It's about Time

Chapter 1

Rick was headed for home which in this case consisted of a tiny apartment that used to be a large room in a three story hotel. They had added a sink, a tiny refrigerator with no freezer, and changed out what might have been carpet for tile that was now cracked and broken and missing some in a few places. He wasn't any contractor but something was wrong somewhere.

His heating and air conditioning was the same old units sitting under his one and only window that the hotel had used. As for the bathroom it wasn't anyone's luxury retreat, but at least it worked and the hot water came from a central boiler room. His rent included water, power, and trash. He didn't have gas and his only way to cook was on a hot plate. There was no oven though he did have this little toaster oven that was sitting on a cheap metal tray.

His dining table was equally small and boasted two ugly chairs. His black and white TV wasn't overly large, either, and was sitting on a counter facing his bed.

His bed was the only thing that was new in the room. He had splurged and had spent over a hundred seventy-five dollars buying it and having it delivered. It was his pride and joy. He was even willing to overlook the sound of the A/C unit that had just come on in an attempt to keep the space cool. He really didn't want to know what the steam heating unit sounded like. He had no illusions that the stupid thing wouldn't whistle loudly at him.

Still his job required it and he had lived there for one year, four months, five days, and eighteen hours. Not that he was keeping track, even if he was.

The A/C was pounding in one ear, the TV was trying to reach the other, and he was lying on his really comfortable bed that was complete with sinfully soft sheets and a new comforter that was nice and warm and utterly ugly. He was very close to nodding off when someone started pounding on his door.

He left his beer on the side table that was floating off the floor. He didn't dare put more than a can of beer on it for fear of it falling off the wall completely. Since the light was on the wall it was the only thing on it.

Opening the door he found Ryan on the other side. He was direct and to the point. "Let's go, Rodgers, we have a job." Rick didn't bother complaining since he knew Ryan didn't care what he thought. He left him at the door, turned off the TV, and chugged his beer while it was still cool enough to enjoy and left the can there, empty.

He turned the lock and pulled it closed and was ready to go. There wasn't really anything inside worth stealing so his cheap lock didn't concern him any. Besides who was going to break in so they could steal his mattress.

The stairs were a mix of rusty steel and concrete. It was going to last a little while longer but he wasn't sure just how long. A year or two would be long enough, he hoped, since he had been with this group for a while.

Down on the parking lot his bike and Ryan's bike were waiting for them. He really liked his motorcycle. It was only two years old, a 1940 Crocker V-twin. It was manufactured only in Los Angeles and had been shipped out to New York for him just for this job. Yes, Harley-Davidson and Indian were far more well-known and purchased. It was just that when it came to power and handling, his bike beat them, hands down. That was important if he ever needed to get away. At the moment it was rather dirty-looking and Rick liked it that way since it better hid just what his bike could do. Plus who would steal a filthy bike like his?

Unlike Ryan who was pounding away on his trying to get it to fire up, his started up first thing. "Anytime, Ryan." Rick got in his jab partly because Ryan would be expecting it.

"FUCK YOU, RODGERS!" Ryan fired back. He finally got it to start and cranked the power a few times just to make sure it was running. "Let's go." He knew where they were going today.

Rick rode next to him and followed his lead as they wove around town to get to the site. Rick knew where he was but they'd never been there before. It gave him something to think about while they rode. Thanks to the noise neither of them could talk to the other until they stopped and killed the bikes.

"This is new." Rick looked it over. It was a little unassuming but wasn't a complete dump. It was, however, a place most law enforcement people would likely walk past. It was very lower middle class of which New York City was filled with.

"You've never been here before. This way." Rick was hoping that was a good thing. Not that he was keeping track, but he had spent the last year, four months, five days, and twenty hours doing his best to worm his way into this group without giving himself away.

This work was difficult. He was on his own and needed to make spontaneous decisions that benefited what he did and didn't give himself away.

Rick greeted the waiting man, "Espo," and went through the complex shaking of hands, fist bumps, and various wiggles that Espo seemed to love doing. "What have you got me out here for?" He had a good idea but just not sure why there.

"You're going to get to meet the man. That and we have a new load of girls to go through before we ship them out," Espo said. For Rick that was really good and possibly really bad news. He was finally going to get to meet the man behind all this. Question was, was it because he had been found out? That and how had they gathered up a new load of girls so fast?

"This way, Rodgers." Espo led the way with Rick right behind him and Ryan behind him. As he expected they weren't alone. This place had guards, all of which he had already met over time. Tyler, Dillon, Will, and Josh. Then he came into a room and saw a group of white woman all bound, sitting on the floor with a single black guy looking over them.

Rick had no trouble seeing that all of the women had obviously been crying and were scared; they had good reason to be scared. This group only worked with white women who were usually bought only from pictures and then shipped out to their new owners. They only worked with white women who were all in their early 20s. The prettier they were the more money they got. The really pretty ones with big tits got even better money. He still had yet to learn how they got the women or who did it. The group he knew were the ones that handled them. Got them ready and shipped out. He had managed to get out only information about Espo, Ryan, and the name of the last ship they had used.

"Rodgers, this is the man." Meaning he paid him for what he did.

"Sir." Rick didn't offer his hand. He wasn't an equal and if he had it might end badly for him.

The man eyed him suspiciously. "We're short two people and I'm told that you can be trusted." He was tall, not heavy. With chocolate-colored skin, he was relatively handsome and was dressed in a really fine-looking suit; he was bald with a mustache and a hint of a goatee.

"Anything you want, sir, I'm your man," Rick agreed quickly.

"Espo and Ryan will show you. …I want this bunch divided up and in the container before 10:00. Then get the container picked up and out to the dock. It will be taken from there. Just do as you're told." Rick nodded and watched as The Man walked off.

"What's first?" Rick asked after he was out of the room. He at least now had a picture of him in his head even if he didn't yet know a name, but that could come later.

"We divide them up. We only want white women. The guys that get them are sometimes color-blind. We've ended up with chinks before. Then we take pictures and put them into the system. Within two hours they're sold and packed away for the trip. Pick one and let's get started," Espo told him and joined Ryan to set up the camera.

Rick hated to do it but if he was careful and got the name of the ship, the Coast Guard would stop it, search it, and rescue the girls. So he waded in and picked the closest one to him; he grabbed her arm and yanked her up.

He looked her over. She was clearly young, scared out of her mind, and blonde, though her hair was really short. She was almost flat-chested and was dressed simply though maybe a little dirty-looking. Rick attributed her disarray with how she had probably been handled.

He took her over to Espo and Ryan and watched. Ryan washed her face a little, combed her hair a little, and planted her in the chair. Espo took her picture and she was taken away, put in a different room, and the door was closed.

Rick did this again and again. Only once did even one of them plead with him. All she said was, "Please!?" Rick felt for her, he really did, but he was after the entire gang so he took her over to Espo and Ryan.

The next one didn't get her picture taken; she wasn't cleaned up any or had her hair combed. She was taken to a different door and thrown inside. That happened two more times until all of the girls had been separated.

"Now we wait," Rick was told.

Amazingly it only took an hour for all the girls in the one room to be sold. "This one first." Ryan showed them her picture and Espo whacked Rick on his back, then they both went to retrieve that one girl.

Rick saw Ryan tag her with her new owner's coded number and watched as Espo took her to the container and shoved her inside. They did that for all the other women in that same room. "If it's a long trip they'll die long before they even get there," Rick pointed out since it was just a small shipping container. At best it was sixteen feet long by eight feet wide and eight feet tall. The door was simple and needed an equally simple lock.

"Relax, Rodgers, we know what we're doing." Espo went into a different room and came out with three tin five gallon buckets and threw them inside. Then he returned with an armful of blankets. Water and what he thought was a little food were next.

Rick didn't help them close the container nor did he help lock the doors. He did notice that they used a large combination lock that Espo spun to a random number.

Then Ryan used a forklift, took the container outside, put it onto a flat bed, then came back inside.

The door was closed and that was the last time Rick saw that container. "What about the other girls?" They hadn't had their picture taken, nor had they been bought. They were white so what was so wrong with them?

"Those three are ours." Espo leered as Ryan simply grinned. For them now came the fun part of this job. This job not only paid well it had benefits.

"Ours!?" Was he saying what he thought he was?

"If you don't like yours you can have my sloppy seconds," Espo smirked and headed for the room those three girls were in. He wasn't just going to take her, he was going to give her ass a complete plumbing inspection.

Espo went in first and picked one while Ryan took one of the others. They wasted no time in ripping their clothes right off them. Each of the girls shrieked and did what they could to cover themselves.

The third one stayed on the floor and scooted across the floor on her ass to get as far away as the room allowed. Espo was first to have his mostly naked. He had her on her stomach and held her down while working on his pants. Ryan was right behind him.

Rick knew just what these two were going to do. They were going to rape them and since they hadn't been bought and couldn't be allowed to tell the authorities, all three were as good as dead after these two were done with them.

As much as he had hated and managed to stomach knowing that any number of young girls had had their lives upended and were now in possession of someone who was likely going to rape them over and over, this was just more than he could take.

This time he had actually helped ship off a group of young women whose lives were never going to be the same, especially if he didn't get out of there and chase down that container. But he couldn't allow these two to rape these three.

Rick knew they wouldn't listen to reason so that only left him one choice. He pulled out his knife, flipped it, and flipped it again to release the blade. He stepped up to Espo and plunged it into his back right where he wanted it to go, just as Espo plunged his cock inside the girl.

The blow damaged his spinal cord that did severe damage without actually killing him. If properly treated he wouldn't even bleed to death. He was now permanently paralyzed from the point of damage down, though. That meant that he could no longer rape the girls since he could no longer control his lower body. It also had him screaming in agony.

Rick yanked his blade out and turned to find Ryan quickly zipping his pants.

"I knew you were weak, Rodgers. I saw it in your eyes." Then it hit him as he pulled out his own knife and flipped it a couple of times to display the blade. "You're a goddamn FED, aren't you? You're never getting out of this building alive, FED!" Ryan spat out the word FED.

"That's yet to be seen. You will if you run now. Otherwise you're leaving in a body bag." Rick gave him a choice: run and live to fight another day or die in this room.

Ryan didn't take him up on his offer and started to circle him, paying no attention to his buddy Espo who was still lying prone, bleeding, with his pants down on top of some girl. Ryan, however, wasn't really circling. He was slowly circling him, yes, but he was also getting closer to the other girl huddled in the corner. Once he was close enough he lunged for her and placed the tip of his blade in her throat which drew a little blood.

"Goody two-shoes FED! Girls are only good for one thing. Now drop the knife, FED, or watch this girl die!" Ryan threatened then slid the knife just a little, making a longer cut with still more blood.

Rick saw the blood. He also saw that the girl was scared to her very core and wasn't going to be of any help to him. She could get out of this alive if she would just think. But she was far too scared to think.

"Drop it now, FED!" He was taking too long and Ryan was actually starting to think that he was going to let him kill her and try and take him in a fight. Given that he was a Federal Agent meant that he was probably well-trained and his chances of winning were slim.

"Fine, just let the girl go." Rick began to bend down to put his knife down. Then suddenly and swiftly he raised his arm and threw his knife.

Ryan was taller then she was even if she was on tiptoe to try and get away from the knife at her throat. There was only one spot Rick could hit that would guarantee that Ryan couldn't cut her. His head.

Rick's knife went into his left eye and straight into his brain. Ryan was dead before he even hit the floor.

It took a lot of work to get the girls moving and out of this room and over to a back door. He really wanted to take these girls somewhere safe, however a lot of the girls were in that container and he had to save them too.

"Run, run till you find a police officer or until you can't run any longer, and don't split up. …NOW RUN!" Rick even pointed which direction to start running. He was actually satisfied that they were running when suddenly there was an intense burning pain in his back.

He reached for the spot and found a knife in his back. Turning to look behind him, he saw one of the guards had almost reached him. He had obviously thrown the knife. Rick pulled it out since if the guard could throw it so could he.

The guard tumbled and landed at his feet with his own knife in his throat and was choking up blood with each breath. Now he had to reach his bike so he could hunt down that truck with that container on the back.

He struggled to his bike, hitting walls and leaving blood the entire way. Getting his bike started was easy since it always started the first time, though it was also extremely painful. He did his best to ignore the growing pain in his back as he rode. Each and every bump shot up his back; all of them stopped right there and had him groaning and gritting his teeth. The only real benefit from all the pain was that it told him that he was still alive and that he still had a chance.

\O/ + |X| + \O/ + |X| + \O/+ |X|+ \O/+ |X| + \O/

He found it! He was staring right at it and it was even still on the trailer. A dockyard never actually slept since they had to get ready to start loading the ship for it to sail soon. This one, at least, was a little more quiet. He didn't really know all that much about dockyards, but he was betting that this group had somehow made sure their ship was the only ship. Now he just needed a phone.

He left his beloved bike that was coated in blood and staggered his way to what looked like a building that just might have a phone. He really needed a damn phone!

\O/ + |X| + \O/ + |X| + \O/+ |X|+ \O/+ |X| + \O/

He was tired, so very, very tired. He hadn't bothered to hang up the phone after calling his contact and telling him where the girls were. His back didn't even hurt any longer.

He really hoped those three girls made it. They didn't have to die or be raped. No girl should be treated like that no matter what she had done or said.

Still he had saved seven girls from being sold into either slavery or being comfort women, a new life of spreading their legs for the pleasure of who bought them. He was even fearful that they wouldn't have been raped just by who bought them, but raped by any man their owner ordered them to service. End up turned into sluts or whores.

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"This your guy?" a man in a suit asked another man who was dressed far more casually than he was.

They both looked at a handsome young man with a bit of a beard sitting in a metal chair on casters that had a split-in-several-places green leather seat cover. He even still had the handset of the phone in his lap.

"Yeah, Richard Rodgers. His task was to infiltrate a white slavery group that was selling young girls to foreign clients." He then gave Rick all the credit. "Those girls out there are alive and free because of him. They get to go home."

He watched as the man in the suit walked back outside. He sighed and looked at Rick who just sat there. There wasn't even that big of a puddle of blood on the floor. He'd already seen the bloody bike and the red trail from the bike leading to the entrance. Even the bloody trail from the bike to this room. "You did good, Rick, really good." That same trail was going to lead them to where the girls had been and eventually to a man named Espo who was never going to walk again. With a little persuasion he might even rat out the main guy.

"Rest in peace, Agent Rodgers." He was really going to miss him. Rodgers had excelled at his job and had a good heart. It was in times like these that they needed more like him.