by Dancer, Jack
“Where was Nanette all this time?” I ask Pat.
Pat looked at Nanette and asked, "Yeah, where the hell were you, Nanette?”
“I was in the other room. Pau told me to stay there.”
“Then what happened,” I ask no one in particular.
Nanette says, "When Pau returned, she asked me where I had been. She knew I was with you because she saw you drop me off.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her the truth; that you made me go to Llivia and meet with her mother to make a deal where you'd hand over a lottery ticket you'd taken from her in return for Monica.”
"That I'd taken from her?"
"I thought it might be better put that way."
“So, she knew about the ticket?” I say.
“No, she didn't know anything about it which I thought was surprising. I thought that Tiber and Drusus would've told her.”
“Apparently, Tiber and Drusus didn't know anything about it either. But Pau knew about Monica being kidnapped because you told her after I told you on Sunday, right?”
“Yes. I'm sorry, Tucker."
"Did she know that it was her mother who'd taken Monica?
"No. That surprised her until I explained that it was her mother, that you and Monica had come across on the train and how the ticket came into your hands. Her first thought was that it might have been her mother, but she couldn't sort out a connection. Then, she started thinking that it might've been the work of another crew.”
"Another crew?"
"Some other group also doing the Spanish Prisoner."
"You make it sound like a sport."
"It is in Barcelona."
"I've heard. Okay, what did Pau do then?”
“When Dick called a cell phone she'd taken off one of his men, she got in a hurry to leave the apartment. Then you called my cell, and then you rang Pat's. With all that, she figured you'd be on your way over here once Dick told you she'd escaped his little jail. She went to the safe and took a pistol and some cash. Then she put the pistol to my head . . . Tucker" and here Nanette starts to weep, "she said that if I did anything to help you, I'd end up dead or in prison for murder.”
I take Nanette into my arms to give her a little comfort, not so much because of the tears, but because I doubt she's ever allowed herself to shed them. Pat looks at me like I'm a half-wit then, with typical Captain Pat, 'I-feel-your-pain' sensitivity, he blurts out, “Murder? She murdered someone?”
“Never mind, Pat. It's a long story,” I say.
“Fine, but would someone, please get me outta this trap.”
Nanette wipes her tears and steps up to release Pat while I go to the front door and let Dick in. I tell him his men are in the basement, and he goes to retrieve them.
“You look a little shriveled there, Pat,” says Nanette.
“Fuck you, Nanette, you kinky bitch,” returns Pat.
“Did Pau say where she was going?” I ask Nanette.
“No.”
“Where do you think she would go?” Dick asks having returned with his men.
“I don't know. She has friends in Barcelona,” she says.
“Can you make a list of those with phone numbers and addresses?” Dick asks.
“I know a few but there are others I don't know.”
“Give us what you have,” says Dick handing over a pad and pen.
“Pau has an address book in her room, let me go and see if it's there.” She does, and it is. She brings it back and hands it over to Dick. Dick passes it to one of his two men and tells them to start visiting everyone listed in the book, pronto. The two men affirm and hurry out the front door. You could tell from their deference to Dick and their body language while standing around, that Pau getting the drop on them had crushed their Spanish male egos. I'm sure they want to take this opportunity to set things right and win back Dick's respect.
“Do you think Pau will go to her mother's place now?” I ask Nanette.
“Maybe. She hates her mother, but she also wants her mother's approval. She may think that if she comes to her mother's aid with information about Dick working for you and holding the boys, and you with the lottery ticket, she'll win her over.”
“She also may go up there and after Friday try to take over her mother's position and collect on the lottery ticket. She might also do harm to Monica. Does Monica know Pau or Pau know Monica?”
“Neither knows the other except from our little soiree last Friday night,” she says.
“Oh yeah. How could I forget,” I say.
“What soiree?” Pat chimes in.
“It's not important, Pat,” I say, "we had dinner together is all.”
I look over to Dick and can see him working to contain a knowing smile.
"It's getting late, and I need to get something to eat and some sleep. Let's reconvene on this tomorrow and see how we want to proceed now that Pau is a loose cannon. Nanette, pack an overnight bag. You're staying at my place. I don't want Pau coming back here and tearing you apart with anymore interrogation. You need to stay clear of her from now on out.”
“Okay,” she readily agrees and goes to her room to pack a bag.
“Are you sure you trust her, Tucker?” Dick asks.
“No, I don't trust her at all, but I'd rather have her within sight than not,” I say.
“Just be sure to check her for weapons. And you might want to shackle her to your bed again too,” Dick says.
“What? Wait a minute. You had her shackled to your bed already, Tucker?” Pat asks.
“Yes, Pat. It's a side benefit when you put up a million euro ransom,” I say.
“That's some expensive pussy, Tucker. Maybe you should call Claudia instead. She didn't cost me a nickel,” he says, "come to think of it maybe I'll give her a call and see if she has room for me again tonight.”
“She didn't cost you anything for the first go around, Pat, because I paid for it. This time you'll have to dig into your own pockets.”
“I don't think I have any money on me,” he says reaching into his pockets.
“I'm sure she has plenty of other ways to extract payment,” I laugh, "offer her a couple of companion passes to fly anywhere in the world. I'll bet she'll go for that.”
“Maybe I'll offer up a two-fer and she'll bring along Ophelia.”
“Liking the ole ménage à trois, eh, Pat?” I ask.
“What's not to like?” Pat says.
"Nanette's back and is giving me a sly look of agreement as Pat says this. Then she says to Pat, "Just be sure you've got plenty of Viagra for that little shrinkage problem, Pat.”
“Fuck you, Nanette.”
“I'm sure Tucker'll take care of that, won't you, Tucker?” she says turning to me.
"No, he won't. He's in love with Monica," says Pat gloating like a kid. "Aren't you, Tucker?"
"That's right, Pat, and she knows that. She'll have to find some other way to curb her urges tonight," I say playing along with Pat like two school chums picking on the girl.
"Señora Mieras, I may have just the thing for you tonight." Dick says to which Nanette cuts him off and throws him a look of the dirty old man replying, "No, I don't think so. I don't do fat men who are old enough to be my father, Señor Dickhead."
What the hell? I shoot her a cutting look with eyebrows raised, questioning that little lie and say, "Be nice to the man who has saved your miserable life more times than you know, Nanette. You just might need him again. We all might." Ungrateful bitch. What's gotten into her?
"Perdona'm, perdre's," Dick apologizes, "I meant only that if you look into the chest that is in the master bedroom closet you may find something to your liking."
"If it's not whips and chains, Señor Dick," says Pat, "she probably won't."
"Alright, enough you two," I say to both Nanette and Pat, "you're starting to sound like two people who've been married too long." Then I turn my attention back to Dick and discuss setting up I.P. cameras to monitor Nanette
's apartment in case Pau returns. He agrees and puts a call into his office to have technicians sent over as the rest of us are leaving.
“Tell Claudia and Ophelia hi for me,” I holler out to Pat as I'm holding open the Mini's passenger-side door for Nanette.
"Holy shit! What did you do to that fine car, Tucker?" Pat says.
“Ay Caramba!” says Dick.
“Sorry Dick,” I say and looking at Nanette, “I got distracted. Just put the damages on my bill. And . . . You wouldn’t by chance have another replacement would you, Dick?”
“Señor Tucker, I have several identical Minis and will have one delivered to the apartment by morning,” he says.
“That’d be great,” I say.
“You be careful with that one, Tucker,” hollers Pat.
Nanette flips Pat a bird and yells, "think shrink wrap.”
“Jesus Christ Nanette. What is it with you two? You're carrying on like a couple of brats,” I say sliding into the driver's seat.
“He's just such an asshole sometimes, and then he sets me off, and I get sucked into his assholeness too. I know; it's stupid. I'm sorry, Tucker.”
“I think we're all getting a little strung out here with all that's going on. It's a wonder someone hasn't killed someone yet."
"Day's not over, Tucker."
I turn and look at her. "Maybe I should shackle you to the bed tonight, just in case."
"Oh, Tucker, you do love me don't you?"
I can only shake my head in wonder.
***
The balmy late-summer evening rolled over the Raval like a salve as Madame sank further into the loving arms of her favorite recliner and let the hurries and worries of the day drift off like untethered balloons. She was looking forward to a quiet, early dinner now that the last of the girls had finally vacated to spend the night with their boyfriends or husbands, all except Tanya of course. She had no boyfriend to lure her with promises of romance or a husband who’d inspect the goods like an accountant calculating depreciation. No, this is Tanya's home, and Madame; her adopted mother, provider and protector. She could always rely on Tanya to be there for her, to help with the burdens of the business that she sometimes feared would put her into an early grave, and to be her counselor during those times she was sure her mind was abandoning her.
A wise girl for someone so young, Tanya was. An old soul that always seemed to know the right thing to do, the best course of action to take. She was her rock; the daughter she'd never allow herself during those years working the streets of the El Raval just to stay alive. The burden of a child was unthinkable then and would surely have pulled her down like an anchor and drowned her, drowned them both! Besides, she would have never brought a life into this world of pimps and drug addicts and persons of such disgust that even El Diable would turn them away. No, she could never conceive a child to this life.
But then along came Tanya, a helpless thing lost in the maze of these terrible streets, a scared little rabbit surviving by scratching and begging for crumbs brushed from the lowest tables of society populating the darkest back alleys of the El Raval. It was a horrible, hour-by-hour existence where fear so constantly consumed the girl it became her only comfort, even kept her alive, though barely. She was on constant alert to the dangers lurking throughout the barrio as if she were a prey in a forest of beasts always ready to eat her, bones and all. So, like a fawn, but without a mother to protect her, she remained quietly hidden during the day; overflowing trash cans and dumpsters reeking of composting rot and decay were her bush and flowerbed sanctuaries in this forest called, El Raval.
With necessity as her tutor she adapted quickly, becoming, like most creatures of the barrio, including those plying Madame's trade, a nocturnal animal where the Raval was the ideal cover. The fattest harvest moon could not spread its reach to the streets in this quarter. Even daylight was virtually prohibited by the four and five-story buildings nestled so closely together that even the air had difficulty finding its way in. But for Tanya, darkness meant survival, for she used it as a cloak in which to wrap herself and evade the monsters chasing her, the same ones who'd stolen her from her homeland and made her a slave to pornography and sadistic pedophiles.
It was an unnatural and inhumanely cruel existence for a girl barely in her thirteenth year. But there was one night, yes, one night when God finally looked down upon her and took pity.
She hadn't eaten for two days and was trying to hush her growling stomach when a car sped by, and a partially eaten sandwich flew out the window and into the street presenting itself like an invitation to a dinner party. She could hardly believe her luck and without looking, she sprinted into the street to retrieve the prize only to be spotted by her tormentors. Before she could take even a single bite of the nutrition that her small body so desperately craved, she was off like a greyhound, with her tormentors in hot pursuit. She could have probably lost them but when she took a wrong turn and found herself cornered like a rat at the dead end of an alley, she knew she was doomed. She had no chance for escape this time, and as the two men slowly and cautiously approached her like salivating wolves reveling in their turn of luck, and already counting the money she'd bring; a door opened and a hand reached out and snatched her into the house. The hand belonged to Madame.
***
The ring of the doorbell cut through her serenity like a serrated knife, but that was okay. It always brought a smile to Madame's tired face because it was the sound of her cash register after all, and long day or not, it was the most welcomed of sounds.
Thank goodness she had her little hummingbird, Tanya. The customer would not be disappointed. She only hoped that it was not a group this time.
"Tanya, go to your room and prepare yourself to welcome the gentleman. I will finish the cooking and you, you lucky girl, will be enjoying another meal in bed if all goes well."
"Oh, Madame, but I wanted to cook for you tonight and give you a night off."
"Another time girl, this is business, and business feeds us, so go, hurry, hurry," she says shooing the girl off.
"Oh, God," Tanya pleads as she hurries to her room, "please let this be an older, tired gentleman who seeks only company to watch television. Not another youngster needing to prove that he can give me the orgasm of my life. What am I saying? I must be grateful for what Madame has given me. But I am so tired tonight and I know Madame is too. She is such a workhorse, never rests it seems, always working so hard from sun up to past midnight, every night. And Wednesday! It is our only day off.
Wait, Tanya thought to herself. I know. I'll try that spray Victoria gave me, the one she uses when she needs an easy night of it. The cheater spray. How did she say? Spray it where the horses like to feed. That was it. A vaginal spray. Said one lick then count to sixty and they drop dead asleep. For hours! Said she'd used it one time and it was lights out for three footballers all at once. It was the funniest thing when she said she had all three stuffed into her when they all went nighty, night. Then she had the most difficult time prying herself out from under the one behind, the one who'd fallen on her and sandwiched her to the one beneath. Said the blow from that big stud knocked the breath out of her and she nearly choked on the third guy in her mouth. Ha, ha, that was the most funny.
Should I reconsider? No. Now where did I put that . . . Here it is! Sandman Sleep Spray, cinnamon flavor.
***
It must be a new caller, Madame thinks to herself walking up to the peephole and flipping on the small light for illuminating the front stoop. The regulars know we're closed on Wednesdays.
When she flips back the cover and rotates the telescopic eyepiece, thoroughly inspecting the caller, she's impressed with the handsome young man behind the clear, fashionable wraparounds. Tanya will like this one she thinks, and opens the door to welcome their newest guest.
"Señor de benvinguda," (Welcome sir) she says with a smile. But when the man pushes a Cesid ID into her face and his way into the house, her smile vanishes taking her go
od nature with it. She's reminded of the old days, the Generalissimo days, when the secret police would push their way into anyone's home at any time and for any reason, day, or night. You never knew when. You only knew one day they'd come. Seems right now, the Cesid's no different.
He quickly shuts the door behind him and even throws the deadbolt before turning around to face Madame and this worries her.
He's afraid of something and now he appears extremely nervous. Is he on drugs? Why didn't she see this before, when he was outside still standing on the landing and not in her house? Why was she so careless not to inspect this man? She could have even answered him using the outside intercom instead of just automatically opening the door. She's getting careless.
"Where are your whores old woman, bring them forward," he demands glancing nervously around the room like someone on meth.
"There are no whores here young man, this is a hospitality house, and all of our comfort companions are off this night. If you would like to make an appointment . . ." she says.
"I am not here to fuck your whores old woman. I am here to . . ." he abruptly breaks off when Tanya comes bouncing around the corner in her baby-doll costume.
"Oh, Mama, I did not know we had company. Please forgive me," she says shyly inserting her thumb into her mouth and turning to leave.
"Stop!" Rakim shouts to the girl then turns to Madame, "So, no whores tonight, huh? I suppose this is your daughter?"
"Yes, she is my daughter, and she is not a whore. Now if you will please . . . The girl has school tomorrow." She turns to Tanya and orders her to finish her homework and go to bed while taking Rakim by the arm to lead him out, but Rakim breaks the woman's grip and slaps her hard across the face causing her to stumble and nearly fall. He yells at Tanya.
"No, girl. Come here this instant."
Tanya turns to run, but Rakim pulls a pistol and puts it to the Madame's temple. "Come here this instant or your Mama will be no more, do you hear?" Tanya complies and cautiously makes her way to Rakim.
"Señor, please do not harm my Mama. She is all that I have in the world. It is I that you want. I will give you anything you require. Just please put the pistol away and let my Mama go. She is old, and she is of no use to you. I can satisfy any of your desires, please, Señor."