Abraham Lincoln was pushed through the slot, then vanished.
Jake looked impressed. “Now that’s magic. Woman’s not wearing a stitch, and yet she makes my money disappear from sight without so much as saying ‘abracadabra.’”
* * *
The men found two open seats next to one another at the stage. Their location allowed for a good vantage point for the bar and the room, as well as the stairway that led to what the signage identified as the Underground Club.
The lights were kept low, with most of the lighting directed to the dancer. At the moment, she was moving suggestively up and down on a pole positioned in the middle of the stage. Half a dozen women were working the tables and bar area. Within fifteen seconds of their being seated, a server approached them. Her outfit concealed very little, but did allow for a name tag that identified her as Oksana. She ran her hands up and down each of their arms.
“Strong, sexy men. Buy Oksana a stiff, stiff drink?”
“Hello, gorgeous,” Michael said. “As pretty as you are, I’m afraid we’ve got to disappoint you. The last time we were in here we promised Karina that we’d let her take care of us. So be a darling, and go tell her that Mickey D and the Dude are here.”
For a moment, Oksana’s false smile vanished, and perhaps a touch of uneasiness showed itself. Then again, with the amount of makeup she was wearing, Michael didn’t have the easiest time reading her expression. Most clowns weren’t as generous in their application of ruby-red lipstick as was Oksana.
“Karina no working,” she said.
“Well, that’s not what I wanted to hear.”
“What about her friend?” Jake said. “What was her name?”
“Natasha?”
“No, that don’t sound quite right.”
Michael snapped his fingers. “Nataliya!”
“You got it.”
Michael turned his attention back to Oksana. “Do me a favor, pretty lady, and tell Nataliya the boys are back in town.”
Clown makeup or not, this time there was no doubt about it. They’d hit a nerve, and Oksana’s face showed it.
“She not here.”
“Strike two. I told you we should have gone to Booty Y’all,” Jake said, referencing a nearby strip club.
Oksana said, “Pussy Cat Palace much better. What you want drink?”
Jake cupped his hand over his eyebrows and looked around. “You sure Karina and the love of my life, Nataliya, aren’t here? Every time we’ve been here, both of them were working.”
Without even a pretense of a smile, Oksana said, “No here.”
“You got their telephone numbers?” Michael asked. “I’d like to invite them to join our party.”
“No number. What you want drink?”
Michael sighed, and lifted his hands to Jake as if to say, “What can you do?” Aloud he said, “Vodka on the rocks.”
“Make that two,” Jake said.
“And speaking of getting our rocks off, the Dude and I are going to need two big glasses of ice water.”
“What vodka you want?”
“None of that Commie stuff. What’s in your well?”
“Smirnoff,” Oksana said, clearly disdainful.
“Works for us, and don’t forget our ice water in big glasses.”
“You run tab?” she asked.
“We pay cash as we go,” Michael said.
Grumbling under her breath, Oksana left them, and Michael and Jake turned their attention to the dancer, or at least gave the impression of doing so. Michael leaned forward, holding his face up with his palm while resting his elbow on the bar. That shielded half his face and allowed him to surreptitiously observe the room. After Oksana punched in their drink orders at the point-of-sales station, he saw her make a beeline for Slick. As she gestured toward them and began talking, Michael pretended to be caught up by the dancer’s performance.
* * *
Michael and Jake stayed seated at the stage for an hour. During that time, they ordered four drinks apiece, and their speech became louder, their behavior more obnoxious. When the ice water was delivered, they downed the liquid, leaving only ice. While appearing to drink the vodka, they never actually swallowed it, but transferred the contents from one glass to the other through their periodic sipping. With every second drink they insisted upon getting some “fresh ice.” Their charade allowed both men to be stone-cold sober.
The propositions had started within five minutes of their being seated. The men were repeatedly encouraged to join the women downstairs for a “private dance” in the Underground Club.
Oksana was the first to offer a lap dance, to which Michael said, “No offense, darling, but you’re no Karina. Now that’s one sexy girl. Any luck finding her?”
“Nataliya was the one who did it for me,” Jake said.
As the two men argued about the attributes of each woman, a fuming Oksana once more sought out Slick, furiously whispering to him.
After that, different women visited the men, trying to entice them downstairs. One woman told Jake, “I do best lap dance in world. Follow me to private place. Maybe free for you.”
“My daddy always told me there’s nothing more expensive than free,” he said. “You happen to be friends with Nataliya, darling? The two of us had an understanding that we’d be meeting up the next time I came into town.”
The woman’s name definitely had a chilling effect on the woman. She all but ran away.
The last dancer visiting them didn’t have better luck than the others. Michael told her, “You kind of look like Karina. You know her, right? Where is she?”
The woman couldn’t get away fast enough.
At the hour mark of their visit, Jake said in a voice that only Michael could hear, “Looks like we’ve done a good job of upsetting the hive.”
The two of them, Michael thought, had certainly managed to get noticed. He said, “I’m going to the head. Don’t be surprised if I’m not back for five or ten minutes.”
Jake gave Michael a skeptical side glance. “You need to do better than that. What’s up?”
“I’m hoping to ask the help a few questions without being observed. That’s why I need you to stay here and chill so that everything looks like it’s on the up-and-up.”
Jake still wasn’t buying it. “Don’t bullshit me. We’re a team, or we’re supposed to be.”
“Sorry,” Michael said. “You’re right. What I’m hoping is that my bathroom break will give me the opportunity to have a private chat with the manager.”
The explanation seemed to work for Jake. “I’m just a shout away,” he said.
Michael patted Jake’s shoulder, rose from his barstool, and pretended to catch himself from falling. Then he started out unsteadily in the direction of the restrooms. On stage a dancer was gyrating to Nicki Minaj’s “Megatron.”
Pretending to be the embodiment of the drinking lyrics that were part of the song, Michael sang his way toward the restroom. He didn’t turn around to take notice of Slick trailing after him; he didn’t have to.
Once he entered the unoccupied restroom, Michael considered his options, then chose to go into the stall farthest from the entrance. He heard a soft whoosh of air and knew the door to the restroom had been quietly opened. From inside his stall, Michael continued humming the music from “Megatron.” He wanted Slick to know exactly where he was.
The man was there to ask questions, Michael knew, and to threaten him. In order to get Michael’s immediate compliance, he’d probably have his gun leveled and waiting as he exited the stall. Still humming, Michael gauged where Slick was standing.
The stall opened inward. Slick knew that. What he didn’t know was that Michael hadn’t latched the door shut but was propping it closed with his hand. Slick also didn’t know that Michael had pocketed a shot glass while walking away from the stage. He lofted the shot glass, tossing it in the direction of the main door to the restrooms. As it shattered, Michael charged out of the stall.
&nb
sp; The noise had drawn all of Slick’s attention. As Michael had expected, the man’s gun was drawn. Three things happened almost instantaneously: in half a second, Michael grabbed Slick’s wrist, pointed the gun away from him, and kicked him in his balls. In the next half second, Michael disarmed Slick, swept his legs out from under him, and left him stunned and sprawled on the floor.
Speaking in a conversational voice, Michael asked, “Let’s talk about Karina and Nataliya, shall we?”
Slick began cursing. Without offering any warning, Michael’s left foot slammed into the side of Slick’s face, snapping it back and opening up a cut on his cheek. While Slick’s glazed eyes were having trouble focusing, Michael grabbed him by the ankles and threw him against the door, effectively blocking it.
“Let’s go over the ground rules here,” Michael said, his voice calm, his breath even. “The first rule is no cursing, and along with that I’d like you to keep your voice down.”
Slick pretended to think about that, then lunged for Michael’s legs. This time Michael used his right foot to catch Slick on his jaw and drive him backward against the door.
“There’s a second rule you’ll need to follow, and that’s no lying. I ask you a question, and you answer honestly.”
The downed man told Michael to do something that was physically impossible.
“You forgot rule one.” Michael’s kick connected with Slick’s mouth, driving his head against the door again and sending a tooth flying.
“Let me reiterate: there are only two rules. Do I need to repeat them for you?”
Although he was holding Slick’s gun, Michael wasn’t brandishing it or leveling it at the man. There was no need to. He was the threat, not the gun. Slick shook his head.
“I want to talk about Karina Boyko. You knew her, right?”
Slick offered up a reluctant “Yeah.”
“What about Nataliya?”
“She hasn’t been around the last coupla months.”
“What’s Nataliya’s last name?”
“Who remembers all those crazy Uke names? They got about a million vowels.”
Something in Michael’s stare helped Slick to remember. “Nahorny,” he said. “Only reason I remember it is I always thought it was a funny last name.”
Michael didn’t look amused. “Where is Nataliya now?”
“I hear she went back home to Ukraine.”
Michael shook his head, made a few tsk-tsk sounds, and said, “I’m afraid you’re not complying with rule two.”
Slick wiped some blood from his mouth and looked warily at Michael’s boots. “I really don’t know where she is. Maybe Andrei could tell you. He’s the big guy out front. The two of them would sometimes speak Uke to one another.”
“Have you ever had your nose broken before? It’s not pleasant.”
“Fu—” said the man, before remembering rule number one. Then he revisited rule two. “Andrei told me she wasn’t coming back. I don’t know nothing other than that. Vicky called her into her office to talk one night, and that’s the last time I seen her.”
“Tell me about Karina Boyko.”
“Sh—” The man bit off the rest of the word. He flinched a little, fearing Michael’s sweeping kick, but it never landed. “Just today I was told she’s dead. That’s all I know.”
He gave a side glance at Michael’s boots. “Really.”
“You don’t know how she died?”
“I know enough to not ask any questions.”
“I want to know about your party yacht that goes out with the dancers for booze cruises.”
“The Seacreto is Vicky’s thing. I got nothing to do with it. But I did hear when Vicky got the boat, she thought she was being clever with its name.”
“In what way?” Michael asked.
“Secreto is Spanish for ‘secret,’” Slick said.
* * *
Michael stumbled as he exited the club, caught himself, and started uncertainly down the walkway. He came to a sudden stop, seemed to reconsider where he was going, and turned around as if returning to the club. As he neared the entrance, he exited the pathway, staggering toward the side of the building and moving into the shadows away from the lights. He stumbled over to a concrete planter box with a shade tree, spread his legs, and reached for his zipper.
“No piss there,” Andrei shouted. “No piss there.”
Michael was swaying on his feet and showed no indication of having heard the bouncer’s yelling.
“You stop!” Andrei roared, rushing at him.
Michael was a shade over five eleven, and tipped the scales at 175 pounds. Andrei was six four and weighed at least 250 pounds. It wasn’t a fair contest.
Like a bullfighter, Michael used Andrei’s momentum, sidestepping and letting him slam into the concrete planter. In quick succession, Michael used a palm strike on Andrei’s nose, a cup slap to his ear, and a low kick that dropped the big man to one knee. With the staggered giant reeling and down, Michael methodically stepped behind his prey and applied a choke hold. While the vise tightened around his neck, Andrei bucked, then reached back and used his hands to try and break Michael’s hold. When that didn’t work, the bouncer raised himself from the ground and with a backward push drove Michael against the planter. Michael merely tightened his grip. Denied oxygen, the big man panicked. He whirled around, desperately trying to reach back to dislodge Michael; that only depleted his oxygen faster. Goliath crashed and burned, dropping to the ground. He slapped his big hand down once, then a second time, desperately tapping out. Michael loosened his hold just enough for Andrei to fight for a few breaths, all the while keeping the giant’s neck locked in the crook of his arm.
Speaking over Andrei’s sucking in of air, Michael said, “If you don’t want to be choked out, you need to answer my questions without lying. Understand?”
Between heaving breaths, the giant said, “Yes.”
“What happened to Nataliya?”
The lie was automatic. “I don’t . . .”
Michael’s vise grip tightened, cutting off Andrei’s air. Instead of submitting, the big man pushed backward, driving Michael against the wall. The bouncer writhed and twisted but, denied air, he fell to his knees. As he began blacking out, Michael allowed him enough air for a few labored breaths.
“Just so we understand one another, if you try my patience again, things will not go well for you. Consider this your last warning. Is that clear?”
The giant rasped, “Yes.” Judging by his slumped shoulders and beaten expression, there was no fight left in him.
“Good. I’ve already talked to your manager, and he told me the two of you were here on the night Nataliya disappeared. What happened?”
“Two men,” gasped Andrei, “take her.”
“What two men?”
“I don’t . . .”
Michael began tightening his grip, stopping the big man’s lie midsentence. Andrei desperately tapped out, and Michael reopened his air supply.
“It happen few months back.”
“Tell me about the two men.”
“Same men who just take Amerykans’kyy.”
Michael tried to understand what the man was telling him. “You’re saying the same two men who took Nataliya also took an American?”
“Same men. Vicky arrange.”
“And you were there when these men took each of those girls?”
His grunt affirmed that.
“Describe these men.”
“Both Amerykans’kyy.”
“I need more than that.”
“One big, the other not so big. Both white. The small man call big man Keebler.”
“Keebler?”
“Like favorite cookies of me.”
The Keebler elf, thought Michael.
“What else?”
“No else.”
Michael ratcheted up the pressure to help Andrei remember more. “You were there when the girls were taken, right? What did you see?”
Andrei sign
aled his compliance, and Michael eased his hold. “Nataliya taken from here. Vicky call her outside in delivery lot. Men put her in SUV with camper shell and shaded windows.”
“What about the American?”
“They take her from place she stay with others. Compound on private road on outskirts of DeFuniak Springs.”
The sound of footsteps on the pathway alerted Michael to company. “Almost didn’t see you in the shadows,” Jake said.
“Just finishing up.”
After Michael had tied the manager up in a restroom stall, he’d told Jake to hold off for five minutes before joining him outside.
“Do you know where Nataliya and the American were being taken?”
The bouncer hesitated just long enough for Michael to tighten his grip. That brought on a fit of coughing. When Michael eased the pressure, Andrei said, “Each time they drive big SUV with license plate from Nevada.”
In the distance the sounds of boisterous young males could be heard making their way toward the Pussy Cat Palace. Though the three men were in the shadows, Michael thought it was time to finish his interrogation.
“I wouldn’t mention this encounter to Vicky, or to anyone. Your manager, who is tied up in the men’s bathroom, agreed that it was in his best interests to keep quiet on the matter. We’re going to tie you up now, but we’ll do it in such a way that it won’t take you very long to free yourself. Don’t even think about following us. We’ve got your manager’s gun and prefer not to shoot you. Understood?”
Andrei nodded, or at least tried to nod over the obstruction of Michael’s crooked elbow.
“Nylon cuffs in my back pocket,” Michael told Jake.
XXX
Lily wiped the perspiration from her forehead. The crazy asshole was playing with the heat again. It was a favorite tactic of Mad Max. A few years ago, Lily had gone to a sleepover where she and her friends had binge-watched all the Mad Max movies. She couldn’t remember all that had happened but did recall some nightmarish figures. Her Mad Max would have fit in nicely in all that madness. The nickname seemed perfect for her captor.
Max loved being in charge of everything. There was no thermostat that she was able to access, just as she had no control over the air-conditioning. It was a power thing for him. He was like this creepy spider, and she was an insect in his web. The asshole didn’t even try to hide his monitoring of her through his spy cameras. In fact, it seemed a point of pride to him. During his visits, he liked to drop comments on what he’d seen her doing. Not that there was a hell of a lot she could do. The bastard could even control what she watched on TV, changing the channel whenever he wanted. And playing with the volume to annoy her. She was his TV show. There was no privacy from him.
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