Page 9 of Pierre (Voodoo Guardians #40)

The streets were crowded, dirty, smelled of urine and rotten food, and the flies were everywhere. Pierre and the team casually strolled through the worst parts of the capital city, hoping to catch site of the man known as Henri Dufregne.

“I think that’s our dude,” said Butch, nodding toward the man standing on the corner with a bunch of kids. He was handing out chocolate bars and t-shirts. He looked up, as if sensing that eyes were on him, and nodded to Pierre.

A few moments later, the children dispersed, and he walked toward them.

“Gentlemen, we got very busy last night, but I wanted to thank you for all your help. You disappeared before I could do that properly.”

“It was our pleasure,” said Pierre. “Would you have a few minutes to spare? I’d like to ask a couple of questions.”

“Of course,” he said, waving them to some rickety tables on the sidewalk. A woman brought out cups of coffee and plates of sweet mango. “How can I help you?”

“We’re looking for some lost children,” said Pierre.

“I see. And someone said that I was kidnapping these children,” said Dufregne.

“They did,” said Pierre, “but I have to be honest. A kidnapper is not what I was seeing last night.” Dufregne nodded at the men, calling to the woman for another round of coffees.

“I was born here. Like you,” he said, nodding toward Pierre.

“My father owned a fishing boat. That’s how he made his living.

We did alright compared to most. My parents had a small home, and we always had food on the table.

Then things started to get worse. First, my father was murdered, then my mother. ”

“I’m sorry,” said Winslow.

“Me too. I was a sixteen-year-old boy alone on the streets of one of the most violent cities in the world. But my father left me the fishing boat, and it was the one thing I knew how to do. Fish.

“Five years ago, one of the men who fished with me didn’t show up for work.

After we came back from fishing for the day, I went to visit him and his family.

The home was razed to the ground. There was nothing left.

Neighbors said a group of men and women dragged them from their home, beat them, and took the children.

They were only five and nine years old.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” said Pierre.

“I tried to find them, but there was no sign of them anywhere. Instead, I found something else. My purpose for being in this place. Right beneath my nose, children were disappearing at an alarming rate. I never saw it. They were just gone.”

“Do you have children of your own?” asked Butch.

“No. No, I never seemed to find a woman who was willing to smell like fish all day,” he grinned. “I don’t know who you are, but the children of Haiti are disappearing. Many are dying because of disease, starvation, and violence, but many more are simply disappearing.”

“We are here because of you,” said Pierre. His eyes went wide, and he stared at the men. “We were told that you might be responsible for this, but something about the way you acted last night told me it wasn’t true.”

“Who are you?” he asked again, cocking his head toward Pierre.

“My name is Pierre. This is my team. Butch, Tucker, Conn, Winslow, and Fish. We’re U.S. Army Rangers.”

“That makes much more sense than engineers,” he grinned. “Are there more of you?”

“I’m afraid not. We’re all you get,” said Fish.

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” he said with a sad smile. “I can tell you what I know.”

For two hours, they spoke about everything that was happening in Haiti. The politics, the violence, the political violence. All of it. But the missing children were a mystery.

“Many don’t have parents,” said Henri.

“We noticed that last night,” said Pierre. “The children who were crying out for help didn’t cry out for a parent. Most children would cry for their mother or father. These children didn’t.”

“That’s because most don’t have parents.

Or if they do, they don’t know who they are.

Boys started showing up at the docks in the morning, begging to go out with me every day to fish.

A few was fine, but when it started to be twenty or thirty boys, I couldn’t do it any longer.

Then I noticed the terrified looks on their faces. ”

“What did they say?” asked Pierre.

“Only that they were afraid of being taken. They didn’t know who would take them, only that their friends had been taken and never came home.”

Pierre took out his VG phone and texted AJ, Hiro, and Tanner.

Any communication on a trafficking site dealing with primarily male children from Haiti?

His teammates stared at him but never questioned who he’d texted. They trusted Pierre.

“What is it that you think you can do?” asked Henri.

“We’re not sure,” said Pierre. “We hope to find who is taking the kids and bring them into custody for an international court, if they cooperate. If they don’t, then custody won’t matter.”

“What I know is that many of the children sleep at one of the sanctuary churches. There are three. Sacred Heart, St. Francis of Assisi, and St. Mary’s.

The church opens its doors at dusk, closes them at dark, and locks the children inside.

At dawn, they’re given a small meal, and the doors are opened once again. ”

“Have any of these children disappeared while staying inside the church?” asked Tucker.

“Not that I’m aware of, or anyone else for that matter. The problem is there is no tracking system of who enters the church and who leaves the church.”

“Sounds like that should be our first visit,” said Pierre.

“I would agree but just be aware that the Mother Superior in charge, Sister Josephina, is very protective of the church and the children. I’ve tried many times to get her to allow one of my men or women to stay with the children, and she refuses.”

“Does she have security?” asked Winslow.

“Nothing other than the church itself. It’s odd, but it seems the one thing people respect around here. The church,” frowned Henri.

“If that’s all we have, then we’ll make that work. We’d appreciate if you’d keep us informed of what might be happening here,” said Pierre.

“I am grateful for the help,” said Henri. “I’ve gone to the military, the police, I’ve even written letters to foreign embassies, and it all seems to have fallen on deaf ears.”

“Well, I hear. Loud and clear. I would have been one of those children had it not been for my father, an Army Ranger who was here working another case. He saved me and took me out of here.”

“We should all be as lucky as you,” said Henri with a sad smile. “Here is my phone number. You may call or text at any time.” He slid the paper across the table and paid the waitress for the coffees.

“Are we ready?” asked Butch, standing at the table. Henri turned around.

“One more thing, gentlemen. Do not tell the good sister we’ve spoken. She’s taken a serious dislike to me, and I have no idea why.”