57
ANSON
“Late last night,” Stash went on, “I received some disturbing news. Personally, I’ve made it a point to be as transparent as possible with all of you, and I don’t want to start hiding things now, so I’m going to share what I was told.
You’ve put a lot of faith and trust into me, and transparency is the least I can do.
” He gave it a moment for that to sink in.
“It’s no secret the Quick exists on the fine edge of a tightrope.
There’s a daily balancing act between local government, residents, law enforcement, and those who operate outside the law.
While many would say we fall within that last group, I guarantee there are far worse out there.
Many of you have experienced that firsthand. ”
There was a soft rumble of murmurs through the crowd.
“We have reason to believe the Genovese crime family out of New York plans to take a run at the Quick in an effort to round up bodies whom they intend to sell into their sex trafficking ring, both domestically and abroad. They see the Quick as a source for many, all in one shot. People who won’t be missed.
We think they’re trying to meet some kind of quota, and this could happen as early as tonight. ”
This brought on a much louder cacophony of voices. Shouted questions and comments.
Stash’s hands went up again. “Let me finish! Let me finish! Then I’ll take questions!
” He waited in silence until the voices quieted back down to a low rumble.
“The young are obviously our biggest concern. They’re the targets.
But that doesn’t mean the rest of you aren’t in danger.
We have no idea what type of force they plan to use during this raid, but we can’t discount the fact that they might be willing to hurt anyone who stands in their way.
That puts us all at risk. Thankfully, we’re in a position to prepare preemptively. ”
“What the fuck do you plan to do?” A male voice shouted out from the front of the room. “Line up behind Pudge at the top of the steps and hope he figures out how to aim by tonight? Fuck that. I’m leaving.”
To his credit, Stash kept his anger in check and answered calmly.
“You are welcome to leave, Bobby—you all are, but anyone who does will not be permitted reentry until we can be certain this situation is behind us. And if you leave, I can’t guarantee your bed will be here when you get back.
The Quick has always operated on a first-come, first-served basis, and this will be treated no different. ”
Bobby let out a hoarse laugh. “From what you’re saying, it sounds like there won’t be a shortage of beds when this is all over. I ain’t too worried about that.”
Stash ignored that. “I know many of you are armed. That’s good.
For those of you who aren’t, we’d like to help get some kind of weapon in your hand.
Meagan has a list of current residents. She’s going to pass it around.
I’d like you to locate your name, and if you have a weapon, write it in.
If you don’t have a weapon and would like something, leave the line blank.
If you don’t have a weapon and prefer not to be armed, please just write the letter X. ”
Meagan held a clipboard in the air for a moment, then set it down on the nearest table.
“If you have a gun,” Stash continued, “be sure to write the caliber. We’re working on bringing in ammunition, and it would be helpful to get a better handle on what exactly we need.”
Lumen cracked her cane against the ground to get his attention. “That’s your plan? Some O.K. Corral standoff? You’re going to pit a bunch of homeless against armed professional thugs?”
“No,” Stash told her flatly. “We’re hoping it doesn’t come to that. The weapons are a secondary line of defense. A deterrent. The plan is to keep them out altogether.” He looked back toward the door. “Detective?”
Every head in the room turned with him, watching as Detective Moss stepped tentatively inside and crossed over to where Stash and Meagan stood.
Her hair was pulled back. Her gun and badge were clipped to her belt on full display.
Muffled voices filled the room. Nervous voices.
Nobody expected to see her inside the walls of the Quick, least of all me.
Detective Moss waited for the whispers to die down, then cleared her throat.
“Whether on the books or not, this facility has served an integral role in helping people and keeping folks off the streets for multiple generations. I’m proud to call Charleston home, and I’m prouder still in knowing that our community is willing to support each other on so many levels.
I’m not alone in that. When Stash reached out to me, I contacted a number of my friends in law enforcement and assembled a task force.
We’re off the books; it has to be that way, but we have numbers.
I’ve got teams monitoring all points of ingress and egress, not only for the Quick, but for the Market down below.
We have people on the sidewalks outside, as well as unmarked cars patrolling the perimeter.
Teams will be working in three eight-hour shifts—around the clock—until this is over.
” She looked out over the crowd. “At the top of that clipboard going around is my cell phone number. If you spot or hear anything suspicious, I want you to call me directly. I can mobilize a response faster than 911.”
There was clearly a lot more to Moss than I knew, than she had let on. How did she know Stash? Or Meagan? Who had called her? Was she just here to get closer to the killer?
“Thank you, d=Detective.” Meagan gave Detective Moss an appreciative smile before turning to face the rest of us.
“We have plenty of food and water. We’re well stocked on all necessary medications.
As Stash said, you are welcome to leave, but we firmly believe this is the safest place for you, particularly the young.
While these people have zeroed in on the Quick, we have no doubt they will also be grabbing anyone from the streets who fits their bill.
Out there, there is nobody to protect you. ”
Stash cleared his throat. “Any questions?”
There were many. It seemed half the people in the room spoke at once.
Vincent, Paul, and I said nothing.
Vincent had taken Paul’s drawing from his pocket and was studying it again. Closer this time. His eyes darted from the image to the front of the room and back again.
Paul had captured the moment in perfect detail, exactly how I remembered it.
I had turned from my burning house and looked back at the ambulance parked in the street behind me.
There were two paramedics. A man in his twenties busy rifling through the contents of a storage locker built into the shell of the vehicle, and a woman, also in her twenties.
She held no medical equipment in her hands; instead, she held a camera. The lens pointed directly at me.
Just as Vincent had done, I looked from the drawing to the front of the room, then back again.
I had no doubt.
The woman who photographed me at my house that day was Meagan.