Truth or Dare Page 6

  “That’s my job for today. I’ll find it.”

  “Be careful when you go out to the neighborhood, Maggie. There might be other agents living there as backup, or, as the agency calls them, ‘minders.’ In other words, the Bannons’ backup team.”

  “We’ll keep it in mind. I’ll check back before we leave the area.”

  The call ended. The three men looked at one another. Abner stuffed the tenth sticky bun in his mouth, nodded to the others, and left the kitchen for the war room, leaving Fergus and Charles to tidy up the kitchen.

  “We are talking child trafficking, right, Charles?”

  “That would be my guess. I hate to grill the children because they’re so young, and they have been traumatized. They’ll probably have to undergo years of therapy as they grow and mature. I don’t know about you, Ferg, but I’m ready to blame the parents here. Considering their professions, their dedication to their careers, they never should have brought children into their world. I’m all for love and family, but look where their children are. It’s just pure dumb luck that they ended up with us. Think about the other side of that coin.

  Just think about that!” Charles said angrily as he got up from the table.

  “I am thinking about that, mate, and I’m with you. For now, let’s just be grateful the children are safe with us. I wonder if the parents even know they’ve gone missing. For all we know, they might be totally clueless. Which doesn’t say much for their parenting skills. What do we do now?”

  “Wait for the kiddies to wake up. Make them some breakfast and hope we can get some information out of them without scaring them half to death. I was wondering, Ferg. Do you think we should call in Avery?”

  “I don’t see how it could hurt. If you plan on asking him to come out here to the farm, ask him to bring one of his female operatives with him. The children react differently to a female presence, a motherly type if he has someone like that on his payroll.”

  While Fergus cleared the table and cleared off the counter, Charles called the old spy and gave him the current rundown, asking about the availability of a motherly female operative to relate to the children. “We think it’s child trafficking, Avery. You’re usually up on all of that. What if anything have you heard coming out from the dark side?”

  Rarely if ever did Charles hear any kind of emotion in the old spy’s voice, but he was hearing it now. So was Fergus, who stopped rattling the dishes in the sink as he, too, listened.

  The fine hairs on the back of Charles’s neck moved. He waited. Fergus inched closer to the table.

  “Where have you been of late, Sir Charles? Aren’t you keeping up with the news? I know you and the ladies have been busy, but you do need to come up for air now and again. What you just told me works into a child-trafficking gang that is so monstrous the different agencies can’t keep up with them. They nail one person, and three more sprout up to take their place. And those they manage to catch are just hired bodies to do the transportation. They get paid and head off into the sunset or to the next call. They get paid by the head. In other words, by the child. It’s a big ring, Sir Charles. It sounds to me like you fell into the inside track by pure dumb luck. I’ll be out there as soon as I can clear my decks.

  “And I know the perfect operative to bring with me. I use her constantly because she’s the grandmotherly type, and no one gives her a second glance. Children love her. Sit tight, I’ll be there before you know it.”

  Charles bit down on his lower lip, a frown building on his brow. “As Jack would say, I didn’t see that coming. I Don’t remember seeing or hearing anything in regard to child trafficking. What about you, Ferg?” Fergus shook his head as he hung the dish towel on the handle of the oven door.

  “We watch the news every night. How did that get past us? Jack or Ted and Maggie would have said something.”

  Abner appeared in the doorway and said, “I’m checking the center for missing and exploited children right now, and from what I can tell, these three particular kids are not on that list. I’ve looked at Polly Klaas’s and John Walsh’s Web sites. Thousands of kids, but so far, not our three. Something needs to be done about this!” he said, jabbing his finger at what was on his computer screen. “I just had to come up here and tell you that, and to see if Jack was up and mobile.”

  Charles shared Avery Snowden’s news. “Avery’s on his way and should arrive soon.”

  “Did I hear my name mentioned just now?” Jack said as he shuffled into the kitchen and headed straight for the coffeepot.

  “You did hear that right. Drink your coffee and we’ll bring you up to speed. You look terrible, by the way. How do you feel?” Charles asked.

  “I’ve felt better. The pain is gone, so that’s all I care about. I feel sluggish, but I think a shower and shave will have me back up and running shortly. Any new news?”

  Jack listened and didn’t say a word until Cyrus reminded him it was time to go out. Fergus opened the door, and the big dog scooted out. His only comment was, “What the hell is Snowden talking about? There hasn’t been anything on the news. I keep the cable news on twenty-four/seven. I’d remember something that serious. He is in the United States, isn’t he?”

  “I would assume so since he said he would be here shortly. Take your coffee and head upstairs and take your shower. I want you alert when he gets here.”

  Cyrus bounded into the room and waited for his treat before he galloped after Jack.

  Charles threw his hands in the air just as Harry roared into the courtyard on his Ducati.

  “I’m thinking you might need to start cooking again, mate.” Fergus guffawed.

  “I’m thinking you’re wrong. Harry is a no-breakfast guy, and Jack won’t want anything. Trust me. A fresh pot of coffee will do. You might want to boil some water in case Harry wants tea.”

  Fergus muttered something under his breath that Charles couldn’t hear. He shrugged as Harry flopped down across the table from Charles. He waited, his gaze expectant.

  “Jack is taking a shower. He’s sluggish but pain free. I’ll bring you both up to date when he joins us. Avery is on his way out here. The children are still sleeping. There was activity last night. Would you like some toast, tea, some melon?”

  “Tea is fine.”

  The little group talked about everything and nothing as they waited for the others to join them. The bottom line was there were no rules when it came to finding the other missing children that had been warehoused with Carrie and her siblings.

  “What I’m not understanding is where are the parents of those children? Are they orphans, kids in foster care whose caretakers just do it for the money and not report the kids if they go missing? What about the schools? Or are the kids homeschooled? Carrie said they were young like her and Emily but that Andy was the youngest. Most of them, if not all, are girls, at least according to Carrie. Sold to perverts and dirty old men,” Abner snarled. “I’d just like to get my hands on one of them for five minutes. Five minutes!” he bellowed.

  “We don’t need five minutes. Put me in a room with them, and all I need is five seconds,” Harry said.

  “I hope it comes to that. Scum of the earth is what those sickos are,” Abner said before he went back to what he was doing.

  Jack entered the kitchen just as the huge outside gates to Pinewood opened to admit Avery Snowden and his motherly operative.

  Introductions were made before Cyrus escorted Margie Chambers to the second floor via the staircase off the back kitchen. He returned almost immediately to take up his position next to Jack, who was drinking coffee.

  “Let’s get to it!” Avery said.

  Ten minutes later, everyone looked at everyone else, their expressions helplessly blank.

  “We have the inside track, so to speak,” Charles said. “But the kids are young and are not big on remembering details. We shouldn’t expect much of anything from them further.”

  “That’s what Margie is for. She used to be a teacher in her othe
r life. She’ll have the kids draw from memory. She brought all the tools of her trade with her. That’s where the information will come from. Margie knows her business,” Snowden said.

  Just then the phone in the center of the table rang. It was Maggie, alerting them that she, Ted, and Espinosa were heading back out to Apple Avenue to talk to the neighbors about the Bannons. She finished up with, “Dennis sent a text earlier saying he thinks he’s onto something. He left half an hour ago to check out a senior development where he thinks Aunt Betty resides. He said he checked at least fifty locations last night, and none of them seemed like a place that someone like Aunt Betty would fit in. And, the ones he checked out do not allow small children except on Sunday afternoons. The Granite Hill Gardens development is geared to people fifty and over. He says it’s just a gut feeling, but he’s going to run with it.”

  “How is he going to find someone named Betty with no last name? How many houses or apartments are there in Granite Hill Gardens, did he say?” Jack asked.

  “He didn’t say, Jack. Dennis is resourceful, you know that. If Aunt Betty lives there, he’ll find her. Okay, I’ll report in when we’re heading back.”

  “I suggest we retire to the war room. I’ll leave cereal out for the kiddies and some fruit. Miss Margie can handle that and whatever else she plans. Anyone have any questions?” When none were forthcoming, Charles settled a box of corn flakes and bananas on the counter along with three bowls and spoons. He led the parade out to the secret staircase that would take them down to the war room.

  Fergus turned on the overhead light. As one, the men saluted Lady Justice, then took their seats at the table. “Seems like everyone has a job but me and Harry. What do you want us to do, Charles?”

  “Harry said you both have contacts with some of the agencies, people who like to . . . um . . . brag about how important they are. If you think you can worm something out of them that will help us, go for it. Or you might want to arrange a face-to-face. I always find people are more forthcoming when there is an actual dialogue going on. Your call, boys.”

  Jack looked at Harry, who shrugged. “I say we head to the dojo, get the names and numbers, then go to the BOLO Building and work from there. We’ll have to take my car since Cyrus will be with us unless you want to take the cycle and meet me there.”

  “I’ll meet you there.” Cyrus raced to the steps that would take him out to the main floor, where he saw the children eating their breakfast. When no one paid any attention to him, he threw back his head and howled at this strange event. Cooper yipped as much as to say, Get over yourself.

  In the car, Cyrus buckled up and settled down for the long ride into the District.

  The ride into town was uneventful. Jack, his thoughts racing, with every possibility under the sun concerning the children working its way through his mind, kept his eyes on Harry, who was directly ahead of him.

  Ninety minutes later, the hydraulics of the gate hissed to life. Cyrus bounded forward to the kitchen, where the treats were, and waited. Jack dutifully handed one out. “Let’s work here at the kitchen table, Harry.” Harry nodded to show he was okay with that; phone calls could be made from anywhere. The real trick was going to be getting the braggarts to agree to a face-to-face.

  “Piece of cake, Harry. Those guys are so scared of you, they’ll do whatever you want them to do.” Harry beamed at the compliment.

  It only took half an hour to nail down four fifteen-minute meetings starting at a quarter till twelve.

  “Now what do we do until it’s time to leave?” Harry grumbled.

  “We could head out to Apple Avenue to see if Maggie and the guys need any help. Or we can sit here and twiddle our thumbs.”

  “Let’s go!” Harry said, jumping to his feet.

  Outside, Jack voiced a question that was bothering him. “Harry, do you really think Snowden’s operative is going to get anything out of the kids that will help us?”

  “She looked pretty capable to me. I’d say yes. Back in the day, Lily was like that. She could draw the story better than she could verbalize it. Yoko thinks she’s a genius. The truth is, all kids do that. I read up on it.”

  “Well then, okay.”

  * * *

  Back at Pinewood, Miss Margie, as Margie told the kids to call her, moved her charges to the dining room, where she unpacked the large canvas bag she’d brought with her. “We’re going to draw this morning. Your pictures don’t have to be perfect. That means there is no right or wrong. I’ll say something, then you draw it. Here is the first thing I want you to remember and draw for me. When Aunt Betty lost you, draw me a picture of the place the people took you to. Draw as many stick figures as you can remember. Can you do that?”

  The girls set to work, while Andy fidgeted in his chair. “I don’t want to color.”

  “Because he can’t stay in the lines,” Emily chirped.

  “Oh, Andy, I don’t care about staying in the lines. That’s not important to me. I just want you to color for me. Pick whatever color you want, and if you want to draw something different, that’s okay, too.”

  The little boy reached for a purple crayon. He opened his sketch pad and set to work. “Mommy likes purple,” he said as he started to scribble on his pad.

  “Use as many pages as you need. Tell me the whole story,” Margie said playfully.

  The game was on as the children rushed to fill the pages for Miss Margie’s approval and the promise of hanging the best on the refrigerator along with a huge gold star.

  Margie watched the children carefully. There was almost a frenzy to the way Carrie and Emily were drawing. Andy, on the other hand, seemed intent only on covering the entire paper in front of him with his purple crayon.

  Thirty minutes passed, and the girls were still going full bore, flipping the pages in the sketch pad to a clean sheet. A sick feeling settled in the pit of Margie’s stomach.

  Another fifteen minutes went by before Margie called a halt. “That’s enough for now. Let’s go outside and take a walk. Maybe we can pick some flowers for Sir Charles to put on the table when he serves lunch.”

  Andy hopped off his chair and ran to the door, where Cooper was waiting for him. The strange, mystical dog allowed the little boy to hug him and tickle his ears.

  “Do you have a dog or pet at home, Andy?”

  “No. Daddy said we aren’t old enough to take . . . to take care of them. Emily had a goldfish, but it went to sleep on top of the water.”

  “Uh-huh. Let’s not go there, Andy. Come along, children, it’s a beautiful day outside.”

  Carrie remained in her chair. “I’ll stay here so no one takes our pictures. You should never leave anything behind; you have to keep it safe.”

  “There’s no one here who will take your pictures, Carrie. We can close and lock the door when we leave. Will that work for you?”

  “Mommy would say no, that’s not all right,” Emily said. Carrie’s head bobbed up and down.

  “I promise nothing will happen to your drawings. No one will see them. Come along now. Watch, I’m locking the door, and I’m putting the key in my pocket. If you like, we can ask Cooper to stay here and guard the room. Will that work for you?”

  “I guess so,” Carrie said.

  Cooper seemed to know what he was supposed to do without being told. He stretched out across the doorway and closed his eyes.

  Outside, as Margie steered her little group down a flower-bordered path, stopping as Andy pulled off flower heads with no regard to the stem, she asked questions in a tone of voice that was neither harsh nor threatening. “Tell me what Aunt Betty looks like. You go first, Emily.”

  “Sometimes she’s pretty. She has lots of clothes. In two closets. When she picks us up, she wears her white hair. She has brown hair, too.”

  “Red!” Andy chimed in. “Curly like mine.”

  “Do you know where she lives? Like the numbers on her house or mailbox?” All three children shook their heads.

  Andy stopp
ed on the path. “She lives in a house.”

  “Wonderful!” Margie said, putting as much enthusiasm in her voice as she could.

  “Why does your Aunt Betty have a lot of clothes? Does she like to get dressed up?”

  “We’re not supposed to talk about Aunt Betty,” Carrie said.

  “Oh, I didn’t know that, Carrie. I’m sorry. I just thought if we could find her, it would make it easier for us to find your mom and dad.”

  Carrie made a face. “She lost us. She left us at the mall, and those people took us.”

  “Maybe someone took your Aunt Betty the way they took you, and that’s why she lost you. I bet that’s what happened.”

  “No one can steal Aunt Betty. She has a gun in her purse,” Emily said, disgust at Margie’s suggestion written all over her little face.

  “I want to go home,” Andy started to wail as he plopped down on the path.

  Margie dropped to her knees beside the little boy. “And we all want to take you home, but we don’t know where you live. We thought Aunt Betty could help us. Do you know anyone at all who can help us find your parents? What do they do? What’s their job, do you know?”

  “It’s secret,” Emily said.

  “We don’t know, our parents never talk about it to us,” Carrie said.

  “Can we go back now? I’m thirsty,” Andy blubbered.

  “Of course we can, little man,” Margie said cheerfully. “Come along, girls.”

  Margie used up ten minutes in the kitchen pouring glasses of orange juice for the kids while she looked for a small vase to put the flowers in.

  “Ready?”

  The kids remained silent as they trudged behind Margie back to the dining room, where she made a big production of opening the lock and motioning for Cooper to lead the way, which he did. She made another production out of rummaging in her carryall for the big gold stars she planned to attach to the kids’ artwork.

  “Who wants to go first?” No one responded. “Well, then, since you’re the oldest, I guess you go first, Carrie. Tell me what your drawings mean.”