The Sea Horse Trade

by Sasscer Hill

  “It is almost nine o’clock,” Klaire said. “The party will start momentarily. You will play your role until Dagger comes on about ten. Then you must do what we talked about.”

  * * * *

  My first customer, a stout, blue-eyed man of about thirty-five, stared at me across the table while I examined his palm. He wore expensive shoes, a silk Hawaiian shirt, and a small band-aid on the inside of his elbow. Maybe he’d had blood drawn earlier that day.

  “You have a nice touch,” he said. “I could last all night with your touch. I mean all night.”

  Okay, so he liked women, fine. But his budding enthusiasm might need a little nip.

  “You have health issues,” I said. Who didn’t have health issues? “I see a change here on your lifeline.” I pointed to an almost indecipherable mark. “You are seeing a doctor.”

  The blood left his face. “Wow. How did you know?”

  Mimicking Klaire’s breathless soothsayer voice, I said, “It is written.”

  In my peripheral vision, I could see Ajeet glance at me from his station. Score one for Nikki.

  “There is a woman in your life.” I said, and felt his hand twitch slightly. “She is very important to you.”

  “Yes, but I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  Klaire had told me to give them what they want. I tried to look mysterious while pointing at a mark on his heart line.

  “But you will see her again. Soon!” I paused, “Your body may suffer, but your spirit soars and will bring her back to you!” What a load of crap.

  “Yes!” he said. “I’ve always known she will come back to me.”

  I almost felt guilty, except this guy might be attending the auction. The hell with him.

  “But here,” I said pointing to a spot where three lines converged and crossed his life line, “I see trouble. A tumultuous event that will put you in grave danger.” Like cherry bombs and a police raid.

  “What is it?” Worry darkened his eyes.

  This was the cue I’d been waiting for. “You must consult Ms. Voyante. She is all seeing. She will know.”

  The guy twisted in his chair and looked at Ajeet. “Put me on that list you got, okay?”

  Ajeet bowed his head and said, “Your wish is my command. It so happens Ms. Voyante can see you now.”

  What a surprise.

  I released the man’s hand, and he stood and hurried to Ajeet’s table, where he was ushered into the inner sanctum.

  Dealing with the next client, I felt like a frantic horse in the starting gate. I wanted to bust out and race for Jade. Instead, I got to kick a drunk man’s shin beneath the table after he slid his hand up my skirt. Since it wasn’t time to disrupt the evening, I restrained myself from putting a lighted cherry bomb down his pants.

  “You know,” I said to him, grasping his hand and glancing at his palm, “your future doesn’t look so good.”

  “Yeah, well screw you, too!”

  After I sent him to Klaire, a man with a lei, a big belly, and a grass skirt settled himself across from me. I could see telltale marks on his knuckles where he’d had crude prison tattoos removed. I might have glanced at his hairy belly before mentioning heart disease. He became annoyed.

  “Listen, you little witch, I’m right as rain, enjoying the good life, soaking up the sun.” He smiled. “You’re the liar for hire.”

  I smiled right back and touched a mark on his palm. “Oh, look at this. This isn’t good. You are about to lose your freedom! This is the mark of confinement!”

  He snatched his hand away. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not going back in!”

  I gave my best imitation of Orlando’s Latin shrug. “It is already written.”

  He left in a huff, then one of the party goers I suspected was a hooker stopped by. She was as easy to read as the track’s overnight sheet, and I felt sorry for her.

  “Your life line shows you’ve traveled a difficult road,” I said, studying her palm. She smelled like booze. “Your childhood was…painful.”

  “You’re pretty good,” she said. “Do you know that? Or are you guessing?”

  “I know it,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I’d bet my life on it.”

  She grew quiet after that, and by the time she left, I was thinking about a second career in palm reading.

  * * * *

  And so it went with a full gaggle of eager victims until the lights flickered just before ten. I finished my last pre-break palm reading with a man in a Star Trek tee shirt. Ajeet ended the session with a dramatic announcement that the “road to the truth” would continue after Dagger performed.

  When Klaire’s final patron and my Trekkie guy left, Ajeet dimmed the lights inside our tent. I stood, stretched, and rubbed my neck. Who knew palm reading was so exhausting?

  A man drifted by our tent. I started with recognition. The man with head and shoulders resembling a vulture. I hadn’t seen him since he’d been in the limo outside the entrance to Gulfstream. The son-of-a-bitch was probably there to bid on Jade. Too bad he hadn’t been thrown in jail with Chakri. I looked around for Klaire. She must still be behind her curtain, so I parted it slightly and found her sitting at her table.

  “Klaire,” I whispered. “I think one of the buyers just walked by! Should I head upstairs now?”

  “Wait until Dagger starts. People will be less likely to notice you.”

  “Isn’t he supposed to be on stage by now?”

  As if on cue, an insanely loud electronic beat began thumping. It reminded me of the SUV with the thugs who’d gunned down the girl.

  Klaire mouthed the words, “Be careful.”

  I couldn’t hear her voice over the noise, but nodded, turned, and walked back to the front of our tent.

  The ballroom lights were turned down and I could see strobe-lit figures on the stage. Above it, a Jumbotron showed a close up of the guy before the microphone. He wore a tiny gold loincloth. Gold jewelry weighted his neck, wrists, and ankles. A knife tattoo dripped red drops beneath one of his eyes. Classy guy.

  He started rapping in time to the beat. His shouted, rhythmic lyrics were violent as he described a woman’s ass and other assets I really didn’t want to hear about. People on the floor danced, most of them with fists held high as they gyrated back and forth. They wore everything—togas, bikinis, miniskirts, suits, and Speedos.

  I searched the crowd for the Vulture and spotted him heading toward the staircase leading to the gallery. My exact destination. I touched my hair extensions, then slid my hands into my pockets. Everything in place.

  Skirting the dancers, I moved across the ballroom, past kiosks selling Dagger CDs and tee shirts. In the gallery above me, the Vulture disappeared through the arched door where I’d seen the two white-robed men upon my arrival. I flew up the stone staircase to the gallery where people leaned on the balustrade watching Dagger and the dancers below. The women among them looked like hookers. When I walked past, no one gave me a second glance. I might appear exotic, but I was still the hired help.

  I reached the arched door and stepping through, I found myself in a large foyer. Two sets of double doors faced me from across the room. To my left, yet another white-robed man stood with his back to me by an unmarked door. These men must be guards, and this one leaned over his cell phone, with a finger in his ear, trying to hear over the music.

  “What?” he yelled. “No, I can’t hear you!”

  I slipped behind him, straight to double doors. I tried the first one. It was locked. The second one opened and I entered a small amphitheater. I stared past rows of padded seats to the stage’s painted backdrop. The artist had a thing about well-endowed satyrs…doing peculiar things to naked women. Yuck.

  Since it was still a couple of hours before the auction, no one else was around. Where was the Vulture? I zeroed in on steps leading to a door on one side of the stage. I raced down the aisle toward it with Dagger’s nasty lyrics chasing right behind.

  Up the steps. Grab the door knob.
Locked. But I could hear voices on the other side. Damn, there had to be another way in. The unmarked door by the white-robed guard? I darted back through the amphitheater, slowing my pace when I reached the foyer outside.

  The guard was facing me now, his phone no longer in sight, but he still blocked the unmarked door. Thickset, with a three day beard, he looked like a bit actor for a mob movie.

  I gave him my hopeful look. “Someone told me there was a ladies room up here.”

  “They told you wrong,” he said, but his voice was pleasant enough. “You have to use the main one downstairs.”

  “There’s a line, and I’m on duty.”

  He pressed his lips together. “Let me see your wrist band.”

  I stepped closer and he inspected the turquoise band. It had little black daggers on it.

  “You’re the fortune teller. With Voyante, right?”

  “Yeah, and I really have to use a powder room!”

  “Okay,” he said. “Right this way.”

  Always good to be in with the right crowd.

  He pulled a key card from his robe and slid it into a lock mechanism. A moment later, the door opened onto a service hall.

  He pointed to the right. “It’s on your left, about halfway down.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Listen,” he said, as I scurried past him. “If you have time later, maybe you could read my fortune.”

  “Absolutely.” I couldn’t think of anything else I’d rather do.

  He was watching me, so I found the necessary room and scooted inside. I used the facilities, hoping the noise of the flushing toilet and running faucets would reassure him. I waited a few more moments then eased the door open a crack and peered through. He was gone.

  I took off in the other direction, slowing when the hall branched right and left. I went right, hoping it would put me behind the auditorium. I passed an alcove holding a satellite kitchen, with a sink, commercial refrigerator, and cabinets. A table held a plastic tray and cocktail napkins. I opened the refrigerator and found cans of soda. I pulled out half a dozen cans, placed them on the tray and hurried down the hall.

  Spotting steps and a door like the ones in the amphitheater, I rushed forward with my tray. Two heartbeats later, I reached the door and pulled it open.

  CHAPTER 44

  Just inside, a lovely, young woman stared at me through drugged eyes. She sat on a metal chair. On one arm, a sea horse tattoo watched me with a single, gleaming eye. The sight of it stopped me cold.

  Luminous blond hair flowed to her shoulders. The diaphanous white robe she wore did little to hide her budding curves. A steel bracelet circled one ankle and a metal chain fastened her leg to a ring in the floor.

  Steadying my tray of sodas, I stepped closer. Carla’s huge brown eyes stared back at me. The perfect nose, the high cheekbones, the sensual mouth. Jade.

  We weren’t alone in the room. The Vulture, his back to me, leaned over another girl seated behind Jade. A sea horse also marked her arm and a chain bound her leg.

  The same two robed guards I’d seen on the gallery stood in the back of the room watching the Vulture, no doubt making sure he didn’t handle the merchandise.

  Three other young women, all bound and drugged, huddled in chairs closer to the guards. Their arms had been tattooed with sea horses, and someone must have sprayed them with perfume. A musky, sensual odor weighed heavily in the air.

  One of the guards turned to stare at me.

  I gave him a bright smile. “They told me to bring some sodas.”

  He nodded, appearing unconcerned. My wrist band worked way better than management intended.

  “I’ll have one of those,” he said.

  I set my tray on an empty chair, popped a can, and handed it to him. The Vulture ignored me, still busy studying the goods.

  “Anyone else? How about you?” I asked Jade. She was too out of it to respond. I walked toward her with a can, glad she’d been placed apart from the other girls. “Jade?” I called softly.

  She heard me and slowly turned. The drugs had dimmed the lights in her eyes. I moved close enough to whisper without being overheard by the others.

  “I’m here to help you.”

  She blinked once and her eyes filled with confusion. At least it was a step up from vacant.

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  I didn’t want her agitated, and kept my voice calm. “I’m Nikki.” My heart beat so hard, I was surprised I could hear my words. “I’m going to get you out.”

  “You’re too late.” she whispered. “I’m being sold at midnight.”

  Behind her, the Vulture shuffled to the next girl, but made the mistake of touching her.

  “Watch that!” A guard moved quickly to run interference. “You know the rules!”

  Using this distraction, I moved even closer to Jade. “I have to leave. But I promise I’ll get you out before midnight.”

  She made a funny little noise, and tears welled in her eyes. Her shoulders started to shake, and one of the guards glanced at us.

  I returned to my tray, smiling at him. “Shall I leave these cans here for you guys?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  Turning, I walked quickly from the room.

  * * * *

  In the gallery, I tried to ignore a man wearing a laurel wreath and a loose toga pressed against the back of a woman leaning over the balustrade. Their vulgar thrusts kept time to Dagger’s beat.

  I rushed past them and fled downstairs. I didn’t examine the dancers on the floor too closely, either. When I reached our tent, it felt like an oasis.

  I slipped through Klaire’s gold curtain. She was at her table touching up her makeup.

  “I found her!” I forced myself to lower my voice. “She’s upstairs, just like you thought.”

  “And is she chained?”

  “Yes. And there are four other girls, two guards in robes, and that guy that looks like a vulture.”

  “The girls’ preview was supposed to be over by nine,” she said. “Our vulture friend must have special privileges.”

  Or special money.

  I glanced at my watch. Almost eleven. Dagger’s sexual frenzy would take a break soon. The evening’s schedule had Klaire and me back to fortune telling for about forty-five minutes. But we planned to leave with Jade before that. And get the other girls out. If we could. At this point, everyone was so drunk or high, they probably wouldn’t notice if we removed the girls on an elephant.

  “I think one of these hair things is loose,” I said.

  “Let me see it.”

  I sat in the sphinx chair, grabbing the opportunity to eat a power bar and guzzle some soda while she secured the loose extension and touched up my eyeliner.

  “Tell Ajeet to be ready to move,” she said.

  I stepped through the gold curtain, reaching my chair just as Dagger’s pounding beat crescendoed then ceased. Ajeet had left the lights dimmed, but one of the party animals stumbled into the tent anyway.

  I glanced at his face, saw the hideous scar. Trembling, I sank to my chair. Why was he here?

  Unsteady with drink, drugs, or maybe both, Currito pulled out the chair across my table with a jerk before slamming into it.

  “Pretty gypsy lady.” He leered at my low cut peasant blouse. “You must tell me my fortune.”

  CHAPTER 45

  I threw a panicked glance at Ajeet, than turned back to Currito. I didn’t know what to say. In my peripheral vision, I saw Ajeet stand and slip through the gold curtain.

  Currito laughed and reached a hand to touch the long hair near my breast. I grabbed his wrist and stopped him. He seemed to find this amusing. His laugh became uncontrollable. Beads of sweat covered his forehead, and his jagged scar grew scarlet.

  As I watched, his tightly woven, formal facade continued to unravel. I stopped breathing a few beats, watching a deeper personality emerge, something so ugly it made his scar seem a thing of beauty.

  “I like you,” he
said, his laughter subsiding to a giggle as he snatched his hand from my grasp. “So bold.” He squinted and leaned forward. “You are familiar to me. Do I know you?”

  He didn’t recognize me. I released my breath. Ajeet would warn Klaire, and for the moment, my disguise was working. I adopted the breathy, low soothsayer voice.

  “Perhaps we met in a dream, but I don’t know you. I have never read your palm. May I see it?”

  He put his left hand, palm up, on the table.

  “Ah,” I said. “But this is not your dominant hand. May I see the other?”

  He giggled again. “Pretty palmist, I’m not impressed. A good guess. But most use their right hands.”

  I examined his damp, right palm. A scar sliced across it, severing his life line in half. His brother’s mark? Probably better to ignore it.

  “You are far from home, but you have family nearby.”

  He snorted. “Another easy guess. But you are wrong. I brought my home with me. Now give me something profound, pretty gypsy.”

  I was drawing blanks, rattled by Currito’s presence, the words not coming like they had earlier. What had he meant about bringing his home with him? Think.

  “But you do have a family member close by.” I paused and touched his lifeline with a fingertip. “I sense a strained relationship.”

  “You disappoint me. What man does not endure a troubled family connection?”

  His superior attitude irritated me. I let my gaze take in both scars. “But most don’t have a tragic mark from family relations gone bad.”

  Currito stiffened, and I felt like kicking myself for saying too much. But he chose to laugh.

  “Bravo, bonita lady. I have a horse who is like you. He, too, is very bold. And,” he paused a moment, “I have a beautiful home on the sea. I want to take you there.”

  He leaned forward and stroked my hand with his. I pulled mine away but forced a smile. I’d wondered where Currito stayed. He’d never disclosed a location to me or Jim, always making the contact himself.