Page 73 of Maddy's Justice

“My way is far more humane. We don’t torture them. In fact, in America, Canada and Europe they live well. Except for those who end up with the Russians. They’re the absolute worst.”

The auction went on for the full ten hours. The island’s owner was so experienced and so in tune with buyers, he could make an accurate, educated guess of each purchase and who had made the winning bid.

In most groups there were two or three white girls from Europe or North America. These were almost always bought by Arab oil money. Blondes could easily fetch a million dollars or more. Even the Russian and Chinese Triads stayed out of these. If an Arab oil sheikh wanted a blonde, white girl, he would not be outbid.

The island’s owner made three purchases. Mid-level Latina girls that were had for a more modest price. They would be put into his pipeline by sending them into Mexico. They would spend several weeks in a Cartel brothel, then, it would be their turn to entertain the island’s guests.

During the auction, Odessa had brought the two men a meal. When they finished eating, they continued watching the auction until the end.

“Nothing like the two Persian girls in this batch,” the guest said.

“Yes, that’s right, you were here when that was done. No, I have yet to see anything comparable.”

“Where are they? Still here?”

“Oh, yes. No brothel for them. No, they’ll have a comfortable life while they are with me.”

“Tomorrow, are you going to wait for the shipment to come in?” his guest asked.

“Yes, I’m staying for a few days. I have some special guests coming this weekend. South American businessmen. I don’t like to be here when the shipment of drugs comes in, but it should be all right.”

“Well, I have a full day tomorrow. I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Would you like Odessa to get you some company?”

“Sure, why not. In fact, make it a double. Then I’ll really sleep well.”

“Good morning,” the island’s owner said to his guest. “Must’ve had a busy night. The girls wear you out a bit?”

“Out like a log,” he replied. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

They were standing under the awning leading from the hangar to the tarmac. His guest had slept late and missed both the arrival and departure of the cartel’s drug shipment. He had driven down to the landing strip in one of the many four-wheelers available around the premises.

The two men shook hands and the owner handed his guest a sheet of paper.

“Is this a match with your list?”

He quickly scanned it over and replied, “Yes, this is it. Will I get it all?”

“No problem. Evan and his men will have it loaded in a short while.”

“Good, good,” he repeated. He looked at his watch and said, “If I can take off by noon, I’ll be at the landing strip near Atlanta before three. I’ve got a meeting downtown Atlanta at four-thirty.”

“You’ll make that, no problem. What’s the meeting about?”

“I’m scoring another class action suit. It’s to sue a drug manufacturer. A maker of oxy. Can you believe it? Is America a great country or what? We can fly opioids, meth, heroin and fentanyl in from Mexico and sue our American competition at the same time.”

“America is a great country,” the island’s owner laughed and agreed.

“We’re done,” they heard Evan say from the jet’s doorway.

The island’s owner put out his right hand and said, “Well, Troy, always good to see you. You really should come down for a little sport hunting.”

“Maybe someday,” Troy McGovern replied.

TWENTY-FIVE

Marc got out of his SUV and accepted the ticket from the parking attendant. The second attendant had already opened the passenger door for Maddy. Holding hands, they walked toward the front entrance of the Corwin Mansion. As they did, Marc looked around at the large number of cars already there.

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