by John Ringo
Mike rolled out of the van and stepped between two cars to the curb. He noticed that besides the girls there were men, most of them heavyset and wearing bad suits, scattered along the road. He wasn’t sure if they were there to make sure the girls kept working or as external security on the coffee shop. He did spot what was probably the Lada the picture of Smegnoff was taken by. Of course, there were three other Ladas parked within less than a block of it, but it was nearly opposite the coffee-shop and the right color and trim.
The interior of the shop was run down with rickety tables and chairs and a filthy floor. Mike was almost afraid to try the coffee, but it wasn’t all that bad. The girls working the counter were the most rode-hard-and-put-up-wet duo he’d ever seen, a hollow-faced girl with black hair and a bleached blonde. Both were dressed in skin-tight tube dresses and clearly were supposed to be advertising. If they were, they were advertisements for getting every venereal disease ever discovered and probably a few that were barely known.
Mike had spotted Smegnoff when he walked in. The pimp was in a corner with two other males. They had the scent of muscle and helpers at “breaking” girls. They were larger than the pimp but Mike figured if it came down to cases he could take all three of them. And the Keldara fire team was waiting in a van outside.
He sipped the espresso as he drifted over to the table.
“You’re Smegnoff,” Mike said, sitting down uninvited.
“And you’re the new American,” Smegnoff said, smirking. “I hear you’re in the market for girls.”
“Top quality, only,” Mike said, nodding and ignoring the muscle. “Pretty, young and untouched.”
“What is the fun of selling untouched girls?” Smegnoff sneered.
“Money,” Mike said, shrugging. “You can get pussy anywhere. But young, virgin pussy, that’s real money if you’ve got the right customers.”
“I have customers like that,” Smegnoff said, shrugging. “A few. Everyone does.”
“Well, that’s my main clientele,” Mike said. “I hear you sometimes get pretty top quality girls.”
“They’re around,” Smegnoff said, nodding and eyeing the former SEAL. “Not all the time, you know?”
“Anything at the moment?” Mike asked. “Or, for that matter, anything you can steer me to that hasn’t been raped yet?”
“Not right now,” Smegnoff said. “But they will be expensive.”
“We’ll bargain,” Mike said. “I’m in town for two days letting the ladies rest. Then we’re gone. You’ve got that long.”
* * *
“I’ve got a shotgun mike set up on the Arrendi,” Vanner said when he got back. “But his car has a heavy by it. I can’t get a tracer on it; the Keldara were too obvious.”
Mike looked around the room at the Keldara females and rubbed his chin.
“What are you thinking?” Yevgenii asked, eyeing the Kildar uncomfortably.
“Anisa,” Mike said, glancing at the Keldara girl. She was a lovely young brunette with long legs and a classical face.
“Yes, Kildar?” the girl asked, curiously.
“Would you be willing to pose as a hooker?” Mike asked. “We’re going to run into this problem again. I could send Cottontail to do it, but what I’d like is to send both of you. One of you to distract the guard, the other to plant the tracer. That way if we have to do it again, or something like it, after Cottontail is inserted you’ll have experience. You’ll have a Keldara backup team, of course.”
“What would I have to do?” the girl asked uncertainly.
“Well, the first thing is getting into character,” Mike said.
* * *
“I cannot wear this in public!” Anisa wailed.
The tube dress was, okay, pretty darned short. And the girl had clearly never worn high heels in her life. Cottontail, who could walk in them like most girls walked in flats, was smirking as the Keldara female attempted to balance on the top of the stiletto sandals.
Cottontail and Killjoy had been sent out shopping and had come back with everything that Anisa needed to look like a hooker. And the girl did, albeit a rather expensive one.
“I’m having problems with this,” Adams said in English, shaking his head.
“So am I,” Mike admitted. “But I think it’s the best plan to go with.”
“Oh, it’s not the plan,” Adams replied. “I’m wondering how much we could get for her…”
“Don’t go there,” Mike snapped, shifting to Georgian. “Anisa, you look perfect. You’ll be fine. All you have to do is walk up to the car with Katya, lean up against it while she talks to the guard, plant the tracer and then walk away with her. You’ll be under observation the whole time and the Tigers will be there if anything goes wrong. But nothing will. You’ll do fine.”
“I cannot walk down the street in this!” Anisa said. “I look like a whore!”
“Uhmm…” Vanner said. “That’s sort of the point.”
Anisa opened her mouth to respond and then shut it when she couldn’t think of a reply.
“Well…” she said after a moment, half triumphantly. “How am I supposed to carry it dressed like this? Where am I going to hide it?”
“It’s not that large,” Vanner said, pulling out a gray rectangle that was about the size and general shape of a cigarette lighter. “It’s got a contact adhesive on one side. I suppose you should hide it somewhere where it’s out of sight and easy… to… access…” He trailed off.
Anisa looked at him blankly then over at the Kildar.
“On your leg, right up in your crotch is what he doesn’t want to say,” Mike said bluntly. “For that matter, you might be able to simply palm it. Keep it in your fist. The problem with that is that people will assume it’s money or something.”
“I don’t think this is going to work,” Anisa said, holding out her hand for the device.
Vanner helpfully peeled the cover off the contact adhesive and handed it over.
“You can turn your back, now,” Anisa said, looking at the men.
“Oh,” Mike said, turning around, “right.”
* * *
Anisa looked at Katya, who was standing with her arms folded, watching, and then shrugged. She took the small rectangle and, spreading her legs slightly, stuck it to the inside of her thigh.
“You can still see it,” Anisa said triumphantly.
“Higher,” Katya said, sighing angrily.
“If I put it any higher it will be inside of me!” Anisa protested.
“And the problem with that is…?” Katya asked. “Besides, it won’t. Just put it higher. There is plenty of room. You just have to actually touch yourself. Don’t tell me you’ve never touched that part before.”
“Cottontail…” Mike warned.
“Ow! Ow!” Anisa exclaimed as she peeled it back off. “That hurts!”
“It’s… pretty strong adhesive,” Vanner replied, his back still turned.
“Oh, no,” Anisa said as she fumbled under the dress.
“What now?” Mike asked in exasperation.
“It’s… caught,” Anisa said, blushing. “On… hair. Down there.”
“You should have waxed,” Cottontail replied, her arms still crossed. “This is silly. Let me carry it.”
“I don’t think Anisa is up to chatting up a guard,” Mike pointed out. “Do you have it in place?”
“Yes,” Anisa said, adjusting her dress. “You can look again.”
“Now, try walking in the heels,” Mike said.
Anisa carefully tottered across the room, stopped at the far side and turned without actually falling down.
“This is insane,” Katya said, angrily. “Just let me do it! I can chat up the guard and plant it!”
“She needs to learn,” Mike said. “We can’t be depending on you to do all the outside work. Anisa, one foot in front of the other, like you’re walking on a narrow beam. Move your hips with the motion and your shoulders against it. Undulate. Try it.”
Anisa sighed and started back. She did pretty well until she got her hips and shoulders out of sync and Adams had to catch her before she fell.
“Nobody had better ever find out about this,” she hissed, pushing herself back up. The chief had been exceedingly careful with his hands, but there wasn’t much he could catch that wasn’t off-limits. He’d managed by wrapping both hands around her waist. This caused her dress to head north and south, respectively, which very nearly left her unclothed. At least in important areas.
“Try it again,” Mike said sternly. “This is training. You are going to be doing a mission every bit as important as the door-kickers. They had to train; you have to train. If I’d thought ahead, I would have brought one of the harem. I didn’t. This is my fault. Drop it on me. But we’re going to need you to be able to do this. And maybe more than just you. You’ll be training at least one other girl in the same things. Get used to it. And everyone is going to know about it. You’re going to have a security team watching you.”
“Okay, okay,” Anisa said, readjusting her dress. “Here goes.”
By the end of thirty minutes with Mike coaching her and Katya inserting snarky, but pertinent, remarks, she could walk in the heels and even undulate. A bit. Enough to look like a new hooker on the street.
As the two left, Adams let out a long sigh.
“I’m going to have to either go down on the street and hire a girl or go take a long cold shower,” the chief said. “That was just…”
“Erotic as hell,” Mike replied. “You can understand why these pimps do what they do. Besides the money, which in this society is nothing to sneeze at.”
“It almost makes me rethink my choice of career,” Adams admitted. “And they get to do this all the time.”
“And beat the girls around when they screw up,” Mike added.
“I’m not particularly into beating on women,” Adams said, shrugging.
“Well, most of the girls they get don’t exactly want to be hookers,” Mike pointed out. “And even the ones that do, don’t want to give up most of their hard-earned money to the pimps. So they beat on them until they learn better. It’s a sucky situation. And you know the fun part?”
“What?” Adams asked, frowning curiously.
“How many whores have you fucked in some third world shit-hole?” Mike asked, turning to look at him. “We’re the reason this goes on. You can’t just say ‘it’s males’ when you’re one of the males that benefited by it.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Adams shrugged. “I don’t notice you losing sleep over it.”
“I do, sometimes,” Mike admitted. “And I’m the one that enjoys beating on women. I wish I had the money to buy up every whore and potential whore on the planet and put them somewhere safe.”
“But if you did, you’d just have more kidnappings.”
“There’s that,” Mike admitted, sighing.
“You ever think about this whole system as a good thing?” Adams asked.
“What in the hell do you mean by that?” Mike snarled.
“Think about it,” Adams replied calmly. “In the states, the predators snatch some girl off the street, rape her and kill her. Here they snatch them off the street, rape them and then sell them. Alive.”
“Now there’s a hell of a thought and no lie,” Mike said quietly. “But you think that some of them don’t die in the process?”
“No, a bunch of them do,” Adams admitted. “But a bunch of them live, too. For a given value of life. Which means still breathing. Concentrate on bringing home a live one and leave the fucking existentialism for after the mission, SEAL.”
“Will do, Chief,” Mike said, grinning.
“Now I’m gonna go find some abused, raped, forced-to-be-a-whore whore and fuck her silly ass off. For cash. Without beating on her. End of angst.”
Chapter Eleven
“I don’t know where to look,” Anisa said, nervously trying to adjust her dress so she wasn’t showing so much skin.
“Anywhere but at the cars,” Cottontail said easily. She clearly didn’t care if her dress was riding up. Or down. She looked as if she was terribly bored and more than willing to just have the damned thing fall off. “If you look at the drivers they might stop. That would be good on one level; we’d look like we were actual working girls. But we’d have to turn down the offer. Unless you’re planning on doing a trick while you’re doing this and I don’t suggest it.”
“I’m not,” Anisa snapped.
“Well, that’s one problem off my mind,” Cottontail said, smirking. “You might want to try it, though. You don’t have a pimp to take all the money and cash is cash. Well, the Kildar might want a cut.”
“I’m not going to… do that with a man other than my husband,” Anisa said.
“And probably the Kildar, right?” Cottontail said, snidely. “For your ‘bride price,’ right? What do you think that is but turning a trick? Maybe you could work up the bride price while you’re here…”
“Stop it,” Anisa said angrily. “Just… stop, okay? We’re here to work.”
“Well, it’s work…” Cottontail said, trailing off. “There’s the car.”
“I see it,” Anisa said, nodding.
“Don’t look directly at it.” Cottontail looked around. “Look at the other girls, instead.”
Anisa looked around and sighed.
“They are all dressed so…”
“Sluttily,” Cottontail said, laughing nastily. “Men like that. They like to have women that are fast, cheap and easy. They don’t have to worry about whether we like it or not. Most of them like that we don’t. They like to hurt us, to use us, to make us feel less than they are.”
“Not the Kildar,” Anisa pointed out.
“Even the Kildar,” Katya replied sharply. “He likes that he owns us, that he can use us.”
“He treats you well,” Anisa protested.
“But he still owns us,” Cottontail snapped, turning to look at the girl and waving at the whores along the street. “We’re no better than these! We’re owned by the Kildar and he uses us at his pleasure! The only difference is we don’t walk the street! We just live in his brothel for the use of him and his friends.”
“He said he offered to let you all go,” Anisa argued unhappily.
“To where?” Katya snapped back. “What can we do but make our way on our backs? There are plenty of girls here who chose to be here, because even this is better than wherever they’re running from! Because they don’t have any other choice but to sell their bodies. They don’t have a family to go back to…” She stopped and turned away, her face hard.
“Is that what happened to you?” Anisa asked quietly as they continued walking.
“I don’t talk about it,” Cottontail said bitterly.
“Do you have a family?” Anisa asked, still quietly.
“Just shut the fuck up, okay?” Katya replied. “We’re nearly there and we need to get our game face on.”
“Okay,” Anisa said nervously. She very carefully did not adjust the lower part of her dress.
The guard was a beefy guy in a sweat-stained shirt and trousers. He was leaning on the hood of the car, casually watching the girls on the street. In Anisa’s opinion, if he was supposed to be guarding the car, he was looking at the wrong people. Or, maybe not, given what she was planning on doing.
“Hi, big guy,” Katya said in Russian. “My friend and I were having an argument.”
“I saw,” the man said stolidly.
“I say that you can tell the length of a guy’s parts by his hands,” Katya said, slinking up to him. “And I notice you’ve got really big hands…”
Anisa smiled in what she hoped was a winning way and leaned up against the hood, turning away slightly. Patrick had told her the easiest way to place the device would be in the wheel well. The device had a magnet and the adhesive so it should stay.
“What do you say?” Katya asked, leaning up against the guard. “How are you�
�� hung?”
“Well enough for you,” the man said, less stolidly. “Care to find out?”
“Maybe,” Katya said, coyly. “I’ve just had an hour session with a guy whose dick was smaller than my finger. And I could do more with my finger than he could with his dick. Do you think you could do better?”
Anisa reached up under her skirt and ripped off the tracer, trying not to whimper as she pulled out a fingerful of pubic hair. Katya was right; she should have shaved. She never had but she’d heard about it. It seemed terribly… whorish. Okay, so she should have shaved.
She turned back towards the guard, slipping her hand under the wheel well and pressing the tracer into place.
“I’m busy now,” the guard said, slid his hand up Katya’s dress and fingering her. “I’ll be off in about an hour.”
“And I’ll get you off in much less,” Katya said, pouting. “But I’ll see you then. You’re going to be around here?”
“For sure,” the guard said, running his hand over her breasts. “I’ll look forward to it. Bring your friend.”
“Sure will,” Katya said, walking off. “She needs the attention of a real man, too.”
“He stinks,” Anisa said as they walked away.
“So do most of the Keldara,” Katya replied. “So do most tricks, at least around here. It’s like they’ve never heard of soap. Now let’s get back to the hotel and maybe I can get some hot water to wash his stink off.”
* * *
“He’s moving,” Tolenka said.
“Got it,” Jov replied, putting the car in gear. The four-year-old gray Lad a had been purchased earlier in the day in a very informal transaction involving cash and a promise to get the tags transferred. It was less conspicuous for a stakeout than one of the vans. But a van was right around the corner, loaded with shooters. For that matter, there was an MP-5 at Tolenka’s feet.
