Page 55 of Code Name: Michelangelo

I thought back to that first day and seeing people being moved out of a container lorry and into a warehouse surrounded by more trucks. It was the same day we’d witnessed a woman being taken to a compound believed to belong to the Calabrian Syndicate.

“While what we saw made me suspicious, what we discovered earlier today confirmed my fears.” He turned to Doc.

“What Sundance is alluding to is a set of overhead footage of what we strongly suspect is a human trafficking operation.”

“What did you discover earlier today?” I asked.

“The woman,” Sundance said, looking straight at me.

“Dead?”

He nodded. “We’re waiting on a coroner’s report, but based on her visible injuries, I suspect it’ll say she was beaten to death.”

Undoubtedly, gang-raped too, not that it was necessary for me to vocalize it.

“Brand, Penelope, I’m pulling the plug on your proposed op,” said Doc. “Until we know better what we’re up against, I cannot, in good conscience, allow either of you to go in undercover.”

“Understood,” I said.

“Yes, sir,” Pen said at the same time.

Admittedly, I was relieved that the decision to abandon the op was taken out of Pen’s and my hands. I was especially grateful I no longer had to fear her involvement.

“We’re going to give the two of you time away from the camp to discuss whether or not you want to continue training,” said Flick. “I’ve been called to return to the UK for a few days, so the timing is good in that regard.”

“What happens now?” I asked.

“Pack up your gear. Doc has been kind enough to provide air transport, so our return to New York will be expedited,” Sundance responded.

I glanced at Penelope, who seemed subdued.

“How long do you need to pack?” I asked, hoping she’d engage.

She turned to me as if I’d jarred her out of a fog. “Ten minutes?”

Pen was clearly as anxious to leave as I was. For me, it meant being together again. I hope she felt the same way.

The plane transporting us back to the city was considerably smaller than the one we’d taken from LA. All five of us flew together, but when we reached JFK, Doc went in one direction to catch a flight home while Flick went to the international terminal to return to London.

We offered to share a ride to Manhattan with Sundance, but he said he had another stop to make on the way, which meant Penelope and I were finally alone.

Once seated in the town car I’d arranged to meet us, I found myself unsure what to do, especially given her silence.

“Talk to me, Butterfly,” I said, putting my hand on hers.

“I didn’t want to do it,” she said, barely loud enough for me to hear her. “I hoped something would happen, and we wouldn’t have to go.”

I scooted closer and gathered her in my arms. Seconds later, I felt the dampness from her tears.

“You’re feeling guilty.”

She nodded.

“Logically, you know your wish had nothing to do with the woman’s death.”

“My brain knows so, but the rest of me, not so much.”

I eased back and raised her chin with my fingers so I could look into her eyes. “I’m also relieved.”

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