Midnight in MoldovaPosted: August 1, 2016
It was just six weeks after the bureau handed him the assignment that investigative journalist, Harvey Harbinger, found himself in the midst of it all.
With minimal briefing, piles of classified and sensitive data now in his keep, the overwhelming task left no time for him to toast to the fact that he had the opportunity to finally work on a piece fit for a centrefold feature. Rightfully so, in retrospect, because good digestion awaits the convenience of appetite. And what he was to find was not only bad and distasteful – but to connect the situation with any cause to consider celebration would forever prove difficult and likely met with unwilling cooperation, if the compliment-conferring company knew the full details of what he was about to witness.
And now seeing the signals first hand, vivid recollections of all that he had researched and read in the weeks leading up to this event were condensed. Everything pointed to the fact that they were clearly holding the girls against their will. It was cruel, and they had no right, he thought. But nothing had prepared him for the reality he was confronted with.
In-between feeling helpless and having to accept the ineffectual nature of his industry’s responsibility, he still had to complete the assignment and somehow simply pack up and leave to report back, having given no practical assistance to the many women afflicted and worse, paradoxically most likely get a pat on the back for such exclusive coverage, only to be expected to detach and move on to the next story which really put into question his professional quest. He had doubts. He was a rookie no doubt, and perhaps he’d get used to it or possibly even get over it, he so desperately wanted to believe. Still, even though he didn’t have the field experience, he was confident that he was accurate in his conclusions that they would never understand the seriousness and gravity of the problem or fathom the extent. And even if they did, he felt they wouldn’t be willing to do much else about it after the story served its purpose. Also, if the State was truly making all possible efforts to offer adequate protections then the sex slave ownership wouldn’t be so rampant. Those were some of his mental assertions.
Summoning all the courage he could conjure up, he was determined to help in every way he could. Convinced the least he could do was find a way to save Veronyka Marinela, the brave woman who’d risked her life to grant him such close access to the traffickers’ dealings, he came to a decision he’d orchestrate her escape from the grips of the ring. But due to wrap up his findings and fly out within the following 24 hours, he had to finagle. He conceived no better option and felt he’d been forced to figure out a way to actually see some justice done, so he devised a plan to make the bureau extend his stay.
© Heath Muchena, 2016