Chapter 17
Alvin picked Alex up the next morning as she walked back from the market. It was so exciting, like in a James Bond movie. She was grinning like a little girl again as she slid smoothly into the car seat, smiling up at the handsome face of her friend. She giggled.
Early the next morning she had heard a scratching at the door. It was odd, but she thought maybe one of the neighbor's cats had the wrong apartment. Cats weren't allowed but almost all the tenants had either a cat or dog. She opened the door, but didn't see anything. She almost missed the tiny slip of paper on the floor. It hadn't been there earlier when she had mopped the kitchen.
"Market. Red car." The note was puzzling. There was crude diamond at the bottom, and suddenly she knew what who it was from. She threw on her old house dress and her flats and hurried to the market.
The tiny Mom and Pop shop carried a lot of ethnic foods for the changing population in the surrounding neighborhoods and Alex had always enjoyed the simple pleasures of the smells and the strange labels. It made her imagine the lives of the people in those countries, how different they were, yet how much the same as people were everywhere. She wandered the isles for a while, then, with a wave to the owner, headed out.
The shiny red car pulled smoothly in front of her as she was crossing the street. The door popped open and she slipped in. To anyone watching, it would appear as if she had vanished into thin air.
No one was watching. The quiet little man who had been her constant companion before and who had bugged her apartment was now watching another woman. The new one was more of a challenge. She was sneaky and up to something. She had security worthy of his skills. He was excited, or as excited as a non-descript quiet little man could allow himself to become. Finally, a worthy adversary.
"New car?" Alex asked after they had driven for a while.
"Rental," came the one-word reply. Alvin was focused on the rearview mirror, looking for a tail. It was unlikely, but he was taking no chances. He rarely did.
"Oh. Is your car in the shop?"
"Sort of. It had a few bugs in it."
"Oh. What kind of bugs?"
Alvin threw her a disbelieving look. How could she not know? She had been the one to tell him about the ones in the bar and then the one last night. He held up his hand and cupped his ear.
"Oooooh," she said understanding. It was just like James Bond. She slouched down in the seat, below the level of the window. She saw him look and then grin at her new seat on the floorboards. She watched him drive, watching backwards constantly. They made a lot of turns.
Alvin pulled into a deserted parking area in one of the many parks in the city. She had heard about the beautiful parks in this city but had never been in one before. Harold hated parks.
"Miss Alex. We need to talk."
"Can we walk, too? I love parks. There's no one here, not even the joggers. Please?"
He nodded and they got out. Without asking him, she took his hand in hers. She heard him make a small choking sound and she knew. She had known last night. She had seen him in the room. He had watched her dance. She had seen him watching her, and knew. She felt it, too.
They couldn't talk about it now. Not now. Later. When the voices stopped, when she was done with the insurance thing. When she was free from this craving, free from her marriage. When Mr. Smith let her go. She had always known he would not keep her. Last night had confirmed that. She felt it would be soon. Then she would be able to talk about this. About love. But not now.
"Did you ever find out what happened to that man, the one that attacked me?" she asked, diverting the conversation to another area.
"Lewis? Yeah. He got depressed and drunk, went home and committed suicide. Can't say as I feel real sorry for him."
"Did he leave a note?" she asked, her breath held in futile hope. She knew.
"Yeah. Cute one, too."
"Oh God, oh God, oh God," she muttered half to herself, half in prayer. "'Fuck the bitch, Fuck the bank'," she quoted.
"Yeah! Hey, how'd you know?"
"He wrote it in Mr. Smith's office. Just before he killed him."
"No way. I saw him alive, leaving with two guys."
"Vinnie and Max."
"Right. They take a lot of drunks home."
Alex proceeded to tell him what she had observed and overheard that night. How Mr. Smith had gotten him to write down those sentences, dictating them to him. She told about the strong drink and Lewis choking. How the needle had been hidden, first in the bottle of cognac then in his palm. She told about the pat on the back and the injection, the twitch and the rolling eyes.
Alex explained as best she could how the paralytic agent worked, like the drug the Amazon tribes used to kill monkeys. Curare, or something. Lewis couldn't move, but Mr. Smith had known he could hear him. She related how he had told Lewis that they were going to drive him home and close the garage with the car running. She had said Vinnie was wearing gloves.
Alvin walked beside her, silent during her story. He sensed there were things she wasn't telling him, but didn't push her. What she had told him was more than enough for him to think about.
"Miss Alex? The names on the list. The one you showed me."
"Yes. The girls. I hear their voices."
He turned to her, alarmed. He wondered if she was losing it. If so, how much of what she had told him about Lewis' death would hold up?
"I'm not crazy. I don't hear them now. Only when the pendulum swings. I can't help it. I started to talk to them to keep from going crazy. Then, when I was really tired, they started talking back. Hallucinations."
He nodded. He had experience with that.
"Do you know where he sent them? The girls? When he was done with them?"
"Oh, sure."
"Where, Miss Alex? It's very important."
"Nowhere."
"What?"
"Nowhere. They're in the basement. But you won't find them. But that's where he took them." She hesitated, begging him silently to understand. "They told me," she said quietly.
Now he was scared. For Miss Alex. He had hoped to get her out, but if what she said was true, he would never know when Mr. D took her down to the basement. It would happen when he was gone, sent to his own apartment for the night. He was absolutely positive about that.
"Tell me about the girl you knew, Alvin."
The big man closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"We were in high school. Sweethearts, though with the racial differences, we had to be careful. But it was love, or as close as any two hormone-addled kids can get. Her parents disapproved. Hell, my mama disapproved.
"Mama took me down and enlisted me in the army the day I graduated, even though I was only 17. I was just a big skinny kid then, six and half feet and just over 200 pounds. If the Army had known I was going to grow another five inches, they might have not taken me. You could say I was a late bloomer.
"The day I left for boot camp was the last time I saw Terry. I drove by her house to say 'good-bye.' Her father met me at the door with a rifle. I saw her on the steps behind him. She had been crying.
"They liked me in the Army. Even though I got too big for Special Forces, they made an exception. I had passed all the intelligence tests with the highest marks they had seen." He blushed, not wanting to brag. "I was too late for 'Nam, but the older guys, the officers, opened up to me. They told me what had happened to them in captivity, to their buddies. You've gone through a lot of that here, Miss Alex.
"My squad's first mission was in Africa. I can't tell you where, but we weren't supposed to be there. I was the only survivor, and it took a long time for them to get me out. I lived in the jungle for months. I killed a lot of people, Miss Alex.
"When I got back home on leave, I found out what had happened to Terry. Her father had sent her off to a private college. Some ritzy girl's school back East. Terry was the kindest, sweetest person I had ever known. She was still a virgin the last time I saw her, but her father would never have believed us if we had tried to tell him that.
"She got hooked up with some rich kid her first semester there. He got her hooked on cocaine first, then some other shit. I know she would never have taken any dope if she knew what it was he was giving her. He got her drunk at a party, then held the straw up to her nose, four other people holding her down while she took her first snorts. After that, it was easier, though she still fought him. He kept her high for a week, day and night. Then he fucked her. Then he dumped her.
"I suppose I should tell you that I learned all this stuff using some interrogation techniques I learned in Special Forces. Well, they were unofficial, sort of, but effective. There aren't any witnesses left behind, if it's done right. The last thing the rich kid who did this to her told me was that he had just done it for kicks. Then he laughed. He died a long time later. He wasn't laughing then.
"Terry was high when the police came and arrested her. She had shoplifted some jewelry and hocked it for a fix. They took her to a local precinct. This fancy lawyer shows up. She thought her father had found out and sent him, so she went with him but the guy takes her here, to this city. She was set up. She was out of State and a fugitive. The perfect victim for Mr. D. Alone, scared and beautiful, she would have fallen right in. No offense, Miss Alex.
"I never found the lawyer that bailed her out, so I suspected a set-up starting with the rich kid. I would have asked him about it before he died if I had suspected the whole thing had been a set up from the start. The kid was a recruiter for the system.
"Her parents were devastated when she disappeared. So was I when I came back home on leave. They Army had offered me an officer's commission, but I asked for a discharge. They didn't like it but after the way they had fucked up my mission, they couldn't really make me stay in. I resigned the Army, moved here and started asking questions.
"Terry had used a credit card for a hotel here in town. Then all traces of her disappeared. The last clue led to the club, The Dungeon. One of the dancers in another bar recognized her picture. She'd seen her here, with Mr. D about a year before. That was just a couple of months after she was arrested. The dancer had called her a 'Pet.'
"That was just over two years ago. I got a job here. Then, about a year ago, when the previous manager developed a sudden case of cement shoes, I was made the manager."
He paused. "Uh, Miss Alex? I have to tell you that I have certain connections. I can find out things. I can't say more than that, but believe me when I tell you that you are in danger. I want you to leave. Now."
"I can't, Alvin. I can't explain it but I just can't. I need something from him, Mr. Smith. It's, it's like there's a hole inside of me."
"Give it up, Miss Alex. Please."
She just shook her head, squeezing his hand tightly.
"I guess we both have a few secrets left, huh?" he said after a while.
Nodding, she wondered if he knew that she knew how he felt about her. If that was one of his secrets. She wondered if he knew she felt the same way about him. Looking at his worried face, she thought he did.
Marcy and Harold checked into a fancy hotel in the city where he had lived with Alex. No way was he going to go and stay in that slum again. Besides, with Marcy here, Alex wouldn't understand. Things were different now. He had to move on with his life. He was on his way to the top.
He had to meet the insurance guy at this exclusive club down in the warehouse district to sign the final policy. He didn't need his wife's signature this time. Everything had been approved, the insurance company just needed proof that the policy had been delivered. The last piece in the plan, then they were off to the islands.
The location of the club told him it would be an exciting place, exclusive and discriminating. A little over the line, maybe, but that made it all the more exciting. In fact, the guy had told him not to bring Marcy down here. This was going to be a man's night out. Harold agreed. Marcy was getting a little demanding lately.
Marcy was soaking in the tub when he left. Surprisingly she had made no effort to stop him. She said she was going to soak and then order room service. She'd see him later. Or tomorrow before the plane left for Miami. They already had the tickets in false names.
The club was fancy. A little kinkier than Harold was used to, but the patrons were obviously well heeled. He recognized a State Senator from a nearby state sitting three tables down. There were several other well-dressed men in expensive suits at the other tables.
The insurance guy must have known somebody, because they were sitting at the owner's table. The 'Private' placard gleamed in the dim lighting. Harold knew he had it made. He could feel it. The drinks were flowing, the food was great. 'On the house' the waitress had said. Only the best scotch, too. Their table was ten feet from the stage with a clear view. No one was in front of them.
He'd developed a taste for scotch. Marcy had been teaching him about how rich people lived. She said that that way, he wouldn't stick out when he had his money. She had said 'their money, ' but he knew she was just excited about the trip. It was his money.
The insurance guy had him sign the receipt for the policy, then said he'd send it in for him. The actual policy would be delivered to his apartment in the next week or so. He knew Harold wouldn't want the receipt to get lost tonight, with all the celebrating and all.
Two friends of the insurance guy joined them. He must have been expecting them. Vinnie and Max, they introduced themselves. They apologized for being late. They had just delivered a package downstairs and said it had taken a little longer than they expected to put everything away. They all laughed and Harold joined in. He was really one of the guys, now.
There was some sexy music starting up and the room got dark. The floor show was about to begin and they had the best seats in the house. The insurance guy had hinted that this was going to be a special show, not one you would normally see, at least in the US. Very sexy, very private.
The show was amazing. These three gorgeous young girls put on a lesbian act that couldn't have been faked. They went at each other for a good half hour. Then, when there wasn't a limp dick in the place, they went to one of the tables and pulled this guy up on stage. When they got him up there they proceeded to suck him off. One of the girls stayed with him and the other two went back into the audience. Another guy was taken up on stage and they dropped his pants and two of them sucked on him. Then the last girl went out and got a guy from the crowd, which by now was hooting and hollering.
Soon all three of the girls were busy sucking on these guys' pricks. When one guy finished they just pointed, and wiggled their finger, calling up another lucky bastard. It looked like they were going to take on all the patrons with their mouths. Even the State Senator had a go at it. Several of the men around the room went two or three times. Harold wanted to go up, too, but with Vinnie on one side and Max on the other he couldn't get out. They didn't seem to want to go. That's when they started kidding him.
"You married, Harold?" Vinnie asked him.
"Yeah, the ol' ball and chain," he replied, holding up his ring finger with the band.
"So, you must get this all the time, huh?" he nodded at the stage.
"Oh, it's not that special," he'd said. How did they get on this subject? He was too drunk to lie about it. "Besides, my ol' lady is so frigid, we don't need a cooler in the house," he joked.
"You mean she never sucked the weenie for you?" asked Max.
"That's not her thing. She just doesn't like shex." He was starting to slur his words. He felt great, though.
"'S that so? I know a guy that can get a girl to do anything. In fact, he's the owner of this club. I seen him do it with a movie star once. Five minutes and the bitch was putty. She even took on a big dog up on the stage," put in the insurance guy.
"You're shitting all over the table, man," said Vinnie. "I'll bet he couldn't get ol' Harold's wife to put out. Waddya say, Harold?"
"Nope. She's tighter than a rushty - hic - bolt on a Peruvian shteamer." He didn't know what that meant exactly, but he'd heard that line before.
"This guy could do it. $50 bucks says she's sucking his cock in 5 minutes."
"You're on," laughed Vinnie. "I'll take that bet. Here's my $50, on the table. Harold, you in?"
The drinks had done there job. "Damn straigh'. Easy-ess 50 bucksh I made tonigh'," Harold laughed loudly, digging in his pocket for his wallet.
"So give her a call! Get her down here!"
"Wha'? Now?"
"Sure. Here. You can use my cell phone," the insurance guy said. "Just press the button. The number's already dialed." Then, as an afterthought, "Oh, and tell her to wear something nice, too. When you're done, I'll call a cab and have her picked up in, say, oh, twenty minutes. 'S that good?"
Harold didn't see the set-up heading at him like a Mac Truck. He pressed the 'Send' button.
"Hey, Alex. It'sh me, Harold, your hushband... Uh, yeah, jus' a li'l bit. Jus' a few with the boysh. Lishen, I need you to meet me down at this here club. The Dungeon. What?..."
He listened to the whispered instructions from the insurance guy
"... Oh, yeah, I'm shupposhed to tell you, wear that nishe dressh. You know the one, wi' the li'l flowersh. A taxshi will be pickin' you up in tw-twenty minu's. Oh, and jus' go meet this guy in the club offish... No, that'sh it. Shee you, babe."
For the next half hour, Harold was put on a ration of hot coffee.
Orders. Mr. Smith wanted him as sober as possible. Harold didn't
notice. They were all drinking coffee, joking and laughing. He was one
of the boys. He watched the floorshow with hungry eyes until they all
got up to use the john. It was just about time. He knew he couldn't
lose this bet.