They Called Her Indigo

by Sam Lee Jackson

  Jimmy woke up when we came into the office. Nikki’s phone and a laptop were on Blackhawk’s desk. Like the kid he was, Jimmy stood, yawned and stretched. Blackhawk went around the desk and dropped into his chair. Indigo took Jimmy’s place on the couch, stretched out and closed her eyes. I sat in the high back chair.

  I was tired. Indigo was tired. Everyone was tired. Blackhawk looked fresh as a daisy. He beckoned to Jimmy.

  “What did you guys find?” he said.

  “Guy pays his taxes,” Jimmy said. “At least the taxes his accountant says he owes. He runs something he calls Premium Import Export. Based here in Phoenix. Address is a P.O. Box. It’s owned by something called Sussex Financial in LA. Money comes into Premium, goes out to several banks, never in amounts of more than nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars. Bill says this avoids reporting laws. Then it finally ends up at Sussex where it disappears into the hundred million in investments they manage including their off-shore accounts.”

  “You guys found all that out?” I said.

  “Bill does this stuff. He’s very, very smart.”

  “How does that help me find Elena?” Blackhawk said.

  “Probably doesn’t. I’m just giving you some background.”

  Blackhawk waved a hand. “Sorry, go on.”

  “What might help,” Jimmy continued, “is that this guy’s tablet has a list of businesses that do business with Premium Import Export. There are eight of them that do the majority of the business.”

  There was a tablet of yellow-lined paper on the desk. Jimmy picked it up and handed it to Blackhawk.

  “Here are the eight.”

  Blackhawk looked at the list.

  “What you are looking at are the business names and corresponding principles that are listed in the Corporation Commission of Arizona. They are all “S” corps. Luis Portofino is listed as at least a part owner in all of them.”

  “Eight places,” Blackhawk said, looking at me. He handed me the tablet. I took it and leaned back. By the names, it appeared they were all strip clubs or bars. Names like “Cheeta Club,” or “Playmates.” Of course they were. People in the sex trade business don’t ordinarily hang out at Tractor Supply.

  “The question is,” I said, “which is the magic one? We get one chance, so we better hit the right one first.” I looked at Jimmy. “Go next door and wake Nacho up, get him over here.”

  He went out. Blackhawk was watching me. “She’s at one of these,” I reassured him. “Where else would they go? Little Luis thought his guys would whack us at the gun shop. When they didn’t, and we let that guy get away, they split the Candy Factory. They ran to someplace. Someplace he doesn’t think we know about.” I looked at the tablet. “It has to be one of these. I’d bet on it.”

  “You’re betting Elena’s life,” he said evenly. He looked away and shook his head. He took out Elena’s bracelet and looked at it for a long moment. Over the last two years I had been becoming aware of the changes in both of us. The colonel had drilled us and drilled us with our commitment, until it was a part of our DNA. The team was the only thing, but the team was expendable to the task. Only your team-mate mattered, unless it came down to your team-mate or the task. Then it was the task. No one outside mattered. We were never allowed relationships. We never thought of them.

  But now we were out, living lives we never thought imaginable. I could never have dreamed of Blackhawk with someone like Elena. Not long term. But now, here we are. And I watched him look at the bracelet and I knew we would never rest until she was back and safe. And Luis was no longer.

  Nacho and Jimmy came in. Indigo was stretched out, leaving no space for them to sit. She was buzzing in a very gentle manner. Nacho looked at her and smiled. Jimmy moved to the wall and leaned on it. I handed the tablet of paper to Nacho. He looked at me quizzically.

  “You recognize these places?” I said.

  He looked at it. He looked at me. “Yeah, strip joints. Back in the day, I worked at most of them.”

  “You were a stripper?” I smiled.

  “Damn good one,” he said.

  “Ask him the questions,” Blackhawk said, curtly.

  “What do you need to know?” Nacho said.

  I nodded and opened my mouth. Before anything came out, Indigo slowly sat up.

  “You were a stripper?” she said to Nacho, yawning.

  “He was a bouncer,” I said. “He just thinks he’s funny.”

  “Get to it,” Blackhawk said.

  “Sorry,” I said. I turned to Nacho. “The dick-wad that took Elena owns all of these clubs. I think he has Elena at one of them the question is which?”

  Nacho studied the list. He sat beside Indigo. At last he handed me the list back. “Two of them, the last two, I never worked at. The rest of them all have office space and changing rooms besides the main area. The one on Grand Avenue, it’s underneath an overpass, used to be like this place. Had more than one venue. They had country upstairs and hard rock downstairs. Then they closed it and a few months later it opened as a strip club. Called it the North Woods Bush Club. That’s when I worked there. The strip part was upstairs. I never went downstairs, but that’s where the girls changed, and I know there was some kind of mini apartment down there because the managers stayed down there and sometimes would take a girl down there.”

  “Managers? More than one?”

  “One at a time. None of the managers lasted very long. Usually they were cheating the girls out of their tips. Girls were harder to come by than managers. A good stripper, who knew how to work the men, could make several hundred a night.”

  “Maybe I should check into that?” Indigo said.

  Nacho looked at her. “Yeah, you could do it. You’re a little old, but not too old yet.”

  She looked at me. “Can I just shoot him?”

  “Maybe later, we need him now.”

  “So, this Bush Club is where you think they would take Elena?” Blackhawk said.

  “Like I said, I don’t know about the last two on your list, but if you were going to keep someone for a while, that would be the likely place. At least for what’s on that list,” Nacho said.

  Blackhawk looked at me. “How do we know for sure?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t like it.

  “We can’t just go blundering in without getting Elena hurt. First, we need to be absolute that she’s there. Second, we need to know the layout. And not least, we need to know what opposition to expect.”

  “I can tell you how it’s laid out,” Nacho said. “At least, the way it was when I worked there.”

  “You haven’t been there since the downstairs was remodeled,” I said.

  He shrugged.

  “We need someone to go in,” I said.

  “That would be me,” Indigo said.

  “Luis has seen you,” Blackhawk said.

  I said, “She’s right. Luis saw the two girls he was looking for, then he saw you and me. She was just another woman sitting on the couch.”

  “Until she shot that guy.”

  “There is that.”

  Indigo grinned, “I can do it. New hair, new makeup. Just like the good old days, right boys?”

  “We do have another option,” I said.

  They looked at me. “They have Elena, and if they were going to kill her they would have done it when they did Nikki. So since they didn’t, they probably think they can trade her for something.”

  “Like what?” Indigo said.

  “Like Nikki’s phone,” I said.

  “Or me,” Blackhawk said.

  We looked at him.

  “I shot the asshole in the leg. He’s probably holding a little grudge.”

  “Just a little one,” Indigo said.

  “Yeah, I can see that,” I said. “Stake her out like a goat, wait till the tiger comes along and shoot him. So the other option is we sit here and wait for him to dangle the bait.”

  Blackhawk shook his head. “Rules of engagement. Never
let the enemy choose the battlefield.”

  “So we attack while he’s thinking up some grand strategy.”

  Blackhawk nodded. He looked at me. “Okay, we go. When?”

  “We need to rest,” I said. “Strip joints get busiest when guys get off work.”

  “If that’s where he’s at.”

  “That’s where he’s at,” I said.

  Blackhawk nodded. He turned to Jimmy. “You go on home. Come back tonight and open like nothing ever happened.” He turned away, then turned back. “Get someone to patch the ceiling.”

  He looked at Nacho. “Be back at six.” Nacho followed Jimmy out the door.

  I looked at Indigo. “You crash here on the couch. I’ll crash in the apartment.”

  “You leave that little girl alone,” Indigo said with a grin.

  “Get some rest,” Blackhawk said, standing.

  15

  I called Pete Dunn and told him what I needed. Pete was my neighbor in the Thirteen Episodes. Since leaving Hollywood in the rear-view mirror, Pete was writing the great American novel. Which meant he spent a lot of time bored, staring out across the water. He had jumped at the chance to help me in the past. He jumped again this time.

  We needed the layout of the Bush Club. Indigo was a pro, but she was a woman and women didn’t usually go into strip clubs alone. At least without being noticed. She needed a date. So, before I fell asleep, I called Pete.

  I slept for about four hours on Blackhawk’s couch. I was awakened by Simone quietly shutting the door behind her. I sat up and slipped my shoe and my prosthetic on. It always took longer than I liked. By the time I stepped out on the balcony, Simone was at the bottom of the stairs. She went to the bar and poured herself a drink. I couldn’t see what it was. She pulled herself up on a barstool. There was a slight movement across the room and I saw Blackhawk sitting on Elena’s bandstand. Simone didn’t appear to notice. I went on down.

  I sat beside Simone. She didn’t look at me. She had a water glass half full of brown liquid. Hair of the dog.

  Big dog.

  Without looking at me she said, “Nikki’s dead.” It wasn’t a question.

  Not a question, and no answer. Blackhawk stood and went behind the bar. He came around and stood in front of Simone.

  “Have you ever been to the North Woods Bush Club?” he asked gently. Like he didn’t want to startle her.

  She took a healthy drink and almost gagged. She wiped her mouth. She shook her head. “Never heard of it.”

  Blackhawk studied her for a long moment. He looked at me. “She’s a liability.”

  She leaned back, alarmed.

  I touched her arm. “Relax, no one is going to harm you.”

  Blackhawk kept looking at her, making up his mind. Finally, he said, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” He went around the end of the bar and walked to the stairs. He went up two at a time.

  Simone twisted to watch him. She looked at me. “What is he doing?”

  “He’s anxious for Elena,” I said. “He’s never been good at waiting. Things are likely to get very ugly, very soon. He’s figuring out how to keep you safe.”

  She took another big drink.

  “Slow down on that stuff. You need to have your shit together today.”

  She looked at me like she was going to tell me to fuck off, but then, she didn’t. She set the glass down. She put her arms on the bar and laid her head on them. She began to cry. “What am I going to do?” she said in a muffled voice.

  I didn’t have the answer. I sat there like a bump. Jackson, the great comforter of women.

  In a few moments, Blackhawk came back down. He sat on the stool next to her.

  “How big is Luis’s organization?” he asked.

  She raised her head, gathering herself. “It ain’t Luis’s,” she said. “He’s just one of many guys that run things. There are guys like him all over. From here to California, and north into Oregon and Washington. From what Nikki told me, there’s an outfit in California that runs it all.”

  Blackhawk thought about it. “So, they have people everywhere?”

  She nodded.

  Blackhawk looked at me. “She is not safe here.”

  She looked like she would cry again.

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out a stuffed envelope. He laid it on the bar.

  “There are five thousand dollars in here,” he said. “I’ve called a driver for you. Go to the airport. Get on the first flight you find that is heading east. It doesn’t matter where. When you land, check into a cheap motel. Change your looks. Color your hair, comb it different. Wear glasses. Get clothes you would never wear. Get them one size too large. Tomorrow, find a used car lot, buy the cheapest car they have. Pay with cash. Flip a coin to choose which direction to go, then drive the heap till it breaks down. Start a new life.”

  “I can’t pay you back,” she said.

  “One day you will. Now, listen carefully, I’m going to give you a phone number.” He told her then made her repeat it three times. “When you get to where you decide to light, you call the number. Tell them you are a friend of mine. They will help you get a new identity.”

  “Why would they help?” she said.

  “Because Blackhawk is asking,” I said. I looked at Blackhawk, raising my eyebrows.

  “Echo,” he said. Yeah, Echo was the paper guy.

  She looked at me, then back to Blackhawk. “Who are you guys?”

  “You don’t want to know,” I said.

  She looked at me.

  “No, I mean it,” I said. “You don’t want to know.”

  Pete Dunn came through the double doors. “There’s a driver out front. Says he’s supposed to pick someone up at this address.”

  Blackhawk stepped down and took Simone’s elbow. She slipped off the stool.

  “I don’t have anything,” she protested.

  “Buy what you need at the airport. Tomorrow when you wake up in whatever city you land in, you can go shopping.”

  She looked back at me.

  “Time to go,” Blackhawk said. She threw her arms around his neck. She held on tight, then released him, turned and went out the door.

  “Was that my date?” Pete said.

  “Afraid not,” I said.

  He came over and sat beside me. “So, I’m supposed to be somebody’s arm candy?”

  I looked up and Indigo was coming down the stairs. Indigo with long, full, hair extensions, new eyelashes and a tight-fitting dress. She was carrying an overnight bag.

  “Here’s your date,” I said.

  He turned to look. His eyebrows went up. “Wow,” he said. “Now that’s arm candy.”

  16

  Blackhawk gave Pete the keys to his Jaguar. I knew it hurt, but he did it. It was seven in the evening, and Pete and Indigo had taken the Jag and drove to the North American Bush Club. Nacho, Blackhawk and I had filled a shipping trunk with what we might need. Blackhawk kept a locked storeroom filled with tools of our old trade. Much like my rented storage locker out by the lake. We piled in Nacho’s Jeep and headed for the club.

  We parked two blocks away, rolled down the windows and settled in to wait. The Jag was nowhere in sight, so Pete had parked in the lot behind the club. We were closer behind them than I thought. We watched as they came strolling around the building and to the main entrance.

  “Betcha they don’t charge them a cover,” Nacho said.

  There were two beefcakes standing by the entrance. One of them had been collecting the cover charge.

  “Why not?” I said, even though I knew the answer.

  “They never charge good looking women. The more girls in the joint, the more men will show up.”

  “What about ugly women?” Blackhawk said. “Like five feet tall, five feet wide with hair in their ears?”

  I was in the back, looking at him. He didn’t even smile.

  Nacho shifted sideways to look at Blackhawk. “Ugly girls don’t come to a place like this,” he said.
Nacho took most comments seriously.

  He settled back, looking at the two bouncers. “I think I know one of those guys,” he said. “I worked with him back in the day.”

  Blackhawk turned and looked at me. “Does that change things?”

  I shook my head. “Not much.” I leaned forward to speak to Nacho. “When we go in, you advise your old friend that he might want to take a walk.”

  “I can do that,” Nacho said.

  It was an hour before Indigo and Pete came back out. The sun was disappearing, and the street-lights were coming on. The two bouncers spoke to them, wishing them a good day, and they walked around the building to the Jaguar. A minute later they pulled out, then went by us. Pete drove for a block then did a U-turn. They came up behind us. We got out as they did. Nacho moved around and popped the deck lid.

  “What’d you find?” I said.

  Indigo had the overnight bag. She set it in the back of the Jeep. She opened it, pulling the extensions out of her hair. She put the extensions in the bag as she pulled out a pair of jeans and a pair of Reeboks. In an easy movement, she pulled her dress over her head, completely unmindful that she was on a street, surrounded by men. Just one of the guys. She stepped into the jeans, pulled a tee shirt over her sports bra and sat on the tailgate, putting the shoes on.

  “Strip joint upstairs, ground level,” she said, tying the shoes. “Just the two guys out front. There are two bartenders inside, guy and a girl. When I tried to go downstairs, pretending I was looking for the lady’s room, I got stopped. The guy that stopped me had pistol on his hip, covered by a sport coat. I know there were more guys downstairs, but I couldn’t really see much. No Elena, but she has to be there. Why else would they have armed guards?”

  “Cameras?” I said.

  “Two outside front,” she halfway pointed. “You can see them on each side of the door. Another one in the back corner covering the parking lot. Pointed the other way, so we don’t need to worry about it. Inside, one in each corner, one over the cash register.”