by D P Lyle
“How do you know—” He caught himself.
“Relax. It’s my business to dig up these things. Particularly if my group is considering a working arrangement. I know you recruit college girls and Carlos sets up dates for them. I suspect you get a piece of the action along the way.”
Another look round the room. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t. But that goes both ways. I’m taking a risk, too. But nothing ventured, nothing gained. Right?”
Adam seemed to relax a notch.
“I know Carlos has other recruiters out there but college girls are hot commodities.” Cain indicated the laptop. “Look around the site. Tell me what you think.”
He did. Cain sat quietly and waited.
“This is your set up?” Adam asked.
“Me and a couple of others,” Cain said. “You can see we’re coast to coast. And extend into Europe and the Middle East. I run the domestic stuff.”
“LA, Miami, Atlanta, New York, Chicago. That’s a big operation.”
“It is. And we’re always looking for fresh girls. From different areas. Customers like choices.”
Adam leaned back. “What are you proposing?”
“There are a few options, but for you I think it would be more to your liking if we folded you and Carlos into our group.”
“We’re doing okay. Why would we do that?”
“You said you liked profit. This will definitely boost your bottom line.”
“How?”
Cain smiled. Greed comes in many forms but it all leads back to dollars. “We command higher prices. More choices. More profits. You’ll get access to our girls. And we to yours. We do all the bookings. You’ll simply find the talent and manage things locally.” Cain gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Less hassle, more money.”
“I don’t see how.”
Cain tapped his computer. “Check out LA.” He did. “Scroll through the girls.” He did. “You think these girls would be an easy sell?”
“Absolutely. But these girls are in California.”
“We fly our girls around. Bring in a new crew for several weeks, they move on and more arrive. From all over. Definitely expand your inventory. And sales.”
Adam gave a slow nod. His wheels were definitely turning. “I like that.”
“Good. Why don’t you take this to Carlos? Then we’ll sit down with him and get into the details. I think you’ll both see the profit potential.”
“Okay. No promises though.”
“I understand. What’s your cell number? I’ll text you my contact info. Cell and email. Once you sit down with Carlos, give me call or shoot me a text and we’ll go from there.”
Cain sent him the link.
And just like that Mama B was inside Adam’s laptop and cell phone.
CHAPTER 33
“Choosing the right bait’s what it’s all about.”
That was Uncle Mo’s take. And he was the family’s best fisherman. Since the group traveled constantly, always seeking better jobs, better scams, better communities to put on the shows, they often lived off the land. Everything from night-time raids on farms to pilfer corn, pumpkins, melons, and the like to snatching chickens and rabbits. Whatever was available. It wasn’t like the itinerant group could grow their own crops. Spending a growing season in one location wasn’t an option. Not only would most communities, once the novelty of the shows thinned, grow tired of having “smelly and thieving gypsies” in their midst, it wasn’t in the group’s DNA to drop anchor.
“For catfish and crappie use worms, for bass a good spoon or wiggler’s best,” Uncle Mo said one day, as he and Bobby sat on the bank of a muddy pond just outside of Corinth, Mississippi. The morning was hot and humid, the kind of day that melted your clothes to you skin. Cain was seven and held a cane pole, bobber and worm in position, waiting for a fat catfish to take the bait. “Fish are like people. Use the right bait and they’ll come running. And once you hook and clean them, move on. Never over fish the water—or a town. Mother Nature and human nature won’t allow for either.”
One of the many lessons Cain had learned at Uncle Mo’s side. He had a true understanding of fish. And people. Whenever he waxed philosophical, as he did that day, he would tug at his mustache—a thick bristle that hid his upper lip and drooped past the corners of his mouth—and fix his gaze on something in the distance. As if playing back some memory in his head. They caught a dozen that day. Uncle Mo nine, Cain three. Cain could never come close.
For Adam and Carlos the bait was money. And they bit.
While Harper hit the stair climber, Cain sat on the sofa in the condo, the TV tuned to an A&E documentary on the devastation visited on the Everglades by Burmese Pythons. The face of a game warden filled the screen, the interviewer extending a microphone near his chin. “These big old nasty snakes have reduced the raccoon and possum population by ninety-five percent. And they ain’t got a single natural predator. We’ve tried trapping them but that don’t work. They like live bait running free. Never seen one crawl into a trap. So we drive the roads at night, looking for them stretched out on the asphalt soaking in the residual heat.” He shook his head. “But we estimate there’re more than thirty thousand of them and more being bred every day. It’s a losing battle.”
Cain wondered if the pythons might over fish the area and turn on each other to avoid starvation. He guessed it was possible but he didn’t know much—as in anything—about such snakes. Rattlers and cotton mouths sure, but not exotic pythons. While he pondered that, his cell buzzed. It was Mama B.
“Adam called Carlos about a minute after you left,” she said. “I tracked his cell to Carlos’ place. Took about twenty minutes. Carlos logged on to your site so I got his computer in the network now.”
She was amazing.
“They moved around your site for most of the next hour. Carlos definitely wants to meet you.”
“How do you know that?
“Because I used Adam’s phone as a mic and listened to everything they said.”
Of course she did.
“Carlos was skeptical but he did call. Gave me some lame story about visiting Miami next week and wanted to arrange a girl. Wanted to know the going rate.”
“Gathering intel.”
“Absolutely. Shows the boy at least has a brain. I told him it depended on the girl but the range was a thousand to six thousand a night. Weekends could go up to ten and a week could reach twenty.”
“I bet that got his attention.”
“Big time. He said that was too rich for his blood.”
“Unless the money is flowing his way,” Cain said.
“You got it. I could almost hear him panting. And it wasn’t over the girls. As nice as they look on the site. Bottom line—expect a call. Soon.”
The call from Adam came twenty minutes later.
“Bill Faulkner?”
“Yeah. Adam?”
“I talked with Carlos. Showed him your site. He wants to meet.”
“I’m pretty free. Tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”
“What about now?” Adam said.
“That works.
He gave Cain the address. Cain already knew it but he played the game. Had Adam repeat it as if he wanted to make sure he had it right.
“Okay, give me thirty minutes and I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER 34
Carlos ran his business from a small house in a neat and clean neighborhood, fifteen minutes from the Vandy campus. An interesting choice. Actually, clever. Hidden in suburbia. Cain wondered what his neighbors would think if they knew the nature of his endeavors.
The tree-lined street was quiet, except for six boys playing touch football in a vacant lot a half block from Cain’s destination. The house was craftsman style, light gray with white trim, the yard well-maintained. The kind of place where a family would reside. Not a predatory scumbag.
Cain was fifteen minutes late. On purpose. He wanted Carlos antsy.
A black BMW 535 sat in the driveway. No doubt Adam’s ride. Cain parked at the curb.
Adam answered the door. He led Cain past a living room where two young women in shorts and halter tops watched TV. They glanced Cain’s way but said nothing. Adam made no introductions. Cain wanted to grab them, shake them, tell them to get the hell out. Not the time, not the place.
They entered a den that had been converted into an office. Four desks, two on each side, held iMACs—three dark, one displaying Cain’s newly-minted website. A stocky Hispanic male spun his chair toward them. Carlos for sure. Looked like a poster boy for a diet of beer and burritos. Neck thick, belly thicker. His jeans rode low and a yellow sweatshirt, sleeves ripped off at the shoulder, revealed a colorful tattoo of a toucan on one bicep.
He stood and extended his hand. They shook.
“Mister Faulkner. A pleasure to meet you.”
His English was southern, Texan even, but no hint of his south-of-the-border heritage. Of course, according to Mama B, he had been born in San Antonio.
“Call me Bill,” Cain said. “Thanks for seeing me.”
He waved a hand toward the computer. “An impressive business you have.”
“Thanks. We’ve worked hard at it.”
“We?”
“I have two partners. One in LA and one in Chicago.”
“Something to drink?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine,” Cain said.
He nodded to Adam who headed out of the room. Carlos sat down, hooked another chair with one foot and spun it toward Cain. “Have a seat.”
Cain did.
Adam returned with a frosted bottle of Patron and three shot glasses. He poured two shots.
“You’re not joining us?” Carlos asked Adam.
Adam glanced at his watch. “Got a meeting with a new recruit. I’m already late.”
Carlos smiled. “Don’t want to hold that up.” He glanced at Cain. “New talent’s the name of the game.”
Cain gave a quick nod. “It is indeed.”
Adam left.
Carlos raised his glass. “Hopefully to a new beginning.”
“Hopefully,” Cain said.
Cain drained the shot. As did Carlos. Carlos refilled the glasses.
“Your site,” Carlos said. “Very classy. How many girls do you have on board?”
“Total, we have over four hundred. Mostly in the US. Some in Europe. A few in Asia, the Mid East. It’s an international operation.”
Carlos smiled. “I like the sound of that.”
“We only take the best. The ones that can bring top dollar. No low end stuff.”
“So I saw.”
Another wave at the computer screen. It displayed Cain’s fake LA page. A dozen women smiling back. Each beautiful, mostly blonde. Hard to believe Mama B had built the entire set up in a few hours.
“And you?” Cain asked. “How many girls do you have?”
“It varies. Right now twenty-five or so. They come, they go. I’m sure you have the same problem.”
“Some. But we take care of our people so the attrition rate is actually minimal.”
“What’s your secret? For keeping them in line?”
“We set up savings accounts for them. Help them keep a bit of what they work for. Makes them feel like they have a stake in things.”
Carlos nodded as if considering that. “Smart. I can learn something here, I think.”
“I take it you’re mostly in the Nashville area?” Cain asked.
“Yeah. I have a few girls over in Memphis. Nothing big. So yeah, definitely a local operation.”
“Maybe we can fix that. Expand your base.”
“That’s what I want to know about,” Carlos said. “How would we work together? If we decide to move that way.”
“In each city we have local handlers,” Cain said. “We set up the dates and collect the money. The local guys handle transportation, security, and, of course, recruit new girls. That’s not only more efficient but it takes the handlers out of dealing with the cash. Allows a layer of insulation if the police snoop around.”
“What do you mean?”
“If the customer doesn’t hand over cash to the girls, and if you don’t take it directly from them, it’s harder to get dinged for pandering. The authorities follow the money. Our way puts a couple of layers of protection in place. The girls and the money are never in the same room, so to speak.”
“Clever.”
Cain shrugged. “We try to think of everything.”
“Looks that way.”
“One thing you should know. We’re set up as a private club. Membership is required.”
“Seems restrictive. I mean, how do you get new clients?”
Cain smiled. “Recommendations. We don’t advertise. You won’t find us in the public domain. Search engines rarely stumble over us. It adds another level of security and it protects our clients. Clients who pay top dollar and demand privacy.”
Carlos nodded.
“We screen the clients. Make sure we have no bad actors. With the money we charge, our members are mostly corporate types. Politicians, lawyers, professionals of all types.”
“Still seems you’re missing out on some business.”
“My father always told me that in any venture you need to carve out your territory. Either be the best, the most expensive, the most exclusive, or the cheapest and deal in volume. Those in the middle die off.” Cain nodded toward the computer. “We opted for the top of the mountain.”
“I know. I called to check it out. Up to six grand a night? That’s big money.”
“Exclusivity isn’t cheap.”
A grin split Carlos’ face. “What do you see for me and my crew? If I decide we can do business.”
“You’d run the Nashville area. And take a piece of the action. All the action.”
“You mean of the entire operation?”
“I do. That’s how we do things.” Cain held his gaze. “Again, it’s a loyalty issue. We want everyone on the same team.”
An even bigger grin. His eyes almost flashed dollar signs.
Use the right bait and the fish will come.
“What are we talking about here?” Carlos asked. “Money-wise?”
Time to set the hook.
“I don’t know what your take is but, as you saw, we get top dollar. I suspect we could triple your take. Maybe more. And you’d have less work to do. Not to mention a rolling stock of girls.”
“What’s that mean?”
“We move the girls around to all our locations. Offer the customers more choice. Not the same faces all the time. A few weeks at a time. We would bring girls from other cities into Nashville and move yours into other cities for temp work.” Cain smiled. “So to speak.”
“Love that.”
“We rent a couple of condos in each city. For the girls. Like a sorority house. They like it. Let’s them see more of the world. Of course, they all want to go to Paris or London. We have a set up in each. As well as Budapest, Rome, and Brussels, to name a few.”
“You weren’t lying about being international.”
“We are definitely that,” Cain said. “Show me what your operation looks like.”
Carlos worked the keyboard and opened up his home page. It was fairly vanilla. Cain’s was much better. Thank you, Mama B. He clicked on a link titled DATES and a page of thumbnails appeared. Cain scanned them. He immediately saw Ella Hamilton’s image. Cindy’s friend who had said she no longer worked for Carlos. Cain pointed to her image.
“Very pretty girl.”
“One of my favorites.” He laughed. “She’s on leave right now.”
“Leave or left?” Cain asked.
“Oh, she said she was done with the life but I’ve heard that before. Once they spend all the money, they come back.”
Cain laughed. “Seems to be the case, doesn’t it?”
Carlos scrolled down the page. Cain resisted the impulse to take in a breath when Cind
y Grant’s image rolled up. He pointed out a couple of other girls, diversionary, and Carlos gave the thumbnail of each. Then Cain indicted Cindy.
“She’s exceptional,” Cain said.
“Yes, she was.” Carlos shrugged. “She’s no longer with us.”
Was this a confession of some kind? “What do you mean?”
He hesitated. “Let me ask you—do you ever get your girls more long-term gigs?”
“Such as?”
“Something more permanent. Like for months. Even years.”
It struck Cain. He hadn’t considered this before. Should have. Carlos wasn’t talking about matchmaking. Nothing as mundane as that. He was saying they trafficked some of the girls. Sold them on the open market. Cindy might have thought she was going off on some date to Europe with a high-rolling married dude, but that was the cover. The one she told Kelly. The one that got her isolated. Where she could be abducted. Sold. By Carlos. To her killer.
Cain held his expression flat, then smiled. “You mean like selling the girls?”
Carlos gave a half nod. “That’s right.”
Cain nodded. “Yes, we do have a system for that.”
“A system? What does that mean?”
“It’s really quite lucrative. We sell mostly to the Middle East. For big money.”
Carlos smiled, rubbed his hands together. “I like that.” He cracked the knuckles of one hand. “We haven’t done that but a few times. All more local.”
“You’re not worried about them popping up somewhere?” Cain asked.
“A little. But in each case the buyer was taking the girl out of the country. Usually to Mexico.”
“Seems risky,” Cain said.
“But the money’s good.” He indicated Cindy’s picture. “Got ten grand for her. The buyer was taking her to Mexico. Acapulco, I think. He said he had another buyer down there.”
“Did he?”
“It’s what he said.” Carlos shrugged. “No reason not to believe him.”
“Your buyer?” Cain asked. “A local guy? Someone you know?”
He shook his head. “Not really. In fact, I never met him.”
“How did that work?”
“The girls think they’re heading off on a weekend date. Sometimes longer. So they won’t be missed too quickly. I got a couple of guys who pick them up. Tell them they’re headed to the airport.” He smiled. “But that’s not the case. They Taser them, wrap them, and make the delivery.”