Read Online Deliverer by Tamara Hart Heiner - Free Book Online
Authors: Tamara Hart Heiner
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involved, tracked them down. His whole organization would crash down like a house of cards. Not even his connections with the local force would hide him.
A dark thought twisted it's way into his mind. Girls are worth money.
He wasn't sure where the thought came from. Only truly sick people dealt in human trafficking.
And yet, he knew it was more lucrative than weapons, than even drugs. But also one of the most risky, and Truman wanted no part of it.
Still, he knew people who trafficked. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad move. He could get rid of the girls and cross off some of his debt at the same time.
Sid was a familiar contact, someone his father had known. He had a summer home here in Canada, but Truman didn't know where the man was right now. He would come to Montreal if he was interested. Truman could make him interested. "Claber, get me Sid. He'll buy each of those girls for half a million, maybe more. We're still in the game."
Claber stepped over to the desk and scanned a list of phone numbers taped to the inside of the drawer. "Hold on, Truman. I'll call Sid, but didn't you recognize the little Latina girl? That's Gregorio Rivera's daughter."
Truman squinted at Claber. The name didn't ring any bells. "Who's Gregorio Rivera?"
"The Carnicero ."
Truman jerked backwards, bumping the bookcase behind him. "What? Are you sure?"
Claber nodded. "Found pictures that match the one I took in Mexico.”
“Gregorio Rivera? Is that his real name?”
“It’s the one he goes by in the States. I researched the girls on the drive. I found him when I got onto the girl’s Facebook account. He's kept himself mostly invisible, but he forgot to think about his daughter's Facebook page. Family pictures everywhere It's him. He's her father."
"Well." Finally, a bit of fortune. "We'll have to think about this. Assuming that man really is the Carnicero , and assuming he’s really her father, she's worth a lot more. Quite a bit more."
"My thoughts exactly." Claber nodded.
Truman drummed his fingers on the desk. "We have to be one hundred percent sure they’re who we think they are."
Claber patted the camera he kept with him. "We can send an agent to check her house. It’ll be easy to find now that we know her name. We watch him for a day or two, we’ll know if he does lengthy foreign travels."
"Yes." Truman's gave a wry smile. "Nice of the police to give us their information. If she really is his daughter, we can demand a much higher price for her." He jerked his head at Claber. "Get someone on it."
"Yes, sir."
Truman swatted at the dusty desk and sat on it. The half-empty bottle of whiskey stood like a silent sentinel. He eyed it, tempted to take another swig. He gave in and swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat.
Standing again, Truman paced the room. He was running out of money, and he needed more if he was to keep his finely tuned orchestra playing. He came to a decision. "Even if she’s the Carnicero ’s daughter, I don't want her. But Sid will. Make that call, Claber."
Claber pulled out his cell phone.
Stealing wasn’t such a bad crime. Most of the money he made went back to the community, instead of sitting and rotting in some museum. But last week he'd added murder of a civilian to his criminal activities. This week, kidnapping.
Would he add slavery next week?
Truman stopped pacing, coming to a halt in front of Claber. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Everything we pull in right now goes to paying off McAllister.”
"Truman.” Claber held out his phone. “Sid."
Truman accepted it, already anticipating Sid’s slimy voice that left a foul coating in his mind. "Sid. How would you like to do some business?"
Chapter 10
Truman hung up and handed the phone back. "Well. He's more than willing to negotiate. How much did you bring in from the raid?"
Claber's shoulders relaxed and he seated himself in the chair in front of the desk. He obviously thought he was out of the fire. "The
A dark thought twisted it's way into his mind. Girls are worth money.
He wasn't sure where the thought came from. Only truly sick people dealt in human trafficking.
And yet, he knew it was more lucrative than weapons, than even drugs. But also one of the most risky, and Truman wanted no part of it.
Still, he knew people who trafficked. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad move. He could get rid of the girls and cross off some of his debt at the same time.
Sid was a familiar contact, someone his father had known. He had a summer home here in Canada, but Truman didn't know where the man was right now. He would come to Montreal if he was interested. Truman could make him interested. "Claber, get me Sid. He'll buy each of those girls for half a million, maybe more. We're still in the game."
Claber stepped over to the desk and scanned a list of phone numbers taped to the inside of the drawer. "Hold on, Truman. I'll call Sid, but didn't you recognize the little Latina girl? That's Gregorio Rivera's daughter."
Truman squinted at Claber. The name didn't ring any bells. "Who's Gregorio Rivera?"
"The Carnicero ."
Truman jerked backwards, bumping the bookcase behind him. "What? Are you sure?"
Claber nodded. "Found pictures that match the one I took in Mexico.”
“Gregorio Rivera? Is that his real name?”
“It’s the one he goes by in the States. I researched the girls on the drive. I found him when I got onto the girl’s Facebook account. He's kept himself mostly invisible, but he forgot to think about his daughter's Facebook page. Family pictures everywhere It's him. He's her father."
"Well." Finally, a bit of fortune. "We'll have to think about this. Assuming that man really is the Carnicero , and assuming he’s really her father, she's worth a lot more. Quite a bit more."
"My thoughts exactly." Claber nodded.
Truman drummed his fingers on the desk. "We have to be one hundred percent sure they’re who we think they are."
Claber patted the camera he kept with him. "We can send an agent to check her house. It’ll be easy to find now that we know her name. We watch him for a day or two, we’ll know if he does lengthy foreign travels."
"Yes." Truman's gave a wry smile. "Nice of the police to give us their information. If she really is his daughter, we can demand a much higher price for her." He jerked his head at Claber. "Get someone on it."
"Yes, sir."
Truman swatted at the dusty desk and sat on it. The half-empty bottle of whiskey stood like a silent sentinel. He eyed it, tempted to take another swig. He gave in and swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat.
Standing again, Truman paced the room. He was running out of money, and he needed more if he was to keep his finely tuned orchestra playing. He came to a decision. "Even if she’s the Carnicero ’s daughter, I don't want her. But Sid will. Make that call, Claber."
Claber pulled out his cell phone.
Stealing wasn’t such a bad crime. Most of the money he made went back to the community, instead of sitting and rotting in some museum. But last week he'd added murder of a civilian to his criminal activities. This week, kidnapping.
Would he add slavery next week?
Truman stopped pacing, coming to a halt in front of Claber. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Everything we pull in right now goes to paying off McAllister.”
"Truman.” Claber held out his phone. “Sid."
Truman accepted it, already anticipating Sid’s slimy voice that left a foul coating in his mind. "Sid. How would you like to do some business?"
Chapter 10
Truman hung up and handed the phone back. "Well. He's more than willing to negotiate. How much did you bring in from the raid?"
Claber's shoulders relaxed and he seated himself in the chair in front of the desk. He obviously thought he was out of the fire. "The
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