When our background checks came back, Charlie asked us out to the ranch for a quick talk. Not sure what to expect, we were still surprised by the setup of the therapy offices. They’re in the barn itself. Even if patients are not involved in equine therapy, they’ll still be around horses and other barn animals.
* * *
A white catmissing half an ear sits at the top of the stall and meows as Charlie invites us into his office.
“Don’t worry about Smokey. She likes to say hi to everyone.”
More surprising than the setup is the NDA he has us sign as we walk in the door. Before Charlie can bog us down with the niceties, Levy cuts straight to the point.
“Are you rescinding either of our job offers?”
“No. But a few things have changed, and I need to give you more of the broader picture so you can decide if this is still a good fit for you.”
It’s then that his stoic business partner, Erik, walks in, joined by a sweet-tempered bloodhound.
Levy sits and puts his forearms on Charlie’s desk. “This should be interesting.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Erik says, dropping into a chair next to Charlie. The dog, whose name tag says Moose, does a series of lazy circle eights between Charlie’s legs before lying down.
Charlie pauses while I sit next to Levy, then dives right in. “As you can well imagine, a community equine therapy center is not exactly a money-making machine,” he admits, grimacing a little. “And the search-and-rescue element is all volunteer.”
“I was wondering about that,” Levy responds, stroking his beard.
That’s funny because, of the two of us, you’d think I’d be the one concerned with the profitability of the business we signed up to work for. Turns out, I haven’t even considered it. The business isn’t what’s holding my attention.
“Erik and I fund this place with a private, high-end bounty hunting operation, have done for years. It’s all perfectly legal, but when you’re being paid by an oil tycoon to find their runaway middle child, you often find things you can’t unsee.”
“What things?” I ask, thinking I know the answer. Wealth reveals a person’s true nature, and human nature is often pretty fucked up.
I would know.
“Before I tell you, I’ll remind you that you’ve signed an NDA.”
Levy and I share a glance, then nod.
“A subsection of the mega-rich like to traffic humans. Erik and I started turning over whatever evidence we’d found to the appropriate authorities.”
Having counseled a number of trafficking victims through both the prison system and the hospital, I admire the man for the courage of his convictions.
Levy, knowing the futility of their plight, snorts. “Bet the appropriate authorities were chomping at the bit.”
“Sometimes it was enough to fire up the authorities, but far more frequently, they’d look the other way.” Charlie scowls, seeming to remember something specific. “But neither of us could’ve lived with ourselves had we ignored what we found. So we started going on self-funded rescue operations.”
Levy and I exchange a glance.
That takes balls.
“Doesn’t sound totally legal,” I note dryly.
Erik responds, “We don’t go out of our way to break the law, but we will do what needs to be done to save the people who’ve been swept up in this.”
“And it’s just you two?” I ask, wondering if I’m missing something.
Charlie clarifies, “Yes and no. Our main focus is the people who have been trafficked and enslaved. We try our best to direct the local authorities to the criminals running the operations, but we also don’t wait to help the people if the authorities are too busy ignoring traffickers and pedophile priests to go after trans kids.”
Facts.
“Okay, but do the criminals ever come after you?” Levy asks.
