Seven - The Trader

THE TRADER

From what I read on my father's cellphone the trader appeared very friendly, like a helpful friend to the families of his victims. He arrived under the guise of helping their children get an education and ease the financial burden on the families.

He would take boys and girls from as young as twelve years of age and older for personal pleasure. Assuring the families their children would be safe and even suggested they would return to help the parents later in life. The Trader played the middle man for the notorious group named the Network. But he also ran his own independent side racket within the profitable human trade industry.

It took Jimmy three years to get close enough to the Trader to make a difference. He began to make deals with the Trader's to gain his confidence. Once securing the children he would return them to their families urging them not fall prey to men like the Trader ever again. Jimmy would select trusted village elders to be vigilant watchers while he recruited young fathers as protectors of the villages.

The Trader returned to Aja's village and instead of being the caretaker of the children the elder became the seller of innocence. That same elder sold out Jimmy that second visit leading to a showdown in the red light district on a Brussels street.

It was Aja's father who contacted Jimmy that the Trader returned. He organized a meeting, trying to move quickly so the young girls were not separated before he could intercept the transaction. Unfortunately it took longer than he wanted to get there. The trader of humans played Jimmy and set the trap. As far as Jimmy knew it was just another meeting with one of the sleaziest men on earth.

Jimmy rarely hated another human but this industry began to slowly change him. The once carefree writer travelling the world writing for the wealthy high achievers is now a hardened dweller of the underworld. One must get down and dirty with worms if one is to make a difference.

As disgusting as it could get Jimmy would need to pretend he is as despicable as they come. He learned the lingo and played the part during meetings.

TAXI 1748

The taxi arrived and I jumped in to the dismay of Jean, the cabbie. "Awwww, non."

"Oh, oui!" I sarcastically responded. "Station midi s'il vous plait." (Midi station, if you please).

Jean must have been nearing the end of his overnight shift. He spoke with disdain for me. "Besoin de sortir rapidement de la ville, hein?" (Get out of town quick) That was funny!

I laughed at Jean. "Bruxelles est magnifique. Juste nettoyer les saletés sone." (Just cleaning up beautiful Brussels) Clearly he did not buy my act.

"Hah!" Jean replied with the sound of disbelief in his voice. He repositioned his body and watched the growing morning traffic as he began to drive.

I gazed with wonder at the Grand Place in the heart of Brussels Old Town. From the brochures I knew its history dates back to the eleventh century and is known for being the political and economic center of the city. Blah blah blah! There was an elegance to the city that hid the horrors of forgotten people.

But what city was without these horrors. Certainly not Vancouver with the Downtown Eastside or Los Angeles, with the Wholesale District - Skid Row. Even Paris has its dark sides with any place named "Porte de..." all easily hidden away from those who care not to know.

Even in the midst of this beautiful city came the realization that I had to find a man that treated humans as a commodity. A business transaction. "Just an illusion." I spoke as my hand cleared the condensation from the taxi window. The beauty is just a facade and this angered me. All the time I was hidden away in China calming my mind and I could find no other emotion but anger. I still have a lot to learn. Crap!

I had no time for the sadness and anger I felt. I was on a mission to catch up to the Trader. But do what? Kill again? I sank back into the rear seat of the taxi. Girl, you are in so deep you need to focus.

Jean seemed so unaware of me. He was deeply engaged with other drivers jockeying for turning positions and parking spots. The odd time he would yell, taking other drivers reckless behavior personally. "C'est mon travail, idiot!" (This is my job, idiot!)

Then as the taxi passed a park I yelled to Jean. "Arrêtez!" Jolting the driver from his focused paranoia of other drivers. I needed time in the park to focus.

Jean slammed the breaks skidding to a stop just past the entrance of Egmont Park. "Que se passe-t-il?" (What the hell?)

"Jean, can I call you, Jean?" I tried to be as personable as possible.

"You already have!" Jean stopped and knew he had be found out. What a liar!

I pointed a finger at Jean and exclaimed loudly. "Hah! You do speak English!"

"Yeah yeah, so what's your point?" Jean pulled his cap down over his eyes.

"I need five minutes in the park. Stick around for me and I will take the trash out of your beautiful city. What do you say?" Fair deal, right? I thought it was.

"Non." Jean grunted. "My shift. It is over." He did not want to stick around a minute longer.

"Fifty Euros?" I tried the incentive approach. Okay it could be considered the bribery approach.

"Thank you." Jean took the fifty and gave me back ten Euros. "My shift is over young lady. You may exit my taxi. S'il vous plaît." (If you please)

"Crap! Thanks for nothing, Jean. Maybe I will just let the trash stick around your beautiful city and let the stench linger!" Yeah, I was pissed. I got out of cab 1748 and slammed the door. "Âne!" (Jackass)

After time in the park I chose to walk knowing I had time before the train left for Amsterdam with the slimeball, Trader. The short time in the park stood as a reminder that the beauty in this world is the innocence and it needed to be preserved. I waited at a red signal light for the walk indicator. Then I heard a double honk of a car horn. Then another double honk.

I searched the drivers of the cars waiting at the red traffic light. Then a third double honk and there he was, Jean the cabbie. I pointed at him and he lowered the passenger window. "Get in." I studied the crusty driver! "Get in before I change my mind."

Screw it! I opened the front passenger door and slipped in. The light changed and Jean drove off towards Midi station. "Why did you change your mind, Jean?"

Jean looked at me. "You know my name, I should know yours. And...why are you in my city?" He paused. "The truth!" Like I had lied to him already.

I watched Jean juggling traffic and looking at me. Then I spoke. "My name is Jordan. I am here to clean up some of your visitor trash, let's say."

"Not enough. You were searching for that crazy Canadian. Did you find the man...alive?" Jean needed to know what he was already into.

Okay, he asked. "That Canadian? He is my father and yes he is alive." Then he interupted me.

"Your father? The crazy man was the trash you were looking for?" Jean was very interested now.

"No no no! My father is not crazy and he is not the trash I am hunting." I looked away, he pissed me off.

"He was in a very bad way." Jean spoke with concern. "He looked very bad. I am sorry I did not help."

"He is hurting but is getting help." I looked at Jean. "Thanks."

"So, who are you hunting? The one's who busted your father up?" I could see he did not feel comfortable. "There were more than you can handle, I assure you this!"

"There were six plus the Trader." I continued. "Maybe I can handle it alone...maybe I just believe I can." I am just beginning to see what I am turning into.

"Yeah, I see you are as crazy as your father." Jean raised his head. "Coo coo!" Yeah, maybe so, crusty old man.

I looked at Jean as if to say just watch me and gave an ever so small raise of my nose. I understand my appearance, and while it looked like a disadvantage, I knew it was anything but.

We arrived at Midi Station which was already bustling. Jean stopped his candy apple red colored Renault 5 hatchback. I spoke quickly, "thanks, Jean." Then I rushed into the thickening crowd.

I took a mental note of all the damn closed circuit cameras and moved quickly entering the Midi Station. I know the video could be reviewed later if things go south so I need to find a disguise.

Just inside the station I purchased a red poncho to change my appearance. I began searching the crowd for a six pack and a spare as I purchased a ticket for Amsterdam. With a ticket at least I could pass through security and continue the hunt on the platform.

The local police dressed in navy blue complete with the blue beret and a bulletproof vest were in full force. There's no way I wanted the police involved unless it was totally neccessary. A devious plan formed in my mind. "Divide and conquer, Bitches."

The plan? Get close to the Trader and the guys with the ditzy tourist bit. Then walk away in hopes that one or two would follow. All out one on six would be messy and way too visible. I had the advantage and I can not waste it fighting on the platform.

I easily passed through security having nothing to hide but a plan to eliminate a few men from the streets. Seriously, I truly wanted a quick and brutal death for the six and the Trader but thought better of it. Instead, I wanted to send a message to all the slime in the world of human trade. For that I would need to instill fear.

I walked the platform and caught my first glimpse of the Trader. A friendly looking man and if a person did not know his profession would engage in idle chit chat. The six were attached to his hip as he walked until he motioned for them to scatter. He wanted to talk to a woman and work his charm for a cozy two hour trip to Amsterdam. Oh, he is smooth, the woman quickly gave in to his smile.

Okay you have your playtime with, 'Fun Time Barbie'. I will deal with you soon enough, friendly Pig. I am more than a little disgusted by men like t
he trader using people for his personal gain and pleasure. I hope you will have a lousy trip today, Slimeball!

One bodyguard seemed to be hanging back against the wall behind a large group of travelers looking out for any trouble, I guess. From reading Jimmy's cellphone the trader has made a few close enemies. So the need for his sixpack is real.

Okay, ready, player one? Look stupid girl, you're lost.

"Oh hey, can you help me sir? I think I am on the wrong platform. Oh, I am soooo stupid!" I am not an actress, I know am not very convincing but I had his attention.

"Beat it!" The man turned and continued scanning the scene for any known foes.

Clumsily I opened my backpack and a Tee shirt fell to the tiled floor of the platform. The bodyguard rolled his eyes and as he reached down to pick it up I picked his pocket. Then timed a viscious head butt perfectly, incapacitating the idiot I dubbed, 'Player One'.

I whispered into his ear 'Motherfucker' as I lowered him to the platform and stuffed his cellphone and my shirt back into my backpack. I stood and no one was the wiser.

Ready, Player Two? Too bad, you're gonna hurt even more. Note to self, need to work on your first move, Kiddo! Player One knew something was up. It's all in the approach.

The announcement to stay back from the ledge while the train pulled into the station played in three languages. The passengers were quick to enter and find their seats while Player One leaned up against the concrete wall. I neared the train watching the remaining commuters file in before me.

Behind me I heard a police officer speaking loudly. "Stop, if you please!" The officer held his hand up to delay the departure then addressed me again, "votre billet, mademoiselle." Fuck me, what now?

I slipped the ticket from the pocket of my jeans. "Amsterdam, monsieur."

He checked the ticket. "Oui, Amsterdam. Business or pleasure?"

"School! Amsterdam school of arts. May I board now?" I did not come this far to fail now.

I know confidence sells and the officer capitulated allowing me to board. "Oui. Go." He gave the all clear for the doors to close and the train departed without, Player One.