24
“That’s suspicious,” Joe murmured.
He and Drew were sitting at an open-air café on one of Islamabad’s busy main streets, sipping drinks and pretending to enjoy the relative coolness of the morning. The café just happened to be across from a shop that sold rugs and fabrics in native Pakistani patterns, and also happened to be owned by one Ismail Abassi, who was forty-six years old and had run the shop since the death of his father. That was all the information Pixel had been able to dig up on the man; despite the high-tech nature of Islamabad, there were still plenty of people who didn’t have significant online presences. Added to the fact that many of the government records were incomplete, it made ferreting out information far more difficult than normal for Hercules Security’s cyber guru.
After their meeting with the businessman and almost a week of surveillance, Joe was convinced the guy wasn’t their target. They’d been forced to proceed down their list of suspects and had spent a couple of days watching the first shopkeeper on their list, who ran a café of his own across town, but not only was that man only thirty-eight and therefore pretty young to have an eighteen-year-old son, the guy’s wife and a virtual herd of small daughters worked in the café with him. They seemed like a happy, prosperous family, and that Ismail Abassi worked the café from early in the morning until late in the evening. Joe had learned to trust his instincts about people, and the personable shopkeeper just wasn’t the type to be the mastermind of a human trafficking operation.
Which brought them to their current target—the second shopkeeper, who was not only older, but also a much harder man than the café owner. Joe had seen him yelling at a customer, gesticulating angrily until the cowed woman had walked away. It seemed odd to Joe for a shopkeeper to drive off a customer, unless the shop in question was just a front for something else. Perhaps something sinister.
“He could just be an asshole,” Drew said.
“No, not that.” Joe took a sip of his coffee, pretending to have no interest in the shop. “A woman just came out, but when she went in about ten minutes ago, she had a child with her.”
“Oh shit….” Drew covered his surprise by focusing on his coffee and leaning forward as if listening intently to Joe. “That merits a closer look, I think.”
“Yeah. I suppose it could be a daughter bringing a kid to visit the grandparents, but the woman barely acknowledged Abassi on her way past.” Joe bit his lip. “You know, rugs have been used to smuggle people and bodies before. This guy certainly would have the means to transport captives all over the city, and even to other cities.”
“True, but that seems pretty blatant,” Drew said. “If Abassi has enough people coming in with kids, but not leaving with them, someone’s going to notice. You’d think the operation would be more inconspicuous than that, you know?”
“Yeah. But maybe the fact that no one would think that people would be that overconfident is a cover in and of itself. If enough customers come in with kids and leave with them, the occasional drop-off might go completely unnoticed.”
“You want to watch a while longer or go check it out?”
Joe considered for a moment as he finished his coffee. “Let’s check it out. I’ll head into the shop. You circle around back. Check for a loading dock, see if you see anything suspicious. I’ll try to figure out what happened to that kid. That work?”
Drew nodded as he pushed back his chair and stood up. “Let’s do it.”
“Text me if you find anything, and I’ll do the same.” As Drew walked off, Joe took out his cellphone, pretending to consult it to give Drew time to get ahead of him and to the back of the building. After a minute, he rose from his seat, before moving casually toward the street corner. He crossed with at least a dozen other people when the traffic light changed and then spent his time glancing in other shop windows while actually keeping a close watch on his goal.
Foot traffic had picked up, and Joe saw another woman exit, one he was certain had entered with two children. Abassi was haggling with another customer, and while his attention was diverted, Joe took the opportunity to slip past him and into the shop.
The space was almost claustrophobic, stacked high with rolled-up rugs on one side, and bolts of fabric on the other. There were a couple of customers inside the shop, women who were at a counter talking with a younger woman who was measuring out fabric. There were a couple of children inside as well, but they were close to their mothers. Of the children who had entered and not left, Joe saw no sign.
He headed toward the rear of the shop, wondering if the kids had been taken into a storage room. That’s when he happened upon a wooden staircase, almost hidden behind a hanging rug. Looking upward, he realized the shop had a second level, but it didn’t appear to be meant for access by customers. That seemed like a perfectly good reason for Joe to head upstairs, to see if anything suspicious was going on.
Despite his size and the rather rickety nature of the staircase, he was able to head upward in virtual silence, testing each step carefully just to make sure it would take his weight. As he climbed, he became aware of sounds above him, running feet and shouts from children. His heart began to pound, and he hurried now, not caring about being detected. If there were kids in danger, he had to save them.
There was a door at the top of the stairs, and he opened it a crack, surprised to peer in at a brightly lit space. Several children were running around, laughing as they played a game of chase, while a young woman clapped her hands and tried to call them to order. After a moment they obeyed, moving out of Joe’s sight toward what must be the back of the room.
He opened the door wider, needing to see what he was up against in the realm of opposition. Surprised, he stared in a at several tables where at least twenty children were seated, some of them with toys, others with crayons, seeming engrossed in their tasks. As well as the young woman who had crossed his line of sight, there were three other women, one of them older than the others. Some instinct must have alerted her because she glanced toward the open door.
“Hello!” She called out in Urdu. “May I help you?”
Given that he’d been expecting to be greeted with shouts and possibly even gunfire, Joe froze for a moment and then smiled at her. “Um, I thought there might be more rugs up here.”
The older woman shook her head. “This is a daycare. My husband runs the rug shop. You should go down and ask for Ismail—he’ll help you find whatever you’re looking for.”
“Thanks.” Joe watched for a few more moments, long enough to convince himself the woman wasn’t lying. The children seemed happy, not frightened like those he’d seen before. The atmosphere was pleasant and welcoming, and he realized that he’d misread the situation. A daycare… how could he have known?
Chagrined, he headed back down the stairs, pulling out his phone. He texted Drew.
There’s a daycare upstairs. Unless you’ve found bodies in rugs, I think we got it wrong.
No bodies, just rugs, Drew texted back.What now?
Regroup, Joe replied.Let’s meet back at the hotel and consider our options.
It took nearly half an hour to get back to the hotel, since they’d decided to walk rather than use the driver Herc provided. As he took the elevator up to their floor, Joe’s phone buzzed with a text. Pulling it out, he read it quickly, and his heart began to pound.
