Undercover Encounter

by Rebecca York

  When he saw her watching, he shot her a dark look, and she averted her eyes. The next time she checked, he was fully dressed, except for his shoes, and was fumbling with the catches on the briefcase. She had to press her arms to her sides to keep from helping him.

  When the top popped up, he pulled out a manila envelope and extracted a man’s picture. Apparently determined to focus on business, he said, “You saw a guy with one of those teenage girls. Is this him?”

  She crossed the room and took the offered photograph. “It could be. I only saw him in profile. This is a head-on shot. Sorry,” she added in answer to his disappointed look. “Who is he?”

  “District Attorney Primeaux.”

  “You think he was fooling with one of those kids?”

  “He’s not a very nice guy.” Sounding more coherent by the minute, Alex told her what they’d learned about the D.A. Then concluded, “Nobody would talk about it on the record. But we heard he likes teenage prostitutes. That’s why I brought you the photograph.”

  “I’d like to help,” she said. “But I can’t be positive.”

  “Well, that’s not the only avenue to pursue.” He looked at the wall clock. “You have to go down soon, right?”

  “Yes,” she answered, torn. She didn’t want to leave him alone, but at the same time she knew he needed some distance from her. And she also knew that she was in big trouble if she stepped out of line again.

  “Maybe we can wrap this up tonight. That was my plan.” He stopped and swallowed, looking like he was going to keel over. But he kept himself erect. “Are you willing to go back to that office we were in and search more thoroughly?”

  “With you?” she asked, trying to keep a note of incredulity out of her voice.

  “No. That’s too dangerous.” He made a snorting sound. “Especially when I’m weaving around like a mongoose. But I can wire you for sound.”

  She ignored the first part and focused on business. “Okay.”

  Apparently he couldn’t stay on his feet much longer, because he dropped down heavily into the chair and sat there with his eyes closed for several seconds.

  He looked like he might pass out, but somehow she kept herself from rushing to him.

  To her relief, he remained sitting up. After taking several breaths, he said, “This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to stay in the bathroom. You spend the evening as usual. Then you can search the office.”

  Well, so much for distance. “I do my job…in front of you?” she exclaimed.

  “Pretend I’m not here.”

  Yeah, sure, she thought. But at least she could keep an eye on him while her johns were sleeping. So she made the bed, then finished getting ready for work before leaving the room and going downstairs.

  AS SOON AS GILLIAN LEFT, Alex heaved himself out of the chair and crossed to the bathroom. Turning on the cold water in the sink, he stuck his head under the faucet, which helped clear his brain.

  Finally he raised his eyes and peered at his visage in the mirror. He looked as though someone had dug him up out of a grave and thrown him on a slab in the morgue.

  He was still feeling pretty sick and shaky, but he wasn’t going to tell that to Gillian. He wasn’t going to tell anyone. And he was hoping she would keep quiet about what had happened to him.

  On the other hand, he did know that the two of them were going to have to talk about it. But not now. Not until he felt a lot more sure of himself.

  Lord, could you become addicted to the stuff after one dose? He told himself that couldn’t be true. Still, a worm of fear slithered down his spine.

  With a grimace, he practiced making his voice sound normal. Then he got out the equipment that he’d stowed in the briefcase, along with the picture.

  They’d sent Gillian in here without a transmitter. But since she was being pulled out tomorrow, Alex had insisted on changing the rules. The next time she did some sneaking around, she was going to use the wire he’d brought.

  Meanwhile, he tested the small device by calling Rich in the van.

  “Alex! Where have you been?” his partner asked immediately.

  “Busy,” he snapped, glad that Rich couldn’t see him. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he added, wondering what the hell he was going to say about the couple of hours he’d lost. He’d rather say he’d been in a drunken stupor than admit the truth.

  “You’ve got something for us?” Rich asked.

  “Not yet. We’re taking a break while Gillian carries out her usual duties.”

  “Well, I have something interesting I’ve been itching to tell you,” Rich answered.

  “Yeah?”

  “Courville finally sent us a report on that body you found in the trunk.” Rich waited a beat before continuing. “It’s a guy named Sid Laurent.”

  “How did you identify him?”

  “Dental records. They removed his fingerprints, but they forgot about his gold tooth.”

  Alex laughed.

  “Get this, he works for District Attorney Primeaux.”

  Alex couldn’t hold back a startled exclamation. “Does Primeaux know about the ID yet?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “I’d like to be there to see his reaction.”

  Before they could continue the conversation, he heard the bedroom door open. “Gotta go,” he whispered, then switched off the transmitter.

  In the room, he could hear Gillian with a man. He’d overheard this scene a lot of times. Now he couldn’t stop himself from opening the door the barest crack and watching Gillian work. He couldn’t help admiring her smooth handling of her customer. And he couldn’t help wondering how she’d really felt about the session in that very bed with him earlier.

  DOWNSTAIRS Maurice Gaspard was sitting in the elegantly furnished room where he liked to relax if he had to spend any time in the bordello.

  It was nothing like the office. Instead it was a haven for a man of taste and refinement. The chairs were deep, rich leather. The carpet had come from an auction at one of the finest houses in the city.

  On the side table sat a snifter of the Napoleon brandy he had told Cynthia that he kept around for special customers. Really, it was for himself. He had expensive tastes, and this operation was keeping him very well supplied. Too bad he couldn’t skim off a little more of the money. But that would be too risky considering that the owner of the bordello was actually Jerome Senegal. The guy might have carved out a place for himself in the legitimate business world, but he was a very dangerous character.

  Of course, Cynthia thought he, Maurice, owned this whorehouse. But it wasn’t true. He was just an employee, the same as she was. Maintaining the fiction served two purposes. It kept her in line, and it kept him out of trouble with Senegal, because his boss had told him that no one was to know about the ownership.

  He studied the computer records of the earnings of each girl. The new one, Gillian Stanwick, was doing very well. But he didn’t trust her. And if what Babs had told him turned out to be true—then she was a dead woman.

  But right now, he couldn’t put off the phone call that he was supposed to make.

  So he dialed the number and waited with his heart pounding for someone to pick up.

  “Hello,” a Cajun-accented voice said.

  “Gaspard here.”

  “Let me get the boss.”

  Long seconds ticked by before Senegal came on the line. “Maurice, it’s good to hear from you,” he said, as though this call hadn’t been arranged all along. “How are our operations going?”

  “Very well. The girls have brought in more money so far this month than their take from the first two weeks of last month.”

  “That’s good. But what I want to hear about is the drug distribution operation.”

  “Yes,” Maurice said, and began reading numbers off the sheet of paper he’d brought along.

  WHEN GILLIAN’S CUSTOMER was sleeping, she crossed to the bathroom, looking anxious. “Are you okay?” she asked as sh
e stepped into the room and closed the door.

  Maybe because he was still feeling like a car functioning on three cylinders, he snapped, “What? Did you expect to find me lying unconscious on the floor?”

  “No,” she answered briskly. “And if you happen to be wondering, I saw Babs downstairs.”

  “The bitch who slipped me the Category Five?” he asked sharply.

  “Yes. I told her you were my old boyfriend, and you’d been pestering me. I told her I helped you out up here, but I made you give me all the money in your wallet in exchange for my cooperation. I told her you left by the back door and that you’re probably home sleeping off the aftereffects.”

  “Quick thinking,” he approved.

  “Since we were talking, I asked her where she scored the stuff,” Gillian said. “Of course she wouldn’t say. I could tell she loved holding out on me.”

  “Damn. Guess it was too much to hope she’d finger her dealer.”

  “Babs sure didn’t hold back on gloating about what she’d done to you, however, she sneered about how she thought about giving me a dose of the drug. Then she decided it would be more fun to give it to you.”

  “She told you all that?” Alex pressed, thinking the woman was a fool for talking so much.

  “She was gleeful. She’d just been with a big, important client who had asked for her specifically, so she was feeling expansive. She said she figures I can’t do anything about her drugging you, because I’ll get in trouble with the madam if I step out of line.”

  “You’re not going to be here long enough for that.”

  She nodded tightly.

  “So let me tell you what I have in mind for your last night,” he said, switching back to the business they still had to conduct. “Like I said, I think our best bet is for you to search that office again. I mean, do a thorough job, because it’s the most likely place where you’re going to find anything.”

  “Okay,” she answered, matching his matter-of-fact tone.

  “Here’s the transmitter I want you to wear.” He went on to show her the microphone and the other equipment. “But you can’t put it on until you’re finished work.”

  As though nothing personal had happened between them a little while ago, they talked about her search mission for another few minutes. Then she was ready to go wake up her john and tell him what a great time they’d had together. After that she and the john went back downstairs.

  It was half an hour longer before Gillian returned to her room with another man. She went through the usual routine.

  When she had the guy snoozing, Alex told her about Sid Laurent.

  “Another connection to the D.A.,” she murmured.

  “Yeah. Interesting, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe the guy dug up some of his boss’s secrets and Primeaux got rid of him.” She paused. “You think he ordered the killing?”

  Alex shrugged. “From what I heard about him, it’s not impossible.”

  Again, they had to cut the conversation short because Gillian had to get back to her customer.

  Alex listened to her wake-up routine, half admiring her technique and half hating her for being so good at it.

  This time, when she went down, she was gone for several hours. Alex felt his chest tightening as he waited for her to return. Finally, the door opened, and she slipped back in.

  “Where were you?” he demanded.

  “Sometimes there are men who come here to relax—and not for sex. Some of them wanted my company, so I stayed downstairs.”

  He gave her a tight nod, thinking that she was probably glad to have had that duty. It was easier than taking men up here and drugging them—and easier than dealing with the half-cracked man hiding in the bathroom.

  But now the evening was drawing to a close and they had to deal with each other.

  “So what else am I looking for?” she asked brusquely.

  “Anything that ties up the drug distribution. Or that implicates specific customers,” he said.

  “We searched the desk. Where else should I look?”

  “Some secret hiding place that’s not obvious.” Reaching in his case, he took out a set of lock picks. “You might need these.”

  “Right,” she answered, as though he was giving her loose change to use in a soda machine.

  He was prepared to help her with the wire, but she knew how to attach it. Still, he insisted on checking it.

  “Pull up your blouse,” he said.

  She did, and he touched the tape that held the transmitter.

  They both went very still as his finger glided over her skin.

  He pulled his hand back.

  “Alex.”

  “What?”

  “Stop pretending you feel fine. And stop pretending you don’t care about us…because I know you do.”

  His eyes narrowed. “That’s a hell of a thing to say—now.”

  “I know. But I needed you to hear it. It’s a…taste…of what I want to say later.”

  “Go down and search that office,” he ordered.

  “I intend to.”

  Whirling, she started for the door. He wanted to call her back and take her in his arms. He wanted to thank her for what she’d done earlier—for him. He wanted to admit that they had things to talk about. But not now. She had work to do, and thinking about him would be dangerous.

  That’s what he told himself. And it was true. But he was still glad of the excuse to postpone the inevitable.

  THE HOUSE WAS SILENT as Gillian stepped into the back hall. She took that as a good sign. Briskly, she made her way to the office. But she’d barely gotten to the first floor when she stopped short and drew in a quick breath. She’d almost bumped into Madam Dupré, who was gliding down the darkened hall like a ghost, obviously on some urgent errand of her own.

  “What?” Alex demanded in her ear.

  She stayed silent until the woman was out of the way. “Madam Dupré is out and about.”

  “Great,” Alex muttered.

  “But she didn’t see me. She was going the other way.”

  “Maybe you’d better come back for a while.”

  “I’ve come this far. I want to get it over with.”

  Cutting off the conversation she started for the office again, entering by way of the secret entrance Pam had shown them.

  “I’m here,” she told Alex.

  “Good,” he answered.

  He had told her to look in places that weren’t obvious, so she started with the baseboards, seeing if any of them were loose. She even lifted up sections of the rug to see if there were loose floorboards underneath. But there was nothing so sophisticated.

  CYNTHIA STEPPED OUTSIDE the back door of the bordello and looked down the darkened alley. She hated being ordered to come out here, but she had no choice.

  Gaspard had told her to give Jack Smith the bartender his weekly payoff, and she had the money in her purse.

  Drugs for money.

  She liked the idea of sex for money much better. She could understand appealing to the baser instincts of men. All men wanted sex. If they weren’t getting it at home, then they were free to come to her house and relieve their tensions with her girls.

  Drugs were another matter. Less honest. There was no basic human need for mind-altering substances. Life was mind altering enough. But she would do as she was told, as long as it kept her house in business.

  Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tapped one out. Then she lit it and inhaled. Not deeply. Tobacco was a drug, too. A drug more dangerous than smokers imagined. She didn’t allow the girls in her house to smoke. Usually she didn’t indulge herself. But it made a good cover story for why she was out here in the dark.

  Hating the smell of garbage from the cans near the door, she walked a little way down the alley, then tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Jack.

  GILLIAN ALMOST MISSED the secret compartment in the credenza. But when she lightly tapped on what looked like decorativ
e carving on a front panel, it sounded hollow. So she played around with the design and a panel slid open.

  “I found something,” she whispered. “A secret drawer.”

  “That sounds promising.”

  Inside, she found a manila envelope and shuffled through the contents. Her nose wrinkled as she took in the subject matter.

  “It’s a stack of very nasty photographs. Pictures you definitely wouldn’t want to leave lying around. Naked men in bed with the women here. And I don’t mean they’re sleeping. These pictures are sexually explicit.”

  “Taken with those hidden cameras.”

  “I guess the camera wasn’t just for fun. Madam Dupré must be using them for blackmail purposes.”

  “Yeah,” Alex agreed.

  While they talked, she browsed through the photographs, recognizing some faces she’d seen in the newspaper, on the evening news, or in the lounge.

  She stopped short when she came to one particular man. Apparently, she must have made some kind of noise, because she heard Alex’s voice in her ear.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Has somebody discovered you’re in there.”

  “No. It’s the pictures. The district attorney is definitely here. It’s the same man whose picture you showed me. He’s with a very young girl.” She ended with a disgusted sound.

  “What else?”

  She turned one of the pictures over and saw a notation on the back. “Something interesting. Remember that coded book we found?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think the same numbers and letters are on the backs of the photographs. Let me check.”

  “So the codes would refer to the men they have pictures of.”

  “Yes.” I guess they couldn’t risk having a plain-text version around. Not when the list is so explosive.

  “Yeah. Right.”

  She was just opening the desk drawer when the panel behind made a small sound, warning her that someone else was entering the room. Wishing she had a gun in her hand, she whirled to face whoever had discovered her searching the office.