Draft of another chapter.

Draft of Chapter 6. The plot thickens.

6. Flaws in the Hood.

“To have and to hold, say I do”
“I do”
“You may kiss the bride.”
We'd done it. For better or worse Laura and I were going to give married life another try. Though this time it was with each other which could only be an improvement over our past choices. With the service over, it was off to Jamaica for a honeymoon. Despite having Danny in tow we had fun. My cell didn't work, I stayed unplugged from the Internet, and nothing happened. Well at least nothing I would tell you about.
Eventually something did happen. On the way back to Atlanta, transferring through Miami, we ran into an old acquaintance on his way to a scientific meeting. Dr. Qieng Li, in the physics department at Bejing University was both a friend and a rival in the world of sensor physics. “So Will,” he began as we waited for our bags, “What brings you to Miami?”
“On the way back from my honeymoon.” I introduced him to Laura and Danny. He joked with Laura, “You have to watch this one, keep him busy and out of the lab so I have a chance to publish first.” They laughed. He then turned to me and said, “One thing, though, Will, would you tell the TOEFL-tutoring team at GSU how well they are doing?”
“How well they are doing?”
“Yes, our students have been using your service and it's made a huge difference for them. It's been well worth the money.”
“Money, I suppose they charge, how much?” If it was enough I could always have the more literate of my students supplement their stipends with a few hours work.
“Depends, can be as much as $10,000 a student. If they need a lot of help that is.”
“Wow. I had no idea it was so profitable.” Something told me the university didn't either.
“It really works too. One of my students, Xa Shen, could barely read English, but after two months, he scored well enough for MIT.”
I was speechless. It sounded too good to be true.
“There's my bag! Say 'hi' to Dr. Lee for me.”
2
I first noticed the Bengali contingent when we were transferring in Miami. International travel to the US goes through customs at the first airport where you land. There was some number, more than I could quickly count, of excited young women in matching brightly colored saris, chatting away over in the foreign passport line. I didn't think much of it at the time as Danny was asking where there was a bathroom and I wanted to make sure that we reentered the good ol' USA successfully.
It wasn't until we met again at the baggage claim at Hartsfield Jackson airport in Atlanta that they impinged more seriously on my consciousness. I chatted to one, who looked barely 16 and knew some variety of English, while we were waiting for the bags to arrive from the bowels of the airport.
“So is this a girl scouts or youth group outing?”
“No, we have jobs, in the US.”
“Oh, where?”
“Atlanta, maids. So exciting.”
A rather muscular man came over and interrupted us. He very brusquely told the woman “Don't talk to anyone.” and then warned me, “This is none of your business. Nosy people who ask questions tend to lose their noses.”
“I was just being sociable, welcoming them to Atlanta.”
“Don't.”
“Fine. Suit yourself.”
“I mean it. Stay away from this.”
After picking up our bags I told Laura about out conversation. “Sounds like you've run into one of the human trafficking rings.”
“Trafficking rings?”
She pulled up a photo on her cell. “Did the man look like this?”
“Yes, that's him.”
“Can't prove it yet, but those poor girls don't have a clue what they're in for.”
“Damn. They seemed nice enough. They seemed just like a bunch of excited freshmen eager for their first classes.”
“INS is on it.”
“Good.” I had other problems to pursue, and the Feds could look after that one.
3
The next day I caught up with my student Tom and found out how the class was going. The physics teaching was fine. Unfortunately the rest wasn't. “We're down to 48 students now, and not another dropout.”
“Damn. Did he survive?”
“She collapsed about halfway through the class. Might make it, at least she was alive when the EMT's left. Our friend Steve helped with the CPR.”
“I'm glad someone was there.”
“Yeah, he said it was much nicer with a pretty girl than the CPR dummy.”
“Let's not go there, shall we. Who was it?”
\\ will track down the victim. Find her with Steve? Anyway she wasn't “stung” but scratched. And yes she's involved with ESL online tutoring.
“Tamika Harris.”
“Which one was she?”
“She was the young black woman who always sat up in the front, the middle of the row.”
“Damn, one of the better student's wasn't she?”
“Do you know where she went?”
“Dunno, probably Grady.”
“When was this?”
“A week ago, just after you left.”
“Has anybody tried to contact her or her parents?”
Not surprisingly, no one from GSU had tried to find them. I opened up 'gosolar', the web-based grade tool we used, and found her record. There was a picture, her student e-mail address and little else.
My office phone rang. It was her parents.
Grady hospital, being only a few blocks away from campus, was an easy walk. I found Tamika and her family in her hospital room.
I was greeted enthusiastically, “Dr. Sharpe, we're so glad you could visit. Tamika was enjoying your class.”
“All part of the GSU service.” It wasn't, but this made for a nice story. “How is she doing?”
Her father answered, “As well as can be expected.” He paused, awkwardly, then continued, “Dr. Sharpe, we've heard that you're not just a physics professor, are you?”
My reputation preceded me. “No, I have 'other interests'.”
“One of those is an investigator, isn't it?”
“Yes.”
“I want to know who did this to my baby.”