Threatening to lop their heads off won’t get them talking as fast as they are about to. They know me too well. I don’t believe in the threat of death or dismemberment as proper motivation,but that doesn’t mean I can’t make their lives miserable, and they know it.
“Elias made a note,” Mark blurts. “I found the file under her social security number.”
“Okay…” Talk about drawing out the punch line
“Did you ever hear of the Chameleon Agency?” Nikolai asks from two chair down. He is dressed casually tonight in a pair of black jeans and a fitted black tee. Then again, it is normally Leon who dresses to the nines, even for something as simple as movie night.
I shake my head.
“They control more than seventy-five percent of human trafficking in the U.S.,” Maksim explains, leaning forward on his elbows.
Jesus, that is a startling amount.
We think that until recently they’ve been slinking in the shadows,” he continues. “Slowly building their empire underground. Most likely, their operation is dissected into multiple parts so that if one sector goes down, it doesn’t affect the entire operation.”
“Like terrorist cells,” I murmur. That make sense. Many terrorist cells operate on a similar premise so that one cell can’t corrupt another. Most terrorist cells have an overseer. One person or a group of people who know each and every operation. They are the only ones to know the final plans. It is easier to sacrifice pawns that way.
“Exactly like a terrorist cell,” Vas smiles approvingly. “We think each cell has their own agenda. One cell might be tasked with retrieving the cargo. Another cell might be tasked with selling at auction, etc.”
“What does this have to do with Kenzi?” It takes everything within me to say her name without sounding like a complete bitch.
Vas licks his lips nervously and takes a deep, calming breath before speaking. “We believe Elias sold Kenzi to the Chameleon Agency, who then sold her to another operation that buys and trains women and men and even children to assimilate and assassinate.”
What kind of bullshit is this? It’s so far-fetched that I could almost believe it.
“This isn’t a fucking Natasha Romanoff movie, Vas.” My voice pitches higher, and I push back my chair as I stand. “That is some Red Room bullshit.”
Mark snorts. “Funny, that’s what—” Vas shoots him a nasty glare. Mark coughs uncomfortably. “—that’s what I said when I found out.”
“How else do you explain her sniper skills?” Vas presses, his gaze settling back on me.What the fuck? Is there something they’re keeping from me?More fucking secrets. This is ludicrous. Do they honestly believe that my sister is La Femme Nikita or Kill Bill? Kenzi barely stands up for herself and violence makes her sick. “Knowing how to blow up the ambulance? Get past what you knew about her. You haven’t seen her in three years, Ava. That is a lot of time for someone to change.”
Three years.
That’s how long it’s been? It doesn’t seem like that much time has passed since she left for college at sixteen. The nerd graduated before everyone else and bounced her ass out the door to college like there was no tomorrow.
Was she sold or a willing participant?
Why?
What did Elias think he had to gain?
“Do you know who she was sold to?”
“It’s a place called the Dollhouse.” Mark switches the screen again. The image that appears is of a stunning woman in her lateforties to early fifties with pinched red lips and a sharp face. Her gray hair is swept back in a bun that rests at the nape of her neck, and in her hand is a cane.
A cane with a silver cross.
“A covert underground training facility that no one has ever been able to find but many have tried. That was all I was told until I found these documents that listed the name of the woman buying up her unwilling recruits. Madam Therese.”
That’s a name I do know.
“I know her.” All eyes turn back to me. “I mean,” I hesitate. “I’ve never seen her until now, but Bailey said her name. She that before she was ushered on the stage, they let that woman backstage to pick from the lineup of women before they were sold. The only reason she didn’t pick Bailey was because she was already sold. Her entire bid was a farce.”
Nikolai leans forward, his powerful jaw clenching tightly. “What else did she say about what happened?” If there is anyone who hates those who force others into killing and fighting for a living, it’s Nikolai. Matthias once told me that he met Nikolai in an underground fight ring in Moscow. He was a willing participant in the fights. Nikolai was not. Each fight wasn’t just a fight to the death. If he ended it too quickly and didn’t give a show, he starved. Drag it out too long? He was punished. Lose? Losing wasn’t an option. Each fight was to the death.
“Uh,” I think back to what Bailey told me. “Her accent was different. A soft European, but not Russian. Same with the men she was with. She said they sounded almost German, but softer, like they hadn’t been there in a long time, and their accents started to fade.”
“What else?” He prods.
