The Case of the Disappearing Co-Eds - 4. Chapter 4

Four of Joe’s ‘consultants’ occupied two tables inside the restaurant. Four others strolled up and down the street in front of the bistro. Four more patrolled the alley next to the building. The only exit from the store, besides the main entrance, led to this alley, and the men hid in the shadows.

Ken, Joe, and the sheriff sat in an unmarked vehicle directly across the street from the main entrance. Several other cars were parked at various points within yards of the restaurant.

Exactly at 7:00 PM Ahmed drove up in his late model BMW and gave his keys to the valet. Joy was supposed to meet him at the restaurant, but Ahmed was accompanied by a beautiful woman. She was old enough to be his mother, and she might well have been. Without a doubt, she came from the Middle East.

Much to the chagrin of the police and the ‘consultants,’ Ahmed ordered for himself and the woman. By the time their entrees were served, Joy still had not appeared. Ken became alarmed. He called Tom.

“Joy hasn’t shown up yet, and Ahmed is practically finished eating. Check if she’s on campus and call me right back.”

Tom and George ran to Joy’s dorm, where they found Carol.

“Have you seen Joy tonight?” George asked.

“Yes indeed,” Carol said. “She was dressed to kill and looked absolutely gorgeous. Last I saw her she was on her way to meet her Arab prince.”

“When was that?” Tom asked.

“A good two hours ago.”

The boys called Ken right back. “She left two hours ago,” Tom said. “It should only have taken her twenty minutes or so to get to the restaurant.”

“Shit, shit, shit!” Ken cursed under his breath. “The bastard must have gotten wind of this sting. That’s bad enough, but the co-ed can now be added to the list of the missing.”

******

The last time Maurie delivered food to apartment B1 at 417 East 33rd Street, Ahmed opened the door a little too wide. He suspected that the delivery man might have seen the three women sitting on the floor, gagged, and bound. From the speed with which Maurie ran off, he became convinced of it. One of his henchmen followed the hapless Maurie home, but he locked and bolted his door. All the sex-slaver could do was to wait for him to leave the apartment. He was inside for no more than five minutes, when he dashed out. The slaver ran after him, but Maurie ran into a police station. He was out in just a few minutes. When he reached his front door, a strong arm encircled his neck and broke it. He died instantly. The assassin dragged the body into the apartment and disembowelled him.

Every time Ahmed patrolled the halls of the university, looking for another victim, one particular co-ed would always flirt with him. One day he stopped her and engaged her in conversation. After chatting for a few minutes, he asked her if she would have lunch with him in the cafeteria. She accepted without hesitating.

While they were eating lunch he said, “You’re so beautiful. Would you honour me by having dinner with me one night soon?”

“Of course I will, but I must tell you. There are two brothers nosing around asking a lot of questions about the disappearance of those co-eds. They seem to think that you had something to do with it. I said that I’d go out with you no matter what because you were so handsome. They and my roommates warned me not to go out with you.” Joy broke out laughing. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“Utterly,” Ahmed laughed with her. “What are the names of the two students?”

“They’re brothers, Tom and George Vincente-Hall.”

“I’ll have to find them and tell them what jerks they are.”

“I told them that already, but you can tell them again,” Joy said. She could not stop laughing.

Ahmed and Joy agreed to meet at ‘The Old Union Hotel,’ on Friday evening at 7 PM.

Ahmed now suspected that the New York City police department was alerted to his operation and that two students here in Binghamton might be on to him also. He knew one more thing for sure. That silly female, Joy, was going to boast about their date all over the campus. He had no doubt that the police would lay a trap. He had to alter his plans drastically.

He called his mother in New York and asked her to please come up to Binghamton on Friday. He said he missed her and wanted to take her out to dinner. No mother could resist an invitation like that one.

On the evening of her big date, Joy left the dorm and waited out front for her Uber driver. From out of nowhere a very strong man slapped a wet rag over her nose. She was asleep at once, and he dragged her into a waiting car. He drove far out into deserted territory until he arrived at an old farmhouse long since abandoned. The man lugged Joy into the house. He gagged her, bound her, and threw her into a room with six other snivelling young women.

******

“We’ve been had,” Ken announced to Joe and Chief O’Conner. “He came here with an older woman, perhaps someone from his country. He’s laughing in our faces. Somewhere in the vicinity of Binghamton, six women, maybe seven, are being held captive, waiting to be shipped to God knows whereas sex slaves. We’ve got to find them before they’re moved to a different location.”

“He must know that our sons were nosing around campus and that they suspect him,” Joe said. “I’ll be right back.”

He got out of the car and made a few phone calls. When he returned, he said to Ken, “My ‘consultants’ have been re-deployed.”

“We can put up roadblocks throughout the entire area,” O’Conner said. “We’ll nail them if they try to move the girls.”

“No,” Joe said. “If they’re somewhere nearby, say in an abandoned building, out in the middle of nowhere, I’d guess they would remove the girls by helicopter.”

“That’s a good thought,” O’Conner said. “We can alert air traffic control to alert us to any helicopter traffic which has not filed a flight plan.”

“That might be like looking for a needle in a haystack, but it’s all we’ve got,” Ken lamented.

******

Tom and George had been socializing in the student union for about an hour when Tom’s cell phone rang. It was Joe.

“Listen,” he said. “Ahmed second guessed us, so we’re pretty sure that he knows you two guys were closing in on his identity. I want you to get out of the dorm immediately and go to our room in the motel where Ken and I are staying. My men will be better able to protect you there.”

“But…” Tom started to say.

“Don’t argue with me. Just do as I say.”

“Sure, why not? At least George and I can make love there. Our dorm room is overcrowded as you know.”

The brothers packed an overnight bag and ran across the street. As soon as they got into the motel room, they stripped and showered. After they dried off, they fell on one of the beds in a sixty-nine position. As their pleasure increased, they completely forgot that their lives were in danger.

******

At about two in the morning, silent hands began to open the door to Tom and George’s dorm room. He didn’t get very far. Even more silent hands put a rope around his neck, while other silent hands tied up his wrists. The silent ‘consultants’ took the intruder to a room across the street in the very motel where Tom and George lay asleep, basking in the afterglow of wonderful lovemaking.

Once safely in their room, two of Joe’s most trusted ‘consultants’ confronted the would-be assassin.

“Where are the girls being kept?” one of them asked. He was met with silence.

“Tell us where,” the other ‘consultant’ urged “or you’re a dead man.”

The bearded, ugly slaver spat in the face of one of his captors.

“So,” he said. “If I don’t tell you, I’m dead, and if I do tell you, I’m dead. I don’t seem to have much incentive to tell you anything.”

“I figured you’d say something like that, so try understanding this. Do you remember Desert Storm? I was captured and spent a year in an Irani prison. I learned every act of torture you guys ever dreamed up, and it wasn’t pretty. It would give me great pleasure to demonstrate. When we’re through with you, you will beg for us to kill you, but we’ll continue with the torture. Your best alternative will be to tell us what we want to know.”

Mohammed Bin Ibrahim showed fear for the first time since his capture. These were not police, constrained by foolish laws; these were mercenaries who would not stop at endless torture. He strained at the ropes which bound him, but he was tied up professionally. The ropes were too tight and too unyielding.