Sold Into Freedom - 7. Chapter 7

Andrew lifted his head and saw the yacht ahead. Though dim, he could see the ship's sidelights and the stern light glowing softly.

Dante noticed the movement of their guest and turned to see what had caught the writer's attention. They were close. "Andrew, I can't let you see any more. I have to put this hood on you until we get aboard. Are you going to give me a hard time?"

"No, D. Go ahead." Andrew's heart began to beat rapidly. He took a deep breath as the young man slipped a cloth hood over his head. I need to show him I'm going to cooperate.

"I appreciate that. Don't worry. We'll guide you onto the swim platform, and once you are further inside, we'll remove the hood." Dante tightened the drawstring enough to secure the covering but not enough to constrict the writer's neck. "We'll take care of your writing stuff for you."

"Thanks." Andrew sat quietly. He felt a rising panic but did his best to remain calm. He thought about what he was about to experience and wondered how the people in this world had ended up in it. Can I get any of them to tell me?

After several minutes, the inflatable boat's engine was cut. Andrew could hear the water lapping against the side of the larger vessel as they drew alongside, and he could feel its presence.

"Okay, Andrew. I'm getting aboard and then T will help you up, I'll grab your hand and we'll get you aboard. That clear?"

"Yes." Andrew started to get up, steadied by two strong hands gripping either bicep. He winced at the strength of the hands. "Thanks."

The man behind him grunted and guided him forward. Andrew moved in response to the gentle push, shuffling his feet. He reached out, waiting for D to grab hold.

Dante latched onto Andrew's hands. He and T helped the hooded, stumbling writer onto the swim platform.

T handed Dante the plastic bag containing paper and pencils. "Here's his stuff."

"Thanks. You get the boat stored. Let me know when we can get underway. The other guests are aboard and we need to get going."

"Consider it done, D."

Andrew stood silently during this. He now rested against a wall where he felt secure. He jumped a little when gripped by the right arm again.

"Okay, Andrew. Let's get inside." Dante tugged on the writer to get him moving. All of this is such a pain in the ass. I don't know why Mr. Black would bother with this asshole. But, as I'm often told, I should worry about my job and leave the whys to him!

Dante moved the writer down the passageway and into a small unused cabin. There was a muffled buzzing. "Hold on, Andrew. I need to take this call." He pulled his phone from his pocket while pushing the guest onto a chair.

"Thanks. Make sure they have taken the refreshments in. Right. Yeah, I'm going to bring our guest up." After tapping 'end,' Dante pressed speed dial and listened until Mr. Black answered. "Sir, Mr. MacCabe is aboard. Yes, sir, I'll escort him up now. I'll let the captain know. Right away, sir."

Dante released that call and made another. "Captain. Mr. Black asked me to let you know we can get underway. Yes, sir, thank you."

After pushing the mobile back into his pocket, Dante turned his attention to the silent writer. "I'm sorry for the delay. I'll get this hood off. Mr. Black is ready to see you."

Nimble fingers undid the knot and loosened the drawstring. Dante pulled the hood off.

The cool air felt good on Andrew's face. "Thanks. You're a busy man." The writer pushed a hand through his messy hair.

"I am. I'll take you up to meet your host now." Dante dropped the hood onto a small table and moved toward the door. "Let's go. We have a schedule to keep and we're a little behind." Dante held out the plastic bag he'd had tucked under his arm. "This is yours."

"Okay. Thank you." Andrew gripped the bag. "I wonder if maybe sometime before I leave, you would talk to me for a bit."

Dante pushed the writer out the door. "Let's go. Turn right please."

The two men walked along the passage.

"Talk to you. For what?" Dante stopped when they reached the stairs. "Up, please."

Andrew started up the curving staircase. "I'd just like to know how you got here. Ask a bit about what you do and what goes on."

"Listen, I don't like that you're here. I don't want to chat to you about myself, and I don't want to be in some book."

"Okay. It was just going to be general. I wouldn't name you or mention where we met or anything." Andrew spoke softly. "I don't want to upset you."

They'd arrived at the next deck. "Go left. Mr. Black is waiting."

Giving up on talking to D, Andrew continued in silence.

"Stop. Wait here." Dante opened a door and went inside. He returned a moment later. "Come in."

The lighting was soft, and the interior of the room was dim.

"Mr. Black, this is Andrew MacCabe." Dante stood back while Andrew moved into the room.

A cultured voice reached them from across the room. "D, thank you. Please bring Mr. MacCabe some refreshments."

"Yes, sir." With that, Dante left, pulling the door shut behind him.

Andrew gazed around the room. It was more spacious than he'd been expecting. But I only get to ride around on yachts the size of an aircraft carrier a few times a week.

"Please, Mr. MacCabe, join me here. The auction will begin shortly. I'm sure you have some questions."

Andrew could see a man rise from a chair, but the dim light made it difficult to make out details. Right, let's do this. He made his way toward the man he assumed was Mr. Black. "Thank you. I do."

The chair meant for him was barely visible, and Andrew gingerly felt the seat before sitting down.

"Beside you is a small reader's lamp. You can use this to write. I'm afraid I cannot let you see me more than you have. I'm sure you can understand that."

"I do understand." Andrew found the small battery-operated reading light next to him. It was attached to a clipboard. "This is great, thank you. I'll just get out some paper and a pencil."

Andrew undid the plastic bag and clipped some paper to the board. He made a few point form notes. Then he looked at Mr. Black. "I do have some questions, but first, I want to say thank you for agreeing to me being here."

The chuckle that came was soft. "I'm still not sure why I agreed. Perhaps to show you while our work is, shall we say, unorthodox, we're not monsters."

Andrew licked his lips. "Some would say you are. While you're obviously cultured and wealthy, you use people, buy and sell them into servitude. That's not how people should live."

Mr. Black was silent for several moments. "I use people? Sell them? This is true. Aren't most people used, Mr. MacCabe? They are held to ransom for their houses, medical bills, and their children's education, are they not? The people I move and sell end up with better lives than the worlds they often come from."

"But you sell them for profit." Swallowing a retort, Andrew forced himself to remain cordial. He leaned toward Mr. Black.

"Yes. We all need to make a living, Mr. MacCabe. I buy certain people and I sell them. They go to nice homes and are clothed and fed. As I mentioned, it is much more than they likely could have expected in their miserable lives."

"You can't honestly believe that? They are used. Overworked, enslaved to use the correct term."

Black chuckled softly. "Enslaved? Mr. MacCabe, I am not a purveyor of farm workers and maids. Which is what I believe you are referring to. In fact, you may be surprised that I agree with you in that case. No, I locate and provide the beautiful. Rare creatures to fulfill the dreams and desires of those who can afford to own another human being. Not everyone can, Andrew."

Only some people want to. Andrew stared at the dark figure. "What happens to the people you sell after?"

"After? After what?"

"After they are no longer desirable. After they are no longer young or pretty?"

Mr. Black was silent briefly. "Well, to be honest, it's not my affair."

"So, once they are sold you wash your hands of them."

"Mr. MacCabe, does the farmer come and ask how you looked after the potatoes you purchased from him?"

"Oh, come on! Potatoes are not people."

The laugh came again. "You don't expect me to call my clients and ask them if they are treating their own property correctly? You're being ridiculous and overly emotional."

Damn, it. He's right. I am being emotional. I need to change direction. "No, you're right. I'm sorry. Let me reword it." Andrew took a breath. "If a client decides he no longer desires someone he purchased, what does he do? Can he resell the goods?"

"He can. Often, they are placed into another auction. You may have seen it or been invited online to one." The host was suddenly silent. "Ah, it's time. The auction is about to begin."

"Thanks. Okay." Andrew scribbled notes furiously.

"Please turn your attention to the screen, Andrew. All the young men you will see have been harvested from the street or sold to us by their families. We look after their medical and dental needs. They go to their new owners in top condition," Mr. Black explained as pictures of the five young men appeared on the screen. They posed in various positions and wore less and less clothing. "Beautiful, are they not?"

Andrew stared at the screen. They are handsome and as perfect as you can get them. Like prize poodles. "They are very beautiful."

Mr. Black smiled. "The first will be the Asian boy. He will fetch the highest price."

"Will he? Why?"

"Andrew, are you being purposely obtuse?"

"Mr. Black, I'm not stupid, but I fail to see why he would. I mean, he's good looking but—"

"He is different from the others, slight, smaller. He will remind them of a child yet he is not. For want of a better term, he is legal."

Andrew stared at the pictures of the first young man, and a wave of nausea washed over him. "Jesus."

"Does that offend you? Tell me, Andrew, what did you expect when you asked to come here?" Black sat back and watched the writer. "I am quite clear in what I do. Did you expect the clients to be good-natured citizens who buy these boys to save them?"

"No … I just …"

"Never thought they'd be sexual deviants? Perverts, monsters?" Mr. Black leaned forward. "What exactly did you think they would be?"

Andrew sat in the darkened room with the obscene salesman and wondered the same thing. Reality is a harsh taskmaster.

They watched three young men be paraded and sold. Several buyers were aboard, but most were far away, watching online—their purchases are made by funds transfers via offshore banks and holding companies.

"Is it difficult to hide the transactions?" Andrew had written pages of notes. He hoped he had sufficient paper.

"It's annoying but not impossible," Mr. Black said. "Rules are always changing in the banking world and the fines for turning a blind eye to money laundering are making banks more diligent. In turn, we become more imaginative."

Black looked at the screen. "This is the final boy. A latecomer to our gathering, I understand. He's from the USA, somewhere on the east coast. He is nice looking, slim in a good way. Someone will have him, I'm sure."

Andrew gazed at the young man who stood awkwardly in a tiny semi-sheer thong. How did you end up here?

⸛

Matt stood in the center of the small room before the cameras. He knew there were others, but they sat back in the shadows unseen. Whispers came to his ears, but they were in a foreign language.

Matt wrapped his arms around himself, wanting more to cover his lower half. He felt exposed and completely alone. They're talking about me. Why did I ever trust Danny? I'm so fucking stupid. Please let me wake up. Let me go home. I swear I'll never complain about Mom again.

"Drop your arms and move around so they can see you," a voice hissed from the darkness.

Matt did as the voice demanded. God, I must look so pathetic. Maybe no one will buy me. He thought about that for a moment. Shit, that could be worse. If no one buys me, what do they do with the leftovers? Fuck! Finding some confidence, he tried to pull himself together and work the camera.

Several minutes later, Dante said, "Okay. All done. Shut it down and pack it up. Matt, you come with me."

Matt stepped off the low platform he'd been standing on. "Where?"

"Just be quiet now and follow me. Let's go." Dante grabbed the young man's bicep. "Move."

Matt stumbled in silence until they returned to the room with the other boys. Dante shoved him inside. "Dress, shoes on. You'll be shipped to your new owners now. I'll be back for you one at a time."

Pressing himself against the wall, Matt felt paralyzed with fear. Shipped? To where? He watched the others dress.

"Matt, hey, you need to get your clothes on." Isao looked up from tying his shoelaces. "Matt! Come on. You don't want to get into trouble."

"Yeah." Blinking away visions of the future, Matt turned his attention to Isao. "Thanks." He bent and began pulling on his clothes.

"Sure." Isao stood up. "Thanks, you know, for being nice. I guess we won't see each other again. So, you take care of yourself, Matt."

Matt was awash with sadness and fear. He nodded. "You too. Take care."

The compartment door swung open. Dante stood there. He pointed at Isao. "You. Let's go."

Isao blinked sadly at Matt and left without another word.

The door closed, and the lock clicked into place.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Horror gripped Matt's heart. It beat faster, and so loudly he felt it might explode. He moaned and stepped back into the corner. No. No. Please. Please.

The others sat on the floor in their clothes, waiting. Matt wanted to wail and scream at them. Why are they so pathetic? He shook his head from side to side. We could fight and take over the boat. He stopped and sighed. No. There are way more of them, and they aren't starving.

The door opened once again. Dante stared at Matt. "Let's go. It's your turn."

"I can go last."

A slit of a smile was on Dante's lips. "You're going now, Matt. Let's go. Do not start now, okay? You don't want to do that."

Matt stared at Dante. He's not my friend. That was a moment of weakness. "Sorry, D. I'm ready to go." The young man spoke with more bravado than he felt. He walked out the door into the passage.

Dante led the newly sold young man to the swim platform, stopping Matt before he could climb into the boat that would take him away. "Hold on."

Matt looked into the boat. Isao sat there, but he looked odd.

"Matt. Drink this." Dante held out a small paper cup.

Looking at the orange contents suspiciously, Matt asked, "What is it?"

Dante sighed. "It will make the trip easier. Fucking drink it. We don't have all fucking day!"

Why am I fighting any of this? Matt took the cup, tipped it to his lips, and swallowed the bitter juice.

Dante gripped the boy's arms and pushed him into the inflatable boat. T helped, and they got Matt seated. The remaining boys were loaded, and the craft quickly drew away from the yacht. It was five in the morning.

A new day was dawning.

⸛

Andrew accepted a cup of coffee and breakfast as they sat in the dim room.

"I hope you feel this was worthwhile, Andrew." Mr. Black said as he sat with the writer.

"It was. I appreciate it and your hospitality."

Black squinted and smiled. "But? I suspect there's a large one. No matter. You wanted the story. You wanted to see it in person. Now you have. And you've judged me and the others in this circle but that can't be helped."

Andrew was perplexed. "Does that matter to you? What I or people like me think about you and your world?"

"Not really. I didn't expect this exposure to our world would change your mind. There are people who think and live differently to you and that will never be right for people like you."

"I can accept differences. What I have trouble with are the victims of your different lives. Those boys you sold, that you profit from, aren't asked, they didn't volunteer."

Black laughed. "Oh, Andrew. There are lions and sheep. We are the lions, and those boys are the sheep. It's always the way and that will never change."

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a server.

"The boat will return in about thirty minutes to take you back to the mainland." The server placed a tray with fresh, fragrant coffee, fruit salad, and croissants on the table. "The croissants are freshly baked."

Andrew smiled up at the young man. "Thanks. I'll try one. And thanks for the travel update too. I'll be ready to go."

"Yes, sir." The waiter smiled and moved away.

"Enjoy your food and coffee, Andrew. I wish you well with your book."

Andrew could make out that Mr. Black rose and politely followed suit as his host took his leave.

"Thank you. I do appreciate you allowing this. I'm not sure I'll succeed but I will try to be as honest as I can when I write about it."

"Oh, I'm sure you will. Farewell. D will take you back."

Andrew watched Black walk away. He sat down slowly, pulled out his notes, and read over his notes by the light of the tiny lamp.

Thirty minutes had passed when Dante found Andrew sitting alone still in the dark. The P.A. flicked on the lights and joined the author, who covered his eyes briefly.

"Sorry, I should have warned you." Dante picked up a fresh pastry and bit into the flaky golden crust.

"They are delicious." Andrew looked up at D.

"Yeah, they are. I love them." The PA chewed and swallowed. "You ready to go?" He poured himself a half cup of lukewarm coffee.

"Yes." Andrew sipped from the dregs in his cup. "Can we talk for a few minutes?"

Dante sighed heavily. "What about, Mr. MacCabe?"

"You. All of this? Where you took those boys."

Dante closed his eyes. "I'm tired. There's nothing to say about my work. And well, those boys went to their new homes."

"Not by choice."

"No, not by choice. Do you live in this world, Mr. MacCabe? It's not pretty. People are bought and sold every day from all walks of life. We're more down-to-earth about it."

"What will happen to them?"

Dante swallowed the last of his croissant with a mouthful of cold coffee. "They will be new toys to rich pricks. They will be beaten, slapped, and humiliated. They will be forced into things they never asked for, or deserve. And then when they are all used up, they will be dumped if they're dead."

"And if they are alive?"

"Then they'll be sold at The Market."

T entered the now bright room. "I'm back. We're ready to go, D."

"Okay. Be right there." Dante looked at Andrew. "Let's get moving. I'm on a tight schedule."

"I'm ready." Andrew got to his feet, holding the plastic bag, and followed D, who strode away. "Wait."

Frustrated, Dante sighed audibly. "What is it now?"

Holding his business card, Andrew tried to push it into Dante's hand. "Please, if you see any of them end up in that place … The Market, will you let me know?"

"I don't run that place or monitor it. Let's go."

"I know you don't. I'm just asking … should you happen to see any of the boys there."

"Fine." Dante snatched the business card and shoved it into the pocket of his cargo shorts. "Don't be holding your breath."

He pushed Andrew onto the swim platform, dropping a hood over his head. "Now, get in the fucking boat."

Once their guest was settled, the rigid rubber craft pulled away from the yacht for the trip back to the mainland.

⸛

At the bed and breakfast, Robert looked at his watch. He should be calling me soon, surely. I'll make another cuppa and watch Breakfast TV.

At six-thirty, his mobile rang, and Robert snatched it up. "Andy?"

"Hi, Dad. Yeah, it's me. I'm here. I'll walk out a bit and meet you near the parking lot."

"Right. I'm on my way. You're okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Tired, that's all," Andrew replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

"Okay. See you in a few minutes."

"Thanks, Dad. See you soon."

After hanging up, Andrew walked to the parking lot to wait for his ride. He sat on a bollard and looked back at the ocean. The birds sang in the trees behind him. He smiled at the young couple in business attire who walked along swinging their toddler between them. The father pushed a stroller that held his leather portfolio, the wheels clicking softly on the pavement.

Off to work and the sitter. Smiling, Andrew said good morning to the young family. It all feels so surreal. And most of us will never know the undercurrent of evil we are only inches away from.

The beep of the rental car's horn brought him to the present as it pulled up beside him. He opened the door and slid into the passenger's seat, grateful again for his father's presence.

Robert turned the car around and left the parking lot. "Are you okay, Andy?" His voice carried a hint of worry.

Andy stared at his father's profile. "I am."

"Are you hungry? Do you want anything?"

Andrew leaned back and scrubbed his face. "You know Dad, right now, I want a shower and a cup of tea in the sunshine."

"All right, Son. We can do that."

"Thanks." Andrew sighed. His longing for solace was palpable as he turned to stare out the window.

****