desktop. “There was some chatter I didn’t get to read. Something about…” He called up his email. “Jesus, B could mean brothel, Derek?
“Of course, a common place to take victims. Its location reads YoAv. What’s the most famous street with those letters? Yonkers Ave in New York?”
“Maybe but doesn’t seem like a good location. My guess is this is an upscale operation.”
They finally guessed York Ave on the Upper East Side.
“That’s more like it,” Grant told him. “And look, two of these other kids have the same location.”
Grant called up the real estate on the computer. And a huge house rising up five stories came to view, protected by a high wrought iron gate.
“Christ,” Derek said, “They’ve got storefronts on the first floor. Life just goes on below the torture and abuse of young people. Let’s go.”
“Not without a warrant, first, then police back up, vests, and arming properly.”
“I—”
“Shut up, Derek. We’ll do this the right way, let the experts who know how to do an abstraction do it. If you can’t, and you want to go storming in there, you’re not going to be in on the whole bust. Think about it, man.”
“All right, we’ll do this your way.”
“You and I will go scope the place out while we wait to hear from a judge. Meanwhile, headquarters will call up the team.” He watched Derek. “I know how much you want to get these kids out, but there’s bound to be security on the premises. We gotta enlist enough people. And it may take all night. Be patient.”
Derek agreed and drove up to York Ave. They did several drive-bys of the house, then found a parking spot with a good view of it. All the while, Derek pictured slender, sensitive twenty-year-old Stuart as he was when he presented in a required health class. He was soft-spoken and kind to everybody. He’d had a shy smile and blushed when a girl flirted with him after class.
Finally, a limo drove to the front of the building. No one exited and the person inside waited in the car. Eventually the armed guards came. A man got out. Was escorted inside.
“Fuck!” Derek said, heatedly.
“I know it’s hard to see one more go in. But keep the faith.”
The warrant came at one a.m. Soon after, SWAT jeeps arrived. Ten men climbed out. They wore helmets, camo and carried long guns. The first one held a shield, another a ram. In a line, crouching, the officers crept up to the front of the building and one popped the gate lock. Still low, five dropped below the front windows and five headed around back.
Soon, the ones in front stormed the door, using the ram to knock down the main entrance. Loud, “Police, put down your weapons,” was repeated several times. They all disappeared inside.
Derek said, “We’ve got our vests on. I’m going in.”
“Give them time to do their work. That’s an order.” But Grant seemed antsy too.
Finally, he got a beep on his phone, and a text that said, “All Clear.”
Bolting out of the car, Derek and Grant rushed through the gate, and into the house. On the first floor, several men—armed guards—were subdued. The policed headed up to the second floor, but there was no noise so apparently there were no guards up there.
Derek raced to the staircase and took the steps two at a time to floor two. Doors were thrown open and police mostly wrenched naked men off victims. None, he saw, were Stuart. Only when he reached number five did Derek find a woman, who was being wrestled back and cuffed. Then Derek saw Stuart on his knees, hands bound behind him, a spiked collar around his neck. She’d inflicted several wounds on his body, and he was whimpering.
* * *
Stuart was confused. One minute he was getting his skin sliced by a whip, then the next, he felt the woman who was his worst nightmare pulled off of him.
“Wha…what’s…” He could barely speak, still hazy from the drugs. And…shit…it looked like Derek Davidson bent over him. He had to be hallucinating.
He blinked several times. It was Derek Davidson.
Derek put a sheet around him, eased Stuart up and undid his cuffs. “You’re safe now, Stuart. We’re all here to take you away from this place.”
“Are you real?”
Derek squeezed his arm. “I am.”
“Did they get you, too?”
“No, no. I’m not a student, Stuart. I’m an FBI agent who was sent into City College to end this human trafficking ring.”
Again, he blinked, but it