Poisonous: A Visit To Earth (DC Angels Book 2)

by Chas Funderburg

  “Law office. May I help you?” the Administrative Assistant asked.

  Rose Williams replied, trying her best to keep from cursing out whomever she talked with. Her daughter had been taken advantage of, and she was going to make sure this beast payed—dearly. “Yes. May I speak with Dwight Ordman, please?”

  “One moment, please…”

  The phone rang on the other end of the line, and a rich, baritone voice answered, “Dwight Ordman.”

  “Dwight. Rose Williams. I need your help. Our daughter’s been raped, and we strongly suspect a date rape drug expedited the situation. We need to find the pervert who did this, and have him put away. Can you help me? I’ll put you on retainer, and pay your usual fee.”

  “Sure. I’ll do all I can to catch this psychological deviate, and stop his predatory practices. Don’t worry, Rose. We’ll get this guy. Does your daughter know anything about this him? How tall, his name…anything?”

  “Well, he was about six feet two, medium build. He said his name was Rob, and he looks to be in his mid to late twenties.”

  “Well, that’s a start at least. We’ll see if we can subpoena the clubs video footage, and hopefully find our man.”

  “Thank you, Dwight.”

  Dwight Ordman sat at his desk in the building on Connecticut Avenue, just above the K Street Corridor in the heart of the Downtown District, staring absentmindedly all varieties of humanity, from homeless vagrants to lawyers in their expensive three-piece suits. Returning his attention to the matter at hand, Dwight called the local police chief, Barbara Haywood.

  “Haywood.”

  “Hey, Barb. Dwight Ordman here. Wonder if you and your officers in blue can help me out on a case I just started working on.”

  “Sure Dwight. What’s up?”

  “Well, the daughter of a good friend of mine got raped last night, and knows him by sight. His first name is Rob, and he’s about six-one or two; medium build. Unfortunately, that’s all we know. We need you and your officers to subpoena the video footage from the Capital Scene on the night of Saturday, August 18th. If you need, I can review them and point out where Shauna Williams, my clients daughter appears on the tapes.”

  “Alright. I’ll have my forensics experts get right on it.”

  “Thanks, Barb. Owe you one.”

  * * *

  Poisonous sat in the noisy burger joint in Georgetown where she had met Phoebe before. Across from her sat Phoebe and a friend of hers.

  “This is an interesting development. Who have we here?”

  “This,” Phoebe answered, “is my friend, Tanya, whose street name is ‘Toy.’ I’ve explained to her the way your system works, and she is interested in working for you as well.”

  “Well, Tanya: nice to meet you. This is wonderful news. When can you start?”

  “Right away,” said Tanya. “I’m tired of working for abusive pimps who cheat you out of most of your money. Besides, going after guys I’m interested in sounds a lot better.”

  “Well, I assure you, you’ll like the way I do business,” she said.

  * * *

  Tuesday, August 19th

  Dan Hightower looked over his notes. Fred had told him that the local LEO’s were working on a case of a recent rape. The girl had been drugged with GHB, and had been assaulted without her consent. He looked up as his boss came into the office.

  “You might find this very interesting,” said Fred. “We got some video footage of the nightclub where the girls was raped, and guess who shows up in the video?”

  “Our friend, the Indian woman?”

  “Bingo; this time, in a clear shot showing her talking to the victim, a Shauna Williams, age seventeen. The perp is liable for Second Degree Sexual Abuse. He pulled open a book, whose cover indicated it was about the statutes of Tort Law for D.C. “The laws of the District of Columbia state, Second Degree Rape occurs if ‘the other person is incapable of appraising the nature of the conduct, incapable of declining participation in that sexual act, or incapable of communicating unwillingness to engage in that sexual act.’ Since she was drugged with GHB, she obviously was in no condition to express her unwillingness to engage in the act.”

  “Wow. Guy sounds like a real bottom feeder. Is our person of interest liable as an accomplice?”

  “Oh, you bet. Although Shauna herself doesn’t remember anything about the woman, she obviously participated in this transaction, so the Indian woman is liable as an accomplice to second degree rape. We also know that the perp’s name is Rob; he is about six feet two, and is of medium build. Unfortunately, that’s all we have to go on.”

  “Well, I suggest we work with D.C. Police in this case, since it involves someone who is involved in all sorts of sleazy activities.”

  “Agreed.”

  * * *

  Thursday, August 21st

  The morning had passed like a snail on barbiturates, and looking at the time on her cell phone indicated it was 11:28 a.m. Her stomach growled, and she realized it was time to feed. Bored with nothing exciting happening, she thought for a few seconds, and finally said, “Huh. I might need to personally convince someone to join ISIS. That would be a challenge worth pursuing.

  After doing some research, she decided to ease her hunger, and visit a Thai restaurant in the Dupont Circle neighborhood, which had outside seating. The warmth of the August day in D.C. felt good on her skin; heat always appealed to her. Taking the Metro train to Dupont Circle, she departed the station and walked the rest of the way to the restaurant. The face of the building was white, and a basement entrance led into the restaurant. After waiting in line for about fifteen minutes behind twenty other people, she finally sat at a table.

  “My, this is a popular place”

  The server asked her what she wanted, and she said, “I’ll have the Khanom Jin Nam Ya.” {catfish, krachai (or ginger root) and finger chilies}. “And I want it very hot, you understand?”

  “You want Thai hot?” the server asked.

  “I want it hotter than Thai hot. I want it to burn all the way down, and I want to feel that burn for hours.”

  Her hunger satisfied, and her belly very warm, she walked back towards DuPont Circle. Almost immediately, she sniffed out great Western dystopia; someone obviously disliked the Western way of life. As she followed the scent, she happened upon a young man, who looked to be of European descent. Sitting next to him, she struck up a conversation.

  “So what finds you here in DuPont Circle on such a bright and sunny day?”

  The young man answered, “I’m just thinking about what I want out of life.”

  “Do you want to do the typical thing and get married, have kids who you’ll support all the way through college, have a job for forty years, and retire?”

  After some time and thought, he answered “You know; this country is too steeped in a meaningless way of life. I’m beginning to be fed up with the typical Western idea of acquiring of wealth, conspicuous consumption, and living for nothing more than to flaunt it. It seems very empty to me. Maybe the world should go back to the simpler ways of life of centuries ago.”

  His words made her perk up. “You know…what was your name again?”

  “Silas Tzeremes; Tzeremes is a Greek name meaning ‘outgoing; sociable; a people person.’”

  “Well, Silas, I can understand your dissatisfaction with the Western way of life. It is very lax, very status conscious and given to immorality.”

  “Yes, I know. What’s worse, I’m getting ready to get married this weekend, and I’m having serious misgivings about the whole thing. There must be a better use of my time and talents.”

  “I’ll tell you what: why don’t you follow me, and I’ll take you to someone who can explain an ancient way of life that has meaning, and fights against the Western way of life. What do you think?”

  “I’m game. I’m always willing to listen to a good philosophy.”

  “Tell you what: let me call a TNC car, and I’ll take you to my friend ther
e.”

  “Sure,” said Silas. “By the way: what’s your name?”

  “Perri,” she said. “Perri Loliyekar.”

  Getting out of the TNC car, Poisonous and Silas walked towards the Islamic Temple. Before they went in, she said, “Silas, I’m going to put on a scarf. It’s appropriate in Middle Eastern cultures.” She pulled out a dark hijab, and then said, “Alright, Silas; let’s go in.”

  Again, at the front desk, the guard asked in Arabic, “What is your business here?”

  She answered, “I have business with Hammad Quraishi.”

  “Are you aware that you need an escort?”

  Red hot suggestion burned into the eyes of the guard. You will let me visit with Hammad Quraishi, or you will lose your life.

  “Very well,’ he said. “ Please allow me to alert him that you are here. What is your name, please?”

  “My name is Sāmm. He will know who I am.” She looked at Silas, who looked a bit puzzled. “It’s my Arabic name. It helps me be accepted among Muslims.”

  A short while later, she and Silas sat in front of Quraishi, who said, “So Sāmm, what brings you here with this young man. I hope you have good news for me.”

  “In fact, I do. This young man is interested in learning the ways of Sharia. Could you help him with that?”

  “This bodes very well, Miss Sāmm. You have done well. Let me speak to him for a while. You can wait in the lobby. Would that be acceptable to you?”

  It was clear that she had convinced this radical Muslim man that she was not to be treated as an insignificant woman. “No problem,” she said.

  About forty-five minutes later, Hammad Quraishi walked towards her with Silas by his side, smiling with satisfaction. “This has been a most fruitful occasion, Miss Sāmm. Silas is interested in learning more of our ways.”

  “Very good, Hammad. I hope your relationship with Silas works to the utmost advantage.”

  “I am sure all will work out well,” Quraishi answered.

  Suggestion overcame young Silas who stood there, smiling with expressionless eyes. You will not remember ever meeting me.

  * * *

  Friday, August 22nd

  Silas sat in the chair in his apartment, staring at his phone, trying to muster up some courage. Finally, he just decided to call her and not think about it any more. He punched her numbers into his phone, and called.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Sofia. It’s Silas. I need to talk to you, and soon. May I come over to your apartment?”

  Several moments of silence lingered on the other end of the line. “Is everything alright?” she asked.

  “Everything is very good.”

  “Okay. Come on over. I’ll be expecting you.”

  Silas walked down the hallway to her room, and knocked on the door; firmly and with purpose.

  “Hi,” she said, reaching for him to embrace him, and give him a kiss.

  He backed away, and said, “We must talk. May I come in?” He ignored the hurt look on her face.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

  “Nothing’s wrong with me; may I come in or not?”

  “Sure come on in.” Sofia walked into her apartment without saying another word. After they had both sat down, she crossed her arms in front of her, and said, “What’s on your mind, Silas? Why are you being so distant?”

  “Sofia, I’ve done a lot of thinking lately, and I have decided to follow a different course in my life. I no longer want the ‘American Dream:’ no forty hour a week job, no seeking to climb the corporate ladder, no house in the suburbs with a white picket fence around it. I’m fed up with the Western way of thinking. I would like to follow a simpler way of life, which has nothing to do with following the traditions of our parents. I am going to follow the Muslim way of life.”

  “I don’t understand what this Muslim way of life is, but what does this mean for us?”

  “I’m calling off the wedding Sofia. You and I both went with the wishes of our families, and followed tradition. Well, I’m done with that tradition. I’m choosing my own path, which is not what our parents have done.”

  “You’re calling off the wedding? It’s only two days away. What are we going to tell all the guests that have been invited? What about all the money that’s been spent on flowers, food, the church, the reception hall?”

  “You’ll have to take care of that. I no longer want to be involved.”

  “You’re a coward, Silas. You’re running away from manhood to follow some cockamamie religion. Worse, you’re dumping the responsibility for the wedding on me. I don’t appreciate it, and I don’t appreciate you. You’ve broken my heart, Silas, and you don’t care. Well, I’ve had enough; please leave my apartment.”

  He said nothing more and got up and walked out of the apartment. As he walked away from her apartment, he could hear her crying.

  Thirteen

  Tuesday, September 2nd

  Poisonous sat in the burger joint, waiting on Phoebe to arrive with two new recruits.

  She decided to order some of the food on the menu. The food was actually not too bad, if they cooked it correctly, which for her meant, very rare; almost bleeding. A few raised eyebrows followed her orders, especially since she wanted extra onions, garlic and loads of jalapeños put on her hamburger. She also demanded some very spicy hot sauce for her fries. Her order raised the server’s eyebrows, but she said, “That’s the way I like my food: did you have a problem with that?”

  That, followed by a cold, threatening stare led the server to respond, “No, ma’am. Your order will be ready shortly.”

  “Thank you.” Her gaze remained fixed on the server even as he walked away. He seemed fearful enough, so she didn’t use her persuasive mind control to get her way.

  Her order arrived a few moments thereafter, and she wolfed down the burger and fries like a ravenous predator. As she finished and wiped her mouth, Phoebe and two young women approached, and sat down.

  Sniffing, Phoebe said, “You must like your food spicy: I can smell the hot pepper sauce.”

  Although she didn’t appreciate another questioning her eating habits, she chose the more productive road, and moved the subject to the business at hand.

  “Yes, well, as they say in French, ‘à chacun, son goût.’ Feel free to order something for yourselves if you’re hungry; I don’t mind.”

  “Thanks, but first I’d like to introduce you to two more interested parties: Chloe and Sherry.”

  “Hello, ladies; nice to meet you. I trust you will enjoy working for me. As Phoebe has probably told you, my business is very fulfilling, both monetarily, and relationally. I hope you find it as interesting as I do.”

  “We’re excited to start,” said Chloe. “This sounds so much better than what we’ve done all this time.”

  “Yes,” chimed in Sherry, “I can’t wait to start. It sounds like I’ll get paid for flirting: how fun is that?”

  “Well, do a good job, and you will find in pleasurable and lucrative, ladies.”

  * * *

  Saturday, September 6th

  Poisonous sat across from Roger, enjoying an evening out at a very fancy, and equally as expensive, restaurant. Nestled in an upscale shopping center in Tyson’s Corner, Virginia, the glass façade shone, and the valet service did the same—for about twenty five dollars. She had even told Roger she would pay, because she was in such a good mood. The service and the food were impeccable, and the server doted on them every chance he got, each time they looked in his direction.

  “Roger, this is just wonderful. I’m very happy with the way things are going in my business ventures. All of them are humming along.” The expensive wine, costing about two-hundred fifty dollars a bottle, glided down her throat, leaving a comfortable, warm sensation as it travelled along. “Why, I’m even teaching young ladies to learn to work for the ‘hunt,’ as it were, but unlike me, they get paid for it.”

  ‘Oh really?” Roger said. “If you’re tea
ching them to be huntresses, the thrill of the hunt should be enough, wouldn’t you think?”

  “With me, yes: that would be true; but with the girls, who were once street walkers, it’s a business—and a step up from their previous employment. Of course, since I run it, it’s a high class business. Each girl has the potential to earn almost twenty-five hundred a night.”

  “Wow,” Roger exclaimed. “Now that’s what I call high class.”

  “Yes, of course, sweetie. My business is nothing but the best, and I earn twenty percent of the profits.”

  “I’m impressed,” he said.

  Dinner finished, she and Roger had ‘dessert’ at his townhouse.

  After a couple of hours had passed, she got up from the bed, and slipped her outfit back on.

  “Well, sweetie, it’s time for this girl to head on home. All that good food and wine makes me a little sleepy.”

  “Well, I hate to see you go, but as you frequently say, ‘delayed gratification.’”

  “Exactly. Must keep you wanting, you know?”

  “Oh, I’m well aware.”

  “Until next time, sweetie.”

  Not wishing to have to walk in her human body at this time of night, nor flying as Poisonous, under the influence of fine wine and good food. In her sated, but drowsy state, she hailed a TNC cab, and headed back to the District. Ten minutes later, her cell phone sounded an alert alarm. The message flashed on the top of her screen. It was from Sherry. All it said was

  Help!

  Strong trouble underlay the message. Something had gone awry in Sherry’s ‘date’ so she needed to act fast. They reached an intersection, and she told the driver to stop.