Page 127 of Come Back To Me

“One of you, is he?” My eyes dart between them both.

Sean seems to wait for Jack’s approval to step closer. Once he gets it with a dip of Jack’s head, he places a tablet on the box.

“These images,” Jack starts. My eyes haven’t left Sean yet. “They’re not for the faint hearted.”

Peeling my eyes to the lit-up screen, I lower my hand, taking a step closer. When I look down, fear stabs my heart. “What am I looking at?” I know what I’m looking at; corpses with body parts missing. A child with a missing eye. A grown man with a slice across his abdomen. “What the fuck is this?”

Jack steps closer, swiping to an image of one of the crates filled to brim. “Organ trafficking.” My eyes don’t leave the screen. “This might look like dark underworld business, but those people you’re looking at, they were sold to the highest bidder; a doctor overseas.”

I’m stunned into silence as I try to let this travesty sink in.

“Those who need money, be it through poverty or wanting a better life, willingly sign up to give away their organs, in exchange for money or safe passage.”

“They willingly signed up for this?”

“Not all of them.” Jack purses his lips. “Thesepeople did. But some are collected from the streets. Provided they don’t drink, don’t smoke or partake in any major drug use, they’re the perfect candidates to be shipped.”

“Perfect candidates?” I ask bewildered. The putrid smell coming from below adds to the bile rising in my throat.

“Through either grooming or social pressures, they’re lead away, and we never see them again. But we know through intel we’ve obtained they’re all auctioned to the highest bidder on the dark web.”

“The highest bidder?” I ask.

Jack nods. “Once they’ve been bought, they’re transported to their buyer.”

My mind whirls. I need to get out of this fucking hut. “And you know where they ship them from?”

Jack frowns. “We knew where thefirstone was being shipped from. Once someone’s bought, they’re taken to where the cargo’s leaving, then they’re moved out of the country.”

My heart stammers, but my hands are cold and clammy.

“Once the organisation’s established itself; they’ll branch out. Find new pipelines. Usually scumbags like this buy big businesses to facilitate more people being shipped; air strips, haulage companies, those sorts of things.” Jack looks at me and his face tightens. “I know this is a lot… but time, Deano, we don’t have much of it.”

This is fucked.

I scrunch my eyes, still looking at the horrific image on the screen. Pieces of this messed up puzzle click into place. “Were there ever any guns?” I gesture towards the tablet.

Sean steps forwards. “They deal guns alright, but that’s not their plan for you. Not in England.”

Both men remain silent. The air shifts. I look between them both. “The run that the Rippers intercepted?” Jack’s straight mouth and slumped shoulders tell me what I don’t want to believe. “So we escorted innocent people, dropping them off to some sick fucks whoboughtthem, all for their insides?” Again, silence.

I lift my hands to my head, unable to stop the anger now. I wasn’t there, never saw the procedures, but it was my fucking decision. My decision to get into this business. My decision to intercept it—toprotectthe crates all so they could be sold to monsters.

Anger and fear spark anew inside me. “This is…” I stop myself from passing all the blame. “If you hadn’t informed the Irish of that haul, Rippers would never have been made to stop it.”

Jack shakes his head, letting out a sigh. “If you hadn’t stopped the ambush, you wouldn’t have been forced deeper.” His voice has raised, and it does nothing to quell my temper.

I turn to look at him. “The Saint gave me no choice. I played his fucking game to find the person making the threats. And low and be-fucking-hold, I found him. And not only did I find him, I killed to find him. To survive so that I could get home.”

The door seems to get further away as I turn to leave. Myhomeis pulling me away from this hut. From all of this shit. It takes all my strength to remain at walking pace and not run.

“Look in the crate!” Jack shouts.

I keep walking.

“I said look in the fuckin’ crate and tell me you can walk away.”

Before I know it, I hear Sean call out his name just as Jack grabs me, hauling me back inside. “Fuckin’ look, Dean!” Jack shoves me forward, but I turn to throw a punch, landing it square on his jaw. He hits me back splitting my lip, the blood instantly filling my mouth.

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