The police cannot touch this man. He is the ambassador from Venezuela and has diplomatic immunity. Please do not contact the authorities. They cannot help.
I know you might be reluctant to help someone with my reputation, but I assure you, this is the only way this predator can be brought to justice.
I have a plan in mind. If you are willing to help, put an X on your front window with tape. When I see it, I will contact you with more information.
The Black Widow
Along with the letter, she had left her card.
I looked around but of course, no one was in sight.
I tucked the letter in my pocket and headed to Mel’s.
When I arrived, Kevin was already seated.
“Good Lord, Walt. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on?”
“I wish it was a ghost,” I replied. “Let’s order and I’ll tell you all about it.”
After Mel took our orders, I slid the letter across the table.
“What’s this?” Kevin asked.
“Just read it.”
His eyes grew wide. “Holy crap! What’s going on? Batman and Robin, The Lone Ranger and Tonto. Now Walt Williams and the Black Widow. How did you get to be her sidekick?”
I hadn’t seen Kevin for over a week so he didn’t know about our aborted sting at Gillham Park.
“Here’s what I think,” I replied. “Last week, Blaylock called me talked me into going undercover in Gillham Park as a child-molesting pervert. He figured that might draw the Widow out into the open. Somehow the Widow recognized me and figured the whole thing out. She even left a card under my windshield wiper that said, ‘Nice try. I know you’re one of the good guys.’
“Think about it. Both of us have been at the scene of three of her kills. She must have seen us there, then recognized me at the park.”
“Okay,” he replied. “I see where you’re going. All of her kills have been men who had been taking advantage of women. Now she’s set her sights on this Escobar dude. I see why she wants him. There’s nothing worse than kidnapping a woman and forcing her into sexual slavery. But Escobar is too big to tackle by herself.”
“Exactly!” I replied, “And she won’t get any help from the authorities because the guy has diplomatic immunity. But why us? She must know we work with the cops.”
“True, but she also knows we work around the cops. Remember our little fiasco with the Independence Avenue serial killer?”
Kevin thought for a moment. “So, in a nutshell, this notorious vigilante who has every cop in the city looking for her, has identified a predator who the cops can’t touch, and she’s asking our help to take him down. Does that sound about right?”
I nodded. “That’s the way I see it.”
“So?”
“So what? Are you actually considering helping a woman who has killed five times?”
“That does present a moral dilemma,” he replied. “On the one hand, we would be aiding and abetting a serial killer, but on the other hand, we would be ridding the world of a man the cops can’t touch, who has probably kidnapped and enslaved dozens, if not hundreds of women. What do you think?”
“I think we’re between a rock and a hard place. If we help her, that’s certainly wrong, but is it worse than letting Escobar continue to ruin the lives of innocent people?”
Kevin shook his head. “Damned if I know.”
At that moment, our meals arrived. We ate in silence, each of us searching our conscience for an answer to this conundrum.
“Well,” Kevin said, sopping up the last bit of gravy with a biscuit, “any insights?”
“Maybe I’m just putting off the inevitable, but I think we need to know more about this Escobar character before we team up with a serial killer.”
“Go on. I’m listening.”
“Why don’t you talk to Veronica? Since she was in the business before you got hitched, maybe she’s heard of him. I’m going to pay a visit to Carmine Marchetti. He’s definitely in the business. In fact, Escobar would be one of his competitors. I’m confident he’ll know everything about the guy. Let’s get the information, then get together and make a decision. How does that sound?”
“Works for me.”
I hate to admit it, but Carmine Marchetti, the godfather of the Kansas City mafia, had almost become my confidential informant.
Somehow, fate had thrown us together, and we had actually saved each other’s lives twice. I don’t condone what he does, but for a gangster, he does have a moral code he adheres to. Only last month, I went to him with information about a corrupt city council member he had been paying off. When he learned what a despicable thing the councilman had done, he was more than willing to cut him loose. Right after that, the councilman suddenly died in a car wreck. I had my suspicions that the poor councilman had violated the don’s moral code and paid the price.
I was usually able to find Marchetti around the noon hour at Antonelli’s, his favorite eatery. There was always a certain protocol that had to be followed to the letter. I would arrive at the restaurant, present my card to the maître d', and request an audience with the don. He would disappear, and minutes later, if an audience was granted, he would return accompanied by two of Marchetti’s goons. If not, I would simply be asked to leave.
Today was my lucky day.
“Hello, Vito,” I said, recognizing one of the strongmen.
“You know the drill,” he replied.
I stepped forward and raised my arms while he patted me down.
Satisfied, he grabbed my arm. “Let’s go.”
He always leaves a bruise.
Carmine was at his usual table and as always, there was a beautiful woman on either side.
“Well, well, my favorite gumshoe!” he said, raising his glass.
He always says that. It probably doesn’t mean anything, but it’s somehow reassuring. I had no doubt there were other P.I.’s at the bottom of the Missouri River wearing cement shoes.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Marchetti. Thank you for seeing me.”
“Certainly. What brings you by today?”
“Do you know a man named Eduardo Escobar?”
In an instant I had turned his smile upside down.
He slammed his hand against the table rattling the dishes.
It scared the crap out of me.
“Never utter that name in my presence,” he roared. “The man is a pig!”
“Uhhh, sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He calmed down a bit. “I’m sorry for exploding like that. It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“So it sounds like you know --- uhhh --- you know who.”
I certainly wasn’t going to say his name again.
“Yes, I know him all too well. The man has no morals. He kidnaps women from his own country and brings them into my city for sex. I know, I know, you’re thinking that since I have my own escort service that I’m a hypocrite. Not so! There is a big difference in how we do business. My girls work for me because they want to. I make them very rich. They earn more money working for me than they could possibly earn anywhere else. And the most important thing, they are free to leave whenever they want.”
He patted one of the women on the leg. “Isn’t that right, Rita?”
She gave him a big smile. “Of course, Carmine. Whatever you say.”
Undoubtedly she had uttered those words more than once.
“That Venezuelan pig treats his women like animals. He takes all the money they earn and keeps them locked up like slaves. No one is allowed to leave. He regularly beats the weakest or homeliest woman in the group to intimidate the others. His women are not clean. Some carry disease. He gives our business a bad name.”
My first inclination was to say, “Okay, Carmine, now tell me how you really feel,” but I quickly nixed that idea. He might not appreciate my sense of humor.
I was about to make a comment, but he continued. “Here is another thing I hate. I run a good busine
ss, and yet the cops are always watching, hoping I will make a mistake so they can lock me up. Not so with the Venezuelan pig! The cops can’t touch him. He has diplomatic immunity. Sometimes life is not fair.”
“Thank you, Carmine. You’ve told me what I needed to know. I appreciate your time.”
“What? Leaving so soon? Not until you tell why you wanted this information.”
I wasn’t about to tell him I was in league with the Black Widow.
“Let’s just say that something might happen that would take what’s-his-name out of the picture. I’m guessing it wouldn’t upset you if he was gone.”
“Upset me? If you could make that happen, I would be in your debt.”
“Please understand, I can’t promise anything, but you never know.”
As I was driving home, a thought occurred to me. If I was on the fence with this crazy idea, having the godfather of the mob in my debt might push me over the edge. A man can’t have too much insurance.
The next day, Kevin came by my office.
“Did Veronica know Escobar,” I asked.
“Boy, did she!” he replied. “She called him a pig!”
“Interesting. That’s exactly the word Marchetti used to describe him. Anything else?”
“She said she’d met one of his girls once. Her story brought tears to her eyes. The man keeps them locked up with minimal food and water. They only get out when they’re to meet a john, then he takes all the money. Apparently he beats them too.”
“That confirms what Carmine told me. It sounds like this guy is a real piece of work.”
He smiled. “Bad enough to team up with the Widow to take him out?”
“What do you think?” I replied, passing the buck.
“Here’s what I think. I’m betting the Widow wants Escobar for herself. She’ll probably figure a way to off him like the others. What she needs us for is to free the women he’s holding. If all that’s true, we just might be able to pull that off without actually killing anyone. Think about it. If we were able to free a dozen or so women from sexual slavery, we shouldn’t be in too much trouble.”
“You may be right. There’s only one way to find out. I’ll put an X on my window and see what she has to say next. If we don’t like it, then we’re done. If we do --- well, it’ll no doubt be interesting.”
“An X on the window,” Kevin said, smiling. “Right out of the X-files. I love it!”
CHAPTER 13
I felt like Fox Mulder as I taped an X on my front window.
I was also feeling quite apprehensive. Since leaving the force, I had wandered to the dark side of justice more than once and never regretted having done so. Maybe I had just been rationalizing, but in every instance the outcome had been both rewarding and satisfying.
What I was about to do was way across the line that separates the light side from the dark side. In my rational moments, I found it hard to believe that I was actually contemplating working with a serial killer.
On the one hand, with what we now knew about the Black Widow, we could, and possibly should contact Blaylock and set up another sting. A serial killer would be off the streets.
On the other hand, if we played along, there was the possibility that a vile human trafficker would be eliminated and enslaved women set free.
It was a difficult choice, and everything depended on what the Widow wanted us to do. There were some lines we would never cross.
In the end, we decided that if her demands were reasonable, we should play along. What Escobar was doing was far worse, and he was immune from prosecution. We could help Blaylock catch the Black Widow another day.
I knew the Widow wouldn’t dare leave another message in the light of day. It would be under cover of darkness when regular people are fast asleep. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much that night.
Bright and early the next morning, I hurried to my car in slippers and bathrobe. I was disappointed to discover that there was no message.
After breakfast and my morning constitutional, I headed to the supermarket for milk and other staples. When I came out pushing my cart of groceries, I found an envelope under the windshield wiper.
Of course! It made sense. The Widow had no way of knowing whether we would play along or call Blaylock and set up a sting. This misdirection was simply an insurance policy.
I loaded my groceries and tore open the envelope.
Mr. Williams,
I’m hoping that the X on your window was an indication that you’re considering helping me take down Escobar’s human trafficking operation.
If so, this is my plan.
I will take care of Escobar myself. Your part of the operation will be to free the women he is holding captive.
They are being held in a Morton building behind a ranch house on old Truman Road just past the Lake City Ammunition Plant. Drivers come and go, but there are always two armed guards on the property watching the women.
I will leave the details of the rescue operation to you. I feel confident you can handle the task.
Talk it over with your partner. If you agree, put another X on your window. The next time I contact you will be by phone. It will be a burner, so don’t bother trying to set up a trace.
I hope to hear from you again. Those women are counting on you.
Black Widow.
So there it was. Just as Kevin had predicted. The Widow would take care of Escobar and we were to free his slaves. How to do that was up to us.
I called Kevin. Thirty minutes later he was in my office.
I showed him the letter.
After reading it, he turned to me. “Well, what do you think?”
“I think before we make a decision, we should take a drive out old Truman Road and see what we’re up against. Then, if we think it’s doable, we’ll figure out a plan.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Forty-five minutes later, we turned east off 7 Highway onto old Truman Road. A mile or so past the ammunition plant we spotted the ranch house and Morton building.
“Not exactly an armed fort,” Kevin observed.
At that moment, a man armed with an AK-15 emerged from the Morton building and walked the perimeter of the building.
“I stand corrected,” he said.
“And according to the Widow, there’s one more. Always two of them guarding the women.”
“The only way this works,” Kevin said, “is to take them by surprise. No way I’m going in there, guns blazing, against a couple of AK-15’s.”
“I agree, and I might know how we can pull it off, but we’ll need some help.”
“I’m listening.”
“Amy and Earl. If they’re in town and willing to help I think we can do it.”
Last year, three old dudes, even older than me, decided they wanted to be private investigators. Needless to say, they were total screw-ups. Kevin and I pulled their fat out of the fire more than once.
One of them was Benny Berkowitz. We met his niece Amy, and her husband, Earl, at a picnic at Benny’s house. Amy and Earl were over-the-road truckers, and the interesting part was that they lived in the cab of their big Peterbilt. No house, no apartment, no property taxes, no yard to mow. They used Benny’s place to receive mail, and in between runs, they would stop off to pick up mail, shower and do laundry.
While we were visiting with them, they turned us onto another sex trafficking ring, one that traveled the Interstate, dropping their women off at overnight truck stops to service the horny drivers. With help from my dad, an old trucker named Duke, and the three geriatric gumshoes, we shut down the ring and rescued four women.
“I see where you’re going,” Kevin said. “Let’s give Benny a call.”
I hit Benny’s number on my speed dial. “Benny! Walt Williams here.”
“Hey, Walt. What can I do for you?”
“By any chance are Amy and Earl in town?”
“Just got here late last night. They’ll be in town a couple of days before they pick up t
heir next load.”
“Great! Put on a pot of coffee. We’re coming over.”
An hour later, we were pulling into Benny’s driveway. The big Peterbilt was parked on the street.
Benny waved to us from his porch. “Come on in. I woke up Amy and Earl. They’ll join us as soon as they’re dressed.”
A few minutes later, the five of us were sipping coffee around Benny’s table.
I figured I might as well get to the point.
“I suppose you remember the sex trafficking ring you helped us put out of business.”
They both nodded.
“Well, there’s another one that makes that one look like small potatoes. I think we can take that one down, too, but we need your help.”
I told them all we knew about Escobar’s operation. I didn’t mention that we were working with the Black Widow.
When I was finished, Earl said, “How can we help?”
“Escobar brings his women into the country from Venezuela. Undoubtedly he brings them in the back of a truck of some kind. You need to know that this could be a dangerous operation. There are always two armed guards watching the women. If you’re not interested, we totally understand.”
“Keep talking,” Earl replied.
“You would drive your rig into their compound. You’ll have to convince them you’re bringing another shipment from Venezuela. Kevin and I will be in the trailer. When you open the door, we’ll take them out with tasers. We’ll have the element of surprise. As soon as the guards are neutralized, we’ll round up the women and get them out in your truck.”
Earl and Amy looked at each other, then simultaneously said, “We’re in!”
“Hold on a minute,” Kevin said. “Earl only. There’s no way a driver would be bringing a woman with him.”
“No, you hold on!” Amy replied. “There’s no way I’m missing this. I’ll ride in the back with the two of you. Think about it. Those poor women will be scared to death. What makes you think they’ll just jump in the truck with a bunch of strange men? They’ll be more likely to trust another woman.”
Lady Justice and the Black Widow Page 8