“Yes. I’ve been.”
“You’re cooperative today, Frank,” she said. She sounded pleased. “Are you thinking of escaping?”
“I can’t control what you do, but I can control what I do.”
That tinkle of laughter again. “You never cease to amaze me, Frank. No matter how it ends, I’m going to enjoy having known you.”
“What are you going to do to the others?” I said.
“Always thinking about others. Such an admirable thing. Watch, Frank. You’ll see. Would you like a drink?”
“Some water, please.”
A bottle of spring water appeared beside my face. Her hands were well tended, her nails long and gleaming like claws in the light.
“Are you going to hold that for me?” I said.
“Will you be a good boy?” she said lightly. “I have extra security here tonight…”
“Yes,” I said.
“Cuff his hands in front,” she ordered.
Leroy opened one cuff while Armando pressed his revolver against my head. In a seat nearby, a middle aged women, slim and well kept, in an expensive pants suit, watched with her mouth open in wonder and avidity. Leroy cuffed my hands together in my lap, then dropped the water bottle into my linked hands. The muscle boys were very well behaved in Miss Emerald’s presence. Maybe it was all the eyes watching them. There were at least fifty people in the theater, with more trickling in.
Black clad technicians moved a red velvet covered bed frame onto the stage, then brought in a mattress and made it up with red satin sheets. The bed frame had low posts at all four corners. Red velvet rope with a padded manacle dangled from each post. The audience trembled with anticipation as they watched the assembly of the bed. Low music played, something insistent like the Bolero. The stage lights gleamed off the red satin like fresh blood.
“The first entertainment is for you, Frank,” Miss Emerald said. “I wonder what you’ll think of it.”
The lights dimmed twice. The standing audience members hurried to their seats. A collective hush fell across the room. The music swelled. The spotlight on the red satin bed dimmed slightly. Another spotlight illuminated the double doors through which I’d come. The doors opened and the light fell on a figure. It was Luella Pound, her long blond hair falling across a red silk gown tied loosely around her. Her pregnant belly swelled the gown. Two men dressed in black, wearing black executioner masks, stood on either side of her. They held her arms at the elbows and slowly marched her into the room. The spotlight followed them. They took her to the bed and stood there, then turned her ceremoniously so that all could see her face. Her head was bowed, her face sluggish and drugged.
“Rohypnol with a sedative, if you’re wondering,” Miss Emerald said in a voice cast for my ear only. “It’s quite effective. And it doesn’t harm the baby, at least not much. We don’t want that, do we? Those babies, these girls…they’re quite valuable. Or they can be, when properly managed. And entertaining…I wonder how entertaining you’ll be, Frank.”
Luella had a child’s face, soft and unformed, swollen with pregnancy. She stood passively, her hands at her side, her head bowed. Then the hooded man at her right opened her gown and let it slip from her shoulders. She was naked, her breasts large and firm over her swollen belly. The men stepped back and let the light play over her. Her pubis was shaven, a shocking contrast to her full belly. Then the men came forward and guided her to the bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress, her feet and knees together, her hands resting palm down on her thighs, and she looked straight ahead, not seeing the faces in the crowd devouring her nakedness and her vulnerability.
A single tear ran down her cheek.
“All right,” I said. “That’s enough. I’ll do what you want.”
Her maddening laugh. “Oh, Frank. Gallant Frank. It’s too late for that now. Our guests came for their entertainment and I won’t deny them their show. Luella is merely an appetizer. A warm up. You’re a man, you’ll find something to enjoy in the show. Enjoy, Frank.”
They expected me to make a move. Petey had his cattle prod in my lap, the electrodes pressed against my lower belly, and the cold barrel of Armando’s revolver pressed against the back of my head.
“You don’t need to do this,” I said.
“But I do, Frank,” she said. “I surely do.”
Manfred Wollheim laughed. His little mistress said, “Who is he?”
“Hush,” Wollheim said. “Watch the show.”
A spotlight speared out of the overhead rack and illuminated me. It was bright and hot, but it didn’t blind me to the stage. The music became a stately march and then another overhead spotlight settled on a different set of doors. The doors opened and a tall figure, swathed in scarlet robes, stood there. An oversized hood hid the face and long sleeves hid the hands. Slowly, in step with the music, the figure moved forward into the ring of light illuminating the bed. The hood slipped back and light shone from the shaven head of a white man in his twenties. A coal black mustache and goatee set off his pale skin. His eyes were narrow and green. He turned slowly, scanning the audience. His gaze lingered on me and I saw a faint smile come across his lips. He looked over me at Miss Emerald and Wollheim, then opened the sash of his robe and let it fall away. He was wiry and muscled with no body fat to speak of. Elaborate tattoos covered his shoulders and upper arms. He turned around slowly so that all could see him. His penis was large and partially erect, but he ignored Luella while he turned on display. After his slow turn, his movements became stylized, like an actor on a stage.
He lifted Luella’s chin with one hand, standing so the audience could see the tip of his penis bobbing inches from her lips. He turned her face one way and then the other, as though he were examining her for flaws. Then he gripped her jaw firmly and pulled her to her feet. She wavered for just a second when she stood. He stepped behind her, then cupped her heavy breasts in his hands. His face over her shoulder was as emotionless as if he were weighing melons at the market. He ran his hands down over the slope of her belly. He cupped her breasts again, then slid his hands down her belly, over her hips.
I looked away. The faces in the crowd were fascinated, aroused, even uneasy and uncomfortable. They’d paid well for this and they meant to get their money’s worth. A man about the same age as the man on the stage whispered to a girlfriend in a low cut dress and slid his hand across her thigh.
…Frank, we’re coming…
The goateed man slowly turned Luella so she faced the bed. Then he pushed her onto the mattress, posing her on her hands and knees. The stage began a slow, barely perceptible rotation, so that all the audience could see.
Some of them were watching me.
The light was on me for that reason. They wanted to see my face, to see impotence and frustration and anger. But I hid all that seething within me.
Or so I thought.
“He’s her father,” someone whispered.
“Or a boyfriend,” another said.
I was part of the show.
The goateed man posed her, then kneeled behind her, his hands on her hips. His erect penis bobbed inches away from her smooth buttocks. The stage rotated faster. No one wanted to miss what they were going to see.
I stared up at the spotlight to burn out what was happening in front of me.
“What’s wrong, man?” Armando whispered. “You don’t want to see? She’s a juicy little bitch, don’t you want to see her fucked like a little doggy?”
“Quiet,” Miss Emerald ordered.
Armando dug the revolver sharply into my neck, shoving my head forward.
On the stage, the man entered Luella from behind, and with one hand pulled her hair back so that her face was exposed.
“Not to your liking, Frank?” Miss Emerald said. “I wonder how you’ll like our event with the child. Do you like children, Frank? I imagine you would. We have such great fun with them before we sell them.”
A door suddenly opened and then closed, casting a brief bu
rst of light across the audience seats. Several people turned to see the disturbance. Two black clad security men hurried to the box.
“Mr. Wollheim?” the first one said. “We have a problem.”
“Keep your voice down,” Wollheim hissed. “What is it?”
“There’s someone loose in the parking area smashing client cars.”
“Kids?”
“We don’t know. The lights are out all over the parking area all the way down the road to the front gate. Someone hit a pole on the road.”
“Well, go see to it. Why are you here?”
The security man was embarrassed. “You told us to tell you if there was something out of the ordinary, sir. This is out of the ordinary.”
Miss Emerald spoke. “Armando, go with them and see to this.”
“I should stay here…” Armando said.
“Now,” Miss Emerald ordered. “Leroy can move back in your seat. We can deal with Frank. Go see to this right away. I don’t want any client’s car damaged.”
Armando stepped out of the box and holstered his revolver in a vertical shoulder holster. He shrugged his coat over it. “Let’s go, maricon,” he said to the security guard. “You can’t find some fucking farm kids?”
Leroy moved to take Armando’s place behind me. He pressed a Glock against my head. Petey kept his cattle prod in my lap.
“You behave, Frankie,” Armando said. “I’ll be right back.”
He and the two guards stopped to look at the stage, grinned, then went out the side door.
The light burned my eyes. Or something else. I didn’t want to look. I made myself catalog exits, study the crowd, anything other than the obscenity in front of me. Some of the crowd watched me. Some gloated, others looked troubled as though nagged by some shred of decency, but most avidly devoured the sex act in front of them. My distress was spice for their meal. A grossly obese man with a shaven head, an Armani suit straining over his fat, waved to an attendant, who hurried to his side. They had a whispered discussion and then the attendant chalked the figure $2000 on a slate he carried and held it up so that others could see.
“That’s a low bid,” Miss Emerald said softly. “It will go much higher.”
“For what?” I said.
A tinkle of laughter. “For whatever he wants, Frank. Except he can’t hurt her or the baby. Not yet.”
I’d never felt the kind of loathing I felt right now. I felt as though I’d been bathed in shit and set upon by rats. But I kept working, gauging the attention of my two guards, the men at the door, the faces in the crowd.
I heard a faint whimper from the stage. I looked at her face, still slack with drugs, but something struggled to come out. Tears streaked her cheeks.
Petey was watching intently. An erection strained against his too tight dress slacks. Leroy’s breathing changed, became short and fast as he became excited.
…Frank, we’re coming…
Now.
I raised my water bottle to my lips, and then I swung hard right and out of the seat, the cattle prod flying to one side, and then I slapped the muzzle of Leroy’s Glock aside as I wrapped both hands around it and stripped it out of his grasp. I kicked hard against the outside of Petey’s knee, then dashed for the door. A security guard raised a hand and I fired at him. He jumped back as I hit the door, twisting the knob and then I was running down the hall of cells, my sandals slapping against the floor. There was another security guard at the end of the hall, his head tilted to one side as he listened to his earpiece, and I kicked him in the knee then whipped the pistol against his head, then drove on, no time to stop for anyone or anything. I had surprise and violence of action to get me out of here. I ran into the big living room, voices behind and ahead of me. There was the huge plate glass window and I ran at it, firing the pistol to fracture the glass and then I hit it, shattering outwards in a rain of glass shards. I was out and rolling, cut but free and I still had rounds in the pistol. I lost one sandal but I kept running down a long expanse of lawn. I heard shots, nowhere near me, then a round kicked up dirt by my feet and I kept going into the trees, more gunshots and then…
…turn right, Frank, follow the trees down to the parking area…
I turned right and followed the trees and there was a big field with many cars parked in it and there were shouts and flashlights milling in the dark. I skirted the edge of the field and then…
…past the field and then down the road, Frank, when you hit the road turn left and keep going…
I kept to the edge of the field, crouched low, my pistol ready, and then ran through a low ditch with a few inches of water in it, then I was standing on a paved road. I turned left and kept going, and then…
…behind the tree, Frank…
…behind a tree was a battered blue Jeep Wrangler. Marcos stood there with my shotgun shouldered and aimed in my direction. Ryan was behind the wheel. Rake pushed himself up slowly from the back seat.
“Frank!” Marcos said. “Hurry up!”
I ran. Marcos, limping, helped me into the back of the Jeep. Rake blinked his eyes as though he’d just emerged from deep sleep.
“We need to hurry,” he said. “They’re not far away.”
Ryan turned the ignition key and the Jeep roared into life. He pulled away quickly, working the clutch and shifting fast through the gears. The Jeep’s heavy duty tires rumbled down the pavement, then became a whir as we picked up speed.
“Are they coming?” Ryan said, looking in the rear view mirror at Rake.
“Can’t see,” Rake said. “But they have vehicles. Hurry.”
Rake’s face was pale and drawn. He blinked sleepily, breathing deeply as though to clear his head. He smiled and nodded at me. “You’ve been through a lot, Frank.”
“Were you there all along?” I said.
“Part of it,” he said. “I had a hard time getting to you when you were having your…episode. Once the Zyprexa kicked in, it was easier to get through. There was so much confused hostile energy around you I couldn’t be clear, but I thought it was you.”
“So you saw everything?”
“Most of it.”
“You see my intention?”
He nodded, wearily. “We’re all in it with you. It needs to be done.”
Marcos looked over his shoulder. “We’re in, hermano.”
Ryan looked in the rear view mirror. “That’s right, Mr. Lovelady.”
“Frank,” I said. “Call me Frank. All my friends do.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
i.
All of us were in my front room, just like we’d gathered the day before I vanished. Ryan stood guard by the front window, the big shotgun in his hands. Rake stretched out full length on the couch, the back of his arm pressed against his eyes. Sarah tended to Marcos, changing a leaking red bandage. I sat in an armchair.
Everything had changed.
They knew about my illness now. Maybe more. I hadn’t asked Rake about that yet. But he knew.
“How are we going to do this?” Marcos said. “Do we go to Spenser with what we’ve got? Is that enough to get them out there?”
“I don’t know if Spenser is going to want to hear this,” I said. “He won’t take my word for it. And this is all past that point anyway. Due process isn’t going to help us or those kids back there.”
“This is bigger than us, Frank,” Marcos said. “This is what Spenser does. We should go to him with what we’ve got. We’re sitting here with guns, man! This isn’t Hollywood and I’m not John Wayne.”
“It’s no good going to the police,” Rake said. He kept his arm over his eyes. “There was a police supervisor’s car out there. Frank’s word might get somebody out there to investigate his claim, but Emerald and Wollheim have the juice to stall or defer that. What else could we tell them? That I remote viewed the whole thing? I’ve looked down the line at this and I don’t see us getting any outside help. I can’t tell about Spenser.”
“We should talk to him,” Marcos sa
id. “He’d believe you and me, Rake. He knows us.”
“We can’t count on any help,” Ryan said. “It’s down to us. We have to do something.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Sarah said. “Marcos is right. We need the police.”
“Frank needs time to come back,” Rake said. He lifted his arm and looked at me. His cornflower blue eyes were unsettled; he’d been looking at things none of us could see.
I did need time to come back. But the images in my mind drove me: Luella Pound’s tears. A child crying in fear. Babies twisting in the sweaty hands of their buyers. The smug, satisfied faces of Emerald and Wollheim.
“We don’t have much time,” I said. “They’re going to make a move soon. They know I know what they’re doing…”
“We all know,” Rake said.
“…but I’m the only eye witness,” I said. “They know where I’m at, and they know I had help.”
“They’re too busy covering their tracks right now,” Rake said. “But you’re right. They’re not going to let you go.”
I rubbed my hands over my face. “They won’t let any of us go.”
Sarah touched my shoulder. “You should lay down. Can I fix you something to eat?”
“Not now, Sarah,” I said. “How long have I been gone?”
“Seven days and seven nights,” Marcos said. “In the belly of the beast.”
That was a good metaphor. And there were others there still. There was no walking away from this. It needed to be taken head on with a full frontal assault, no quarter, no mercy.
“You rest, Frank,” Ryan said from the window. “We’ll take turns on guard.”
Rake sat up and washed his face with his hands.
“What do you see, Rake?” Marcos said.
“I need to rest,” Rake said. “I can’t see when I’m like this.”
“How did you do it?” I said.
“Marcos called me when you didn’t come back,” Rake said. “We found your car and went to the apartment. It was vacant. Whoever was there just took off. So I started a search for you.”
Lovelady Page 19
