The Specter

by Saul, Jonas

  He raised his hands in supplication. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave. But I’m warning you, don’t touch me. The hand that touches me gets broken. I don’t bluff.”

  He could feel the eyes of everybody in the strip club on him. He moved to the other side of the table to keep his distance from the bouncers and started for the door. He kept his eyes on them, hoping they wouldn’t try something stupid. Sure, they might regret it, but so would he.

  A few steps from the backdoor exit, one of the bouncers shouted something. He turned back as they crowded him.

  The man he had flipped shot his index finger out in Aaron’s face and said, “Don’t come back here again. Got it?”

  Aaron hated it when someone jabbed a fatty finger in his face. Bouncers always had that I’m big-and-tough attitude. I can push people around just because I can.

  He knew he shouldn’t, but it was just too tempting and his nerves were shot.

  Aaron gripped the protruded finger with his left hand, the offender’s elbow with his right. In one second, he pulled the finger back, bending the elbow. The man gasped and dropped to his knees. Aaron secured the man’s wrist, bent back as far as it would go without breaking it, and nodded at the other two men.

  It happened so fast, they were stunned into immobility. Then both men stepped forward.

  “Don’t!” Aaron ordered.

  The man on his knees below him shouted in pain as Aaron leaned into the wrist. Both bouncers faltered, wondering what the right move was.

  “I told you not to touch me.”

  “I didn’t, I didn’t …”

  “I was walking out on my own. Sticking your finger in my face is a form of assault. Being an asshole isn’t your fault, though. For that I will forgive you. Now, here’s today’s lesson, folks. Be careful who you think you can push around. You never know who’ll be patronizing your little nudie bar.”

  Aaron eased off on the pressure. The bouncer on his knees breathed easier.

  “I’m going through that door,” Aaron said. “Nothing more needs to happen. But if I feel threatened by any of you, we’re going to have to have a more serious conversation. Understood?”

  The man on his knees nodded vigorously. The other two men didn’t acknowledge him in any way.

  Unfettered anger rose in Aaron. He had come here to see if he could find a friend of Joanne’s and all he got was kicked out and in a fight, putting him no further ahead. He wanted to smack the dumb looks off their faces.

  Are you too stupid to see when you’re beat?

  Aaron jumped forward a foot in a sudden movement, and the other two men stepped back.

  He released the man below him. It was over. Defused.

  Aaron walked out into the late afternoon sun. When he got to his car, he stopped. Someone was crouched behind his trunk.

  “Hey?” he shouted. “Get up.”

  The dancer who had ordered the gin and tonic looked at him but stayed down behind his car.

  “I can’t be seen talking to you,” she said. “Look the other way. Lean against your car. Do you have a cell phone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Grab it. Pretend like you’re on the phone. Then you can talk to me.”

  The back door of the club opened. One of the bouncers watched him. Aaron reached into his pocket, grabbed his car keys and opened his door. Leaving it open, he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, mock dialed a number and held it to his ear.

  “What’s going on?” he asked after a moment.

  “Three nights ago a very powerful man came to the club.”

  “Who?” Aaron said into his phone. Then he held it away from his head and shouted at the bouncer, “I’m calling the cops.”

  The bouncer went back inside the club.

  “I don’t know who,” the dancer said. “All I know is that he chose two girls. One was Joanne and the other was Jan Elliot. No one has seen either girl since that night.”

  Joanne had probably called him from the bathroom of the club that night. The interference would have been a low signal from within the building added to the noise of the music.

  “Can you tell me anything else?”

  “All I know is that the man was British and he had at least six bodyguards. He was very rich. I was having a smoke outside when they left in three cars.”

  “Was Joanne with them?”

  He didn’t hear her whispered response. Aaron leaned in closer. She nodded, her eyes rimmed in tears.

  “She was my friend. She talked about getting out of this place. She wanted to get away and said she would take me with her. Joanne said she would help me put my life back together. And now she’s gone and those bastards got paid to forget that the British man was even here.”

  “Got paid? How much we talking?”

  “A hundred thousand dollars was left with the owner. Can you believe it? One hundred grand. Just to keep his presence here anonymous. But I also think it was to buy Jan and Joanne because they never came back. The boss spread the money out among the bouncers and a few of the dancers. I didn’t get a cent. I’m fucking done with this place. It’s been dead in here since. And who knows when the rich guy’ll come back and I’ll disappear. No, not for me. Wake-up call, honey, wake-up call.”

  “Are you saying my sister and Jan left with this British guy?”

  “Yes, but I could tell they didn’t want to.”

  The woman adjusted her legs in her crouched position.

  “Is it safe for you to go back in there?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m done. I’m never going back in there. Not with how they treated you for simply asking questions about your sister.” Her face darkened for a moment, her eyes wet and pleading. “You are her brother, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am. And I need to find this British guy. Is there anything else you can tell me? Did they have Ontario license plates on the cars? Diplomatic plates? Or were they rentals?”

  “What’s a diplomatic plate?”

  The door opened to the back of the club. Four bouncers started across the parking lot toward him. They had weapons. Aaron saw brass knuckles in one hand, a hammer in another.

  Shit’s gonna get bad, fast.

  “Get in my car. Now.”

  “What, I can’t be seen with you …” she trailed off when she saw the bouncers.

  “Go,” Aaron ordered as he slipped behind the wheel. He turned the engine over and dropped the car in drive just as the dancer fell into the passenger seat beside him. The forward motion of the car as he slammed the accelerator down shut both car doors.

  As he exited the parking lot, the bouncers were doing their best to run after his vehicle.

  What the fuck is going on?

  Chapter 4

  “What was all that back there?” Aaron asked.

  “No idea,” the woman said. She was still dressed in a body-hugging skimpy dress and heels. She looked over her shoulder out the back window. “Fucking hotheads.”

  The dancer rummaged through her tiny purse, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and made to light one.

  “Not in my car. No smoking.”

  Aaron hit the entrance ramp to the QEW, gunning the Nissan’s engine to get to highway speed as fast as he could.

  “I need a smoke,” she said, the annoyance in her voice evident.

  “No, you don’t. Talk first. Then smoke.”

  “Talk?” She dropped the pack of cigarettes back into her purse.

  The years of dancing, and whatever else she had been doing to herself, had been hard on her. Out of the darkness of the club, the sun showed her age. She had to be in her late thirties, or early forties. Her skin had lost its youthful elasticity from years of nicotine abuse. The capillaries on her nose were already breaking from the benefits of too much alcohol.

  “I need to know who this rich British guy is and why he would spend any kind of serious money to keep his presence in a strip club quiet. On the night he leaves the club, two girls leave with him and are never heard of again. Doe
sn’t that sound fucking odd to you?” He snuck a glance at her.

  “Of course. We’re all scared he’ll come back. No one knows anything. All we saw was him having a good time, tipping like crazy, and then he met with the owner, and left with Jan and Joanne. That’s all I saw …” she trailed off as she stared out her window.

  “Maybe he’s a politician,” Aaron offered.

  “No. Too public. Other customers would have recognized him. I have a feeling this was just some rich dude. The kind that get what they want.”

  Aaron dropped the visor to block the low sun. “Do you think the money he left behind was silence money for the two girls he took with him?” My sister. “Or maybe he simply has so much money that he bought them.”

  She didn’t answer right away.

  Aaron said, “And what was the big deal back in the parking lot. The bouncers usually just kick someone out and leave it at that. Why would they come out ready to rumble? Why would a professional bouncer in a reputable establishment bring the fight outside the club once everything had been defused? Something’s wrong here.”

  A lot of things aren’t adding up.

  He applied his turn signal and changed lanes, moving into the express lanes to avoid the slower moving collector lanes.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “The police.”

  “Oh, no we’re not,” she shrieked. “Let me out.”

  She tried the door. Aaron flipped the child-lock button.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked. “Calm down.”

  “We’re not going to the police.” She leaned into the passenger door, dropping down in the seat as if someone outside was trying to see her.

  “Why not?”

  “Because. I don’t talk to the police. Never.”

  “Today is a good day to start.”

  She lunged toward him and pounded on his shoulder with both fists, screaming, “Stop the fucking car. Stop the car! Stop the car!”

  Aaron tried to fend her off while attempting to keep his car in its lane.

  “Okay, okay,” he shouted. He grabbed one of her wrists, tightened his grip and twisted until she bent sideways and shouted in pain. “You gonna stop hitting me?”

  “Yeah, yeah, let go.”

  He released her wrist. “Don’t ever do that again,” he shouted. “We could’ve been killed.”

  “Stop the car,” she said, staring straight ahead.

  “Tell me why you won’t talk to the police.”

  “Stop the car. Let me out.”

  They were coming close to the Dixie Road access. Once on Dixie heading north toward Twelve Division, they would encounter over a dozen traffic lights. She would be able to jump out at any one.

  “Just tell the cops what you told me,” Aaron said. “Then I will drive you wherever you want to go. Come on, help me out. We’re talking about my sister, here. You said she was kind to you, wanted to help you. Help her now.”

  “If you don’t stop the car I’m going to show the cop my wrist and say you kidnapped me and that I’m being held against my will. That would be the truth. I want out and you’re not letting me go. This is called forcible confinement. I know some shit and this is forcible. Stop the car. Let me out.”

  Aaron knew she had him. He couldn’t walk into Folley’s office with a half-dressed woman and try to explain this away. He knew enough about what happened at the strip club to tell Folley himself.

  But one thing still bothered him.

  “How did you know what car was mine? There were at least fifteen cars in the lot. Why were you hiding behind mine?”

  He felt her eyes on him.

  “I didn’t know. Lucky guess.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He raced up the Dixie exit and turned north. The light ahead was red.

  “Look,” he tried one more time. “Joanne needs help. You know stuff. Tell me, were they drinking vodka? She said something to me about vodka. Is that connected in any way?” He slowed the car, exasperated. “Come with me to the investigating officer and tell him everything. Please.”

  The car stopped. The dancer manually flipped the lock and popped the door open. She looked back at Aaron before getting out. “That wasn’t part of my deal. No cops. I didn’t sign on for that. Fuck you.”

  She jumped from the Nissan without another word.

  “Hey,” Aaron yelled, but she was already on the sidewalk.

  A horn blared behind him. A row of cars lined up in his rearview mirror.

  “Shit.”

  He hit the gas, the passenger door slamming shut for the second time by the car’s forward motion.

  He slapped the steering wheel.

  “Where are you, Joanne? What’s happening?”

  He stopped at another red light, his mind racing to figure out what to do next. All he could think to do was talk to Folley, tell him what he had learned at the House of Lancaster.

  He waited for the light to turn green. The red-light camera stood sentinel, ready to take pictures of any red-light runners.

  A camera.

  Could there be a camera in the House of Lancaster that records people coming or going? Maybe Folley could get them to show him what happened that night? Or maybe it was all erased for a price?

  It angered him that he felt so helpless. There was really nothing he could do. He held no official capacity like Folley and he couldn’t allow himself to get into trouble while out on bail.

  Aaron realized that his hands were tied. He had to let the system find his sister in their sweet old time. Whenever they got around to it, he might get a call.

  He clenched a fist. If they find her body and someone could have stopped whatever’s happening if they worked a little harder, he didn’t know what he would do. Having learned about Gary and Frank Weeks and talked to the stripper, he wondered how far ahead the cops were. What could they possibly be doing to solve this if he’s out here getting closer by the minute.

  That left one thing for him to do. Someone at the strip club knew something and they were hiding it. Whether it was the dancers, the bouncers or the owner, someone knew something. He’d rather spend a year in jail and save Joanne than lose her.

  He pulled out his cell phone and called Daniel, his assistant from the dojo. He needed more people on his side. He would warn Daniel of the risks and explain the downside. Then he would get him to call a few of the black belts from the gym and see who wanted to go to the strip club to get some answers.

  It was time to start asking the questions the hard way.

  Being a nice guy simply wasn’t working.

  Chapter 5

  Nancy Demeers walked a block up Dixie until she saw a coffee shop. Dressed as she was in her blue hip-hugging dress, people would stare, but she didn’t care. She had done what was asked of her. She would collect her money and leave Toronto. Maybe it was time to visit her sister in Halifax.

  She pulled her cell phone out and called the number she was supposed to memorize.

  It was answered on the third ring.

  “Hello?” Nancy whispered into the phone.

  “Speak.”

  The man’s voice was deep, gravelly.

  “I did it. I told the man what you told me to say. I made sure he thought that his sister was taken out of the club. He knows exactly what you wanted him to know.”

  “Good.”

  “Can someone come with my money and pick me up?”

  “Sure. Where?”

  “I’m at Dixie Road and The Queensway in Etobicoke. I’ll be in a coffee shop on the Northwest corner.”

  “Ten minutes.”

  The man’s voice gave nothing away. No emotion, no appreciation, nothing. All it gave her was chills, even though the summer sun beat down on her exposed back.

  “You’ll have my money?”

  “Yes. We need his license plate number. Did you get that?”

  “Of course.” She recited it by heart. “There, you have everything you asked for. Did I do good
?”

  She wanted a pat on the back for a job well done. Some form of gratitude. But nothing was forthcoming.

  “Ten minutes. Be ready.”

  “Oh, wait. There’s two more things. He asked about the vodka.”