“We meet in person.” I said.
His mouth twitched a little but did not smile. “He’s waiting.”
The man motioned with his head towards the open-faced pyramid and stepped aside, revealing a concrete path that cut through the shrubs and flowers and led to a pair of massive French doors. Another thug in a suit stood to the left of the path. He studied me, but didn’t speak.
I stepped past them and down the pathway. The elevator was all glass with gold trim and plush, red carpet. Soft music played from the overhead speakers. The two goons followed me. I could see all the way to the crater wall from here. It was magnificent. It was also the furthest thing from my mind.
The elevator doors opened. The two men stepped out and made way for me. It opened into a chamber that rivaled the size of Karis Mission. The lighting was a soft orange/yellow. The furniture was plush and made out of dark wood. So were the floors. There were lots of reds and browns. The glass pyramid face sloped above us. Earth’s blue globe gazed down.
“He’s outside,” said the darker-skinned thug.
I looked across the room. Another pair of French doors stood open. I stepped out onto a balcony/patio that cantilevered out over the city. There was another garden and a lawn. An infinity pool flowed out over the edge of the patio. A man sat under a large tree, looking out past the pool at the city.
He glanced over his shoulder. His face was pale with sharp features and high cheekbones. His blue-gray eyes studied me in a way that implied they didn’t miss much. A white button-down hung open around his neck. The sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows. His strawberry-blond hair was thick and combed back. It matched his goatee, though the beard was more silver.
“Detective Parker.” His voice was cordial. He gestured to an empty chair opposite a circular table. “Please, join me.”
I stepped down onto his massive patio and took a seat across from him.
“I’m Angelo Katsaros.” Katsaros motioned to the dark-skinned guard. “Thanks, Simon.” He waited till the man was gone and looked at me. “I trust you two hit it off.”
“We’ve met.”
Katsaros smiled and looked back at the view. “It’s quite a place, this city.”
I looked at the infinity pool and thought of how many people that water could sustain on this desolate rock. “It’s something.”
“I hear you’re in need of a job.”
I stared at the Earth. “That has yet to be determined.”
Katsaros made a sound that might have been a chuckle. “I read your file. You’ll need to find gainful employment.”
I made no reply.
“Coffee?” said Katsaros, gesturing towards the pot sitting on the table between us. It smelled awesome. I must have betrayed my temptation. He didn’t even look at me. “Go on, it’s not that rat turd mix you’re used to drinking in The Lower City. This is from real freeze-dried beans grown out of Earth’s rich soil, shipped over here on a freighter.” He spared me a glance. “You won’t get coffee like this at the police station.”
I poured a cup and drew a deep breath.
“It’s not poisoned.”
I smiled and took a swig. It was awesome.
“Unemployment doesn’t seem to be your only problem,” said Katsaros. “You’re in need of a divorce lawyer. Very expensive. If you handle this wrong, it could affect your relationship with your daughter forever.”
Maddy. I didn’t need this asshole using her against me. “Why am I here?”
I thought for a moment that he was going to sic Simon and his partner on me, but then he turned back to his view. “I have a situation. A situation that requires some delicacy.”
Delicacy. Boy, had he chosen the wrong guy. I took a sip of my coffee. “Ok. What’s your problem?”
“I had this girl that worked for me, a runaway. I don’t know much about her, some street urchin whore from The Lower City. I took her in, gave her a place to stay, a job, and then one day, poof. She’s gone.”
I ran his words through my mind for several long seconds. Part of the picture seemed crystal clear, other parts, less so. “So, one of your entertainers walks out on you and you’re so distraught you just have to have her back.”
“Cute, detective. She broke into one of my personal offices and stole a family heirloom. Something irreplaceable. Something priceless.”
“And you can’t tell me what that something is.”
He stared out at the city.
“Ok, I’d rather know, but if you wanna keep it to yourself, who am I to ask? So, what’s the pay?”
“Enough for you to live on, plus a retained lawyer. I can give you a list to choose from, if you like.”
I shifted my gaze out over the city. All this for some stolen heirloom? It didn’t ring true. What was this heirloom that was so important? What pieces were missing? I didn’t like it. But, how was I supposed to say no?
“You want to know why. Why I am willing to pay you instead of say, Simon, here.”
I looked over at him.
Simon stirred but didn’t speak.
He glanced at me. “I know she’s in The Lower City. I need someone who can get in there, find her and get my stolen merchandize back without attracting a lot of attention. My heirloom is very personal to me and sensitive.”
So someone was blackmailing him. “All right, I’ll find your girl. You have a starting place?”
“Simon will get you started. I assume you’ll want paid in cash.”
I thought about April Natora. “Actually, I need some of it forwarded to an account.”
Katsaros listened and nodded.
CHAPTER VI
We stood in the parlor of the ‘flat’, as Katsaros had called it, but I knew there was more going on here. It wasn’t a flat at all. It was a whorehouse, a palatial whorehouse, but a whorehouse nonetheless.
There was some ambiance in the crushed velvet loveseats and rug that might have been real bearskin laying before a cold, empty fireplace. Corridors ran off in all directions. I didn’t have to walk them to know what was down there.
I looked at Simon. “Theme rooms?”
He grimaced and shrugged. “The girl slept upstairs.”
We moved up to the second floor. The upstairs had a very different feel. It was much more utilitarian, no frills. Simon stopped in front of a door. It looked at first glance like any other, but I noticed the tight tolerance of the jamb.
Simon operated the handle and the door gave a loud clack. I’d heard doors make such sounds before, but never in a domestic setting. He pushed the door open, and his muscles became taut. The door was several centimeters thick. I stepped inside.
The room was small. It had been stripped to nothing. A metal-framed bed stood against the wall, a nightstand at the top of the bed. A bare metal toilet and shower stall were in the back of the room. There was no door or even a curtain. It was all one tiny, continuous room. There was no headboard, no ambiance, no creature comforts.
I looked at the bedding: clean white sheets under a rough wool-like blanket. Everything was neat. The bed was made. The room had a sterile feel. It had been recently swept and mopped and smelled of antiseptic cleaner.
I did a quick search—under the bed, the nightstand, the mattress. There was nothing here. No pictures, no notes, just some clothes and tools of her trade.
“This is how she left it?” I looked at Simon. “You guys haven’t inventoried this room or removed anything I need to know about?”
He looked at me with dead eyes.
I held his gaze. “It’s your dime.”
I pushed past Simon and into the hallway, but not before I noticed that there was no door handle on the inside. I moved to the next room and pulled the handle without asking. The latch opened with that familiar clack. It was heavy, steel from the feel of it. The room was empty, but it was a mess.
The bedding had a dingy, nasty look to it. The room had a faint smell of musky sweat and unwashed woman. The end of the room pulling latrine duty was the only part of the flat that might have seen a scrub brush. After all, the women needed to be clean when they left this place, even if they were more used up when they crashed here. I leaned forward and glanced under the bed. It seemed a good place to start a potato crop, or at least it would be after they pulled the discarded panties and socks from under there.
“What the hell are you doing?” said Simon.
I looked back at him, unbridled disgust on my face. “Nice arrangement you have here.” He glared but let me pass unmolested.
*******
Allyssa Ramacci was dressed in a form-fitting, black evening gown. She had sleek, slender lines and an air of elegance. Her gloves reached to her elbow. Her heels were ten centimeters high and displayed muscular calves. She was sexy, but looked more like a cocktail party host than a madam. I imagined that was the idea.
Her smile was pleasant and white against her bronze skin. Her black hair was curly, and she wore expensive but tasteful jewelry.
“Mr. Parker,” she said. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”
I took her hand. “Miss Ramacci. You worked with Miriam?”
“Cassie.”
I struggled not to roll my eyes. “I’m not looking for your fictitious role player. I’m here for the real girl: Miriam Lenore Porter. You remember her? The girl from the Seventh Level of Hell?”
Ramacci’s smile deflated. “Of course, I remember. She was one of my girls.”
My girls. I looked at the woman’s office. It was like her jewelry: expensive, but not gaudy. Respectable. Why aren’t they your girls when they’re sleeping in those goddamned prison cells upstairs? The thought wouldn’t get me what I wanted.
I looked back at Ramacci. Her arms were crossed. That charming smile was gone. “I need to know as much as you can give me. Where did she come from? Who were her parents? Brothers, sisters, friends?”
She glanced at Simon and looked back at me. “She didn’t exactly fill out an application, you know. This isn’t that kind of job.”
“I know what kind of job it is,” I said. “And I know all about your working conditions. But, your boss wants me to find this girl. So, I need some kind of help.”
She blew out a gust of air and stared at the floor behind me.
“Look,” I glanced back at Simon. “I know what kind of place this is. I hope neither of you think I’m shocked by a brothel.”
I turned so I could look at each of them, Ramacci on my right and Simon to my left. I was looking at Simon. “You brought me here. This is where she stole Katsaros’ heirloom? The fuck was something so valuable doing here?”
I motioned to the hallway of themed love shacks.
Simon glared at Ramacci. “You’ll have to take our word for it. She has it.”
She has it. I was so close to walking out on this asshole, but I was beginning to have an ulterior motive for finding this girl. “All right,” I said. “What can you give me?”
He waited several seconds. “She’s from The Floor. She came into our service through a local talent scout.”
“Who was doing the scouting?”
He shifted his stance and his eyes. “Street rat named E-Rod.”
My spine tingled. “E-Rod Taylor of Lunatic notoriety?”
“Yeah,” he looked me in the eye. “Your file says you know all about them.”
I didn’t speak.
“Where do you think these girls come from? Topsider families? You might be a scruffy little beat cop, but you know better than that.”
I did know. I also knew something else. “You bought her.”
Simon didn’t flinch. “Don’t act so surprised. You’re from the real world. You know how this works.”
I did. I’d had my suspicions back at The Olympian, but I knew as soon as I saw those rooms: these girls weren’t payroll employees. That had even darker implications, but I didn’t dare speak of them.
“Anyhow,” said Simon, “she came from south of The Street. And, we’re sure that’s where she went.”
Ramacci was handing me a memory stick. “This is what we have. It’s all I can give you.”
“Friends?” I said.
“None,” said Simon.
I looked out into the barren hallway. The whole place was vacant, which was all wrong. These dens never shut down. They had emptied the place so they could control the interview and investigation.
Ramacci didn’t have anything else to offer. I walked out into the hallway and towards the front door. Simon followed.
I paused in the foyer and stood in his face. “So, this must be quite embarrassing for you.”
My breath must’ve reeked but he didn’t flinch. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Like you said: I know how this works. Slave girls don’t behave themselves without help. That would have been your job. How many goons did you have here? Ten? A dozen?”
He moved his eyes from mine.
“Not enough,” I said.
He glowered.
A smile touched my lips. I let the moment last as long as I could. “Inside job?”
“Not one of my people.”
“But?”
His eyes darted away again. “We’re not sure. Tried to take a hard look at her clients, but there was nothing. They were all business class, mostly Earther tourists.”
“You have names?”
Simon gave a dark chuckle. “Weren’t you just telling me that you knew how this worked?”
“Yeah.” I almost told this asshole to take this job and shove it, but I’d already taken Katsaros’s money. Worse, I’d spent it.
*******
I headed back to the apartment. Don’s monster pistol was tucked into the back of my belt. The room was dark. There were no noises. It still smelled of that damned lavender body spray; still smelled of Suzanne, but the place already felt empty.
I reached for the wall and toggled the light switch. I stumbled to the sofa and tossed the pistol on the couch. I grabbed some snacks and some sour-smelling tap water and plopped next to it.
I pulled up the data that Ramacci sent to my pReC and started reading: Miriam Lenore Porter, born 27 September 2232. That made her nineteen closing on twenty. There was zero on her personal info. No contacts. No parents.
It was useless information. I closed my eyes and pushed the file out of my view. I took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling. Where to go from here? I had some options.
I wanted to take a run at Ramacci without Simon looking over my shoulder. There was a chance, however slim, that her “one of my girls” comment might be more than bullshit, and I wanted to see if she could give me a little something extra.
There was also E-Rod. Who knew what he could tell me? That guy bought and sold so many girls and boys he wasn’t likely to be much help. But, I had to take the chance. There wasn’t any other information to go on.
That’s when my pReC pinged. It was Dana Cooper.
“What’s up?”
“Hey, you wanna grab a bite?”
*******
Fernando’s specialized in semi-Latin cuisine that was made from a small hydroponic garden and some type of algae paste standing in for meat. The tourists topside would have turned their noses up at this, but it was a near-delicacy down here in the bottoms.
I slipped another piece of faux meat patty into my mouth and washed it down with Fernando’s special iced tea. It left my teeth feeling gritty, but tasted pretty good. It was better than that sour-smelling water at the flat.
“So he tells Captain Baker, ‘I think you’re gonna need a bigger coat.’” Dana started laughing so hard, tea threatened to gush from her nose.
I smiled and couldn’t
resist some chuckles of my own. I looked out over the crowd. Fernando’s was always packed. It was a cop staple, that perfect combination of cheap, fast, and, if you ordered right, portable.
I didn’t see any other badges here at the moment. That suited me just fine.
“You been doing more work on Rick’s investigation?”
I shook my head, still looking out at the crowd. “Got a private job.” The subject change gave me an idea. I looked at her. “Could you do me a favor?”
“Depends on the favor. I’m not supposed to talk about Rick’s investigation. But, you know that’s not going anywhere.”
“It’s not that, Dana. I need you to look someone up for me, maybe give me a lead?”
“A lead?”
“A little missing person gig I got.”
She studied me for answers.
“I really don’t wanna get into it right now. It’s—complicated.”
She laughed. “It’s always a one-way street with you, isn’t it, Frank?”
I looked out over the crowd, again. I couldn’t see any prying eyes, and the truth was, I needed some perspective. “I’m working for a wealthy topsider.”
“Oooohhh!” Her voice was scandalous.
My stomach did a little roll. I didn’t really want to tell this story. “He’s looking for a girl. Says she stole something, something valuable—some kind of heirloom.”
“So, tell him to call the cops.”
I smiled. “He called a cop.”
She chuckled.
“He’s not giving me a lot of info. There’s been a lot of evasion. They took me to—” I looked back to the crowd. My throat clamped down on the words. “We went—to—the brothel where she worked.”
Dana’s eyes widened.
“It was a cage. No two ways about it.”
Dana leaned over the table. “You’re tracking for a slaver?”
It sounded so dirty when she said it. But, I suppose there was a reason for that. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
I looked away from the horror on Dana’s face. I knew she was right. “Look, I’m not sure what’s going on, but I know one thing: that girl’s in a lot of trouble. If I don’t take this job, someone with less—”
Lunatic City Page 6