“When does the clock start ticking?” asked Rachel.
“When we walked in the door,” said the other girl. “We have to look like we really like his company, okay? He tips good. Ready?”
“I… I don’t think…”
“You’re not bitching up on me now, are you? You’ve done this at the Palace. Look, I’m doing the heavy lifting tonight, so chill.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you don’t have to sleep with him. I’ve got that taken care of.”
“You said just dancing.”
“You just dance. I’m gonna fuck. Now let’s go.”
When they got back to the living room, Franco was smoking a joint. He extended the clip and Sonia took a hit. Rachel declined.
“It’ll relax you,” said Franco. She shook her head and appended a smile to the gesture.
He pressed the remote and some Lee Ritenour played. Sonia began to writhe and Rachel followed. She wasn’t much of a dancer. It wasn’t required in the booth.
“Sonia, your friend can’t dance worth a shit,” said Franco, now loosening up. “We’re a little behind schedule, so let’s say we start taking some clothes off.”
Sonia took off her bustier and tossed it on the floor. Rachel was breathing so hard she knew her breasts were going to be heaving up and down when she took off the bra. She turned her back to Franco and swayed her butt back and forth while watching him in a wall mirror. Sonia took off her shoes and the stockings went next. Rachel resisted the temptation of looking at the grandfather clock and took off the bra. She had to balance herself against the coffee table to take off the stockings.
She kept her back to Franco a tad too long.
“That wall’s not a paying customer, Lisa. Over here.”
“Sorry.”
Sonia pulled down her panties and now it was Rachel’s turn.
She slipped it off and faced Franco.
“Lisa, you might want to trim the kitten for next time. I like a nice triangle on top with the rest shaved.”
Rachel looked at Sonia whose pubes were cut in precisely that manner.
Franco requested floor work, requiring them to get on their backs and perform acts with their legs and hands.
The ordeal ended forty minutes later when the man looked at Sonia and jerked his head toward the bedroom.
“We’re going to hang in the next room,” said Sonia.
“Make yourself at home, Lisa,” said the host. “You know how to work the disk player, right?”
“Can I just get my clothes out of the bedroom?” said Rachel, passing him in the narrow hallway naked, his arm brushing up against her breast. Then she had to pass him again.
“Join us,” he said.
“No, really. Thanks.” She clutched her clothes to her body. Sonia tugged at his arm and closed the door behind them.
Rachel sat, fully clothed on the couch, staring at the wall. She couldn’t believe what she had just done. Where she was. Had Olivia done the same thing and ended up walking into the wrong apartment? Did Franco know her sister? Rachel had paid dearly for entry into this place and she was going to make it worth the price of admission.
In the bathroom, she was able to lock the door while inspecting the medicine cabinet. Some cold caplets, eye drops, Band-Aid kit, deodorant. No prescription medicine. Rachel wasn’t sure what exactly she was looking for.
There were two book cases with about a hundred volumes. Rachel always thought she could tell a great deal about a person by the books, or absence of same, in their home. Let’s see. Science fiction, science fiction, a book on the Tri-lateral Commission, The Further Prophesies of Nostradamus, a few MAD Magazines.
The entertainment center contained rows of video tapes, DVDs, and a fifty-six-inch plasma TV. Terminator―One and Two, Rambo, The Magnificent Seven as well as an extensive collection of hard-core porn. Issues of The Minuteman going back years.
She scanned the walls for security cameras. None. Next, the drawers of the end tables. A clean ashtray and matches from the Algonquin Hotel. The study. There was a Dell PC.
She stood by the door motionless and listened to the muffled sound of Sonia moaning. Rachel had to think of an excuse for snooping around in case he walked in on her.
The PC was running and the screen saver created moving star patterns as though one were looking through the portal of a space ship. She might as well be in another world. A push of the mouse and the monitor came alive. The screen lock was on, prompting for a password. Rachel made a few stabs at it: FRANCO, ADMIN, PASSWORD, JETS, YANKEES, METS, NEWYORK, RANGERS. No luck. She made note of the model of the machine. There had to be a way of getting in. It might take five or ten or fifteen minutes for the screen saver to kick in again. If Jack showed up before that, he’d know she was poking around.
She moved quickly to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to keep herself busy. Rachel’s heart was racing and she wasn’t even doing anything suspicious now. Her eye fell on a vial in the butter compartment. Steroids. Roid heads had explosive tempers. She recalled one incident in school where a boy who had acquired massive muscles in the span of six weeks suddenly exited through the window upon receiving his board scores.
“What are you looking for?” said a voice behind her. Franco stood at the entrance of the kitchen wearing only his boxer shorts. His torso was brutal.
“Just looking for some orange juice. The chicken was salty. Do you mind?”
“You shouldn’t keep the refrigerator open so long. Take out the juice.”
As she opened the container, he said, “What were you doin’ on the computer?”
“I―I just thought you might have some video games, but it asked for a password.” She felt him running his eyes all over her.
“When you’re done with the juice, put it back.” Then he disappeared into the bedroom.
Her pulse raced as she retreated to the living room. He could go from gentle to threatening in a heartbeat. She selected a CD.
There was nothing here to indicate that Jack killed anything besides childhood. Nothing that would give the police the right to break in and investigate. He was committing statutory rape, but that couldn’t be pursued without Sonia’s testimony.
When Sonia and Jack Franco were done, the couple exited the room with a neutral demeanor. Sonia was still adjusting her pants.
“You ready?” she said to Rachel.
“This is for you, Lisa,” he said, handing her two fifty dollar bills. “Remember what I said about being welcome here any time.”
“Thank you, Jack. It was a real pleasure meeting you.”
Outside, Sonia called a cab.
“I thought we might spend the night,” said Sonia. “But he had plans.”
“I didn’t know you were going to sleep with him,” said Rachel.
“You think he’s going to pay four-hundred bucks to watch two girls strip, then jerk off? Stop questioning so much. Look at you. Three-hundred bucks for two hours’ work, not even.” Rachel didn’t ask how much Sonia had earned.
“I have another gig tomorrow.” She looked at her cell phone. “This guy’s a doctor, so if you feel sick like tonight, he can help. You down?”
“I am. But I don’t do sex, Sonia.”
“Did I take care of you tonight? Same deal.”
Franco watched them as they crossed the street, watched the beautiful arch of Rachel’s back, the way her buttocks moved as she hurried to keep up with her friend. He would definitely be seeing her again.
achel figured out a way to get into these perverts’ PCs. She had programmed a flash drive, so that as soon as it was inserted, it would upload a Remote Administration Tool, or RAT, that would enable her to take control of the machine remotely.
She and Joules used to play around with hacking into each other’s computers back in the day, but three years is a long time in that field. Firewalls had become more robust, Internet security software was more aware of attempts to penetrate their host computers. There wa
s no time to start figuring all this out from scratch. The Web offered an abundance of RATs.
Rachel chose SubSeven. It was a Trojan horse, a program that installed a server on the victim’s PC, neutralized the firewall, and opened a port, allowing access from outside. Rachel’s laptop had the client version of the software and could connect with any of the computers she had infected. SubSeven could take full control of the target machine as well as allow her to access files, determine the size of the hard disk, version of Windows running, and cached passwords. Another crucial feature was that it could activate any camera connected to the PC and record video images without the target knowing it. With this, she would be able to see what was going on in a room and possibly the face of the remote user. The program was open source, which meant that it was not only free, but that some of the greatest hackers in the world were constantly perfecting it over the years. The user’s manual was thirty-seven pages long, and Rachel figured she could read it before Chem class.
After returning from class, Rachel went to the computer room in her dorm and inserted the flash drive into the USB port of a machine. She had to find out how long it would take to gather the information―crucial to know when stealing data in someone else’s home. After repeated tries, it appeared that it took two minutes to complete the operation.
Once she had the information on the drive, she pulled it out and went back to her room. After retrieving the target’s IP address from the flash drive, she input that address into the SubSeven client program. Five minutes later, she had control of the remote PC and was accessing all its data. Now she was ready.
When classes were over for the day, Rachel set out for the Pleasure Palace. She recalled that there was a PC in Perlman’s office. How would she get access to it? At Forty-Second Street, she got off the train and walked to the library. She needed to download a death certificate.
Just as Rachel started up the steps to the entrance, her phone rang. It was Sonia.
“Rachel, listen, my client tonight wants a threesome with us―four-hundred each―you down?”
“Oh, God, no.”
“Did you hear me―four bills for doing what you do at home? What’s wrong? I had to bargain hard to get that rate.”
“You said just a show.”
“He changed his mind when he heard I had a new girl. I usually go with Dayna. If you say no, that might blow the whole thing.”
“No. I don’t do that. Sorry.”
“Jeez. What am I going to tell him? If he insists, I may have to find another girl.”
“You’ll definitely have to find another girl.”
“Whoa. Okay. I’ll call you back.”
Rachel was aware that homeless girls don’t refuse four-hundred dollars lightly.
The phone rang again.
“He agreed you would just do a show, no sex. Two-hundred for you.”
“Okay. But that’s all.”
“Mr. Perlman, can I ask you a favor? I need to make a copy. Can I use the machine in your office?”
“There’s a Staples or something not far from here.”
“It’s just one sheet.” She held it up. “It’s a death certificate.”
The side of Perlman’s face twitched.
“Ram, the lady needs to make a copy in the office.” He held up a heavy chain of keys that could have been a jailer’s.
Ram―Perlman’s assistant―led her upstairs. He swung the door open and Rachel’s eyes fell on the USB port of the PC. Ram followed her inside. As she raised the copier lid and positioned her paper with one hand, she pressed the configuration buttons with the other, setting it to seventy copies, legal size. When she pressed the start button, it began to spit out sheets in quick succession.
“Oh no,” she said, hitting the stop button. Guaranteed paper jam. “Ram, can you help me? I really need to make a copy of this. It’s a death certificate.” He couldn’t conceal his annoyance and said something under his breath.
“Put it back on the scanner,” he said, as if not wanting to touch the dead.
“I’ll get rid of these,” said Rachel, removing the printouts from the tray and ripping them up. Ram was now engrossed in reading the LCD instructions. Rachel walked to the waste paper basket. As she passed the PC, she stuck the flash drive into it. Now she needed two minutes.
“I think the jam is in the second tray,” she said.
“I took the paper out, but it still says paper jam,” he said.
“I always power off and power it back on. Then it resets.” That would take two minutes.
Ram did this and they waited as the power-on self-tests completed.
Now she just had to get that drive back out.
“It has to be letter-sized. Just one copy.” Rachel stepped back toward the PC, blocking the flash drive with her body and pulled it out.
“That’s it. That’s what I needed,” she said, holding Ram’s work in her hand. “Thank you, Ram. I just can’t do anything right today.”
She changed into a black teddy and started the evening’s work. After three customers in quick succession, Rachel got a breather. As she was standing in front of her booth, her eye fell on a familiar figure on the other side of the room. It was Detective McKenna.
he instantly bowed her head, so her hair obscured her face and went straight for the ladies’ room.
Rachel sat on the toilet shaking. If he saw her―if her parents ever found out―she’d rather die than that.
Savannah walked in. “What’s going on out there?” Rachel asked.
“Cops are asking questions ‘bout a girl who worked here. The one who vanished.”
“Did you know her?” asked Rachel.
“Some. We had different hours. She was tight with Sonia. I think she was doing some sidelines that got her into trouble.”
“What kind of sidelines?”
“She was doin’ outcalls for rich johns. She was underage and the freaks pay big time for that. God knows we got freaks comin’ in here.”
“Listen, I know that detective out there. I had a problem with him. Can you let me know when he’s gone?”
“Sure thing.”
Rachel was losing her nerve. The insanity of the last week was starting to settle in. She was supposed to be attending engineering classes at Columbia; the police were supposed to be chasing pedophiles. What if something happened to her too? Her parents could never go on. It was all so obvious. Achara’s life had fallen into a chasm; Olivia went in after her, and now Rachel after her.
Perlman banged on the door. “Lisa, I need you out there. Customers waiting.”
“Not feeling well. Something I ate for lunch,” she yelled back.
“Do I have to come in and get you?”
“If you come in here, I’ll throw up all over you.”
Fifteen minutes later, Rachel poked her head out the door. Jesus, McKenna was still there with another detective, talking to Sonia. Rachel put her head down and made her way to her booth where she stood with her back to McKenna. Don’t come over here. She could see the detective in a mirror. He finished with Sonia, but didn’t leave. HThe other detective was scanning the area as though looking for someone they hadn’t yet questioned. A construction worker walked toward her from the other side of the floor. When he got within ten feet, Rachel turned and smiled at him. He smiled back and said, “How ‘bout a show?”
Rachel never thought she would love hearing those words. She darted into her booth.
When she came out, McKenna was gone. Thank God. That was close. Rachel followed Sonia to the ladies’ room.
“What did the cops want?” Rachel asked.
“They were here before asking about Olivia―the girl who vanished last week. She used to work here. We were friends.”
“What happened to her―Olivia?”
“We fell out of touch a couple of months ago. She was trying to get her twin sister out of a whorehouse in Thailand. I remember wishing I had someone who cared enough to reach over and pull me out. Someone w
ho would go to the ends of the earth for me. She said she needed a lot of money to get her out. So I said she could go on gigs with me.”
“And did she? Go on gigs with you?”
“We couldn’t keep up with demand.”
“Did she ever make the money she needed to get her sister out?”
“She made that ten times over.”
“So why didn’t she quit?”
“She loved it, and the guys loved her. One customer became obsessed with her. Started following her all over the place. He used to watch her come out of her house in Northport and follow her all the way to the city and back.”
ntonio Beltran was going to be a good boy and not stop by his favorite strip club until the job was done. Those mulatas were phenomenal. You don’t see butts like that in Mexico. And they liked him too.
The rental hit a pothole that made his duffle bag jump in the trunk. He had packed everything securely for the long ride. The Glock nine mm and a Smith & Wesson .357 magnum. He also carried a Taser in case he got into some unexpected close up action. His ID was specially made in Virginia. Cost him plenty. Al-Qaida used these guys.
It was going to be a straightforward job. His business was on overdrive since the drug wars in Mexico increased the demand for assassins on the Mexican side and he started using online advertising to get clients. He had fiddled with the ad until he got it right and business started rolling in.
Assassin ex-military professional and discreet. Work guaranteed in 10 days or less. Have worked in Spain. $8,000. Serious requests only, and a hotmail address as a contact.
He had a Spanish ad, too, for the Mexican market, but he could only ask one thousand.
The client had checked out okay. Beltran prided himself on not taking payment in advance. Once the job was completed, the client had all the motivation in the world to pay. The dead were his bill collectors, he always said.
He had no problem paying his bills these days. At thirty-two, he drove a new Mustang and bought himself a house in Nuevo Laredo. He had come a long way from the days he roamed the streets of Nogales offering himself as a tour guide to gringo tourists.
The Schwarzschild Radius Page 10