SEVENTEEN
I've mostly erased from my mind the spectacle of dragging the Doc outside the convention center into our hotel room. We maneuvered across K St., him crawling when we reached NY Avenue. I kicked him a few times, but that wasn't working, so I shouted “you're ruining your costume” into the man's ear. Around us, the crowd of businessmen, or at least DC suits who profited off of other's business, and their female counterparts, snickered.
We entered the hotel. I got us lost and had to crisscross the lobby a few times. Finally in our room we sat down. I took out the cash I'd earned from the second job, mixed it in with the cash from the cash from the first, saw no noticeable increase in the size of the pile. Ansbach raced in and out of the room, looking for compatriots. He was so antsy, I decided to let him talk to his friends, as long as he stayed by the door.
Our abode itself was registered to an anonymous party. Might have been a setup by someone determined to take me away from the crowd, and shoot the doc in my presence. I wondered if him being out there was enough of a signal that I was willing to end this thing, but perhaps the killer was enamored of hearing the Doc go on at length how he'd manufactured his attire.
Well, perhaps our murdered would get bored. I could dream, couldn't I?
Clothes in a suitcase indicated a woman, late '30s maybe, bit too full of a figure, who by the scent wafting didn't much engage in shooting others, or buying quality perfumes.
Another hope dashed. I wouldn't be inviting her over later. Still, I was gonna need to leave the Doc alone that evening, and nothing convinced me he'd be safe there.
“Ansbach,” I said, addressing him without brutality for the first time since breakfast.
“Yes?” he offered meekly, but with a little too much hope.
“I gotta go out on my own for a while. There somewhere I can drop you, not alone, not in a crowd? You'll have to stay put.”
“Stay put. Not alone. Not alone. Not alone... yes. There is somewhere I can go.”
“Where?”
“You can put me in for a playdate!”
I shuddered to ask.
“How long would a playdate last?”
“Until the end... the end of the show. Nothing but playing. Not a thing except playing.”
Runner up for an award or something.
“And where would I drop you off?”
“The playroom!”
“Of course. And how could I be sure that you'd remain there?”
“I can't explain it. I'll have to show you.”
EIGHTEEN
We moved down the corridor, past half-vacant hallways into an area where the sounds of construction could be heard. Banging, and apparently remodeling.
Well, I told myself, it wasn't as if a show like this could get into a hotel during peak times.
The Doc grew more excited as we approached and banging picked up in volume.
“Nearly here, nearly here!” he shouted over the din.
Expecting the worst, we entered and caught site of two men busily assembling wooden crosses inside a suite. Normal workmen, really, except for the kilts and a few pro-Cthulhu decals on their sledgehammer. The crosses were of an X-shape, not the T I'd expect. Looking curiously at the Doc, he answered:
“Holds your weight better. I'll be on one of those a long time. A moment, please. Yes, the hitch, get it a little bit lower there. Of course, I'm not so tall. Not tall at all...”
A mousy lady appeared at our side. She looked reproachfully at me for arriving early, but seeing the Doc's enthusiasm, relented, stepping away from us to reappear with a clipboard. On it were sheets of paper, detailing how we were of age, that we had entered the room as consenting adults, understanding that all practitioners were willing, and that nothing occurring in this room would violate any of the statutes and regulations governing behavior in the District of Columbia.
“Will this room be crowded later?” I asked her.
She looked at me pityingly.
“Our playrooms are professionally laid out, and for many guests the star attraction. There will generally be 30 people in this room, some onlookers, some participants.”
“Can I leave him here?” I continued, pointing to the Doc, who was already fitting himself into a harness.
“Of course you can. But aren't you going to watch over him?”
“Nah, I'm just the escort. He'll find other friends.”
“Oh, well.” She looked at him again. “Atrue submissive?”
“Don't know if he passed the licensing exam. Are there necessary permits? Or can he pass?”
“Looks close enough to the real thing. Hmm, I don't suppose his level of interest could be faked, now could it?”
“He dragged me here.”
“I see. And you wish toleave him here, for how long?”
“A couple of hours. Say, 8-midnight.”
She looked down, checked over her schedule. Made a few notations.
“I think that can be arranged. If you don't think he'll run out of energy, or need breaks...”
“He might have to go to the bathroom or something.
“The form you signed indicated all messes of that sort are your responsibility.”
“Yeah.”
“But it's not wholly discouraged.”
“Right.”
“So, 8-midnight. We'll see you then.”
“Cool. I'll feed him,” I said, dragging Ansbach away from his unnatural caress of the wood grain.
“That one,” he was saying to the hostess. “I'm going to stay in that one!”
“I'll make a note.”
“Don't let anybody else have it.”
“I said, 'I'll make a note.'”
“We'll get out of your hair now,” I added, as politely and normally as I could, pulling the Doc away.
Figuring he had a long night ahead, I made the Doc eat from the room service menu. Thinking the whole time of lectures I'd given about never let the paid guests stay alone in your rented domicile, I kept faith with my anonymous benefactor: ordering only sandwiches for us, and a few sides, and of course a zesty beverage to accompany. Even tipped the waiter from my own pocket.
Execgal was supposed to show up later and recap the events of her day, but I still needed to get with the Doc's favored associate. So as Ansbach paced anxiously, I called Eveline and kept calling. Still no answer. I would have to head over there when traffic let up—discretion be damned if the lass was entertaining.
Execgal finally arrived, decked out in schoolgirl-ish attire with boots.
“You like?” she asked provocatively.
“I figured you more for the librarian type. Your loss, that kind of thing would be big here.”
She sniffed, felt at the back of her hair as if to tie it in a bun.
“Too late for a makeover. Think you watch over him for a little while? He's found a secluded area, but you won't be alone there.”
“Sounds... interesting.”
“You bet. Any news on the corporate front?”
“Nothing. The auditors are in place. And some SEC folks. And one guy from Nasdaq. They've pretty much kicked me out now.
“Well, hope you got enough shredding done.”
She didn't answer. But, then, it had been a long day for both of us.
NINETEEN
Relieved of my baby-sitting chores for the moment I called a friend to ask about the girl Doc and I had picked up before.
Liu was my friend at the shelter, and this time of day he was answering, in case somebody wanted to bust out before serving the darker needs of Washington's devoted public servants.
“Buddy, how's that girl I sent you?”
“Drake? Where the hell have you been? I tried calling.”
“What? And left no message. You know I move sometimes.”
“Yeah. Well, it's about that girl you sent me. The Thai.”
“I thought she was Chinese.”
“You would.”
“Well, at least you can tell I didn't g
et to know her well.”
“Yeah, didn't see her as your type. Would have been a legit massage, though.”
“So could she tell you anything?”
“Yeah, that you got in the middle of a salary dispute.”
“What?”
“They were asking for more money, these women. She's about 35, left Bangkok a long time ago. Willing to move from one city to another, but expects 60% of the take. Still youngish-looking, so she feels like she should earn that. And with the crackdowns, her bosses were Chinese, as much of a farang to her as you.”
“Liu, there were shots fired. It's gotta be more serious than you're telling me.”
“Ahh, fucking Chinese. Nobody was hit, right?”
“No.”
“So, that's that. Could have been worse.”
“Worse?”
“Yeah, the damn Filipinos'll whip out those butcher knives. Sharp things. They're good throwing 'em too.
“That's so... sensitive to you, Liu.”
“Hey, we only look alike to you guys.
“Right. So, Liu, where's she now?”
“Another town, or heading there. Need her for something?”
“Liu, she was mixed up with some people.”
“Of course.”
“Liu, some of the people she got mixed up with are dead.”
“So? You think they got some reason to make her dead too?”
“I can't figure out why any of 'em are dead. Makes it tough to figure out who might be dead next. I'm primarily interested in making sure that I'm not next. So while that happens, I figure I ought to keep everybody else alive, if only so there are more targets.”
“Drake—” Liu interrupted.
“Yeah?”
“Drake, that might be the most generous thing you've ever wanted. You are closer to your buddha nature now.”
“Buddha nature? What the fuck is that?”
“A special quality. Something internal. I figured you 'd only find it on the special low-budget fortune cookies at the really good Chinese restaurants. Look, I don't think this gal will be in any trouble. She worked in a salon, took a few 'boyfriends' on the side, cash on the barrel. Somebody's got pictures of her with the wrong guy—well, we all look alike to you. Trust me, she wasn't afraid for her life, she was afraid for her bank account.”
“Trust you, Liu?”
“It's gotta start with someone, Drake.”
“I don't think I'm ready to go that far in our relationship. I'm going to need more than that, big guy.”
“OK, OK, she hasn't gotten far. All right. These people, they have a job bank or something. Right now she's en route to a spot, right by a truck stop, East Tennessee. About 400 miles away. You up for it, you can drive it, take I-81 down.”
“East Tennessee? They even seen a Thai there?”
“Probably think she's Chinese. Don't get all moral on me, Drake. These girls are gonna work. I help them if they no longer want to. Boy Scout, you got her out of a bad scene. Not in the way you thought. But bad scene nonetheless. Now let it go.”
Eventually, I did. But I spent a few minutes staring at a business card in my hand.
Heading to the hooker's place, I caught the tail-end of traffic. So I split up Cabin John, hugged the river, and cut through some of the richest parts of Maryland. Ancient houses, gates, guards, the wealth of a nation siphoned off to make a few people happy. Fittingly, the roads were awful in this part of town, but I'd been there previously, knew when to cut away from the schools, when speed bumps wouldn't nail my shocks, and where the cops always sat.
After dodging an ice-cream truck with delusions about the eating privileges granted to rich preschoolers with horrid application processes, I came to a street one half-block from Eveline's.
Three cop cars blocked my way. Sirens blared behind me and I saw an ambulance approach. I'd caught this scene before, so I sat back in the truck and clicked the radio.
“Unknown man found unconscious today in a North Potomac home. The owner of the property, Eveline D'abreze,”—that could not be her real name. Well, local reporters—“accused by her neighbors of running an escort service.”
Unconscious. Must have been a vigorous session. Or maybe the man'd been on pills. Nah.
“... police have searched the house and discovered several chambers believed to contain—is that right—yes, facilities containing chains, whips, branding irons and other implements of 'torture.'”
Torture. Right. Must have been another room.
“... a spokesman would not confirm whether the home also held photographic or video-taping apparatus.”
Sheesh, how out of date could these people be. Stuff that like went straight to digital. Well, at least their minds were on the important stuff. I pulled up the laptop again and tapped in to check the police network.
“.... police have begun to subpoena phone records, and you can see, behind me, them pulling the computers stored in the home.”
No problems there. I'd called Eveline on her cell. And the “computer" was a Mac, so the cops would never be able to hack the thing in any kind of timeframe. I was a bit hurt that she'd taken it upon herself to go and knock out other customers while the Doc was with me, but she wasn't my gal, and maybe she missed his peculiar tendency to fall unconscious at the flick of the wrist or kick of the heel.
Didn't explain how I was going to find her, though. And vaguely, I wondered if she might even be alive. But then, she was a vet, and since her body wasn't anywhere to be seen, odds were the gal knew to make herself scarce. Or else her body'd show up at Ansbach's vacation suite, way my luck was going.
News reports had the unconscious man taken to a hospital near the Rockville-Gaithersburg line, just before the fast food and chain stores along the Pike repeat. Far from the standards of Georgetown Med, Border Hospital somehow managed to lose its emergency room accreditation, while blasting the airwaves with fertility programs, prenatal care, and wellness initiatives a car accident victim was sure to appreciate when they lost your stretcher, with you on it, for an hour or two.
In these troubled times, joint was a hotbed of security measures. So I strolled untouched through the front entrance, past the bored guards, and into the ER hallway.
Slow night, so while the nurses and orderlies continued their chatter, I quickly narrowed down where the patient couldn't be. It was mostly a matter of avoiding the Hispanics. I scanned through the CT area, where my limited medical training, derived from watching hospital shows when too lazy to reach for the remote, said Eveline's guest might be. Not there.
Cops were milling about in one section, but a particular hot nurse in the area deserved a hello. Given my past experiences with this hospital, I figured the man was probably in pediatrics, owing to his lack of ID showing age greater than 18. But nobody except some bored and lonely kids, over-active parents, and one mom who freaked at my eternal tobacco residue—her little one perhaps the reason why peanut farming would soon be outlawed.
It had gotten so desperate, I thought of asking a human for info. Not that I couldn't lie to a staffer, but seeking that data in meatspace was beneath me. But the terminals locked out after only a minute or two, so I couldn't do a private search, and a glut of lawyers in the field of medical privacy left the infotechs well-paid and vaguely competent.
Torn, I sat for a moment in the respiratory wing, heard a man breathing hard right behind me. I looked. Bandaged, forlorn, utterly neglected, and inhaling through a nebulizer lay Sherm Hannigan, head of the bureau evaluating Ansbach's meds.
He turned to me, blurrily. Smiled vaguely.
“Uh... yes.”
“Hey Doc.”
“I'm… more of a laboratory person… Mr. Drake. Though I do possess a Ph.D., it's not really an appropriate appellation in a hospital setting.”
“I've been calling lots of people Doc lately, Mr. Hannigan. 'Sides, you're a Doc when you need a table on short notice, right?”
“Matters quite little… in the Washington, DC,
area, Mr. Drake.”
“I've clued in to that lately. Well, what brings you here?”
He eyed me narrowly for a time.
“I was—”
“Yeah?”
“Well… if you must know… Mr. Drake, I'd been seeking your... friend. Dr. Ansbach.”
“At an outcall joint in the 'burbs. Really?”
“Well… yes. Only… I'd only known that he had… something of a lady friend there.”
“And who turned you on to that info?”
“I… well, it's… you see, something of a common bit of knowledge.”
“Try again. Took me a while to find the place.”
“Well, you didn't… have access to the financial records of Agate Pharmaceuticals. You can tell… quite a bit… from the person that a doctor gives shares in a company to.”
He had me there. I'd had access. But never looked.
“So, you tracked Eveline down that way. Any idea how you came to be lying on the floor unconscious? I looked him over. With multiple bruises, and what appears to be a fractured cheekbone?”
“Hmm. Well… it's something… of a story there.”
“Yeah? She tie you up first? You met her, at least.”
“I... certainly, I did. She was quite... enthusiastic. You know, really paid… close attention to me when I spoke of research I'd once been involved in—I wasn't always a… bureaucrat, as you must think of me, Mr. Drake. In fact, I—”
“Get the picture. Things led. Been long for you?”
“Uh, no. But I confess I ended up... in a bit of a daze. You see, I'd not really experienced...”
“Oh, come on, Hannigan. Bio-chem had all the babes back when I went to school.”
“When… was that?”
“It wasn't. Deed's done, she... wandered away for a time?”
“I... I suspect so, Mr. Drake.”
“And you don't have any idea who might have gone to town with the added bonus?”
“I—no.”
His face was too patched up to see if there'd been scratches on his cheek. Toughest things to hide when the cameras came. The arms, what I could see stretching out from his gown, had nothing obvious. Eveline could have taken care of him in a heartbeat, so I bought the intro if not the package.
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