Heavy Traffic

She thought about his question before answering. "I got the impression that the traders were trying to keep us secret. For example, every time they opened the door to the container, the very first thing they told us was that if anyone made a sound, we would all be punished. This seemed strange for a ship in the middle of the ocean since no one could hear us except the crew. When we were passing through what I now assume was the Panama Canal, two of the traders stayed in the container with us to ensure that no one made any noise. Then, when they were taking me from the container to the motorboat, they kept our path very close to the containers and they were very diligent in their efforts for us not to be seen by anyone else on the ship."

"So, you never heard any discussions on where the ship was headed?"

"No, I'm sorry."

Sean reviewed and tried to organize what they did know as they walked the last thousand yards to his cabin. The house sat in a clearing that left natural growth meadows extending from the structure more than 100 feet to the nearest trees. It was even more remote than Gideon James', but unlike Gideon, Sean's cabin was approximately 2000 square feet of professionally constructed log cabin ranch house, had indoor plumbing, running water, a satellite dish on the roof and a diesel generator running in a shed set off from the cabin which provided him with all the electricity required for today's modern conveniences.

There was a detached garage that appeared large enough for at least three full-size vehicles. Solar panels were creatively integrated into the roof of all the structures. Although it had a rustic appearance, Amanda thought to call this house a cabin was akin to calling the Pacific Ocean a 'Sea'.

Sean unlocked the front door, disabled the alarm and held it open for Amanda to enter. Her first impression, based solely upon television shows she had seen, was that she had entered a typical suburban American home with a large screen television mounted above the fireplace, beautiful hardwood floors covered strategically with oriental rugs and a very modern and well-equipped kitchen visible through a cutout across the living room. The space was clean and tidy; not at all what one would expect for the domicile of the outdoorsman that Sean appeared to be.

Amanda stopped to examine a large photo portrait on one wall that showed a handsome man in his forties, a beautiful young woman with blonde hair, and a teenage Sean between them. Sean's features were obviously shared from his parents, but he definitely had his mother's eyes and his father's smile.

"Are these your parents?" she asked to confirm her suspicion.

"Yes, that picture was taken just after my sixteenth birthday."

"What were their names?"

"Edward Sean Wallace and Allison Elizabeth Askew-Wallace. They went by 'Eddie' and 'Allie'."

"Your mother appears much younger than your father. What was the age difference between them?"

Sean laughed and said, "I'm sure she would love to hear you say that. She was actually thirteen days older than my father."

"Wow!" is all Amanda said as she continued exploring the room while following Sean further into the house. Amanda was particularly intrigued by the prominent role in the living room played by the largest stuffed Teddy Bear that she had ever seen. The large, black stuffed bear sat on what looked like a specially built milking stool and would be spotlighted by a recessed bulb in the ceiling had it been turned on. Positioned in a sitting pose on the stool, it was still taller than Amanda standing before it.

"Someone like Teddy Bears?"

Without expression on his face, Sean replied, "My Uncle Kirby gave that to me years ago as a sort of joke."

He left his explanation there and proceeded into the kitchen area with Amanda following.

Sean's cabin had been built by his father as a private get-away for his grandparents, but his grandfather had died before they ever got a chance to use it. The two thousand square foot "cabin" was designed and built with the comfort of Sean's paternal grandmother in mind, knowing that she would not accept anything too rustic, regardless of how remote it might be. Sean believed that this was probably the only residence of any kind within a hundred miles that had a room designated for a maid, although it had never been used for that purpose. He didn't share any of this with Amanda.

Sean arrived in the kitchen and put the Muskrats into the freezer.

"They'll hold there until I get a chance to deal with them further."

"What do you do with them?" Amanda asked as she followed him into the kitchen. The area was lit from above by a leaded-glass skylight that brought the early morning sunshine warmly into the room.

"I sell them to a dealer in Bainbridge who in turn sells them to the cooks on ships, mostly from Southeast Asian countries. Both the fur of the Muskrat as well as the meat are highly valued by the crews of these ships. Would you like something to eat or drink?"

"Do you have any eggs?" she asked. "I'm starving, but I probably shouldn't eat anything too solid or rich after the limited diet we have had for the past several weeks. Is that how you make your living, selling animals to the ships?"

"I think I have a couple of eggs left in the door of the refrigerator," he said.

Ignoring her other question, he asked, "Would scrambled eggs be okay?"

She noticed that he had avoided her question about how he made a living, but let it pass. If this was actually his cabin, he had some source of income and what it was didn't matter to her just then.

"Scrambled eggs would be wonderful," she told him.

"I have been trying to use up most of my food because I had planned on heading to Atlanta today. I didn't want to leave too much here to spoil before I came back, so you would be doing me a favor by eating anything you find that suits your taste."

Sean pulled a skillet off the overhead rack above the island stove, retrieved a bowl from a cupboard, and then the two last eggs from the refrigerator. Amanda took the eggs from his hand and assumed a position in front of the bowl, where she proceeded to break the eggs into it. Sean handed her a whisk before turning the burner on beneath the skillet on the stove. Amanda took a dab of butter from the dish in the refrigerator and added it to the skillet.

Accepting that Amanda was comfortable preparing her own meal, Sean announced, "I'm going to take a quick shower if you're okay here for a minute."

"Go ahead," Amanda said. "Don't worry about me."

"Thanks. Make yourself at home." Sean walked out of the kitchen and down a hallway out of sight. Amanda watched him as he went, and could sense a loss of something undefined for her as each step took him farther away.

Amanda was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter starting to eat her eggs when Sean returned from his shower. She had found some bread and also made herself some plain toast to have with her eggs. His hair was still damp, combed back, tucked behind his ears on each side, and hanging well over his collar in back. He was clean-shaven and had changed into a mint-green polo shirt and clean blue jean pants. His hiking boots had been replaced by a pair of athletic shoes but his casual appearance did little to diminish the strength and security that Amanda felt in his presence. She also couldn't ignore how much this man had flamed her blood from the moment she had set eyes on him.

Sean pulled out a stool as he placed his landline phone on the counter between them. He took a seat on a stool, hit the speakerphone button, and the silence in the room was filled with a dial tone. Checking his memory against a slip of paper pinned to his bulletin board, Sean dialed a long distant number. Amanda continued to eat her eggs and examine the cabin as Sean initiated his call.

"James," was the response as his call was answered.

"Gideon, this is Sean. Sorry to call so early. Are you free to talk? Something has happened at your cabin that I need to bring you up to speed on fast."

"Hang on," Gideon said, and they heard him briskly dismissing whoever he had been with when the call had been answered.

"Okay Sean, fill me in."

"Gideon, we need to start with this conversation being privileged. I know you're semi-retired, but your firm still represents me."

Sean, with an occasional uninvited contribution from Amanda, relayed the events of the morning to Gideon, up to the point where they had left three permanently paralyzed men sprawled across Gideon James' cabin floor.

He then threw a bigger surprise to James when Sean asked, "Gideon, who besides me did you tell that you would be out of town today? This is important because the Tangos said that they were specifically told that they could use your cabin since you wouldn't be there."

"Why do I think you may know the answer to your own question Sean? Other than you when you're around, Morgan Smith is the only other person I ever tell."

Sean nodded at the phone and then said, "What do you think the reaction from our illustrious County Sheriff will be when he receives a report that three men intended to produce a snuff film in the cabin that he was only one of three people who knew it would be unoccupied today?"

Without waiting for Gideon to answer, Sean continued, "You know that I have never seen eye to eye with Morgan, and if he thinks he can pin something on me for taking what I'm sure he'll define as vigilante action against those men, he is likely to try. I'm going to take a different route with this, so please keep things under your hat until you hear back from me."

"You're not going to have a lot of options open to you in Seminole County," Gideon replied. "No other state authorities will get involved without Morgan requesting them to."

"Let me handle this Gideon," Sean said. "When are you due to return?"

"I'm not scheduled to return until Friday but now I'm thinking of cutting things short and heading back tomorrow."

"Hold off until you hear from me, okay? There's nothing here that requires your attention that urgently."

"Alright," Gideon said. "But please keep me posted."

"I will, Gideon. Bye."

Sean disconnected the call and after making sure that Amanda had settled down across from him and wouldn't need him for anything, he dialed another number.

"Wallace."

"Uncle Kirby, this is Sean. Have you got a minute?"

"Sure Sean," his uncle said. "To what do I owe this pleasure?

"No pleasure so far. Let me tell you about my morning and get your advice..."

Kirby Wallace worked officially for Brandt Consulting, which provided cover as the company being a contractor for the Department of Homeland Security. In reality, Kirby Wallace was Deputy Director of Operations for DHS, responsible for pre-emptive strategies and tactics to thwart attacks against the United States.

Once more Sean relayed the details of the events, only this time Amanda remained silent as she ate a slice of toast. When he was finished, he then added the reason for his call to his uncle.

"Uncle Kirby, the Tangos said that they were told to use Gideon James' cabin because it was remote and it would be unoccupied today. Right before calling you I spoke with Gideon and verified that he only told two people of his planned business trip. I was one of them, and Morgan Smith, Sheriff of Seminole County was the other. If I now report the events to Morgan, I'm afraid that he may take action against me to protect himself."

"Sounds like a potentially ugly situation," agreed Kirby. "You said that we're suspecting human trafficking and attempted murder by foreign nationals on U.S. soil, so I assume you would like to see this classified as a national security issue rather than a local law enforcement issue?"

"That depends on how fast things could get put into motion," Sean said. "We have twenty-five young girls still on that ship somewhere in American waters but we don't know how much longer they will be there. I suspect that once the ship docks the containers will be placed onto tractor-trailer trucks and once that happens, they'll be vapor in the wind to us. I'll also need some cover for what I did to the film crew at Gideon's cabin."

"Understood," said Kirby. "Let me make a couple of calls really quick and see if I can get us some sort of idea on reaction times. Be back to you in ten."

Kirby hung up without giving Sean a chance to respond.

Turning to Amanda, he saw her patiently examining her surroundings.

He said, "I would like for you to go through my place and see if there is anything here that you would like to wear or use to make you more comfortable until we can stop and buy you things that actually fit you. For example, I know that I have a new toothbrush in the bathroom that has never been opened. Anything you want or need is yours for the taking."

"I'll take you up on the toothbrush right now, but no promises on anything else. These shoes were my biggest concern and they seem to be doing the job so far."

She got up from the stool and went wandering through his cabin. Amanda realized almost immediately that she was touring a house that wasn't really a home. Other than the portrait of Sean and his parents and the large stuffed bear, there were few signs that this house belonged to anyone in particular. It reminded Amanda of a time-share or vacation rental that catered to transient tenants who stayed there only for short periods.

While he cleaned up her breakfast dishes, Sean was glad to see that she took him at his word and wasn't hesitating to open every drawer or cupboard she came to for an investigation of its contents. He couldn't know that she conducted her search more to learn about him than to find things for herself, but he was pleased nonetheless.

After a few minutes, she stuck her head out of the bedroom and said, "I'm going to be in the shower for a few minutes in case you're looking for me."

Sean nodded and waved. He was glad that her ordeal from earlier in the day hadn't lingered to their time together. He had tried to be as non-threatening as possible and instill some level of confidence in her towards him. He had to admit that he found her resiliency mesmerizing, and he admired her ability to notice and relay details that most other people would miss.

Then there was the way that her holding his hand had affected him, and how she had effortlessly gotten him to share his own life story before he even realized he was doing it. Her interest in him was luminous, and he found himself basking in it like warm sunshine. He liked the way he felt when he was with her, which for someone who had led a very solitary life for almost a year, said the most about her as far as he was concerned.

Amanda had relieved herself before getting into the shower, still grinning over her observation that the toilet seat was in the down position. She thought that this bespoke of good habits from this warrior-man, as she was beginning to think of him. She made quick work of washing her hair and body, using the razor in the shower to shave herself knowing instinctively that Sean wouldn't mind. She would warn him though so he wouldn't be surprised by a dull blade the next time he went to use it.

Sean was still thinking of Amanda when the phone rang. He answered the phone before the first ring had ended.

"Wallace," he said.

"Wallace here too. I've got some good news and some bad. Surveillance drones out of Eglin Air Force base have returned imagery that found the ship docked at the container terminal in Bainbridge, Georgia as of three hours ago. Several containers have already been removed and placed on trailer trucks, including most of the units at the stern of the ship."

"How can they be unloading so fast?" asked Sean. "Don't the containers have to pass a Customs inspection or anything?"

"Unless they were tagged and sealed as "Customs Exempt" for some reason, then you're correct," said Kirby. "DHS and FBI agents are on choppers headed to Bainbridge now to investigate, but they won't be on the ground for another hour."

"Can we track the trucks that have those containers?" asked Sean.

"As far as I know, all we have on the suspect container is an approximate color, described as rust orange or reddish. We have reviewed drone images since the ship docked and are targeting containers that are anywhere close to the colors mentioned. Three have been identified. One of these is currently headed west on Interstate 10 and will be quarantined at the first truck scales in Alabama and inspected by the FBI who are enroute. The other two are currently on U.S. 84 eastbound headed toward Interstate 75 where the two highways meet in Valdosta. We will maintain real-time drone surveillance on both until their projected destinations can be ascertained. I have to tell you, Sean, we are short of ground assets for anything short-term. We can get a squad of Rangers deployed out of Fort Benning within thirty minutes but we need to have a mission for them first."

"Why not get them airborne onto each of the containers right now?" asked Sean.

"Because until we identify which truck is involved in the national security issue we have declared for this matter, we can't use United States military forces. If the Rangers assault a truck on American soil and find it full of big screen TVs, then the President will have a tough time justifying his finding with Congress and we could lose more than we gain."

Kirby was referring to the current Presidential Finding which stated that organized crime activity conducted by foreign nationals either within the borders of the United States or targeting the citizens of the United States met the definition of domestic terrorism and would be considered national security events.

"I see your point," said Sean. "So, we just wait until we figure out where the two trucks are headed?

"That, plus we keep them monitored. If one pulls into a rest stop or other location and we see a bunch of people pouring out of the container, we can have forces on the site quickly. Ideally, we would be able to track them all the way to their destination and then take down more than just the grunts involved, if you know what I mean."

"Let's think of this operation strategically," said Sean. "If you had twenty-five young girls that you were looking to now distribute, where in the Southeast would you be headed? Remember, we should assume because they were all brought to the United States that the customers were all here as well."

Kirby saw the logic. "Using Interstate 75 as a corridor can also play into the analysis. Only Atlanta, and to some degree, Orlando provide the logistics favorable to distributing this number of girls over a short period of time."

"I agree," said Sean. "Keep monitoring both trucks, but I'm going to start heading towards Atlanta as I had originally planned for today. There are several construction zones on Interstate 75 that will slow down any traffic between Valdosta and Macon. I can beat them by heading north on U.S. 27 through Columbus onto Interstate 185 and then Interstate 85. You have my cell phone number?"

"Let me have it again," said Kirby, but as he was taking it down, he interrupted Sean. "I just received some interesting info. It seems that one of the two trucks has been followed by a blue van since leaving the container terminal. It has had multiple opportunities to pass, but it remains directly behind the truck."

"That's our Tango!" said Sean. "The van has the traders that Amanda mentioned. They're not releasing their cargo until they receive payment so they're following them."

"I think you're right," agreed Kirby. "We'll designate that as the primary target."

"How far from Interstate 75 is the primary target truck?" asked Sean.

"Looks to be at least one hour from Interstate 75," replied Kirby.