God and Monsters

Chapter 13

"They deal in the black market," Jay tells me.

I'm staring at camera footage of the tattooed man from the video-the one that brought a little girl with a gunshot wound into Dr. Garrison's shoddy hospital. "Organ traffickers, to be specific."

"Who is 'they'?" I ask, carefully watching the man carry the injured child out of the hospital, gently set her in the backseat of a red Camaro, and then speed off. Whether he didn't care to avoid the one camera on the front of the building, or wasn't aware of it, doesn't actually matter. I got his license plate number.
Jay pulls up a photo. It's of the tattooed man with three other men. Based on their body language, they appear very comfortable with each other.

"Them. They call themselves the Basilisk Brotherhood. Widely known in the black market for trading in human organs. Ryker, Daire, Kace, and Slade. No one knows their real last names."

I close my eyes, reining in my temper. I have little control over it these days.

"Before you get growly and go on a killing spree, Tony the Tiger, there's been some talk that they are not actually as bad as they're making themselves out to be."

I shoot Jay a look, but he ignores me. I'm scarier than Tony the Tiger, and he knows it.

"Why do you say that?"

"Just some comments on forums that I've come across on a few deep websites," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know what it is, but I have a feeling those rumors are true."

We'll see.
"Regardless, they would have knowledge on the comings and goings of the skin trade," I surmise.

Jay meets my heavy stare, a mutual agreement passing between us silently. If Rosie is traded or auctioned off, they might be able to track it, which means that I need to have a chat with the Basilisk Brotherhood.

"Give me a second, and I'll get in contact with them," I say, straightening and motioning for Jay to move aside. He grumbles something about this being his computer, but I don't pay him any mind.
Jay's great at what he does-amazing, even.
But I'm better.
I sit down and open up several programs. The first one is a software with facial recognition. It provides a hit on every single camera their face has appeared on. I'm almost impressed when very few pop up.
Ryker's face is the most popular-the same large, angry-looking man that brought in the little girl to the doctor. Unlike the grainy footage from the hospital, this camera catches a clear image of him. He's interesting-looking, with sharp features, long hair that seems to always be tied up, pale gray-green eyes, light stubble, and a nose piercing. Type of face women would fall to their knees for. The other three certainly aren't hurting for pussy either, though they're all incredibly different from each other. Definitely not real brothers, though I'm sure they act like it.

"You'll get along with them great," Jay says over my shoulder. "You all are in a business where being obscure is key, yet each one of you stands out like lollipops among moldy bread. Very lickable lollipops, too."

Yeah, whatever. I didn't ask to be beautiful.
I ignore him and narrow down my search to the most recent location they were spotted last. Portland, Oregon. Massive city and a great place to hide. Also, a prime location for human trafficking. Prostitution runs rampant there-one of the most blatant and in-your-face forms of trafficking there is. The police spend more time arresting the girls for their crimes rather than trying to save them. In the video, it appears as if they're doing some type of exchange. Could be drugs, but something like cocaine or heroin is child's play when you're dealing with human organs. Call it intuition, but none of them give off the vibe of a drug addict. I sift through different programs until I finally get a hit on a residential house's Nest camera from two weeks ago. The red Camaro pulls into the driveway, and the four men pour out of the car.
An older woman steps out of the front door and waves her hand animatedly. The Nest picks up audio, so when her voice comes through, it's clear that whoever owns this house is either family or like family.
She's loud and boisterous as she greets them, and the men gravitate towards her like little boys would their grandma.