Enlisting Redemption

by D. Allen Henry

  Chapter 6

  Escaping Reality

  The Potomac River – December, 1968

  Although Rebecca pulled hard against the current, she was nonetheless carried downstream quite some distance before reaching shore. She realized that, despite the fact that she was an excellent swimmer, had she not discarded everything except her leotard, the current was so strong that the extra weight would most likely have dragged her under. Eventually struggling ashore, she collapsed momentarily in exhaustion. But as soon as she regained her strength she rose up, the realization flooding over her that she was in danger of hypothermia if she didn’t find some shelter and clothing immediately.

  Peering about in the darkness, she noticed lights along the shore just to her north. Subsequently making her way in that direction as quickly as possible, she jogged along for several minutes before coming upon a restaurant. Although everything was closed, she managed to break into a shed, where she purloined some men’s clothing, shrugging her way into them as quickly as possible. She found a piece of sail, and wrapping herself within it, she immediately collapsed into a deep sleep.

  She awoke around five A.M., and although it was still dark, she decided that she’d better be moving along right away before people were up and about. Because she had no idea whether anyone would be looking for her, she was unsure what her next step should be. Given the distinct possibility that the authorities might not have been alerted, she decided against attempting to contact the police. Still uncertain as to what she should do to ensure her own safety, she simply continued to make her way north to the lights she had seen on shore.

  She eventually found a convenience store that was open, wherein she bought a baseball cap with the hundred dollar bill and pocketed nearly ninety dollars in change. She stuffed her hair up under the hat and, asking the clerk if he knew a phone number for a taxi, she was given a number which she promptly called from the phone booth outside. Within minutes she was on her way to Union Station. Although the cab fare turned out to be twenty dollars, she still had sufficient cash for a bus ticket to Roanoke, where her brother James lived at the school for the deaf. Since she had hidden five hundred dollars in his room during her previous visit to see him, it was imperative that she go directly there to retrieve her much-needed cash.

  She arrived in Roanoke just before noon and, stopping in to see James long enough to remove the money she had stashed in his room, she now had enough cash to survive until she could get her bearings. Although she had also stashed the two thousand dollars Trevor had given her in a safe place at UVa, she thought better of risking a trip back to Charlottesville for the time being. She reasoned woefully that, for the moment, anonymity was undoubtedly her only trustworthy ally.

  The Following Day

  Rebecca took the bus back to DC, thenceforth boarding a train to Baltimore. Once there, she booked into a cheap hotel a bit down the hill from the train station. She then holed up and did her best to see what the television and newspapers were reporting regarding her disappearance. At first it was all over the news. There were even widely circulated photos of her in the press and on television. Fortunately for her, after three days the news had dwindled, the superficial press moving on to other more provocative news.

  Having no idea what the situation might be regarding her assailant Theofilio Andrakis and his associates, she determined to remain in hiding in hopes of further developments.

  It wasn’t long before she confessed to herself that she actually preferred being alone, at least for the moment. She needed to think - to sort out where her life had gone wrong - in her mind solitude being the best prescription for solving the labyrinthine puzzle that she herself had become. Resigning herself to a more lengthy stay in Baltimore than she had originally anticipated, she therefore checked out of the hotel and moved to the YWCA, where rooms were more affordable and the clientele was decidedly disinterested in others suffering similar plights. Within a few days she had transitioned smoothly into the swollen ranks of the destitute masses in downtown Baltimore.

  Baltimore – April, 1969

  For Rebecca, the days passed effortlessly into weeks, the weeks somehow drifting timelessly into months. Though she could neither feel nor hear her wounds healing, little by little the emotional scars began to abate, and with time to even disappear, at least to all external appearances.

  Four months into her self-induced exile, and by now running low on cash, she felt the need to take action of some sort. Although still feeble deep within her core, she was nonetheless resigned to the fact that she must soon return to Charlottesville to retrieve her secreted cash.

  Contemplating this dangerous task, she reasoned that she would need a disguise, thereby leading her to cut her hair short and dye it black. She then donned a pair of sunglasses and her baseball cap and, boarding the train to Washington, she rented a car on arrival at Union Station, driving the remainder of the way to UVa.

  Having concealed the remainder of her cash in her gym locker on campus, she decided that stealth was prudent. Awaiting the cover of darkness to enact her plan, she then went directly to the gym and recovered her cash.

  It all seemed quite simple when all was said and done, but when she made her way from the gym she was shocked to see Sarah crossing the street, and still worse – Sarah was coming directly towards her. Still, Sarah appearing to have failed to recognize her, Rebecca determined to continue straight on past her. But as Sarah passed her by, she bumped Rebecca rather clumsily.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Sarah exclaimed nonchalantly, and avoiding eye contact, she blurted, “I’m such a klutz.” She subsequently continued onward, seemingly unaware that she had just pummeled her own missing sorority sister.

  Relieved, Rebecca continued onwards, but Sarah immediately exclaimed, “Wait a minute, miss! You dropped something when I bumped into you,” at which Sarah turned and, trotting back toward Rebecca, she thrust a small piece of paper into her hand. And without so much as another word, she turned on her heel and strolled off into the darkness.

  Now aware that something untoward was clearly in the offing, Rebecca raced to her rental car and hastily drove away. After driving several blocks, she pulled over and unfolded the piece of paper. It read, “Meet me in Richmond, at MacDonald’s on Third Street at ten P.M.”

  Richmond – Two Hours Later

  Rebecca stepped inside MacDonald’s and, as expected, Sarah was awaiting her arrival.

  Subjecting Rebecca to a crushing embrace, Sarah exclaimed, “God, I’m so glad to see you, Rebecca! I just knew you were alive all along.”

  Returning her embrace, Rebecca inquired, “How? How did you know, Sarah?”

  “I just couldn’t believe that you would kill yourself, and I knew that you were a strong swimmer. After all, they never found a body.”

  “Okay, but how did you know that Andrakis’ associates didn’t get me?”

  “Because they’re still hanging around, that’s how,” she replied self-assuredly.

  “You’re not serious!” Rebecca blurted incredulously.

  “I’ve never been more so, girl. Why do you think I played the spy game on campus tonight?”

  “Oh, so that’s what that was about.”

  “Yes. I was watching to see if either of those two goons was around, and I saw you go into the gym. While I waited I scribbled a note just in case they were nearby, and when you came out I did the bump trick on you. They don’t seem to know about your locker at the gym, but after what Inspector Rush told me I wanted to be super safe. The truth is you’re pretty well disguised, so I doubt that they would have spotted you anyway. I might not have recognized you myself had I not been watching for you.”

  “How did you know about my locker?”

  “Oh, Inspector Rush did some digging around on campus several months ago. He’s the DC inspector assigned to your case. He found out you had a locker at the gym. When school started in September he asked me to sort of camp out and
watch out for you when I had time. He had a hunch right from the start that you might have left something valuable in your locker, so he got permission to open it, and he found the money. He figured you’d come back if you were alive, but he didn’t have enough to go on to put somebody on your case in Charlottesville, so he wisely enlisted me to help out.”

  “I see,” Rebecca responded with evident skepticism, “So you were spying on me. Are you going to turn me in?”

  “Rebecca! You wound me! Would I be here now if I was?”

  “Right. I’m sorry I asked, Sarah. I should have known better.”

  “No problem,” Sarah replied and, eyeing Rebecca earnestly, she asked, “So what the heck is going on, Rebecca?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why haven’t you come out of hiding?”

  “I needed some time to think, Sarah. Besides, I felt like I was in a lot of danger immediately after that night. To tell you the truth, I felt pretty low for quite a while.”

  “Exactly what happened?” Sarah asked.

  “I did the show - the same one I did at Halloween. It was all pretty tame up to that point, but then that vermin Andrakis grabbed me, handcuffed me to a table, and raped me in front of the whole crowd.”

  “Oh, God! That’s awful, Rebecca! You must have been devastated.”

  “Yeah, I was...” Rebecca responded, her voice trailing off and, eyes now glistening, she shook her head in disbelief.

  “Oh, my…” Sarah observed and, recognizing the need for an immediate change of subject, she queried, “So how did you get away?”

  “Oh, that,” Rebecca murmured, “That part was easy. I kicked the bathroom door into that guy Ira’s face, and while he was out, I just dove into the Potomac and swam to shore.”

  “Geez, Girl, you must have frozen your ass off. It was December, for God’s sake!”

  “To tell you the truth, I hardly noticed. I must have been in shock or something,” Rebecca responded distantly.

  “So why’d you do it, Rebecca? I mean - the show?”

  “I really can’t explain it. I just wanted enough money to pay for my schooling at UVa. But truthfully, I don’t have a good excuse. I was a fool to trust that jerk Trevor Sutherland after the deplorable way he had previously treated me but, like a fool, I fell yet again for one of his underhanded ploys. Believe you me, I will never trust that creep again. Hopefully, I’ll never even SEE him again.”

  “He told me what he did, but I didn’t realize just how bad it was until this very moment,” Sarah responded.

  “He told you?” Rebecca blurted in disbelief, “When?”

  “Oh, he came looking for you the very next day. He was distraught. At the time I thought he was worried for you, but I’ve since come to the realization that he was actually worried for himself.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He acted like he didn’t know what was going to happen that night. He said you were only supposed to do your Halloween act.”

  “That’s a crock! He must’ve masterminded the whole thing.”

  “Yeah, Inspector Rush told me so,” Sarah responded.

  “Told you what?” Rebecca queried, her head suddenly jerking up in anticipation.

  “The police searched Trevor’s room, Rebecca. They found his so-called ‘scorecard’.”

  “Scorecard? What the heck are you talking about, Sarah?”

  “You know, some sort of a little black book, and there, the last name on the list, was Rebecca Carey.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Rebecca blurted in rage, “That scumbucket is even worse than I thought!”

  “Well, the only good news is – there was no grade by your name.”

  “Grade? What sort of grade?”

  “You know, Rebecca, after all, it is a scorecard!”

  “Oh…my…God…” Rebecca muttered in sudden awareness, at which the pair drifted into contemplative silence.

  Eventually breaking the discomforting solitude, Sarah inquired, “So, what are you planning to do now?”

  “I still don’t know, Sarah. I’ve paid dearly for my mistake, I’ll tell you that.”

  “Yeah, your buddy Trevor did, too.”

  “Why? What happened to him, Sarah?”

  “They kicked him out of school, or at least they would have if he hadn’t dropped out voluntarily. That’s the rumor I heard.”

  “Why?”

  “They found out what you did that night, Rebecca. They assume you did a strip show, and they know that he set you up to it. The rumor is even out around the sorority house. So you might get kicked out as well if you were to come back.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not ever coming back. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but one thing I do know is that it’s not safe for me right now, what with those crooks still mucking around.”

  “Do you need anything? I mean, is there anything I can do to help?”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m doing as well as can be expected.”

  “I have a suggestion for you, if you’re interested,” Sarah offered.

  “Okay,” Rebecca replied, “What are you thinking?”

  “Why don’t you report in to Inspector Rush in DC?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “For the simple reason that Andrakis has apparently instructed his associates to keep an eye on your mom’s house. Since they’re clearly waiting for you to show up, they also may have tapped the phone there, and God knows what else. What that means is – he’s willing to go to great lengths to find you.”

  At this revelation, Rebecca grasped her throat in terror, exclaiming, “Oh, my God! This is worse than I thought!”

  “You’re telling me!” Sarah responded knowingly, “You might want to know that Inspector Rush seems to be really interested in your case. I think he’s a good cop. I’m pretty sure he’s the one that got Trevor kicked out of school. I’ve been thinking about this for quite a while, Rebecca. I think that the inspector is your safest way out of this mess. What do you say?”

  “I’ll think about it, Sarah. In the meantime, can you give me the inspector’s phone number and address in DC?”

  “Sure, I have it written down right here. I’ve been carrying it around for several months in the hope that I’d get the chance to give it to you.”

  “Thanks. This means a lot to me,” Rebecca said. “Now, I think I need to get going. Please don’t tell a soul that you saw me.”

  “Done. Give me a hug, will you?” Sarah responded, at which the two embraced fiercely, Sarah adding, “Please let me know you’re okay from time to time, okay?”

  “Yes, of course,” Rebecca replied, and with that she headed for the parking lot.

  “Oh, one other thing, Rebecca,” Sarah called to her.

  Turning back, Rebecca responded, “Yeah?”

  “That jerk Trevor joined the Army!”

  “What!” Rebecca blurted in shock. “That seems totally out of character for him. He’s so conceited, and he’s not even a U.S. citizen.”

  “Yeah,” Sarah responded thoughtfully. “Anyway, the rumor is he’s gone to Vietnam.”

  Rebecca responded vehemently, “Good riddance,” adding in finality, “Okay, thanks Sarah. Bye.”

  With that Rebecca walked out, got into the rental car, and drove off. She had to think. There was a torrent of newfound information to sift through. And that guy Trevor - going off to Vietnam! It was all too much for her to absorb. If she hadn’t had a rental car, she might have driven aimlessly westward in search of herself, but as it was, she knew full well that if she didn’t turn it in the next day, someone might realize that Rebecca Carey had rented a car in DC and subsequently disappeared yet a second time.

  Thinking better of it, she drove to a seedy motel, checked in, and the following morning she drove to Washington and returned the rental car, thenceforth heading for Union Station in preparation for her return train to Baltimore. Once there she bought a ticket
, and as she had an hour to spare before her scheduled departure, she stopped for coffee.

  She was sitting at a table staring into space when she realized that there was a phone booth not thirty feet away. Without a second thought she automatically stood up, walked over to it, and dialed the number. After two rings the voice on the other end said, “Inspector Rush.”

  “Inspector Rush, this is Rebecca, Rebecca Carey,” she replied curtly.

  “Rebecca! Miss Carey! Please tell me it’s really you!” he responded enthusiastically.

  “It’s me, and I can prove it,” she answered, an incongruous smile somehow induced by his overjoyed response.

  “Rebecca, I do so want to meet you. Where are you?” he queried. “Tell me you’re in DC!”

  “No, sorry. I’m not in Washington, Inspector,” she lied, “But I would like to discuss options with you, if I may.”

  “Certainly, certainly,” he responded. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, first I’d like to have a nice conversation with you at some point regarding ‘recent events’. Then, if I am satisfied as to your commitment to my case, then I may in the future be convinced to come in.”

  “Excellent, Rebecca,” he replied. “However, may I say - the sooner the better. You doubtless know that you are in significant danger.”

  “That may well be, Inspector, but I seem to be doing alright on my own at the moment. In any case, I feel the need for a bit more time to myself, for the purpose of working my way through my issues, if you get my meaning.”

  “Yes, of course,” he responded empathetically. “In the meantime, how may I be of service to you?”

  “Yes, I’ve been thinking about that. I would ask you for two favors. First, please do NOT inform my mother that you have spoken to me.”

  “That goes without saying, Rebecca. Too much danger if word gets out. You have my promise. Your family will not be informed that you have contacted me.”

  “Thank you. Second request – please don’t inform anyone else either, I mean – anyone whatsoever.”

  “Hmmm,” he replied, obviously pondering this more significant request, “Yes, I see your point. Alright, yes, I agree to that as well. When can I expect to hear from you again?”

  “Soon, Inspector. And I will look forward to that discussion regarding events, okay?”

  “Yes, of course,” he responded.

  “Oh, and one other thing,” she said, “What do you know of Trevor Sutherland, Inspector?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “Alright, let me see. He left school at UVa in December.”

  “I heard that he was kicked out,” she interrupted.

  “No, he might have been, but his father maneuvered it so that he could leave voluntarily without being expelled. It just looked better that way.”

  “I see,” she responded. “Who is his father, Inspector?”

  “Oh, you didn’t know? His father is the Earl of Winston. His name is Trant Sutherland, and he is currently the British Ambassador to the U.S.”

  “Good Lord,” she replied, “I had no idea. I’ll bet his father wasn’t too happy about Trevor’s involvement in my disappearance.”

  “That is an understatement,” Inspector Rush responded. “His mother hauled off and slapped the holy crap out of him right in my office, and then his father spat on him. Trevor joined the Army a couple of weeks later. He’s now in Vietnam.”

  “Yeah, I heard that much. Any word how he’s doing over there, Inspector?”

  “No, I haven’t heard anything at all. I’m sorry.”

  “No problem,” she replied. “Thanks for filling me in. I’ll talk to you soon, Inspector.”

  “Thanks for your call. It’s so good to hear your voice, Miss Carey. God speed,” and at this he rang off.

  Rebecca boarded the train for Baltimore a short time later.

  Baltimore - November, 1969

  Feeling more and more like her old self, Rebecca hardly noticed as the months fairly flew by. Still, well aware that her meagre resources would not last forever, she had in recent weeks begun to contemplate how she might support herself without creating a traceable trail that might lead Andrakis’ goons to her. One day, idly perched on a bench in front of the YWCA, she noticed a sort of nondescript elderly gentleman coming her way. Averting her eyes as she was wont to do, she calmly waited for him to pass. But he didn’t. Instead, he sat down on the bench and stretched out as if to camp out alongside her. Perplexed at this intrusion, she sat motionless, hoping against hope that he might move on. But when he didn’t she grew uneasy.

  Eventually, without so much as glancing her way, he babbled, “Nice day.”

  Jerking her head about in surprise, she eyed him suspiciously and, seeing no threat whatsoever, she observed curtly, “Maybe in your world, but not in mine.”

  Still paying no apparent attention to her, he inquired pleasantly, “And what world do you live in, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Nothing. Forget it,” she mumbled, still hopeful that he would somehow disappear.

  The silence stretched out yet again, but then he suddenly offered, “Perhaps your world could change, perhaps even – for the better.”

  Popping to her feet in fury, she exclaimed, “I knew it! You’re not out for a sunny stroll, are you!”

  Still avoiding eye contact, he murmured, “Nope.”

  Somehow calmed by such a simple admission, she plopped back down beside him and offered, “Okay, mister. Let’s hear it. I’m all ears.”

  At this he turned towards her and politely suggested, “I hoped you’d say that, Miss, er…”

  “Wendy, Wendy Gardner,” she replied noncommittally.

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Gardner,” he responded pleasantly, “Name’s Hal, Hal Bernstein,” at which he held out his hand.

  Eyeing him distantly, she replied, “This better be good, Mr. Hal Bernstein!”

  “Of course,” he nodded and, tugging his lapels officiously, he launched into it, announcing, “I’m the owner of the Stafford Club. Have you heard of it?”

  Draping her arms over the bench in obvious boredom, she denied, “Nope.”

  “It’s a gentlemen’s club, over in Little Italy,” he observed sheepishly.

  “Oh, I get it,” she exclaimed and, eyes flashing at him, she spat, “It’s a strip club!”

  “Well, er, after a fashion, yes, but my club is different. It’s real high class, no hanky panky, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, really!” she countered dismissively.

  “Absolutely,” he replied defensively and, now coming to the point, he added, “Heard about you from one of my girls. She says you’re a real looker, and boy is she right about that.”

  “So what,” Rebecca snarled.

  “Well, seein’ as how you are living in the YWCA, I thought to stroll on over and see if I might interest you in a business proposition. Interested?”

  Eyeing him suspiciously, she retorted, “Spare me the chit chat, Mr. Bernstein. This conversation grows tiresome, so get to the point.”

  His eyebrow arched in surprise, he followed her bidding, suggesting, “I was hoping you might consider joining my club.”

  “Joining your club? What the hell does that mean?”

  “Employment, Miss Gardner, I’m speaking of a job.”

  “You mean stripping?”

  “Listen, Miss Gardner, while you’ve been sitting on this here park bench there’s been a revolution going on in America. Everywhere people are revolting against traditional societal customs, dropping out, doing drugs, and participating in all sorts of sexual mayhem.

  “Certain aspects of the war in Vietnam are crystallizing the fight for freedom of expression in this country, and women are a major part of that fight. Women are burning their bras in public demonstrations as a means of emphasizing their equality in this country. They’re claiming their right
to equal treatment to men in all walks of life, and one of those rights is freedom of expression. Over the past couple of years in this country, women have challenged the underlying concept of the Second Amendment, claiming that prohibiting the right to remove their clothing in certain appropriately controlled social settings violates their freedom of expression. Well, they’re winning that fight, and this is your chance to be a part of that fight.”

  “So, let me get this straight, Mr. Bernstein,” she responded facetiously, “What you’re saying is, if I become an exotic dancer, I will be joining the fight for women’s rights.”

  “It may sound ludicrous, but it’s true,” he responded unequivocally.

  “Tell you what, Mr. Hal Bernstein, give me your business card, and if I’m interested, I’ll have my agent call you in a few days,” she replied flippantly.

  “Excellent! Couldn’t have asked for more,” he replied and, rising to depart, he handed her a card and added politely, “Have a nice day, Miss Gardner.”

  A Week Later

  Rebecca camped out, maintaining vigil from her usual spot outside the YWCA. Noticing a street walker coming her way, she decided to follow her. Maintaining a discrete distance, she trailed the woman to an area in little Italy that was dotted with strip clubs. Her curiosity piqued, she decided on the spur of the moment to go inside one of the clubs. Since it was not yet nighttime, nothing of much significance was going on, so she went back to the Y and awaited darkness to fall.

  That night, disguised in her baseball cap and baggy jeans, she went back to Little Italy. She visited several of the clubs, each one seemingly doing a good business. Most were fairly revolting, but one of them seemed to be pretty high class. It was, of course, the Stafford Club.

  Camping out within, she sat at the bar contemplating. Eventually, the bouncer came up to her and asked her what she was doing at the club. “Just having a drink,” she replied noncommittally.

  “That just don’t happen around these parts,” he responded. “You’re here for a reason.”

  “Nope. I’m just hanging out,” she replied unobtrusively.

  “Okay,” he mumbled nonchalantly, “But you ain’t foolin’ me.” At this he turned and walked away. Within moments she saw him, coming her way. At his approach, she volunteered banally, “Hi, Hal.”

  “Hi, Miss Gardner. Good to see you,” he responded, “George tells me you’re just hanging out. That right?”

  Surreptitiously taking a sip of her beer, she responded, “Yep.”

  “Here’s the thing, Miss Gardner, we don’t cater to working girls in here.”

  “I know. Do I look like I’m working to you?” she replied.

  “Well, er, it takes all kinds, I suppose,” he responded doubtfully.

  “Trust me, Mr. Bernstein. I’m not working. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “Okay, fair enough, Wendy. But would you like to be working?”

  Rebecca stared at him for a moment, responding dubiously, “I don’t know…I never thought about it until last week.”

  “Well,” Hal responded patiently and, scratching his head in contemplation, he suggested, “Look at it this way, Wendy, if you want to make a living, you gotta do something useful. It’s the nature of the world we live in.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she responded thoughtfully.

  “You got any experience at this sort of thing?” he queried.

  “Actually, yes. Not a lot, but I’ve been around the block.”

  “Excellent! Tell you what, Wendy. Think about it, and if you’re interested, stop back in sometime. And make it real soon, okay?”

  “Thanks. I’ll think about it,” she answered, and at that she hopped from the barstool and made her way to the exit.

  The following night she went back to the club and watched again. She was beginning to form an idea in her head. It appeared that this was the sort of job where she could maintain anonymity. It seemed that the majority of the pay was tips, and the salary, if indeed there was one, could probably be had in cash. So it might not be necessary to produce a social security card, something that was just too dangerous for Rebecca to consider. She just couldn’t afford to risk giving out any sort of traceable information. And to make matters worse, she was by now nearly broke.

  Three Days Later

  Rebecca had by now worked up the nerve to return to the Stafford Club. She strolled to the club just after dark, and on entering she bought a drink and watched the show for a few minutes. Eventually, the bouncer came up to her and asked her what she thought she was doing there. She replied that she was looking for a job, indicating that she had previously talked to Hal about it.

  “What’s your name?” George queried.

  “Wendy, Wendy Gardner,” she replied.

  “Oh, yeah, I remember you from a couple of days back. Let me do some checking. I’ll get back to you in a few,” he responded.

  She sat watching the show, thinking that she was at least as talented as the girls performing in this, the best club around. George eventually returned and ordered tersely, “Follow me, Wendy.”

  Rising to follow, she responded, “Thanks.”

  He guided her to an office where there were two elderly men in suits absentmindedly observing the floor show through a one-way mirror. Both rose as she entered, one saying to the bouncer, “Thanks George,” and, turning back towards her, he posited, “So Wendy, you remember me, I’m Hal.”

  “Yes, of course, Mr. Bernstein. Thanks for remembering me.”

  “No problem, Wendy. So, have you decided to take a shot?”

  “Yes, sir, I believe I have,” she replied doubtfully.

  “Where’ve you worked before?”

  “I’ve just done private shows, in DC.”

  “Oh, high class stuff, eh?”

  Attempting to appear as if she knew what she was talking about, she responded, “Yeah, small groups, very rich.”

  “Excellent,” he replied and, turning to the other gentleman, he appended, “This is Stu Putterman. We run a high class show here, Wendy. Strictly exotic dancing, nothing on the side. I mean nothing whatsoever, you hear?”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Putterman,” she responded, “And I couldn’t work here if you asked me to do anything other than that. Nobody touches my body except me.”

  “Excellent,” Hal nodded, inquiring surreptitiously, “So, are you up to showing the two of us your goods, Wendy?”

  “Not yet,” she replied, “Not my style. I need a few days to sort of work my way back into it.”

  “No problem. We can work with that,” Hal responded, “What exactly did you have in mind?”

  “I was wondering if I could work as a waitress for a few nights, just to get my feet on the ground. I’d be willing to work just for tips.”

  “Hmmm..., what do you think Stu?” and, seeing Stu’s nod of approval, Hal responded, “Okay, we’re good with that. But just for a week, okay?”

  “Not a problem,” she responded, “When do I start?”

  “Right, can you start tomorrow night? The early show is at seven thirty. You need to be here by seven P.M. Okay, Wendy?”

  “Yeah, see you then. And thanks, Mr. Bernstein.”

  “No problem, and welcome to the Stafford Club. Oh, and start working on your act, because you’ll start performing next Saturday night.”

  “Sure, I already have it planned out in my mind.”

  “Great. I think you’ll like it here, Wendy. We’re a good honest club. Stay out of trouble and you’ll do fine.”

  At this she nodded and said, “Thanks. See you tomorrow,” at which she exited the office.

  Once out on the street, she realized that she actually felt giddy. For some reason she was genuinely excited by the opportunity to be doing something purposeful, despite the rather questionable morality of it all. Now she had a means of sustaining herself at least until she could decide how to get out of the mess she�
��d found herself in.

  The following evening she waited tables, and by the end of the week she had made nearly two hundred dollars. Although she still had to work up her act, she realized that she now had a means of supporting herself indefinitely. Nonetheless, she continued living at the YWCA, keeping her profession well concealed from those who knew her there. Within this newfound reality, several months drifted by without her even noticing the passage of time.

  Washington - March, 1970

  Inspector Rush sat by his phone, willing it to ring. Midway through the first ring, he pounced on it, saying, “Inspector Rush! Is that you, Miss Carey?”

  “My, we are in a hurry today,” Rebecca responded without even feeling the inclination to identify herself.

  “Oh, it’s so good to hear from you, Miss Carey,” he responded. “I’ve been sitting by the phone for months waiting for you to call!”

  “Get a life, Inspector,” she replied with a giggle.

  It being obvious to him from her spritely response that she was on the mend, he volunteered affably, “I expect that I will, as soon as I know that you are safe. Now then, I know that you wanted to discuss events from the last time you called, and I have been assembling everything that you might want to know from me. I’m ready, Miss Carey. Fire away!”

  “Sure thing, Inspector. First question - How many of Andrakis’ men are still searching for me?”

  “Good question! Only two, so far as I know. There were four at first, but two of them went back to Greece several months ago.”

  “Where are the remaining two now?”

  “One is in Charlottesville. The other one is in Danville watching your mom’s home.”

  “Yes, I knew that. I was just testing you. So far you’re batting a thousand, Inspector.”

  At this he chuckled but said nothing.

  “Okay,” she continued, “Second question – did Trevor Sutherland get forced out of UVa because of you?”

  “Yes, I suppose he did,” he replied, “I simply informed the campus police of his actions regarding you. I also informed his father as to what was going on, and he negotiated the deal that allowed Mr. Sutherland to leave school without being expelled. It would most likely have come to that eventually anyway, but I undoubtedly sped up the process.”

  “Kudos, Inspector. Third question – tell me about this so-called scorecard of Trevor’s.”

  “Ah, I see you’ve heard,” he replied reticently, “There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid. The police in Charlottesville discovered it when they searched his room at the fraternity house.”

  “What exactly does it say, Inspector?”

  “Nothing special, but it does have your name on it.”

  “And?”

  “Well, it makes it clear that he was using it as a means of tabulating and ranking his sexual conquests, I’m afraid.”

  “I see,” she replied thoughtfully, “Exactly how many names are on the list?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say, Miss Carey,” he responded, “But what I can say is this – yours was the only name on his list without an assigned score.”

  “Of course,” she responded knowingly, “But just exactly what is the significance of that, Inspector?”

  “My dear Rebecca, I should think that would be obvious. You were undoubtedly his next target. Otherwise, your name would most certainly not have been included on the list.”

  “Oh! Oh, now I see…” she stammered self-consciously, adding, “My goodness, I had no idea…”

  “Understandable, Miss Carey, as such behavior is clearly well out of the ordinary, I assure you,” he replied sympathetically.

  There was a momentary silence, but then she followed with, “What would happen to me if I came in?”

  “Excellent question!” he replied, “We would immediately place you in the witness protection program.”

  “How does that work?”

  “Well, first we would give you a new identity, and then we would place you somewhere that you could not be traced by Theofilio Andrakis and his associates. I can assure you, Mr. Andrakis is a very dangerous man.”

  “What would you do about a job for me?”

  “What do you mean, Rebecca?”

  “Could I work at anything that I wanted to.”

  “Yes, of course, so long as it isn’t illegal.”

  “Would I have any say in where I moved to?”

  “Yes, within certain limits. You would need to be placed somewhere that we can maintain your protection.”

  “Last question - what are the chances that we could get Mr. Andrakis for rape?”

  “Not very good at the moment, I’m afraid, but they would be dramatically improved if you came in.”

  “That’s not very reassuring, Inspector,” she offered candidly.

  “Yes, I know, but I’m trying to be honest with you, Rebecca. These things are determined by the DA. The important thing is, if you come in, we’ll provide protection for you whether the charges are pursued or not. You see, the important thing is for you to be out of harm’s way.”

  “Okay, I get it, Inspector. Thanks for your input. You will hear from me pretty soon, I expect.”

  “Please make it very soon, Rebecca. I am only thinking of your wellbeing.”

  “Yes, of course. Oh, and one other question - What do you hear about Trevor Sutherland.”

  “Not a thing. So far as I know, he is still in Vietnam, I’m afraid.”

  “Okay, thanks for the info. That’s all for now, Inspector. Bye.”

  Baltimore - April, 1970

  Rebecca hardly noticed as another month slipped by. She had by now developed friendships with a number of the girls working within the club. One in particular that she liked was named Mimi. Mimi was a platinum blonde with quite bountiful attributes.

  Mimi had a wonderful heart. Perhaps ten years older than Rebecca, she had taken Rebecca under her wing so to speak. Under Mimi’s tutelage, Rebecca had learned how to spot a guy she should avoid, mastering the art of safely exiting the club at night in such a way that she could not be followed. In this way, Rebecca had fallen into a day to day existence that she found not just tolerable, but in some ways perhaps even fulfilling. Still, she understood all too well that she must make some decisions soon, as her current existence was most certainly not indefinitely sustainable.