by H L Stephens
My limo pulled up at the club's front door, and for just a moment raw, frigid fear coursed through me. It was one thing to receive the crew's praise for my appearance. It was a different experience entirely to stand before a group of men whose eyes were trained to spot the forgeries and have them believe I was what I claimed to be.
I whispered into the air, "I'm not certain if I can pull this off."
I heard the voice of Dorthia say, "Believe it yourself, and you will. Remember, you are not Jane anymore. You are YanMei. The very heart of seduction. You belong wherever you are. Remember that as you approach. Say it over and over until you believe it yourself."
I told the driver I was ready to leave and waited for him to come around to open the door. All the while, I whispered, "I belong. I belong."
Dorthia said, "I didn't mean you were to say it aloud dear."
"Oh sorry," I whispered just as the limo door opened.
The lights from Lucky Chang's entryway hit me in the face. I could see the sea of faces staring into the limo eager to discover what person of distinction had arrived.
"Better not keep them waiting," Dorthia prompted.
I stuck my hand out to the limo driver and stepped out to meet my public. I remembered the clutch that contained all my hidden goodies. I was tempted to reach back inside and grab it myself, but then I remembered all eyes were on me.
"Driver, my bag please," was all I said.
As the driver fetched my clutch, I adjusted my dress, pretending to be oblivious to the rest of the world. My thoughts drifted to Meiqiang. Every movement I made was with the same grace and beauty I had always seen her exhibit.
With clutch in hand, I bypassed the front of the line and walked straight up to the wall of Asian men guarding the door. I looked into the eyes of each of them until I found the one I knew was in charge. I gave him a sly little smile and placed my hand gently upon his chest.
"I am YanMei," I said in soft Mandarin. "They await me inside."
I removed my hand from his chest and waited.
The man stepped towards me. He took a deep inhalation of breath as though he wished to savor the scent of a flower.
"Lilacs," he said.
I smiled and nodded.
"I like lilacs," was all he said as he waved me into the club. My heart raced as I walked past the other men. I made a point to smile and bow my head in a coquettish fashion as I did so.
I heard Dorthia say to the others, "My God, she's a natural," just as my hearing was bombarded by the pulsating rhythms of Lucky Chang's dance music.
The club was part dance hall, part bar, part lounge, and part surreptitious-backroom-illicit-activity-brokerage hall. It was a bit like the stateside Chinese black market version of Portobello Road...everything and anything a man could desire was sold within the walls of Lucky Chang's except instead of antiquities and books, it was usually something illegal. Flesh, drugs, guns, stolen art, blood diamonds. And it was all set to music.
The door to the club opened onto a platform of sorts that was bathed in light, perfect for announcing to everyone in the club who had just arrived. It was each person's opportunity to showcase themselves before stepping into the anonymity of pulsating darkness and strobing lights. I made the most of it. Dorthia had said I should make an entrance Kovalski was certain not to miss.
I had seen enough movies and watched enough of the ladies at Cheeky's as they practiced their moves to know what to do with myself as the club world came to a virtual standstill to watch the woman in the pearlescent white dress. I must have done something right for when I was done making a spectacle of myself and was ready to join the underbelly of society, the club erupted in applause and shouts.
I was elated and ashamed all at the same time. I had successfully vaulted over my first two hurdles in this game of charades. I made it through the door of the club and had generated enough of an artful display of myself to catch the attention of every ne'er-do-well in the place. The thing was, as I proceeded down the steps of the club into the awaiting bosom of darkness, I knew that nothing I had just accomplished would have made my father or mother particularly proud. This was not the sort of thing a "good girl" did, and it sickened me to think just how far away from that definition I was getting with each passing moment.
It took me fifteen minutes to get from the bottom of the stairs over to the bar thanks to the throng of new admirers. I had more offers of evening employment thrown in my direction than I care to enumerate. Had I been a true woman of easy virtue, I would have made a hefty fortune without ever having broken a sweat. My goal however was Kovalski, and I still had yet to find him.
I spoke to everyone in a silken Mandarin tongue and pretended not to understand the illicit offers of entertainment I received. I left each potential suitor in the dust with a smile and the deepest regret they did not speak my language. I was nearly at the bar when I met the first person who could actually answer me back. I had not even looked in the man's direction when I rejected his offer of company. When he addressed me again in Mandarin instead of English, I gave him a second look.
"So I catch your notice now?" he asked.
"Perhaps," I said. "These flashing lights make it hard for me to tell if I like what I see."
I heard Marcus say, "We are running facial recognition protocol now."
The man was taller than I was, though he was of average height and build for a male. He was Asian with a thin scar through his left eyebrow that was just significant enough to prevent the hairs from growing where the injury had occurred. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail. His clothes were pristine and hip; a little too hip, as though they had been picked out of a magazine at a newsstand. Something was off about him which screamed he did not belong in this place of unsavory dealings. A picture perfect bad boy with great hair.
"He's a cop," Marcus squeaked, and then suddenly everything made sense.
"Ditch him Jane," Dorthia barked. "Fast."
I looked the man up and down as if I was surveying a menu in a restaurant, after I had already eaten. I pouted my lip just a touch, then smiled.
"Perhaps we will play some other time, but not tonight," I said, and moved on.
I could feel his eyes watching me as I moved on. I had bigger fish to fry, and I had no intention of being reeled in by some vice cop looking to make a name for himself.
As I made my way through the crowd, I was beginning to lose hope that Kovalski was even there, until I saw a herd of Asian girls and recognized the man sorting through them looking for the prettiest girls in the group. I remembered him from photos of Kovalski's known associates. My heart began to race. All of my training had led me to this moment, but any appearance on my part of being anxious would blow everything. I had to maintain my composure and pretend as though I hadn't a care in the world. I walked right past the Bratva henchman but not before purposefully causing some poor guy to knock into his neighbor, drawing everyone's attention in my direction.
The collision was a catalyst for a near brawl between the two men involved, but I artfully stepped in and prevented it. I never looked directly at the Bratva guard, but I sensed him watching me as I wove my web of charm around the would-be opponents. Neither one could understand me, but my message was clear. They parted ways without a punch, and I turned as if I intended to continue on my way. The Bratva guard stopped me by grabbing my wrist.
Though I was no native speaker myself, I had never heard Mandarin spoken with a Russian accent before. It was harsh and guttural; very challenging to follow. Somehow I managed to comprehend that he was trying to hire me for the evening. I gently pulled my wrist from his grasp, bowed, and declined. I turned from the Bratva guard and began to walk away.
The crew erupted in my ear. Dorthia was at least intelligible in her shouts. She told me to get my hinny back to where Kovalski was and do the job I had been commissioned to do. The other members of the crew were shouting over one another in a cacophony of useless noise I could not understand over the din of m
usic. I was tempted to take the earbud out, but I didn't. I just kept walking, choosing instead to listen to the music rather than the complaints which built to a painful crescendo in my ear.
Without warning, I felt my arm being ripped out of its socket. The Bratva goon was dragging me back to where he had been.
"That wasn't a suggestion little tart," he said. Instead of stopping where the flock of girls was congregating, he took me to one of the secret cubbyholes reserved for forbidden dealings. If I had wondered where Kovalski was, I had now officially found him.
The Bratva guard dog threw me down into the seat next to Kovalski. He was even bigger in person than he appeared in his surveillance videos, and he smelled like a montage of varying men's colognes artlessly applied all at the same time. It burned my eyes and tickled my sinuses in an unpleasant way. It took all of my self-control not to shove the cocktail napkin up my nose in defense.
Kovalski glared at me as if expecting me to crumple like a wilted flower before him. Not wishing to grant him such satisfaction, I did the very thing he didn't expect. I began to preen as if my abrupt entry into the cubby had occurred due to a highpoint in the carpet. I straightened my dress, smoothed my hair, and looked him straight in the eyes with no evidence of fear. I said nothing. I merely waited.
Silence is magical. The average person has a complete aversion to it, and the criminal mastermind is not immune to its power of intimidation. The ability to maintain perfect silence is an art and can be a potent weapon when used correctly. Kovalski was not comfortable with the silence, nor was he at ease with me staring at him with no indication of alarm or trepidation upon my features. He was used to commanding dread if not outright terror in others, and he had brought me to him with the expectation that I would tremble before him, just like all the others. My response intrigued him and galled him all at the same time.
"So, you do not wish to party with me?" Kovalski asked in Mandarin. His jaw muscles worked in painful rhythm beneath his flesh as he ground his teeth together. His annoyance was evident. "I think it would be very bad for business for someone of your talents to turn away clients so quickly."
My thoughts needed fleet footwork to invent an acceptable reason for my apparent slight. Kovalski was the sort of man who would kill you just for making him wait too long for a drink at the bar. My actions could very well bring down his wrath upon me with permanent and deadly consequences. Even as my heart raced, I continued to present a calm veneer.
I looked out into the crowd of revelers and saw the all-too-perfect undercover cop watching me. I reached over and picked up the glass of whatever it was Kovalski was drinking.
Without taking my eyes off the cop, I said, "I make it a habit never to conduct negotiations under the watchful eyes of the law. That is bad for business."
My voice dripped with silken undertones. I raised the glass to the officer and pretended to take a drink. Kovalski immediately turned his attention in the direction I was looking. He saw the officer who wisely realized the scariest Russian mobster in the city was now interested in him. The cop blended back into the crowd but not before Kovalski set two of his men after him.
"Do you speak English?" Kovalski asked.
"When it pleases me," I answered.
"Well it pleases me," Kovalski said in English. "All this Chinese makes my head hurt."
"As you wish," I replied in English, though I made sure to add a Chinese accent as I spoke, remembering how Meiqiang sounded as she sounded out the English words I taught her.
"How did you know he was a cop?" Kovalski asked.
I reached out and gently took Kovalski's hand into my own. I placed the glass in his palm and said with a smile, "I learn a great many things by observing. It is not enough to know how to bring pleasure to my clients. I must also be shrewd enough to protect my clients from those who would wish to ensnare them. That gentleman showed great interest in me when I first arrived, but he paid a great deal of attention to you as well, which caused me to ask why. Therefore, when your man approached me, I said no. I had no desire to bring you any disgrace or trouble because of what I am."
Kovalski's men came back and shook their heads. An exchange occurred between the three of them as the men reported what had happened. I got the general translation from the crew that the cop had gotten away. I was relieved to hear the news, but I pretended, for appearances sake, to be enthralled with my nails.
"You're an odd one for a whore, I'll give you that," Kovalski said. "It would appear that your intuition was right. He was a cop, but unfortunately he escaped. The evening might have been more entertaining if he had been detained, though," Kovalski slid closer to me, "I think there will be plenty to keep me amused without him."
Kovalski put one hand on my knee and the other around my shoulders. It took everything within me not to recoil from his touch.
"My terms?" I asked.
Kovalski laughed.
"I care nothing for your terms," he said. "You will earn whatever you ask for."
The smile on his face made the bile rise in my throat. I gave a small smile in return. I swallowed the bile as much as I could, and said, "It is settled then. Wherever you go, I follow."
"Ura!" Kovalski exclaimed. To his men, he said, "Bring the tasties," indicating the other girls.
Kovalski put his arm around my neck and shouldered me towards the door. There was no going back for me; no changing my mind about the op. I was stepping into the belly of a hellish beast, and it was drunk on vodka and violence.
The Devil's Right Hand
Evil has a way of drawing you in and becoming your master. Sometimes the process is subtle; sometimes is a bit like getting hit by a Mack truck. Either way, once evil gets its claws in you, it is reluctant to let you go.
I had just successfully seduced the worst of men. I wasn't one of the girls he was going to take back to his stronghold to party with. I was the girl - his girl. His personal Asian tasty. Sometimes in life you strive to be the best, like in a spelling bee or in Little League, but at the moment Kovalski put his sex-crazed arm around me, I knew I had really screwed things up for myself with this accomplishment. Dread settled in like an unwelcome houseguest the moment I realized how deep the hole was I had dug for myself.
My first moment of real alarm came after Kovalski ushered us into the limo. The crew had been watching this pervert for some time, and they were familiar with his routine for picking up women at the club. It was always the same. He took them back to his slimy little hangout up the road from the club, did his partying, and then dropped them off again a day or two later. There was no deviation.
When Kovalski pulled out the blindfolds and insisted that each girl put one on, I knew we were in trouble. This was not part of the plan. The crew had to know what was happening.
"So we are to go blindfolded then?" I asked, batting my eyes at Kovalski as I twirled my fingers around the end of the scarf he had given me.
Kovalski moved in close, his lips mere inches from my own. His breath was sour from liquor and infrequent brushing.
"It is for your protection my little rose," he said in a low voice. "To know the way to where we are going would put you in danger, and I wouldn't want that."
He ran his finger along the top hem of my dress, caressing the skin above it as he went. The urge to bat his hand away was overwhelming. In fact, I desperately wanted to break his fingers, starting with his plump little pinkie. Instead, I smiled a provocative smile.
"Then a secret it shall be," I said as I lifted the blindfold over my eyes.
"Allow me," Kovalski said.
He reached around my neck and tied the blindfold for me. He captured my hands in his and kissed my lips. I so wanted to bite him or head butt him, but again, I was a model of restraint. He lingered for a moment pressed against me. His touch left an unsavory taste in my throat, like the touch of a leech upon exposed skin. Even as I pretended to kiss him in return, I thought if I had been a hooker, kissing him was worthy of a career change, re
gardless of the fee. This was going to be a long night, and the moment I got to stab this guy in the neck with my nighty-night serum was a moment to be savored.
The crew whispered words of reassurance and told me not to worry about the blindfold. I could hear Marcus' raspy voice in the background saying, "We could track her through a swamp with that dress of hers if we had to."
Somehow that image didn't make me feel any better. Swamps were where bad guys went to hide the bodies.
The drive to our final destination was long, arduous, bumpy, and full of groping hands. I was grateful for the bumps along the way though because they prevented much from happening since we all had to hold on for our dear lives to maintain our seats. Poor suspension be praised.
Kovalski cursed the driver and the road in several different languages, threatening them both with bodily harm if they didn't straighten up. The driver tried slowing down to reduce the jolting, but then Kovalski complained that it was taking too long to get where we were going. There was no satisfying him.
The road conditions suggested we were heading out into the long abandoned industrial district. My butt agreed with what my head was telling me, and I wondered if Kovalski was taking us to the manufacturing facility. If that was the case, the question was why? Such a possibility did not bode well for me, or any of the other girls, for that matter. Blindfolds or not, mobsters rarely allowed hookers to view their operations and then live to blab about it later. Once we stepped foot into that complex, we were never going to leave it alive.
I felt the limo turn off the asphalt road onto a gravel one. Again, the crew reassured me they were close behind as they relayed intel on where the limo was with each turn. From what they said, we had entered into the old Butimen Ash Chemical plant that had closed down almost a decade before for dumping lead and polychlorinated biphenyls or PCBs into the local waterway.
