The Partnership

by Dustin Stevens

  “And he would definitely be a guy that could put the fear of God into those girls.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  At exactly seven o’clock, The Businessman stepped out of his office for the first time. Having opened for the night two hours earlier, he had been aware of the faint kick of base in the music that was perpetually playing, could see the occasional flare of the overhead lights as they flashed over everything from behind the aquarium comprising the far end of his office.

  Like most everything, the placement of the fish tank was something The Muscle would never understand, though it had been done with deliberate precision.

  By having it there, The Businessman was able to keep a tangential eye on things downstairs. If ever something went cataclysmically wrong, he would know within seconds, the bartenders and security personnel having strict instructions to flip the overhead lights to full wattage. Much faster than a phone call could ever be, he would know instantly and could begin acting on it.

  During times of normal business, it also provided him a guarded front, allowing him to look down and survey his kingdom, the one-way tinting on the outside meaning he could see everything that took place should he so choose, but had a sound and visual buffer for the rest of the time, enabling him to still work in relative quiet.

  Much like the disposal of the girl though, The Muscle was never one for tact, regardless what the situation was.

  Twice in the opening hours of the evening The Businessman had stood in front of the aquarium, looking past the koi that filled it and on to the floor below, checking to see how many customers had arrived.

  On each of the two earlier trips he found the flow to be nothing more than a trickle, a handful of roughnecks just finishing up for the evening and stopping off for a beer, no more interest in the girls on stage than the high-end offerings behind the bar.

  By seven, the general makeover of the room had begun to shift, men in suits arriving with their ties loosened and shirtsleeves rolled up, no doubt on the backend of a long day, looking for a very specific way to release the tension that had settled in.

  Leaving the door to his office open, The Businessman stepped from behind the artificial partition that separated his office from the rest of the small rooms on the second floor, a design made specifically to keep him beyond the prying eyes of anybody that may wander up. Taking a few steps out, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the railing to the balcony overlooking the floor below.

  The space was one something he had constructed from the ground up, everything from the land acquisition to the permitting to the design having been handled by him alone. What had resulted was far and away his favorite of the places they had worked out of since coming to the United States, the joint one that he would be genuinely saddened to leave behind when it was time to move on, the clear gold standard for what they were trying to do.

  From where he stood, he could see the bar lining the entire left wall, a cadre of bartenders working behind it, keeping those seated before them stocked and a team of waitresses busy working the floor as well.

  Behind them were three rows featuring every sort of libation available in the country, a locked cabinet beneath the bar featuring absinthe and a few others that were still frowned upon by the prudish proclivities of the Midwest.

  Extending out from the wall directly in front of him was a stage with an elongated walkway, a trio of poles placed strategically in front of the tables that filled most of the floor.

  At the moment there was nobody on stage, the music having receded to a more palatable decibel, the half-full tables having retreated back into conversation as the girls matriculated through them, stopping and smiling, unloading drinks and doing everything they could to lower the inhibitions of their guests for the evening.

  It was that very thing that had pulled The Businessman from the protection of his office, wanting to monitor how The Muscle’s most recent display in front of the girls was playing out.

  The decision to eliminate the girl a few days before was a necessary one, but never again would The Businessman allow The Muscle to have any say in disposal, or even the best manner of conducting matters. Stepping to the side and allowing his brutish cohort to do even the small part that he did had proven foolish, everything about the disposal of the girl and her later discovery going exactly against what the organization was trying to do.

  The girls in their charge were already in such a position, were already so powerless, that there was no need to make showy examples of anybody. Never would they be able to do anything to touch their employers, too fearful for themselves and their families back home to ever consider speaking out or standing up for themselves.

  The events of the last couple of days had only proven how foolish the whole debacle had been, from the way the girls had clammed up - unable to function, let alone perform their job - to the fact that law enforcement was now at the very least aware that there could be a presence in the city.

  With his body leaning forward, watching the girls work, The Businessman felt at ease knowing that at least the first part of that problem had been solved.

  Whether the girls were truly back to doing what they should or they were smiling through gritted teeth and misty eyes, The Businessman didn’t much care, nor did the customers downstairs seem to. From where he stood, everybody was happy, the alcohol moving freely, money changing hands with aplomb.

  As to the second part, there was little more The Businessman could do than exactly what he had instructed The Muscle to that afternoon, which was watch and wait.

  Standing high above, there didn’t appear to be anything out of the ordinary, most of the faces below ones that he had seen many times before, several having taken home one or more of the girls on several occasions.

  That didn’t necessarily mean that he was in the clear, the club the kind of place where it would be easy for a single person to slide in during the busiest periods, completely unnoticed as they observed what they needed, and slipped out the back again.

  Like he had told The Muscle though, there was nothing more he could do for the time being but be on high alert.

  “You wanted to see me, Boss?” a voice asked, approaching from the left, the sound deep and bombastic.

  Pushing himself up to full height, The Businessman stood, rolling his shoulders back and turning to see his Head of Security striding toward him.

  Standing an inch taller than The Businessman, the man was several inches wider, the front button of his suit coat straining to contain his broad chest and shoulders. Eschewing a tie, his dress shirt was open at the collar, a puff of red chest follicles matching the man’s hair and stubble.

  “Mr. Austin,” The Businessman said, bypassing a handshake and nodding in greeting. “How is everything going this evening?”

  “Good,” Austin replied, his deep voice echoing out as he stopped alongside The Businessman and placed his hands on the rail before him, surveying the room below. “Much better than the last couple nights.”

  Assuming a similar position, The Businessman again nodded.

  Linc Austin was one of the first people The Businessman had hired before opening the club, a former amateur bodybuilder that had spent five years in the marines before a degenerative eye condition forced him out. Now in his early thirties, he wore corrective lenses that more than allowed him to work the floor, his body and reflexes as deadly as ever.

  “Listen,” The Businessman said, making no attempt to obscure the reason for the conversation, “I received word last night that law enforcement might be taking a close look at us here over the next couple of weeks.”

  How long the threat would last, The Businessman had no real idea, though that was hardly the point.

  “I want you to keep doing what you’ve been doing-“

  “But keep an eye on what’s not happening as much as what is,” Austin finished.

  The Businessman didn’t quite appreciate being interrupted, and he certainly wouldn’t have termed things the
way his employee did, but he couldn’t rightly disagree with him either.

  Not only was it important to keep watching the customers and how the girls interacted with them, it was just as important to see who seemed disinterested in it all, more attuned to their surroundings than the show before them.

  “Exactly,” The Businessman said.

  “And if I see anything?” Austin asked.

  “Bring it right to me,” The Businessman said. “Don’t let on you even see them.”

  For a moment, the two stood in silence, watching as the lights dimmed and the announcer began introductions for the next act to hit the stage, a low call of applause going up from the crowd.

  “You got it,” Austin said, his focus never leaving the floor as he drifted off to the side, neither saying another word.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The packet of photographs was still resting on Reed’s desk, just as he had left them the night before. If ever the case got as far as going to trial, they would need to be cataloged and entered into the record as evidence, but for the time being they were a part of an active file, attached to it for the duration of the investigation.

  After leaving the coffee shop, Reed had given Caleb Basel strict instructions to go somewhere outside the city for a couple of days and to stay hidden. While what he had already done – both bringing Tek-Yen to meet Reed and later calling in her disappearance – were both commendable, and extremely helpful, he couldn’t keep running the risk of getting exposed.

  If this man was as bad as had been intimated, and the body of Bethanee Ing gave every indication he was, there was no way Basel could chance getting any closer than he had already been.

  And that was before they even got close enough to the other side of the operation, it too no doubt having a cavalcade of people that more than proficient at potentially inflicting harm.

  Once he was assured that Basel understood the situation, would not be inserting himself any further, Reed led the two car convoy back across town.

  While expending the time necessary to drive from North High to The Bottoms was not something he was overly fond of, especially with Tek-Yen gone and unaccounted for, he needed to continue to move slowly, working the case as it was presented to him. He had liked the girl, had felt the full litany of sympathy for her and her situation, but he had to do right by her.

  That meant playing things by the book, both to ensure her safety now, and to later make certain that whoever was doing this wasn’t set free on a technicality.

  More than once on the drive over, Reed had considered flipping the lights on and using them to clear a path through traffic, somehow refraining from doing so as he leaned hard on the gas, keeping the radio off, processing everything he knew.

  In the backseat, Billie seemed to sense the bodily shifts within him, pacing to and fro, matching the energy that was rolling off of him.

  They arrived back at the 8th to find most of the cars from the afternoon gone, Reed thankful that the all-day meeting was finally over, not especially wanting to deal with any of the faces he’d already spent hours staring at. Parking in the front stalls, he and Billie together went straight inside and ascended the staircase, bypassing Grimes’s office for the time being.

  Hopefully soon enough he would have visual confirmation of what Basel had said, giving him something more concrete to go on before checking in with the captain.

  Skating by at the top of the stairs with nothing more than a quick wave to Jackie, Reed was just shy of a jog as he passed through the tangle of desks sitting empty, Billie out in front and leading the way. Arriving a moment before he did, she took up a post at the corner of the desk, staring expectantly at him as he grabbed for the envelope and set it on end, dumping the contents across the desk.

  “Come on,” he whispered, leaving them flat on the wooden top and spreading them wide with both hands. “Come on, come on, come on.”

  In total there were almost two dozen, more even than Reed had remembered. Starting on the left side of his desk, his gaze danced over them in quick order, his hands barely keeping pace, pushing aside the ones that included only the girls. Halfway through he found a pair with Tek-Yen, pulling them free and setting them on his chair before wading back in.

  With his heart pounding, his breathing coming in short bursts, he found what he was looking for toward the far right side of the assortment, just a few short of the end of the stack.

  Lifting it free, Reed held it in both hands and turned to better catch the overhead light, the image a bit dark, but otherwise displaying exactly what Basel said it would.

  The scale of the picture was a bit distorted given the tiny stature of the girls, but by most any measure the man looked imposing. Standing well above six feet in height, it was his width that seemed so striking, his shoulders broad, made even more so by a long leather coat hanging free on either side of him.

  With grizzled hair and a beard, his appearance reminded Reed of the late MMA fighter Kimbo Slice, his large hands and musculature looking like they belonged to a man accustomed to earning his money the hard way.

  Whatever that might entail.

  A floor below, the sound of the front door opening could be heard, Gilchrist’s voice carrying up the stairs, loud enough to be heard but too soft to decipher.

  Shuffling the pictures back into a pile, Reed shoved the extras back into the envelope, leaving the three he needed outside of it, tucking the stack beneath his arm.

  Slapping at the leg of his jeans, he said, “Come,” Billie responding on cue and jogging alongside, the pair heading back for the stairs.

  The aging wooden case was already moaning softly under the combined weight of Greene and Gilchrist as Reed and Billie appeared, adding their poundage to the mix, stopping the two officers where they stood, just a few steps up from the bottom.

  “You find him?” Greene asked.

  “We did,” Reed confirmed, continuing to descend. “Come on, let’s bring the captain up to speed, see how the rest of the dog-and-pony show here earlier finished up without us.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Four men and an oversized canine filled most of the physical space in the small office, a potent mixture of emotions serving to consume what little else remained.

  Seated behind his desk in his usual position was Captain Grimes, his uniform jacket off, tossed onto the corner rack with his official cap. Besides that, his tie was loosened away from the neck and the sleeves on his shirt rolled twice, matching the most dressed down Reed had ever seen him.

  That alone would be enough to relay how exhausting the day in the conference room had been. Pairing it with the drooping frown he wore and the matching bags under each eye only seemed to drive home the point, bringing with it a tiny bit of guilt to Reed, realizing he had called the meeting and then ducked out early.

  Filling the two visitors chairs on the opposite side of the desk were Greene and Gilchrist, both in matching black-on-black ensembles, each with their coats off and draped over a knee.

  Nervous energy, concern, anxiety, tension, and a host of other emotions seemed to roll off of all three men as they sat and stared toward the side wall, Reed taking up his customary post when seating was no longer available, leaning against the narrow table that served as the sole form of personal touch in the office.

  With his backside wedged against the top of it, he stood with his palms pressed wide to either side, his feet crossed at the ankles, his face screwed up in thought.

  Beside him on the floor Billie had lowered herself to her haunches, her backside just barely touching the ground, her ears standing straight up, entire body poised as she sensed the physiological changes in the room around, ready to bound forward at the first sign of movement.

  Despite the obvious emotion roiling through the room, everybody sat in silence, waiting for Reed, giving him the floor and as much time as he needed.

  Aware of their stares, he kept his focus on the front lip of the desk before him, wanting to get thing
s straight in his head before launching forward. It was obvious from the meeting all day with the FBI that they were going to do whatever they had to to maintain control of the situation, and to garner the majority of any credit there was to be taken.

  While Reed could not care less about the recognition, he needed to make sure that their next steps were measured, knowing they would only get one shot at it, and that the life of Tek-Yen could potentially hang in the balance.

  “So here’s what we’ve got,” Reed said, his focus still shifted downward. “You all heard earlier today about Tek-Yen, and about Caleb Basel’s role in bringing her to meet with me last night. We don’t need to go into any of that again.”

  There was no reaction from anybody in the room save Billie, rotating her head up at the sound of his face, her amber colored eyes staring his way.

  “Captain, what you don’t yet know is the reason we ducked out this afternoon was to go meet with Basel, who called to say that she had disappeared.”

  Flicking his gaze up, Reed saw Grimes raise a single eyebrow in question, Reed quickly pushing through their meeting and subsequent conversation at the coffee shop.

  When he was done, Grimes’s brow was still arched as he asked, “And did the photos show who he was referring to?”

  “Yes,” Reed said, releasing his grip on the side of the table and turning at the waist, taking up the trio of loose photos from atop the envelope Basel had given him. Pushing past the top two, he grabbed the one of the man in question and held it out for Greene and Gilchrist to see before passing it over to Grimes.

  Accepting the picture between his thumb and forefinger, the captain pulled it in and studied it, the arched brow giving way as both came together, a crease appearing between them.

  “Any idea who he is?”

  “Not yet.”

  With his face still angled down toward the image, Grimes raised only his eyes toward Reed, the position exacerbating the crescent underscoring them. “Meaning?”