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The Legacy Enslaved
The Legacy Enslaved
The Legacy Enslaved
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The Legacy Enslaved

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After her friends begin disappearing, the daughter of the Grand Master of the Order finds herself involved in battling a human trafficking ring. But how far will she go to save her friends? Will she risk everything she believes in to bring the traffickers to justice?Jamie Anderson, Tom Anderson's daughter, has everything - good friends, a new boyfriend, a great job, a loving family, and her work with the Order of the Saltire. But human traffickers have abducted several of her friends, and she herself is captured and awaits a terrible fate. Alone and cut off from the Order, Jamie must find a way to escape, but her ordeal changes her. Can she ever be the person she was before? When she finally faces the head of the human trafficking ring, will she use good judgment to bring down the traffickers' operations, or will her need for revenge lead her down a dark path from which there is no return?
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 28, 2018
ISBN9781946329769
The Legacy Enslaved
Author

William Speir

William Speir is an award-winning author living in Texas. Raised in Alabama, he is a 1984 graduate of the University of Alabama at Birmingham. William retired from corporate life in 2009, after spending 25 years as an executive and a management consultant specializing in the human impact to change. He is also an amateur historian and Civil War artillery expert. In 2015, William signed with Progressive Rising Phoenix Press (PRPP) to publish his fiction and non-fiction works, which span the Action-Adventure, Historical Fiction, Science Fiction, and Fantasy genres. For more information about William’s books and book-projects, please visit his website at WilliamSpeir.com.

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    The Legacy Enslaved - William Speir

    The Scourge Revealed

    1

    Team Two, give me a sit-rep.

    Jamie Michelle Anderson’s earpiece cracked with the voice of her team leader. She glanced at Hunter Sinclair, who nodded while warming his hands with his breath. Jamie was the senior member of the two-person team, having been a member of the Order of the Saltire for almost four years, while Hunter had only been a member for three.

    Team Two in position, she said softly. No sign of the targets. Standing by.

    Roger, Team Two. Check in every ten minutes, and notify me when you’ve sighted the targets.

    Roger that, Jamie responded. She put her hands in the pocket of her hoodie, grateful that she had remembered to wear gloves.

    Jamie and Hunter crouched down behind the large bronze statue in the center of the park, waiting for the targets of that night’s surveillance to show up. Fifty yards away were the basketball courts, where the team expected the targets to make an appearance.

    A cold blast of wind caused Jamie to turn away from the basketball courts. Her black compression pants were thick enough to block most of the cold, but she still shivered. The pants, and her black compression shirt underneath the hoodie, were her normal running clothes, but she wished she had worn something thicker to withstand the early spring winds. Hunter was dressed similarly, but he had forgotten his gloves. He pulled his hood tighter around his face as he watched the courts for any sign of the targets.

    There was a new gang operating in that part of the city. The Order had learned that the gang used three city parks to recruit new members. They’d wait until nightfall and then approach anyone playing basketball. Those who agreed to join were taken away to begin their initiation into the gang; those who refused were beaten severely as a warning to anyone else who might refuse. Two youngsters had died from the beatings. The Order approved an intervention to bring the gang members to justice before anyone else got hurt.

    Three intervention teams watched the parks where the gang recruited its new members. Even though the teams had placed surveillance cameras all around the parks to capture audio and video of any gang activity, Jamie and Hunter’s assignment was to capture any gang members before they tried to recruit the youngsters playing at the basketball courts that night.

    Years earlier, the Order had developed a knockout spray to incapacitate targets before turning them over to the authorities. All someone had to do was hold his or her breath and spray it in the face of the target. The only downside was that it required being close to the target. Attempts to develop remote-controlled delivery methods had ended in failure; the spray dissipated too quickly and often knocked out innocent bystanders.

    Jamie’s hand closed around the knockout spray’s metal canister in her hoodie pocket. Surveillance footage from the past two weeks showed the targets entering the park near the restrooms next to the statue. The plan was to apprehend the targets as far from the court lights as possible, so the youngsters playing basketball wouldn’t see anything. Jamie and Hunter hid behind the statue, anticipating that the targets would approach the courts from that direction.

    Oh, no!

    Jamie looked at Hunter. What’s wrong?

    Hunter pointed past the courts. Look. We’re in the wrong place. They entered the park from the far side.

    Jamie saw the targets emerging from the darkness and approaching the courts. And there are five of them. The cameras never showed more than three coming to this park.

    What do we do now? Hunter hissed.

    What DO we do now? She watched the targets enter the basketball courts and approach the youngsters, who had stopped playing and were backing away slowly. Even at that distance, she could tell that the youngsters were afraid. We can’t let these thugs recruit any more members.

    Making a quick decision, Jamie stood and headed toward the courts. Her focus was on the gang members; she no longer felt the cold.

    What are you doing? Hunter demanded.

    I’m going to intervene.

    Hunter watched her walk away. Then he shook his head and followed her.

    Jamie quickly covered the ground between the statue and the courts. As Jamie approached the courts, she heard one of the targets demand that the youngsters join their gang. She pulled her hood tightly around her face so it hid her features and her red hair, and when she reached the fence surrounding the courts, she threw the gate open so it banged loudly.

    The targets spun around when they heard the bang. They saw Jamie walking toward them; the angle of the court lights cast her face in shadows, so they couldn’t see who she was. Deal with that, one of the targets shouted to the gang member closest to the gate.

    The gang member faced Jamie. What do you want, bitch?

    Jamie kept walking toward the target, saying nothing. The gang member reached for his weapon, but before he could draw it, he was flat on the ground. Jamie’s spinning kick caught him on the side of his head and dropped him like a rock. She kicked him in the head again, knocking him out, and then she approached the second target.

    Hearing the first target fall, the second target whirled around, saw Jamie heading toward him, and pulled a pistol from his waistband. But he was a second too late. Jamie kicked the half-drawn gun out of the target’s hand. She then attacked him, kicking him in the groin and punching him in the chest several times before catching him in his jaw, sending him backwards. His head hit the concrete hard, knocking him out.

    Two of the other targets drew their pistols. Jamie rolled to her left and scooped up the pistol that the second target had dropped. She fired at the third target, hitting him in the knee. He fell to the ground, dropping his pistol and screaming in pain.

    Run! Jamie shouted to the youngsters.

    They didn’t need to be told twice. They fled the basketball courts and raced out of the park.

    Jamie, still in a crouched position, leveled her pistol at the fourth target. He fired his gun, but the shot missed its mark. Jamie put a round in his shoulder, and he staggered backwards.

    The fifth target, who was clearly the leader, reached for his pistol, but suddenly there was a hand in front of his face spraying something at him. He dropped to the ground, unconscious.

    Thanks for taking care of him, Jamie said, getting to her feet.

    You’re welcome, Hunter replied, walking over to the other targets and spraying them in the face. He had come into the courts from a different gate while their attention was on Jamie.

    Once all of the targets were unconscious, Hunter stepped outside the fence and returned with the backpack that he had brought with him when he followed Jamie from the statue. Jamie and Hunter dragged the targets over to one of the basketball goals and bound their hands together with handcuffs around the metal pole.

    A gust of wind shook the leaves in the nearby trees as Jamie grabbed the med-kit from the backpack. She tied a tourniquet around the third target’s knee and applied a quick field dressing to the fourth target’s shoulder. Hunter disarmed all of the targets, unloaded the pistols, and placed the guns and ammunition in a metal box that was inside the backpack. He locked the box, secured it to the pole, and put the key in a large envelope. He then taped the envelope to the leader’s chest.

    Jamie and Hunter looked around to make sure they had left nothing behind to identify them. Satisfied that the area was clean, they exited the courts and headed back toward the statue.

    I love watching you kick ass, Team Two, Jamie heard over her earpiece. You missed your check-in time, by the way.

    Sorry about that, Jamie replied. We were a bit busy intervening.

    I know, the voice of her team leader said. Good job. Report back here when you can for a debrief.

    Roger that. Are you alerting the authorities?

    Already done.

    Thanks. We’re leaving the park now.

    Roger, Team Two.

    Jamie glanced over at Hunter. I’ll meet you in an hour or so. She handed him her canister, and he stowed it in the backpack along with his own.

    See you there.

    Hunter slung the backpack over his shoulder, turned left at the statue, and headed for the bus stop near the restrooms. Jamie turned right and started running. She’d hail a cab once she was at least a mile away from the park. The Order’s intervention protocol dictated that no members of an intervention team drive their own vehicles to or from a surveillance site, so before heading to the team leader’s house, both Jamie and Hunter would take public transportation to where they had left their cars earlier in the evening.

    Jamie arrived ninety minutes later and found Hunter and the rest of the intervention team waiting for her.

    About time you showed up, the team leader said, smiling.

    Shut up, Rick, Jamie laughed.

    Rick Foster, a Knight Commander of the Order and someone that Jamie had worked with on several interventions, gestured to an empty seat while he turned on the large video monitor. A moment later, the monitor showed the surveillance video of Jamie and Hunter catching the targets and saving the youngsters.

    When the video ended, the team applauded Jamie and Hunter.

    That was good work, Rick said, turning off the monitor. But why didn’t you check in and let me know what you were doing? If I hadn’t started watching the footage from your park when you failed to check in, I might never have known what happened. If you had been injured, I wouldn’t have known to call for help. What you did was brave, and it worked, but it was reckless.

    Jamie nodded. I was focused on helping those kids. We didn’t expect there to be five gang members tonight, and once I decided that I needed to act, instinct took over. I’ll be more careful next time.

    Thanks, Rick said, sitting down. I don’t want to have to explain to your father that something happened to you on one of my interventions.

    Jamie nodded.

    The good news, Rick continued, addressing the entire team, is that the crew you took down tonight is the same crew that’s been hitting the other parks lately. I don’t know if this gang has anyone else that recruits new members, but even if they do, their recruiting efforts took a major hit tonight. We’ll keep the surveillance cameras in place at all of the parks to see if anyone else steps in to replace them, but unless we spot any other gang members over the next couple of weeks, I think this intervention is over. The police now have enough to watch the gang very closely, and hopefully they’ll be out of business soon.

    Rick turned the video monitor on and shared the images of the police arriving and taking the targets into custody.

    That was a nice touch, binding up their wounds, Rick commented.

    I didn’t want them to bleed out, Jamie replied.

    Don’t forget to wash your clothes thoroughly tonight, Rick cautioned. You’ve got blood and gunshot residue on them.

    I will, Jamie promised.

    An hour later, the team left Rick’s house. Hunter walked Jamie to her car. Hungry? he asked.

    Starving!

    Want me to pick up something and bring it by?

    Sure. We can eat while I’m washing these clothes. I want to wear them again tomorrow, and I don’t want to smell like gunpowder.

    Okay. I’ll meet you at your place.

    Thanks!

    Hunter arrived at Jamie’s townhouse thirty minutes later with the familiar orange and white sacks filled with burgers and fries, along with two chocolate shakes.

    Jamie had purchased the three-bedroom townhouse just after she finished business school and began working at SignalCorps full-time. She had worked there part-time for two years while living at home and finishing her MBA, but she felt that it was time to move out of her parents’ house once she started her career. Her parents, Thomas Campbell Anderson and Emily McCafferty Anderson, hated to see her go, but they were proud of her, and they all got together often. Emily also saw Jamie at work, since she was still a senior executive at SignalCorps.

    Jamie had changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, with her wavy red hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Hunter took off his hoodie and sat at the small kitchen table across from Jamie as she took the food out of the sacks. She ate some fries and then unwrapped one of the burgers. She smiled when she checked inside the bun. It was just the way she liked it – mustard, ketchup, mayo, lettuce, cheese, and double bacon only. She hated tomatoes, onions, pickles, and mushrooms on her burgers.

    You remembered, she said, taking a bite.

    Of course I did. Hunter sipped his shake. I’ve heard you order it enough times. Besides, it’s now how I order mine.

    Copycat.

    Hunter smiled. No, it’s just that I know a good thing when I see it.

    "Really?" She drew out the word sarcastically.

    Really. He leaned across the table and kissed her. And for the record, I love watching you kick ass, too.

    Is that all you love about me? Jamie pretended to pout.

    Hunter grinned. Can we finish eating first? I’m going to need my strength.

    Jamie laughed and threw a fry at him. Gesturing at his drink, she said, You’d better hydrate yourself, too. I don’t’ want you passing out on me.

    Hunter took a long sip of his drink and then finished his burger. He and Jamie gazed at each other and smiled for the rest of the meal.

    Jamie had met Hunter on an intervention six months earlier. She wasn’t looking for a new relationship at the time. On her first intervention, more than three years earlier, she had met Steve MacLeod, a member of the Order from Texas. They started dating, but the strain of a long-distance relationship, coupled with her work and business school, became too much for both of them. They mutually agreed to call things off a couple of months before Hunter came along.

    At first, Jamie and Hunter were just friends, but things progressed quickly as Jamie saw and appreciated Hunter’s qualities. He was kind, caring, and one of the few men who could keep up with her. He was a martial arts student, an avid shooter, and he had a good job working for his father in the commercial real estate business.

    Two months after meeting, they began dating, but Jamie wanted to keep it quiet until she saw how things went. She wasn’t afraid or ashamed of letting anyone know that she was dating again, but she was cautious after breaking up with Steve.

    Hunter understood. Plus, with Jamie and Hunter both being part of the Order, and with Jamie’s father being the Grand Master, neither Jamie nor Hunter wanted their relationship to make intervention team leaders hesitant to pair them up on the same assignment. Even though the Order had no rules against people serving on teams together while dating or married, as Jamie’s parents had done, Jamie was concerned that it might be perceived as an unnecessary distraction or disruption. Jamie and Hunter thought that they made a good team, and they both wanted that to continue. Jamie adored Hunter, and she hoped that their relationship might grow into something more.

    They finished eating, and Hunter helped Jamie clean up. He followed her to the laundry room and helped her fold up the clothes that she had just washed. As she closed the dryer, he came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her ear and kissing her neck.

    Jamie pressed her arms against his. Then she turned and kissed him. Can you stay? she whispered.

    All night.

    She took his hand, and they went upstairs to her bedroom.

    Don’t expect to get any sleep tonight, she warned him as they reached the top of the stairs.

    Funny, he responded, squeezing her hand gently. I was about to say the same thing to you.

    2

    Wendy Mitchell couldn’t stand the thought of being cooped up in her apartment alone for another night. She hated going out by herself, but all of her friends had been busy that week. By Thursday evening, she decided that she’d rather go out solo than spend another night watching re-runs.

    Wendy was a tall, fit, leggy blonde twenty-four-year-old woman who stayed active and loved to dance. She looked through her closet and selected a mini-dress that showed off her body – especially her legs. She teased her hair to twice its normal volume, put on her clubbing make-up, and slipped into the dress, which shimmered in the light as she moved. A pair of earrings and high-heeled pumps completed the ensemble. She was ready to be noticed and to have a good time.

    She caught a cab outside her apartment building and headed for the nightclub district. Looking good and feeling good, she couldn’t wait to meet a few new dance partners. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even let one of them take me home.

    She paid the driver and got out when the cab stopped in front of a new nightclub that she had wanted to try out. Velvet ropes stretched across the entrance, but after one look at her and her outfit, the doorman unhooked the ropes and gestured for her to go inside.

    "Club Mingles" is the perfect name for this place. The club was obviously designed to be a place where singles, as well as cheaters, could go and meet new people. As soon as she stepped inside, two different guys asked her to dance. I’m going to have fun tonight!

    In a private office above the dance floor, a wall of video monitors displayed the feeds from dozens of cameras around the club.

    One of the technicians zoomed in on a new girl in a shimmering mini-dress. Look at that one, he said. With those legs and that body, she has potential. Swiveling in his chair, he added. We could do well with her.

    A voice came from the shadows. Are you thinking about Dr. Black, or are you suggesting that we put her on The Exchange?

    The Exchange, the technician replied. He changed the video display to another camera showing the girl dancing.

    And what about our contract? We’re short on what we’re supposed to send to Dr. Black, and you know the consequences if we don’t fill our contracts on time.

    The technician nodded, gesturing toward the girl on the video monitor, who was now dancing with a different partner. "I understand. It’s just a shame to let that go to waste."

    Not waste, the voice corrected, just a different purpose. Alert George, Rachael, and the team.

    Yes, ma’am, the technician acknowledged.

    Wendy was having a great time. She had already danced with four men, and she hadn’t even ordered a drink yet. She maneuvered through the crowd to a section filled with individual tables. She found an empty one, and the waitress appeared as soon as she put her clutch purse down. Wendy saw that her nametag read Rachael.

    What can I bring you? Rachael asked, keying the table information into her tablet.

    Vodka with a twist, Wendy responded over the music.

    Rachael entered the drink order into the tablet. The tablet flashed a notation saying Special on the screen, and Rachael entered an acknowledgment code. She nodded to Wendy and made her way to the bar.

    George, the head bartender, saw the drink order show up on his screen: Vodka with a twist. Special. Even though there were several bottles of vodka on the lower row of liquor behind the bar, he reached up to the third row in the back, grabbed a bottle of vodka, poured the liquor into a glass, and returned the bottle to the third row before putting a twist of lime in the drink.

    Rachael held out her hand when he turned around. Is that my special vodka with a twist?

    George nodded and handed the drink to Rachael.

    Rachael took the drink to Wendy’s table and set it down. I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit.

    Thanks! Wendy said as Rachael turned to leave.

    Wendy took a sip of the drink and looked around, wondering who she’d dance with next. She downed the rest of

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