Page 104 of Knights Game

“Get Alek or Vlad on the phone,” I say, “this was a fucking set-up.”

“Hello,” Roman calls into the dark container. “Is anyone alive in there?” Pulling his phone out and turning on the torch he moves some of the bodies closest to the door gently out of the way.

Levi holds his arm in front of his nose. “No way anyone could still be alive in that.”

I follow Roman, turning on my own phone light and step into the shipping container, Levi behind me. The space is thankfully cold, making the putrid smell slightly more bareable. But even so, it takes everything in me to stop the gag.

The bodies have been laid out close to the main doors, a large white piece of tarpaulin hanging up, splitting the container in half.

Roman pauses in front of the white plastic and turns towards us holding his fingers to his lips and points to his ears. We all stand frozen, listening intently. A small sound comes from behind the white material. A sob.

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” Roman says softly. “You’re safe now.”

“We are going to move the curtain out the way, there are three of us here. All of us are men, but we won’t hurt you,” Levi says. “We want to help you.”

The stone-cold bastard has a heart after all. I guess everyone has their limits and human trafficking is his.

Roman reaches up and yanks at the material, the sound of ripping as it is pulled from the makeshift railing. “Fuck.” Roman’s voice is small, and it takes a moment to register the scene.

Survivors, a quick scan across their filthy, pale and malnourished faces suggests that there are about fifteen. All in different states of distress and illness.

Rome steps forward to crouch by a young woman’s body that is slouched against the wall, her eyes closed, her scantily covered body bruised. He places his fingers by her neck feeling for a pulse.

“Alive,” he says, glancing over.

“I think they all are, barely.” Levi says, scanning their terrified faces.

“Can you understand us?” I say, bending down but keeping my distance. The girls closest to the curtain shrink away, crawling towards the others that are huddled in the corner.

Their ages range from what I guess to be early teens to late twenties.

“I’d heard rumours that they were trafficking, but Jesus.” I rub my jaw, the rubber gloves creating friction against my stubble.

“This is fucked up,” Levi says.

“Get Duchess. Maybe seeing another woman might help,” Roman says, taking another step in, but just like with me they cower away.

As I exit the container, I hear her before I see her.

“Where did the shipment come from?” Duchess asks, her voice calm, firm and fucking terrifying. Her small hand grips a huge knife she’s holding at the jugular of the driver.

“Please,” he pleads. “I don’t know anything. I just unloaded the container from the ship and was told to bring it here. I swear, miss.”

“Fucking liar.” She yanks his hair pulling his head back exposing more of his neck.

“No, no, miss.”

“Where did they come from?”

“I d-don’t know.” The guy pisses himself, and I jump down from the truck.

“Are any of them alive?” she asks, turning her attention from the poor bastard sobbing on his knees to me.

“Some. They’re terrified, we think seeing you may help.”

She nods. I expect her to let the man go, but her hand moves quickly, severing the skin and jugular vein in one quick motion. Blood spurts down the man’s high-visibility vest and blue shirt. Onto the filthy, muddy floor, where it mixes with the dirt and water.

She nicked it perfectly, the blood spraying onto her white suit, splashing her face.

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