It was an all-nighter.
They processed the videos and still images of the vans they had managed to capture that night. The prize was the footage Angie shot over the hedge. The images offered a clear visual of the MP driving the van and someone standing next to the vehicle. The building was an ancient horse barn with multiple outer doors. It was quite extensive. There was a small human sized door in the middle, and it was next to this that the van stood idling as the MP got back into it and drove off. The other person walked back into this personnel door and closed it behind himself.
They worked feverishly but with precision. Toward dawn they were nearly finished, having posted the camera files and a written summary. It bothered Preston they didn’t catch any images of what was in the vans. Still, all three vans in one night making a trip to the hidden horse barn and back out was obviously not part of their military routine. If it was, the K-Mar would know.
It occurred to Preston this might interest his friend in the K-Mar. First, he needed to confer with his boss. Waiting until dawn, he took the initiative to make a voice call to Gary. To his surprise, the phone was answered immediately.
“Great stuff!” Gary sounded wide awake.
Preston decided not to ask why, but got right to the point. “We don’t have direct evidence of the cargo. Would it be against policy to contact someone in the K-Mar with our evidence? If we are on target here, that horse barn is full of young guests who would much rather be enjoying the children’s park right next door.”
“Yes, do that. Tell them you’d like to watch from a distance and see if you can get footage of that, too. I can verify your press credentials if necessary.”
“I’m going to text him right now, so stand by and I’ll let you know.” Preston tapped the disconnect and did what he said.
Interested in catching some child traffickers? I think I’ve found a nest.
While it was quite early, and he only waited an hour or so, it seemed to take forever. Preston’s cellphone rang with a voice call.
The sergeant said with just a trace of humor, “I rather expected you were up to something. Please explain.”
Preston summarized some of what he knew, pretending to be an investigative reporter.
The sergeant responded, “We knew it was around here, but never could catch any movements because we didn’t expect such a carrier. I’ll pick you up in a quarter hour.”
Preston didn’t get a chance to explain that he wouldn’t leave Angie out of it. When the K-Mar van showed up, it took only a little arguing to force the issue. He promised Angie would do only what he told her to, and insisted on keeping her close for her own safety. The sergeant yielded that point and they squeezed into the back seat with a couple of other officers.
On the way, the sergeant spoke into the police radio once or twice, but it was abbreviated jargon Preston couldn’t follow. They rolled to a stop, then turned onto the bike path just short of their intended target. Everyone dismounted and the sergeant barked a few commands. They had Preston walk them through the woods in the general direction of the place. The three officers spread out a bit as each tested his radio quietly against the vehicle radio where the sergeant remained. It was only a couple hundred meters into the woods. The thick thorny hedge went all the way around. A bit of poking showed there was an old horse fence inside it. The officer got some scratches on the arm for his trouble.
It was quite some ways around the perimeter of this thing. Preston raised his camera overhead a few times to catch images of what was inside the hedge. It was just a standard horse barn with stall openings on both sides. There was a large square barn on one end, but no other buildings. The officer with Preston and Angie said something in his handset neither of them understood. A couple of brief responses came back, then the sergeant’s voice last of all. In the distance, the van’s engine started again and could be heard approaching on the road. In the daylight, they had seen there was a swinging gate set into the hedge on the side facing the road. The driveway zigzagged a bit so that the trees and underbrush hid even the gate from direct view from the road.
The van pulled up to the gate and the horn sounded quite loud in the morning stillness. Preston had moved around to the front, estimating the same location as the night before. He held his camera up just high enough to aim over the hedge, then had Angie stand behind him to view the display panel as best she could. Someone eventually came out to the gate, but apparently refused to open it. Preston thought he heard the Dutch word for warrant — huiszoekingsbevel — in the discussion. The sergeant shrugged, stepped back to his vehicle and chatted on the radio a bit.
This time Preston understood the gist of the conversation audible over the handset of the officer nearest him. In essence, someone on the other end had gotten a warrant already. It required the presence of some local official to execute the search, so the sergeant simply waited with his officers scattered around the perimeter for about another fifteen minutes. Then Preston could hear the approach of more than one vehicle. It turned out there were two vans loaded with K-Mar and the official. With the official standing at his side, the sergeant shouted through the gate at the building, then produced a pair bolt cutters and cut the chain. He swung the gate open.
It was almost anti-climactic. Preston re-positioned himself with Angie to record the whole thing. The vans rolled into the parking area in front, knocked on the door. No response. Four officers pulled a heavy metal ram from the back of their vehicle. There was one more shout from the sergeant through the door, then he stepped back.
It took only a few whacks and door gave. Everyone drew their weapons and entered the building. While inside, a bus pulled up on the road out front and blocked the drive. It was escorted by a Rijkspolitie van. These blocked the road and kept back the gathering crowd of onlookers from the campground and passing cyclists and hikers.
The K-Mar escorted out four men and two women, cuffed and placed inside various vans. Next came a line of kids of both sexes and varying ages, seemingly starting around eight years, followed by the local official. It was no real excitement for Angie and Preston, just the tapering end to a long tale. Or rather, it was one of the few good endings to an ongoing horror.
