by Jonas Saul
“Easy, easy, there’s enough for at least one gun per girl.” Madam looked at Sarah and shrugged. “You never know when you need protection in here.”
Once everyone was suited up and Sarah had her jacket and Joan Jett wig on again, they left through the back door, secured the building and headed to the warehouse in pairs, all coming toward it from different streets.
This would work out, Sarah kept telling herself, but something still felt off. Why would Madam join them? She didn’t need to be here. Was leaving Officer Prins alone in the building a good idea?
Sarah had been hoping at least Amber would join her at the warehouse. Maybe Madam would send one more girl to watch the back or side door. But to have six girls was a gift. Although, if anything happened to any of them, having their death on her conscience would be horrible. All she could do was hope it all worked out and everyone went home at the end of the day.
There was a nagging feeling that it wouldn’t work out as planned. People were going to die and somehow it would be Dekker’s fault. Because he played by his own set of rules.
Sarah swore to herself, knowing it was too late to pull back now.
Something altogether terrible was going to happen at the warehouse, but they had passed the point of no return.
There was no going back now.
Chapter 37
A block from the warehouse, Sarah turned to Amber. “Are you doing okay?”
Amber continued looking straight ahead. “Yeah. Why not?”
“You know, people live with AIDS much longer than they did before.”
That made Amber turn her way. “How much do you know about my situation?”
Sarah waited until a British couple speaking accented English walked past them. “You were planning on taking your life once you killed Sven.”
“I was. But didn’t.”
“What changed your mind?”
“You.”
“How?”
“Your passion, purpose. I’m still not sure, though. I don’t want to live with what Sven gave me.”
“You’re sure you got it from him?”
“Definitely.”
“The anxiety you’re feeling about the future comes from trying to control the future, which you can’t do. I’ve tried. It doesn’t work. If I thought about the future and what was coming for me, I might shrivel up and become a troll under some bridge. Thinking about what Dekker might be up to or wondering if I could control what will happen in the next hour only scares me. So I don’t think about it because I can’t change it. I’ve made my decision. I’m going forward. I will meet him and deal with what comes as it comes.”
“I get it,” Amber nodded. “Deal with it as it comes. But in the end, what am I?” She kicked a stone on the ground. “I’m just a whore with HIV. My résumé is shit now. I have no skills unless blowjobs are a skill. I’m washed up and used. I just don’t want to live anymore.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes. The warehouse was in sight. Sarah kept an eye on their surroundings not knowing what Dekker’s exact intentions were. The sun was still high enough that this would be all over before the sun dropped for the evening.
“You,” Amber said. “You changed things in me. I’m not sure if it’s temporary or permanent. After tonight I’ll know. When you’re gone, I’ll know. But as long as you’re here, I’m going to see this through to the end. I want Wong as much as you do for killing Nikki and all those girls.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Sarah patted Amber’s shoulder. “Just think about it. There’s too much to miss if you peace out early. I once heard someone say, ‘You were born. Finish what you started.’”
They moved to the left and entered the rear of the warehouse. When Sarah looked over at Amber, she already had a gun in her hand, held unobtrusively down by her thigh.
As far as Sarah knew, the girls were taking up their positions at that very moment. If police officers approached the warehouse, the girls were supposed to do whatever they could to delay them. Failing that, shoot out a tire, aim for a radiator, lie down on the road in front of the oncoming police vehicles, anything to keep them out of the warehouse while Sarah dealt with Dekker.
The girl on the roof was supposed to use the butt of her weapon to knock twice to warn if the authorities were approaching the building.
Without another word, Amber headed to the far corner where she was going to hide behind a shelf.
Sarah didn’t have to wait long. A door creaked open from the right of the warehouse and Dekker stuck his head in.
“You alone?” he asked from behind the door.
The girl on the roof hadn’t sent a signal, so that probably meant Dekker was also alone.
“Yes,” Sarah said. “You?”
Dekker stepped inside the door, his hands raised chest high. “Of course. You killed one of my most valuable informants and now you have a cop as a hostage. I wasn’t going to leave his life to chance by bringing backup.”
Dekker started toward her.
“You, Lars Dekker, playing by the book,” Sarah said. “Since when?”
“Inspector Lars Dekker.”
“Bullshit. It’s just a title.”
“One which I earned.”
“Fuck you. Inspect my ass. You set me up. You wanted me killed by that lowlife Sven. Tell me why.”
“That wasn’t me.”
“Oh yeah? It must have been that other guy, Tom, Dick or Harry.” She shook her head. He was still fifteen feet from her. She kept her hands on her hips, close to the weapons in the back of her pants in case he jerked one out himself. “Dekker, a recent statistic says that 54 million people alive right now around the world will die during the next twelve months. I was thinking about you and thought, hey, what’s one more? Nobody would miss you.”
“Very funny. I could say the same about you.”
“You already did when I was in here the last time.” He was ten feet away now. “You carrying?”
“Nope.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m not.” He stopped five feet in front of her. Not a single noise could be heard from outside. He raised his hands higher and turned in a circle slowly so she could examine his body. “Satisfied? Now what? When do I get Officer Prins back?”
“I’ve got a recording on a cell phone I want you to watch.”
“Okay.”
“It’s in my back pocket.” Sarah started reaching for it. “I’ll pull it out slowly.”
“I’m waiting.”
He seemed over confident. Like she wouldn’t attack him. Or he had ample backup. He would never come here on her terms. To him, this was poker and he had something up his sleeve to help him win. But as long as the girl on the roof didn’t knock and there was no gunfire outside, she would keep going.
The cell in her hands now, she accessed the video file, pressed play and slowly handed it to Dekker. While he watched the video of Sven shooting his informant and then Amber shooting Sven, his face remained expressionless. Sarah listened to Sven’s voice and the gun going off. When the video stopped, Sarah idly wondered if Dekker would try to erase it. He might think this was the only copy. Without that evidence, Sarah could be arrested and possibly convicted in the murder of an undercover officer. With that video, she would avoid being arrested. At worst, questioned at length. The video was clear who killed the Matt Dillon lookalike informant. Sven had wanted it just so when he ordered Amber to film the execution.
“Swipe sideways to the next video,” Sarah said.
Dekker did. Then he pressed play and watched Officer Prins sitting in his chair back in the dungeon.
“Hey, I know this place,” Dekker said.
Sarah’s stomach dropped a foot.
How could he know the place from that little five-second video?
“That’s Madam’s basement dungeon,” Dekker said. He looked up into Sarah’s eyes. “Madam’s helping you with this?”
There goes the immunity plan for the brothel.
<
br /> Dekker didn’t touch the screen of the cell phone before he handed it back. When Sarah swiped the screen, both videos were intact.
“No one helped me,” she said in a feeble attempt to distance herself legally from Madam’s brothel. “I ordered the girls out, took the place over and waited for Prins, a regular there, to come looking for a piece.”
“Bullshit.”
“Who is Nikki’s roommate? Did you discover that when you located her body?”
“Amber Dijkstra,” Dekker said. “Sven’s girlfriend and well-known Madam employee. The girl who just shot Sven on that cell phone.”
“Right. Making the connection here? After Sven died, Amber and I talked. She brought me back to Madam’s brothel.” She hoped this explanation would keep the brothel out of trouble when Sarah fled Amsterdam. “When I discovered that Dutch police officers frequented Madam’s brothel, I hung around, waiting for one to show. When Officer Prins showed up, I had my leverage.”
“You’re missing something, Sarah.” Dekker smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. “You no longer have leverage now. You just lost it. I know where my cop is.”
It was time to change the subject. This was falling apart fast. But what really bothered her was how he could identify the dungeon from the little video footage.
The sun must’ve dropped behind neighboring buildings because the inside of the warehouse darkened somewhat. They were close enough to still see each other, but ten feet back was gray.
“Having seen that video, and you now know I didn’t kill your informant in this warehouse, I want my life back. Take those horrendous posters of my face down and call in the army of cops looking for me to inform them that I’m in the clear.” She’d almost forgotten the wig. A quick pull and Joan Jett’s hair came off her head. “When I asked you earlier if you sent me here to meet Sven and to be killed, you said it wasn’t you, what did you mean? Who was it, then? Your boss?”
“Really? Sarah, these are things you could’ve asked me on the phone. Why am I here?”
“Mexico. Tell me what you know about Mexico and I want everything you have on James Wong. Then you leave and I leave to go hunt down Wong.”
“After that? Then what?”
“I walk away. You walk away. Your Officer Prins is released and you never see me again.”
“That’s all I get in exchange, a cop’s life? When I already know where he is?”
Sarah didn’t offer an answer.
“And what if I say no? What if I arrest you right now? I could destroy that cell phone and have you on murder charges, kidnapping and several other charges faster than you could say, ‘I’m a stupid whore who thought I got one up on Lars Dekker.’”
“Tell me about Mexico,” Sarah said, trying to maintain her cool. With that last comment, she almost shot the bastard just to watch him squirm. “We’re wasting time. You’re either going to deal some cards or hold onto what you’ve got. Waffling any further is pointless.”
“You’re right—” He dove forward so fast, his body was a blur.
She reached back for the gun while protecting her face with the other hand. In doing so, she missed the butt of the gun sticking out of the back of her pants.
The fist that struck her left cheek made solid contact, whipping her head sideways. She lost her balance, twisted around, stumbled, and tried to right herself as she reached for the gun again.
Her fingers came up empty as the weapon was ripped from her pants. By the time she turned to face him, the gun she had in her waistline ten seconds ago was being aimed at her. Dekker’s feet were planted, both hands on the gun in a classic cop stance.
“Tables have turned, Sarah.”
She spit blood onto the dirty warehouse floor. Her teeth had cut the inside of her cheek where the fist connected. She chastised herself for being so careless.
“I can see that the tables have turned.”
“Why the cop? Why Madam’s brothel?”
“Don’t worry, Prins’ll be back on his knees in no time at all.”
Dekker lunged forward and sucker punched her again. The gun clicked in her ear as she tried to right herself. That second one hurt more. She moved her jaw to see if anything was loose.
There was nothing worse than being careless. After all the years of doing this she thought she could handle one cop in a warehouse.
Vivian, anything?
“I’ll ask again,” Dekker said, keeping the gun against her ear lobe. “I’ve got lots of time. You can’t outrun a bullet and I’m a good shot. Why Madam’s brothel?”
“Why the interest?” Sarah asked as she backed away, heading toward the shelves. “And how did you know from that little video whose dungeon it was?” The only reason Amber hadn’t jumped out yet was because she knew that Sarah’s gun in Dekker’s hands was loaded. Any sudden movement now would be answered with a bullet. Sarah was on her own. “I get it, you’re a regular there. Tell me your secrets, Dekker. How many times have you been whipped or pissed on or even shit on in that dungeon? Is eating shit a fetish of yours, Dekker? Have you done that one yet, Inspector Lars Dekker?”
“Stop backing away,” Dekker shouted. He leaned down to his lapel and said, “All clear. Have the men come in. I have the suspect under control.”
“You lied.” Sarah spat blood onto the floor. “You brought backup.”
“You’re delusional if you thought I’d come here alone. The game is up, Sarah. Your goose is cooked.”
Sarah kept moving. She was less than ten feet from the shelf where she stored the cricket paddle. The inside of the warehouse grew even darker as the sun continued its descent. If Amber stepped out from behind the shelves, Sarah thought it unlikely Dekker would be able to see her due to the lack of light.
“The game is up?” Sarah mimicked. “Your goose is cooked? Who says that anymore? You know what your problem is, Dekker, you’re living in the eighties.”
“Stop walking away and tell me what I want to know.”
“I want a deal,” she said, still eight feet from the shelves.
“No deal. The only deal you’re going to get, murderer, is tell me why you chose Madam’s place before I kill you.”
“You saw the video. I didn’t kill anybody.”
“I’ll delete it and break the phone. You’re finished.”
“You’re going to kill me in front of your backup? How? I’m unarmed.”
“Backup will take a few more minutes to arrive. I kept them far enough away so you wouldn’t see them. That gives you about a minute to live, or longer if you tell me why you chose Madam’s brothel.”
Still moving backwards, but slower now, she tried to keep her voice steady. “This sounds personal to you. Why? And how do I know you won’t kill me once I tell you?”
“Either you will die in a minute or spend a very long time in prison here in the Netherlands.”
“I disagree.” Finally, she bumped into the shelving unit.
Dekker moved in close enough to touch her chest with the gun. She spread her hands out, fingers feeling for the cricket paddle.
“You disagree?” Dekker said, spittle coming out of his mouth. “I’ve killed whores for less.”
“I get it,” Sarah said as the fingers of her right hand wrapped around the handle of the paddle. “I finally get it.”
“Get what?”
“You work for Wong.”
His eyes gave him away. There was no protest in his face.
“You like the order someone like Wong and Sven give to the thousands of girls who work Amsterdam. With Sven dead, order becomes chaos. With Wong pissed off, you’re in trouble. Killing me restores some of that order again. My death is the currency you will use to buy your way back into the fold with Wong.”
“Something like that.”
“How did it start? Look the other way for a grand? Or less? Did you take a few hundred?” She used a surprised tone of voice as if it couldn’t be possible. “You sold out, didn’t you? You whored yourself out. You�
�re no better than the girls who are trafficked here in your city.”
Two loud metallic bangs resounded throughout the warehouse from the rooftop. The warning that the authorities were moving in.
Dekker looked upwards.
Her hand already tight on the paddle’s handle, Sarah swung for Dekker’s leg while twisting away from the gun’s barrel.
The instant the paddle connected with the side of Dekker’s knee, the gun in his hand fired, the report momentarily deafening her. Sarah had pivoted so hard that she twisted her ankle, bumped the edge of the shelf going down and hit the floor on her wounded shoulder blade, the injury from Toronto still raw. The gun in Dekker’s hand fired again, but now Sarah was flat out on the floor of the warehouse, so the bullet missed by a few feet.
