“You’re right, I’ll call you later.”
As soon as I hang up the phone I go to the shattered bottle, lean to clean it up, but my drunk ass loses balance and I fall to the floor and my knuckles hit the glass.
“Fuck!” the broken glass cuts my hand.
I’m feeling pain, genuine pain for the first time since I used to… to… hurt myself when I worked on Sarah’s case and it feels… good,oh, so good.
Fuck.
The connection between pain and pleasure is rooted in our biology. My central nervous system releases endorphins, and those little fuckers stimulate every part of my brain, feeding me with pleasure and tranquility.
It’s fucked up, I know.
I punch the glass to get one more fix. I welcome the pressure against my skin. It’s like fuel in these dark times.
I’m surprised I can feel this much pain in my drunken state. Blood is all over the floor, my hand and forearm. This has been good. It reminds me why I’m here.
I make my way to the bathroom and clean the wounds before they get infected. I can’t afford to not be one hundred percent ready for this.
Get your shit together, Bruno.
What would Sarah think if she saw you like this? What would Dante think?
Fuck. I miss them both so much.
I pour alcohol on the wounds, wrap my hand in gauze then tie a knot and grab a towel to clean the floor.
I’m standing in front of a massive window right next to my bed, something one would expect if staying at the most luxurious hotel in Saudi Arabia – allegedly. From here I have a view of the city skyline, skyscrapers and high-end exotic cars. Everything in this city shines like it’s made out of gold, and in some cases they are. That’s the vibe they try to sell. Everyone here seems to be going for thedeluxelook.
But there’s more than what meets the eye. Saudi is the biggest representation of male abusive authority, debauchery and corruption. Everyone thinks Las Vegas is the all-time ‘Sin City’, well, they are wrong. Riyadh is the fucking ‘Sin City’. Human trafficking, drugs and illegal gun trades are just the tip of a big-ass iceberg, and all come together thanks to oil money. Now don’t misunderstand – these things happen everywhere, but not in the open though. In order to witness this shit you have to be part of the underworld. If you are in it, you are either an authentic piece of shit or you got yourself in bed with some really bad, bad people.
During all this time here, I’ve learned a few things, thanks to my contacts and money. Well, maybe money plays a bigger role than I let on, that’s why the saying goesmoney talks.
One of the things I have learned since I got here, is that my brother is well known within this world. Not because he’s smuggling people over the border or is a drug lord. He is – and I still can’t even think about it without wanting to burn this fucking country to the ground – he’s a slave. His master, a guy going by the name Razzar, is a real piece of work. Rumor has it he is the head of one of the biggest Saudi dark organizations. I have been able to find out that not only is he a slave to this asshole, but he istheslave. Some people have told me he’s a favorite of his. I can’t believe people have favorites among slaves. Hell, I can’t understand how slaves still exist nowadays.
My intel suggests that Dante’s allegiance to this Razzar is blind, that trust goes both ways, and he also is mentioned as a sex toy-boy of sorts for both Razzar and his wife – hisonlywife, which is odd for someone with power. Over here, the more power and money, the more wives you can have.
He has plenty of power, so, to me, this is an extremely interesting fact: he owns just one wife.
Maybe there’s an angle there.
Before I can explore that, I need to get in. Razzar lives in a compound, something not out of the ordinary here. They are small, city-like walled and heavily guarded. These compounds are fortresses and completely isolated from the real world whose streets are ridden with poor people and crime.
To make matters worse, this compound differs from the others scattered across the country. No one questions Razzar’s supremacy in there, and those who dare, die. His entire family, friends, people who work for him and slaves understand this basic concept. You do not challenge his power, ever.
Razzar rules the biggest human trafficking network out here – men, women, children, it doesn’t matter. He’s so important that he branched out, and his dealing has reached the U.S. where he has entrusted his brother with expanding the business in the West.
I’ve met the brother, and you did too. Remember, Abdel? He had a date with my knife, and it didn’t go well for him.I still have the knife. It’s an excellent knife.
Razzar has never been easy to reach. He only opens for auctions once a year, and after learning that his brother is dead, he has done what any control kingpin would. He upped his security. This means more guards, with bigger guns and anxious trigger fingers. That’s a recipe for disaster if I’ve ever seen one. That will work to my advantage, I’m sure, but more on that later.
My vow to send Abdel to his maker has caused two problems:
the first being the increase in armed henchmen, and while that’s working in my favor, it has completely fucked up my entry strategy. Also, there are now tougher controls before they vet any new interested parties to the auction, and so I need time to work on my cover. One year isn’t enough. I missed my first window.
I have done the only thing I could. I am waiting for the next opportunity and while doing it I have started to nurture my relationship with my contacts, who in return will get me inside.
Let’s go back to today. I’ll meet with Razzar’s first born, Keled. My alter ego is ready and eager to meet him. I’ve done unspeakable things, and this really shakes me to my very core. Am I really going to buy a human being?
