Face of the Assassin by Bill Brewer

Author:Bill Brewer [Brewer, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thrillex Publishing
Published: 2020-12-09T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

Wayne’s arrival in Italy was quite subdued. He always liked to travel cheaply, and Avery didn’t include travel money. One million to wack this guy was huge, but Wayne stuck to his habit of not spending money he did not have. The 2005 Citroen C4 he rented had 300,000 kilometers on it, rusty fenders and seat fabric, which retained the scent of every ass that had spent hours riding in this nearly classic subcompact. Fortunately the manual window cranks worked.

The smugglers itinerary Avery had shared, took them from Makarska, Croatia to the Italian Province of Chieti, to land at the seaside town of Ortona. The crossing of the Adriatic Sea took eight hours, provided the sea was not stirred up by a saltwater storm.

Although he lived with his girlfriend in Rome, Masoni traveled across the peninsula to the dumpy tourist town of Ortona where he had arranged with the Ortona Boat Service to receive his merchandise. The women were unloaded from the 50-foot cruiser at night into the shore side, hangar sized shop within which they were loaded into vans. The vans would take them to the regions where the women would be put to work. Masoni would stay in Ortona until all the vans had arrived and the merchandise was released. The women were his responsibility from the time they unloaded from the boat until they arrived in their places of service. For this, he was well paid, but it was middleman work that wasn’t hard as long as you didn’t mind selling sex slaves.

Billboards extolling the beaches and the seafood restaurants of this low budget vacation destination dotted the road into Ortona. During the summer, the place was filled with working class people getting some R&R at the seaside resorts. Now in October, the beach was empty and most of the restaurants were closed for the season. Illegal immigration of women went undetected amongst the dry docked boats wrapped in plastic.

At the dock, twenty-four women had disembarked the yacht in which they had crossed the Adriatic Sea. Preceding the two armed men who accompanied them on the boat, the women shuffled into the boathouse hangar and Masoni pulled down the overhead door. Placing a steel case on the workbench, Masoni opened it and fired up his laptop screen. The shorter of the two men from the boat signed into an account. Masoni typed in a code transferring 200,000 Digival to the man’s account. Closing the case, they shook hands. The two men returned to the boat, left the dock, and sailed into the dark Adriatic.

The van parked inside the boat hangar was not big enough for twenty-four passengers; in fact, Masoni was waiting for three more vans. The women were destined for four locations, each van carrying six passengers.

Presently the women were standing in the open area of the hangar, surrounded by greasy engine parts, crumpled propellers, a long oil stained workbench with tools suspended above, and cans of grease, oil, and solvents stored below. Long fluorescent fixtures hanging from the ceiling cast diffuse light without heat.

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