ChaPter siX.

New York Chase and Jack were still several miles from their Manhattan destination when Chase's cell rang. The caller ID told her it was Reno, so she put him on speakerphone. "We're listening."

"It turns out the IP we tracked belongs to a building, that in turn belongs to a company."

"Okay. So?" Jack replied.

"Thing is..." Reno stopped and sucked on what had to be a straw. "The company is a front for an escort service called Direct Connect, owned and run by a Margaret Lewis." He sucked again and swallowed loudly.

"Can you put your beverage down for the duration of this phone call? It's highly annoying," Chase said.

"Cola. Sorry about that." Reno sounded embarra.s.sed. "I've been working on this all day without a break. I need the sugar."

"Talk," Jack said.

"I don't have much more at the moment, but somebody who was there that night had to make the money transfer."

"How many working girls do you know who can make a fifty-thousand-dollar transaction?" Jack asked.

"Could be a wealthy client. Or the owner of the agency?" Chase mused.

"Maybe. Give me the agency's digits," Jack said, and wrote them down.

* 65 *

"Anything else, Reno?" Chase asked.

"Nope."

Chase disconnected.

"I'd forgotten how easy you guys have it," Jack said.

"Easy?"

"Guys like Reno do all the homework and send you on your way.""Is that why you faked your death? Was working for the organization not challenging enough?" Chase asked.

"You're hilarious."

"Anyway," Chase said, "I say we call the agency and see where that gets us."

Jack started to dial the number.

"What are you doing?" Chase asked, surprised.

"Calling Direct Connect. I doubt they're closed. Night time is the right time for this kind of business."

"Have you done this before?"

"I've never had to pay for it and never would, so no."

"Because that would have interfered with your otherwise n.o.ble existence," Chase shot back.

Jack put the call on speakerphone. "Hi. I'd like to make an appointment with you to talk about-"

"I'm sorry that's not the way we work," the woman on the other end said.

"I see. Well, then, can we-"

"Oh, for Christ's sake. Give me that, Neanderthal," Chase muttered in a low voice as she grabbed the cell from Jack's hand.

"Please, excuse my friend," she said into the phone. "She's new at this. An acquaintance gave me your number. He happens to be a very satisfied customer."

"We do aim to please all sorts," the woman said. "What are you looking for?"

"He recommended the woman he saw last Tuesday, but he wasn't certain your employee met with same-s.e.x customers."

"Tuesday," the madam repeated. "And what is your friend's name?"

* 66 *

"I doubt he uses his real name, and I was remiss in asking his alias," Chase replied, oozing charm. "He was with her at an address on West 76th around seven o'clock."

"Aha. Hold on, please."

"Of course. Take your time."

The madam came back on. "It was either Amber or Priscilla.

Priscilla does girl-on-girl and is available tonight."

"And Amber?"

"Her availability is limited, I'm afraid."

"Then I'd like to make an appointment with Priscilla," Chase said. "Half an hour from now?"

"Your name?"

"Jaclyn." Chase smiled when Jack shot her a look of death.

"That won't be a problem. Payment is made beforehand. Two hundred and fifty dollars for an hour."

"Very reasonable."

"Please go to the rear entrance."

"I will. Thank you." Chase hung up.

"That went smoothly," Jack said. "Now let's hope Priscilla's our girl."

They drove in silence until they reached the brownstone, arriving fifteen minutes before the appointment. Chase had to circle the block a few times before a parking spot opened up in front.

Jack stared up at the building. "Not too shabby for a brothel."

"House of pleasure."

"Yeah, right. I don't see how anyone can get pleasure out of s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g a woman who's pretending to enjoy it."

"It happens every day in most households."

"Too true. But at least within the privacy of their own sad marriage they don't enable the skin trade." The remark hit a sore spot with Chase. She was certainly aware her own habits had consequences, but she'd managed to neatly justify those feelings, at least in her own mind. Prost.i.tution would continue to exist with or without her contribution, and she figured selling one's body was better than turning to theft and drugs.

"Besides, not all customers are filthy, selfish pigs."

* 67 *

"Yeah, I bet most are gentle, charming princes," Jack said. "I seriously doubt any woman who gets paid to f.u.c.k enjoys it."

"Don't be so sure."

"Don't be so naive. It's their job to tell you you're the f.u.c.k of the century. They'll say anything to guarantee a return customer."

"Anyway..." Chase was tired of the turn the conversation had taken. "Let's hope our girl is here tonight."

"Haven't done surveillance in years." Jack sat back and studied the brownstone.

"I'm sure you have, only your people use the term clock," Chase said, referring to mafia terminology.

"I didn't work exclusively for the mob and I was never one of them." Jack was clearly aggravated.

"It's rea.s.suring to know you seek variation at the bottom of the barrel."

"I'm not going to defend myself."

"Good, because I doubt whatever you have to say is a page-turner."

"Screw you, Land-" Jack looked past her. "Two o'clock." A well-dressed woman was walking up the driveway, headed toward the rear of the brownstone.

"You're on," Chase said. "And go for subtle."

"If you don't think I can handle it, do it yourself."

"I want to sit back and bask in the regaling of your first time."

"Oh, my G.o.d. You are so witty."

"Your sarcasm is a bit stale, but I appreciate the effort." Chase had reasons for not taking this one. She'd used various agencies for her own pleasure and knew all too well that most girls liked to move around. Although she'd never ordered from Direct Connect, she wouldn't be surprised to come across someone she knew.

"Maybe later I can show you where you can stick my effort." As she left the car, Jack tried not to imagine what Ca.s.sady would think of what she was doing, even though it was a necessary step in their efforts to find her. With a sigh, she walked to the rear entrance of the brownstone and rang the buzzer.

A seven-foot closet of a guy answered. "Come in. I'm Ma.s.simo."

* 68 *

Jack mentally added him to their list of possible suspects. "I have an appointment with Priscilla."

He smiled. "Second floor, second room to the right."

"Thanks." Jack took the stairs and knocked.

A brunette, probably in her early twenties, opened the door.

"Hi, Jaclyn." She gave Jack an appreciative once-over. "Come on in and get comfortable." The call girl wore a sheer black teddy that barely covered her a.s.s and displayed more cleavage than would be tolerated in public.

Jack tried not to stare at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "A friend of mine visited you last Tuesday." She tossed the agreed amount on the dresser. "He said you were amazing."

The young woman giggled. "Tuesday..." She pursed her lips in thought. "Ah, the Cleveland Mattress King. He's a sweetheart, and a generous tipper. I've been seeing him for three years. Are you in the same business?"

Do I look like I sell mattresses? "No. I know him from the local bar.""Well, any friend of Bill's is a friend of mine." The girl snickered.

"He also talked about an Amber?" Jack wondered if she was being subtle enough. d.a.m.n Landis for not taking this one.

"Did he?" Priscilla sounded surprised. "He's never...been with Amber. Amber doesn't take clients here except for Dario. Frankly I don't know why she continues to see that creep." She reached over and slowly unb.u.t.toned Jack's shirt.

"What do you mean?" Jack froze. She looked down at the girl's busy fingers like they were pesky flies and grabbed her hand to stop her. "Why don't we slow down?"

The girl laughed. "Your time, your money."

"So, Amber and the creep?" Jack asked.

"Well, she never has to please the guy, but she has to put up with him watching while she has s.e.x with whoever she picks up or he asks her to do."

"You mean, he never screw...partic.i.p.ates?"

"Nope." Priscilla licked Jack's neck. "You know, a watcher." Jack took a step back. "Huh? Yeah, sure." She tried to sound like she'd heard the term before.

* 69 *

Priscilla guffawed. "A creep. Plus, he's like some big man of mystery. Comes and goes by special arrangement so no one ever sees his face. Not even Amber." She clearly had no qualms about discussing her colleague's affairs.

"No kidding," Jack replied. A guy with secrets. Could be their man, she surmised, 'cause Bill the Mattress King sure didn't fit the profile. "Do you think I could hook up with Amber?"

"What's wrong with me?"