by Dan Glover
"I had this taken last month for Allen. Do you think I should give them to him? I left it here in his cabinet but I don’t think he's found it yet. If he has, he hasn’t said anything. Maybe that's a sign... do you think?"
Paula had gone to the curio cabinet, opened one of the bottom drawers, and withdrew a large and glossy framed photograph of herself wearing nothing but a bit of strategically placed fuzz. Sally did a double take. She'd never realized how much they looked alike. Now that she'd lost the weight, Paula could well be her sister. Sure, she was a few years older but Paula took care of herself. She could easily pass for ten years younger, especially when she got dolled up, like in that picture. It made doing what she had to do all the simpler.
"Oh my God, Paula! You're gorgeous! I had no idea... well, I mean... sure, you ought to show Allen. Why not? He's a lucky guy."
"I'm way embarrassed, Sally... you don't think I look too old?"
"Not at all, Paula... you're absolutely beautiful, girl! Would you like to see some of mine too?"
Talk about surprises... she had no idea that Paula was so frisky. Was she actually masturbating in that photo? It looked like it. But her hand was partially hidden—on purpose, of course—so perhaps she wasn’t doing what Sally thought she was. But then again, maybe she was. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out some photos of her own to share with Paula.
Showing her those pictures was a calculated risk. She'd always assumed Paula liked men exclusively yet at the same time Sally wondered. There were times when they were alone together and it seemed as if Paula was almost coming onto her. Like today. Showing her that boudoir photograph. Had she been more authoritative Sally would've taken the chance right then and there but as it was she'd always been sort of a shrinking wallflower when it came to sex.
She'd taken the photographs herself. Hank was away as usual and she'd gone out with the girls, drank one too many bottles of wine, and came home to an empty house. She'd always wanted to see what she looked like to someone else and so she thought: why not? She'd set up the camera on its tripod, started the auto timer, and begun taking off her clothes. And then she thought: why not take things a step further?
The pictures were liberating in a way and yet she'd been too shy to show them to anyone else. Hank would only be mean about it... tell her what a pig she was for posing like that, for doing those disgusting things to herself. On the other hand, another woman might understand. In fact, the pictures might even excite another woman as much as they titillated her.
Of course Paula would never understand. That was a given. But then again there was no reason for her to know. Secrets were meant to be kept, not given away freely. Most people didn’t understand that. Maybe Paula did. If so, it might well open whole new vistas for the both of them, and if not? Well... there was always the alternative.
"Can you keep a secret of mine too?"
Sally wanted to confide in someone and who better than Paula Picany? If the woman looked askant at what she wanted to share her, then they could go back to their old isolation easy enough. But what if Paula was interested too?
After all, they shared the same man. In a sense, they were already intimate with one another. And besides, what better way to cultivate a sense of trust? She pulled a few photos out of her purse handing them to Paula.
"Jesus, Sally... I had no idea."
"Do they shock you, Paula?"
"Absolutely... but in a good way. Why are you showing these to me?"
"Because you showed me yours."
Sally shrugged. If Paula didn’t sense a come-on when it happened, then what was the use? Maybe she'd been mistaken to be so bold as to think that the woman sleeping with her husband might have a thing for her too. Still, that wasn’t the real reason why she showed Paula the photos. It was more of a distraction. While the woman gawked at the pictures, Sally took the opportunity to slip a couple into a drawer of Allen's cabinet. Give the old boy a thrill. Maybe make him think...
Chapter 57—Roadtrip
(On the Twin Trail)
1
Sometimes she wondered why she didn’t become a nurse or even a lawyer... a corporate type... someone who didn’t have to deal in the sordid life of criminality. Hell, even those charged with keeping the peace were as capable of felonious deeds as the darkest of criminals.
Hank Lupo was in way too deep. Marcy didn’t come right out and say so but she was obviously worried about the man and his proclivities towards the seedier side of life... the constant contact with myriad men who purposely kept low profiles and yet who still managed to manipulate enough strings to keep the wheels of corruption turning.
It went all the way back to his time in the armed services. He'd gone through basic training with none other than one Oscar Olay, a man on a mission to impress his father any way possible. He wasn’t Navy material. Everyone knew it. Yet there he was right alongside the other grunts busting his tail to prove he could do it.
"How do you know all this, Marcy?"
"Hank confides in me, Liza. I think it helps to unburden his conscience."
"He knows you'll keep his secrets."
"Well... yes, Danners, I suppose he does. You two promised me though."
"We did, Marcy, and we'll honor that promise. All we want is to help the Picany's find their daughters."
"And if they're dead, Liza?"
"Then they'll have closure."
"Okay... I'll tell you what I know... where do I start? You know there's a black market on body organs... right?"
"I've heard that, yes. Danners?"
"Well, we all know it's illegal in the United States to buy and sell human organ tissue, Liza. And of course anytime something is prohibited a black market is bound to evolve. Same thing with illegal drugs... but what does Hank have to do with organ trafficking, Marcy?"
"I'm not sure... nothing, maybe. He knows people though... scary people."
"Did Dr. Olay figure into this, Marcy?"
"I think so, Liza. I know it rattled Hank to hear that the doctor was murdered.
"Wax."
"What, Danners?"
"I keep seeing wax figures, Liza. Cadavers are kept cold to minimize organ damage."
"Hank once told me that only living viable organs would do... what you might be seeing isn't cadavers, Danners... it's..."
"What, Marcy? What's he seeing?"
"Living donors chilled to the point that the mammalian diving reflex kicks in... a sort of suspended animation. Hank told me how Dr. Olay learned about it while serving in the Navy. Deep sea divers sometimes had accidents. He treated them. From what Hank told me Olay developed a program to not only revive the divers but to purposely trigger the reflex... several government agencies were and are still actively interested in hypothermia as a means to cryonically preserve astronauts on long journeys as well as a way to store prisoners more efficiently."
"Think of it, Liza... a whole industry might have cropped up around this practice. Let's say certain parties were able to make use of that technology to create organ farms... they kidnap individuals, lower their body temperature to put them into suspension, and keep them at the ready to harvest organs when orders come in."
"Jesus, Danners... are you serious?"
"The dragon... it keeps showing me images of wax people, like those museums where they make famous images... that's what this is all about. If we find that farm, we find the twins."
Now, lying back in a tub of water up to the tips of her tits with tendrils of steam rising around her and a thigh full of hoochie, she shuddered. Reaching up with the toes of her right foot she turned the hot water on and let it run until she could barely stand it. How many people vanished each year? Hundreds... maybe thousands. Most of them were never found. She always assumed they'd simply left it all behind to start over somewhere else... a new life, something she did herself once. But what if...
Thomas Johm was the key. If what Marcy said was true, Hank was merely a facilitator... the man with connections. He brought pe
ople together without really wanting to know the minutia of the inner workings. Was Olay the brains of the outfit? Probably not. He did the carving. His surgical skills enabled the organization to thrive. But they needed something more: they required a psychopath. That's where
2
Johm came in. He did the body snatching. Hell, if Marcy was right, this thing of theirs was thriving over twenty years ago, even before Hank Lupo joined the Sheriff's Department. Was he the mastermind behind everything? She had her doubts. Hank was a bit of a sleaze, sure, but she wasn’t ready to throw him completely under the bus just yet.
God, it was nice just to settle back for a few minutes and let the world run itself for a change. This business of theirs... it got to her at times. Keeping a fire stoked under Danners' ass was one thing—the man seemed to expect it—but motivating herself got seriously old. Why did she keep on doing it? That was a question she refused to ask herself except for times like now, when everything was in danger of crashing around her.
3
She'd always been pretty much asexual. After enough years had gone by even dear old mother had finally quit asking when she was going to get married and settle down. The poor woman wanted grandchildren that she'd never have, not by Liza, anyway.
Men simply didn’t interest her but then again neither did women. Most people she encountered seemed to believe a girl who looked as good as she did must be getting it on the side somehow or another and so what if she let them go on thinking that? It wasn’t any of their concern who she was fucking.
That's why she'd fallen so hard for Danners. Knowing his predilection for boys did nothing to curtail the feelings of lust arising each time she saw the man enter a room. Maybe it was in knowing theirs was a relationship that would never be consummated or perhaps she simply enjoyed wallowing in the mire of love once in a while and Danners was as convenient as the next guy.
The smack had a lot to do with it. That was her one big love affair in life. It was hard for her to imagine any real rival vying for her affections. No other suitor could ever measure up when the dope was really ringing through her veins. It was then that she knew the endless vistas of love and hate all rolled into one and she swore she'd never let go of that lover.
She'd played around some, enough to realize there was something lacking in the way she felt towards others. They called her a heartless bitch but she never asked any of them to fall in love with her. In fact she did her best to prevent it. She warned them. But no one listened. Perhaps they thought she was playing them. A soft rapping sounded at the door. She'd nearly forgotten Danners was staying over tonight. The poor man probably had to pee.
"Come on in, sweetie. Door's open."
"Hey, doll... we had some company while you've been hiding away in here and I thought you'd like to hear about it right away... mind if I sit for a bit and talk?"
His eyes were drinking her in and she loved it. She arched her back ever so slightly to raise her chest out of the water for his examination. For just a second she thought he might actually reach out and start fondling her but then a look of reticence passed over his face. She wouldn’t stop him, if that's what he was worried about.
"You know I don’t mind, DanDan. Sit. Who stopped over?
"Cooper was here... he has an interesting theory, sweetheart. He thinks Paula Picany is boffing both the Lupos. Take a look at this photo of Sally Lupo he gave me, Liza."
"My... are you sure this really Sally Lupo? It looks a lot like Paula Picany, Danners."
"They do look a lot alike. Especially since Sally lost weight. But it's her all right."
"And pray tell... how did your boyfriend come by this gem?"
"Come on, Liza... Cooper isn’t my boyfriend. Not for a long time now. He said he found it at the Picany house. He was hanging out with Allen when Paula came home drunk and went upstairs. When Allen left the room—probably to see about his wife—our intrepid Reilly snooped around a bit just for the hell of it. You know how he is. Apparently he found this one and lots of other pictures of Sally in a desk drawer that belongs to Allen. Anyway, I got on him about his getting too close to Allen—you know, like we talked—and I'm guessing this is his way of placating me."
"Great job, Danners. Are you getting anything from the photo, like who took it? Is Allen involved somehow?"
"Sally Lupo took them herself. I get the feeling she slipped this one and several others into Allen's desk. He doesn’t know about them. From what Reilly says, Sally's been spending lots of time with Paula lately. That'd be her opportunity to plant the photos. Maybe it's a way of hitting on Allen. She might well know about Paula's affair with Hank and she's seeking some sort of weird revenge. You fuck my spouse and I'll fuck yours."
"So Sally is feeling frisky, Danners?"
"Trying to get back at hubby Hank by going after Allen? Absolutely, Liza."
"What about Sally's relationship with Paula? Do you get the impression either of them is a lesbian, Danners?"
"Everyone is a lesbian, Liza. You know that."
"Sorry to burst your bubble, lover, but not me."
"You're going to sit there and tell me you've never had a thing for another woman?"
"Only if a gay guy of about sixty counts."
She loved the way the color drained from Danners' cheeks each time she teased him about having the hots for the man. What would she ever do if Danners actually made a pass at her? Probably fall right into his bed. Of course the odds of that happening were higher than being struck by lightning five times running.
At least Reilly was getting something. Danners was right. Threatening him with loss of livelihood did the trick. It seemed like the man always needed a little prodding to produce. Hell, with what he knew and the skill set he acquired while working with the Bureau, Reilly Cooper could write his own ticket in this information-charged world they lived in. Yet there he was, barely scraping by even while living in a shit hole and eating rice and beans three times a day.
"We need to take a road trip, Liza."
"And just where are we off to now, honeybunch?"
"I'm getting vibes from Benji and my dragon dreams about a place in eastern Oklahoma."
"Benji?"
"You know... the teddy bear we took from the twins' room."
"The bear you took, Danners. Are you telling me we're going to drive all the way to Oklahoma on a whim?"
"Yeah..."
"Okay... I'm in. When are we leaving?"
"Just as soon as you can get yourself together, darling. Need someone to scrub your back?"
"You know I do, DanMan. You might as well get my front too while you're at it."
Chapter 58—Rumors
(And Damned Lies)
1
So Hank Lupo was under suspicion. Not by the powers that be... the authorities, but by the dicks Allen had hired. Why hadn’t they clued him in? He was paying the bills. Was it that they had more than one suspect and he was on that list as well? Perhaps he was deemed untrustworthy. The drinking... it had a way of loosening a tongue and anyone as smart as Liza McNairy knew that without being told. Allen poured another drink. Neat. He knew he ought to ease off the sauce a bit but the hell with it. That's what tomorrow was for.
He'd misjudged Reilly Cooper. The man had a racket going with all his high tech toys. Christ, he never realized how easy it'd become to not only track people but to listen in on their conversations all by way of that little device everyone carried around with them these days: the smartphone.
"Don't you ever get tired of following people around all the time, Reilly? It must get boring just sitting in a car all the time."
"I think you've watched too many old television shows, Allen. We do things a bit differently now. All I need is a person's cell phone number and they're mine. I can find out everything about them that there is to know."
"I don't get it."
"Well... first of all, a smartphone is a GPS device. If someone is carrying it, I can track them anywhere in the world."
> "No you can't."
"Sure I can, Allen. All smartphones put off what we call pings. It's like a beacon. See... your phone is set up to help you find anyplace you want to go. All you need to do is type in an address and your phone will find it. But in order to do that, it has to tap into the global positioning system... the geo-satellites orbiting earth. That's where I come in. I can reverse that tap and use the system to track people."
"So you never have to even leave the house?"
"Exactly.... I work in my underwear most times."
"But what if they go out of range, Reilly? Let's say they travel to the desert where there are no cell towers."
"Doesn’t matter, Allen. I'm not using the cell towers... I'm tapping into satellites. You can't hide from them. Courtesy of the 50th Space Wing of the United States Air Force, of which most people have never heard. There are currently thirty two state of the art Block IIIA satellites orbiting the earth twice daily covering every square inch of the planet's surface."
"But how do you know all that?"
"Ah... that's where the Bureau comes in. The Feds taught me well. Plus I had the foresight to nab some equipment while I was still gainfully employed with them. I just told them that my shit broke down out in the field and I needed replacements. No one thought to check too closely on the veracity of my story. They just issued duplicate gear."
"Can you listen in on conversations too?"
"Yep, sure can. The Bureau was at the forefront of developing that technology shortly after the 9/11 attacks. Made a big push for it in order to forestall any possible new terrorist strikes that might be brewing. Used to be search warrants were required for that type of surveillance. No longer... now, all we need is probable cause."