad.

  Of special interest from Southeast Asia was the trade of children, especially Western children. Blue eyes and blond hair always brought big purses. It was not unheard of to see amounts of $25,000 for one 8-12-year-old blond, blue-eyed virgin girl being sold to a Yemeni sheikh for use in his ‘harem.’ Others who were obviously Southeast Asian were used in brothels and bars for the express purpose of entertainment.

  Those that lived long enough, were often given places of “management,” training the younger girls and boys. Unfortunately, due to disease or an unexplained death due to higher management’s displeasure, these “management” positions often needed filling frequently.

  Much of the human trade depended on drug dependence. A new child added to the captured group that was not necessarily to be traded, was given small doses of opiates. The doses were increased, usually over weeks, until a major dependence resulted. The drugs were given freely as long as the child was obeying or complying with the rules of the group.

  All were given good medical attention to ensure a viable product for sale. Initial bruises and cuts or scratches from the abduction were cared for so as not to cause need for medical attention. Problems, after all, lowered their price. Prime individuals were given more than enough to eat and drink as well as rest to permit the drugs to be properly administered.

  After oral administration of the drugs, the next step was to provide them intravenously. As those doses were tolerated, more was given to ensure total dependence. Locations on the body where drugs could be injected without notice were also taught to the individuals.

  Virgins were especially carefully treated so as not to destroy proof of their status. Frequent examinations of genitals ensured that no one destroyed the prime reason for high-value sales. These examinations were most often overseen by the leader and the medical person from the gang or organization. All the individuals involved knew that the naked body would be examined by the buyer before purchase. It was essential that all appear as desired.

  Sometimes, the medical person was female. She held in her power the crude tools and methods of mutilation that could spell disaster for the females. Disobedient and unwilling captives would be told that any attempt at escape or destruction of their own personal proof of virginity would be met with extremely serious consequences. Those threats included the inhuman practice of female circumci
sion or mutilation of the female genitals, all without the benefit of anesthesia.

  Boys were also treated with the same indifference to chastity that the young girls received. They must clearly be virgin in their appearance as well as be circumcised. Most boys caught in the web of human subjugation were younger than 12 years old, and clearly would show any prior abuse.

  The futility of escape was repeated over and over. Once the spirit was broken and the captive was compliant, the additional training and seduction of the mind continued until it had been ingrained so deeply that escape was impossible. Soon captives totally gave up wanting to try to leave. In some cases they would defend their captors. In later years that condition was given a name, the Stockholm Syndrome, after a group of hostages in a bank robbery in Stockholm, Sweden, protected their captives and essentially joined the ‘lawbreaker’s side.’

  Another aspect of the assimilation into the smugglers’ web pertained to their appearance. Any identifying marks were altered or removed. Hair was cut or shaved, except for the blond girls, ostensibly to ensure freedom from lice and other bodily insects or conditions. Long haired blonds brought even larger prices. Birthmarks, depending on size or location, were altered or removed using crude scalpels and other cutting devices such as razor blades or broken glass. Those with black skin were scarred using the same crude methods used by generations before them; essentially branding them. Like the mental transformation, this was done gradually over a period of a month or more. As such, the trauma could be more easily concealed. This would permit the wounds to heal properly. This also brought an increase in price and removed the chance they could be recognized later.

  Most ‘prime’ captives took anywhere from two to four months to groom for sale. By then, a suitable price and purchaser could be found. Girls and boys were given ‘glamor photos’ for use by ‘sales representatives’ to encourage buyers. These photos were not like the glamor, head shot photos of movie stars, but instead placed them in skimpy clothes that barely hid their private parts. These were ‘modified or adjusted’ so that desired physical traits could be enlarged; such things as breasts or penises.

  Into this sordid world the investigator and legitimate law enforcement officer was thrust, to locate and return the captive to their families and loved ones. The return to the world of ‘reality’ or normal human interaction was a job for someone else. Such counselors hopefully would spend the time and had the resources to bring the child from the depths of depravity to the world of real love and respect again. This many times never was achieved. Those that had recovered often took over 10 years of constant counseling.

  After finding their bags at the baggage pick-up point, Fang and Mei-Li looked through the throngs of people for a familiar face. Soon their eyes locked on LT Kevin Marks in civilian clothes. He also made contact visually, but made a subtle gesture to follow him out to the curb. Visual surveillance was crude in those days compared to years later. It relied on civilian-clothed people posted around in key locations to mark and photograph persons of interest. These posted individuals were from local law enforcement, military, as well as crime organizations. ‘Making a person’ was essential to keeping them from interfering with local operations, good and bad.

  Fang had already told Mei-Li that she must not hail or acknowledge anyone she knew, especially Kevin. As they walked from the terminal baggage area, they noticed Kevin 50 yards away and walking towards a limousine parked by the curb. They made their way also toward the vehicle.

  Limos were common for many organizations, criminal and legitimate, and usually would be left alone. Most were from crime organizations and it was for the good health of the inquisitive person that contact not be made.

  Fang and Mei-Li made their way to the car. The door opened and they were helped in by an unseen pair of hands. Once inside and their eyes became accustomed to the dim light, they instantly recognized several of the people. First, of course was Kevin. Second was LCDR Randy Rogers, Commanding Officer of SEAL Team One, Det B. Even though he was nursing a stiff, sore shoulder and arm, he was there. The third man was a question mark, however.

  “Fang, this is Mohamed Rayyan. His family name is unimportant for this meeting,” Kevin began.

  “Mohamed, may I present Fang and Mei,” he continued. “They are our contacts from China.” It went without saying which one of the Chinas or anything more about them. The look from Kevin said volumes. In this world, complete names and personal history was unimportant and undesired.

  The car moved through the Kuala Lumpur traffic as though the driver had significant experience. Vehicles, bicycles and mopeds, as well as pedestrians melted away once they saw the vehicle coming. It was a foregone conclusion that this vehicle and its owner were very powerful.

  They traveled for almost an hour. Once they reached in the more rural areas of Kuala Lumpur. Mohamed seemed to visually relax. He gestured with his hand that this was a most beautiful place and was why he chose to live here.

  The vehicle slowed and turned left into a long jungle-lined drive. It was not rutted as were many of the other roads. It had a well-crowned, well-drained and well maintained look to it. After a few minutes, the car slowed and entered a large wrought iron gate. The fence the gate was attached to was lava rock and appeared over 10 feet tall. While not visible, the top probably had shards of heavy broken glass embedded in it. This was an all-too-familiar way to secure stone fences in Southeast Asia.

  The gate closed as if by magic. Someone had watched them. No guards were visible, but they were obviously there.

  “Please accept my humble abode and its imperfections. I welcome you,” Mohamed stated with a slight bow of his head. “Please join me for dinner.” He waited for no reply and as the car came to a halt, opened his own door. Quickly a houseboy stood almost at attention waiting for Mei-Li to step out and offered his hand. This was obviously not traditional Malaysian culture, but appeared “put-on” for their foreign benefit.

  Mei-Li stepped from the car. Fang was next followed by the two Naval Officers. Mohamed led the way up the steps to a beautiful veranda with painted wrought iron decorations on vine-covered pillars. Shutters framed each window and they appeared to be bullet-resistant. The beautiful dark green shutters set off the lighter tan-colored lava stone walls of the house. The appearance of the whole building was that of a Southern Mansion planted and grown in a Malaysian jungle.

  Growing on the walls, were the green color of plants and colorful flowers. The rugged and porous lava stone sheltered the roots of delicate orchids. They seemingly sprouted, beautified and contrasted the harshness of the lava. Mei-Li looked at the beauty, intrigued by its contrast. The very humid air provided numerous pleasing scents. Unlike other jungles she’d seen in the past, this was truly a beautiful place.

  Noises from the tree tops were a cacophony of sounds. Monkeys and birds seemed to speak almost kindly to each other, or so it seemed to Mei-Li.

  “Now you see why I love this place so,” Mohamed smiled both in his voice and with his face. “It is my heaven on earth. Please come in and I will provide some refreshment.”

  He didn’t dare explain that being under house arrest was less than it was cracked up to be even in this garden of beauty.

  The houseboy hustled away and in a few moments returned with glasses of lemonade on a gold-trimmed sterling silver tray. Each of the glasses was also trimmed in gold. Drinks distributed, the houseboy left as quickly as he’d arrived.

  “May we each find what we are seeking,” Mohamed raised his glass as if in a toast. All followed.

  “I would be most honored if you would remain this evening as my guests,” Mohamed continued looking at each one of them.

  Randy and Kevin nodded assent and looked at Fang and Mei-Li, who also nodded.

  Dinner was as elegant as could be expected. The final course of the 7-course meal was a delightfully refreshing dish of lime sherbet.

  The mood had been light despite the questions each of the participants wanted to ask.
Mohamed Rayyan knew that only one of the guests consumed any alcoholic beverages, but that Randy had refused already in deference to the host’s Islamic customs. Still, the biggest question was why was this group even here staying at Mohamed Rayyan’s home and why were Kevin and Randy so guarded about everything they were saying?

  After the desert was served and finished, light talk began to trail off. Sensing the evening was finished, Mohamed Rayyan graciously ended the soiree. Giving instructions to the houseboy for accommodations, he retired promising to see them in the morning.

  Fang looked at Kevin who he had almost always called Spoke except in the presence of Mei-Li and outsiders such as their host.

  “What is going on?” he asked Spoke. The look he received said volumes. Spoke turned towards the door to the veranda and started to walk. The implication to follow him was instantaneously recognized. The remaining three smiled at the two servants and followed as if casually strolling on the boardwalk at some antebellum place and time. Probably in keeping with the décor and ambiance, the lady needed a parasol, but under the circumstances it was not essential.

  Once outside, they continued down the stairs heading for the well-manicured lawn making small talk.

  A voice behind them flatly stated, “Beware of Kraits. They are active in the evening and have been seen near the bushes here in the yard.” It was Mohamed Rayyan.

  The Krait is one of the more aggressive poisonous snakes on the Malaysian Peninsula. Obviously, Mohamed felt a bit excluded as the ‘party’ had excluded him and had moved to the sanctity of the ‘white noise’ of the evening jungle. Insects, frogs and other sounds filled the night. The smells of the flowers also filled the noses and the senses were treated to a seemingly peaceful paradise. These noises were perfect to talk in subdued tones about most of what needed to be said.