Death of an Escort (19 page)

"How much?" I asked.

"What do you want to do?" she asked.

"Ah, just the regular," I said. Like what?
Did she have a menu or something?

"If you can get it done in twenty minutes, it
will only be $50," she said.

Pulling into the dirty motel parking lot, I
reached into my pocket and took out some money. It was money from
the payment I'd gotten from Macy, and I had no intention of letting
the hooker keep it, but I handed it to her. We got out of the
car.

Lying on the pavement outside my door was a
broken hypodermic needle. Further away lay a discarded condom.

I followed her inside.

"Hey Jewel," the old woman said behind the
check-in counter. "How long do you want?"

"30 minutes," she said.

The woman handed a key to the hooker and
looked at me. "That will be ten dollars."

I handed her a ten, and then I followed
"Jewel" down to a room. She unlocked it and let us in.

The room stank of old cigarettes.

"Give me a minute to get ready," she said and
started to step into the bathroom.

"Wait," I said. "Come out here for a
minute."

"Sweetie," she said. "I'm not ready. Give me
a moment." She locked herself in the bathroom.

Great. Just great. Probably she'd come out
naked. That was going to be distracting. Great.

Less than a minute later, she came out. Her
thong was still on but nothing else was. She extended her hand to
me. In it was a condom wrapper.

"Let's do it," she said without enthusiasm
and moved to the bed.

I grabbed her by the hair and yanked her
back. Then I clamped my hand over her mouth. I caught a glance of
her face in the mirror. She looked terrified.

Chapter 18

"I've got a gun," I said. "Don't make me use
it, okay? Scream and you won't be making any more sounds
afterward."

She looked wild-eyed.

"Nod if you understand."

It took a minute, but she nodded.

"Good," I said. I let go of her mouth. "Get
your top on."

She looked confused, but she went back into
the bathroom and came out more dressed. "What's going on?"

"Who's your pimp?" I demanded.

"My pimp?" She sounded confused. For the
first time I realized she was probably high on something.

"Yeah, I need to talk to him."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

I took the gun out. She let out a stifled
scream.

"I'm guessing you don't want to get hurt," I
said. "The only way you're going to walk out of this room without
losing blood is if you take me to your pimp. Now." I cocked the
gun.

"Okay," she said. "I'll call him." She went
over to the phone and dialed. It was a short conversation. The pimp
sounded like he didn't want to meet with her in the middle of the
day, but she was persistent.

She got off the phone, and we left. She
directed me through more decrepit parts of this section of the
city, and we made it to a three story brick building. It was packed
in tightly between other buildings on either side, and it looked
like the exterior hadn't seen a scrub brush in one hundred
years.

Neon colors of paint had been sprayed in
weird designs over the ground floor level, and there were no
windows either.

You could see where they had been, but now
they were bricked up.

"He's in there," she said.

I looked over at it. "Who else is in
there?"

"I don't know," she said.

"Go get him," I said.

"No way," she said. But she immediately
glanced down at the gun, which I'd kept out. "Whatever," she
said.

She got out and walked across the street.

Ten minutes passed. I started to think that
she was going to stay inside. I really didn't want to go in there
alone. Who knows what I'd run into?

But finally, a scrawny dude came out. The
prostitute was a good six inches taller than he was. He was wearing
black leather pants and a jean jacket. It was too warm for a
jacket, but he was wearing one anyway.

He looked around, and she pointed over at me.
Looking nonchalant he ambled across the street. The hooker stayed
behind. Crap. That meant I wouldn't be getting the money back from
her.

He leaned down and looked into the car.

"What the fuck's up with you?" he said.

That put me in a bad mood. I grabbed his jean
coat collar and started to haul him in through the window over top
of me. He tried to resist, but was taken by surprise and it was too
late by the time he started resisting.

I had him jammed into the passenger seat, but
he was in upside down. His head was wedged down where the floor mat
was. Struggling he tried to right himself.

"Dude," he said. "Dude."

I drove away.

"You're going to be so busted up for this,"
he said. "You are so dead, man."

Several blocks down the road I brought the
car to a stop. There was a vacant lot here. Tall, dirty brick
buildings rose up all around. Not many people were on the
street.

But right where I stopped, there was no
building. Just tall, mostly dead grass.

I got out and got him out too. The first
thing he did was take a swing at me. I ducked and drove my fist
into his stomach.

That calmed him down. He bent over and tried
to suck air in. I dragged him into the empty field.

"Hey," I said to him. "Let's make this easy.
Who do you report to?"

"What?" he managed to get out.

"Who do you report to? Who is over you?"

"What are you, man? A cop or something?"

"Talk to me or I'll hit you again," I
said.

"Oh, man," he said. "This isn't good."

I hit him. He flopped over, and his lip was
bleeding now, and it was more than a trickle.

He reached into his jacket and came out with
a small gun. "I'm going to kill you, dude."

He shot, but I was already dropping to the
ground. The shot didn't get me. I hit the ground and that made my
small surgery wounds hurt.

His gun was something tiny. Mine was not. I
pulled out my Beretta Px4 Storm. It shot .40 S&W bullets and
holds 14 rounds.

He started to get up, and he saw what I was
holding. He also saw that the business end was pointed right at
him.

"Let's talk. Let's talk," he said.

"Drop your gun and let's get back in the
car," I said.

He hesitated and I ripped off a shot to the
side of him. I heard it plug into the brick building behind
him.

"Fuck me," he said and dropped the gun.

"Up and let's get in the car."

He did so, and we drove away. The gun fire
would attract attention. I didn't want that. Besides, he was
disarmed now. So the situation would be safer.

I locked the car doors.

"Try to get out, and I'll shoot you," I said.
"Now, I still want to talk to your boss."

"I haven't got a boss," he said and wouldn't
look at me.

"Did you ever hear of organized crime?" I
asked.

He didn't answer.

"Usually prostitution is a big part of that.
It's all about revenue, right? So, when I find a hooker and the
hooker has a pimp, I expect to find someone in charge of the pimp.
Got that? Even more so, seeing as how we're in Chicago."

"They're going to kill you, man."

"Give me the info," I said.

"Dude! And they're going to kill me too." He
sounded whiney.

I made a left-hand turn. "I need this
info."

"Why, man?"

"I'm investigating something."

He looked more scared.

"No, I'm not a cop," I said. "I promise. I'm
investigating privately."

"They will kill you," he said forcefully.
"You and me. You can't bust in there like this. This is so wrong.
I'm going to kill Jewel. Kill her!"

"Get a grip," I said. "Leave the woman alone.
She was acting under duress. She did what she did to stay
alive."

"That's no excuse," he said.

"Are you saying I have to kill you?" I took
another left turn. More or less I was going around in a circle.

He buried his hands in his face.

"It won't work," he said finally. His voice
was calmer.

"What won't?" I asked.

"If I take you to my boss, he won't know
anything. You'll have to do the same with him to get to his boss.
And again and again. There are a lot of levels."

"Okay?"

"Partly it's setup to stop screw-ups like you
from penetrating," he said and stared out the window.

"So, you're saying I should shoot you?
Because you're being uncooperative."

He looked at me. "You're not listening, man!
They will eventually kill you and me. I'm trying to keep you alive
here."

"Tell me who you report to. You won't be
brought into this," I said.

"It doesn't work like that. You've already
screwed up. Jewel knows that we're talking. Word will get out. Then
I'm a goner."

"Look guy," I said. "You have officially worn
my patience out. I haven't got the slightest problem blowing your
head off and finding another pimp to talk to."

He swore for a minute straight. One word
after another incoherently.

"You are going to be responsible for my death
no matter what I do," he said finally.

"If that's true," I said. "Then you better
move after you tell me who your boss is."

"Okay, okay. Can we make a deal?" he
asked.

"Lay it out," I said.

"Look, I know who someone is near the top.
I'm not supposed to, but someone slipped up and I heard something,
okay?"

"I'm with you," I said.

"Okay. I can tell you who and where. You've
got to promise me that you'll kill him after you get whatever you
want from him. Swear to it on your momma's grave."

"Why do I have to kill him?" I asked.

"'Cause he knows that I know about him. He's
a smart dude. He'll figure it out and have me killed, man. But if
you do him, then it's all cool."

"Even if I did promise it, how would you know
I'd keep my word?" I asked.

"You've got that look in your eye, man.
You've killed before. I can tell. I've seen that look. And I know
you're ready to kill again. What's it to you? Do it as a favor to
me for the information."

I pulled the car over to the curb in front of
a liquor store with barred windows. "Start talking," I said.

"We got a deal, man?"

"Yeah," I said. "We've got a deal." And I
meant it.

"Okay, man." He sat forward intently and
started gesturing with his hands. "This place is going to be
guarded. You got that? They will kill you if you mess up. So, you
better be good to even think about penetrating this. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah. Go on," I said.

"Okay. It's The Water Tower Place. Oprah's
got an apartment there. She used to live there. Right by the lake,
you know what I'm talking about?"

"I think I can find it," I said.

"Security is amazing. You'll have to figure
something out to get inside, but he's in there. He's got the place
called Unit #7105. That means he's on the seventy-first floor."

"I know," I said.

"Okay," he said. "I don't have a clue how
you'll get in, but that's where you find him."

"His name?"

"Richie Mancini," he said. "You'll recognize
him. He looks a lot like you."

"Okay," I said. "Clue me in about the
security on this place."

"Oh, man, it's amazing. There's a shopping
mall and stuff like that in the bottom, but going in the
residential side is almost impossible. You've got to be on a list
of approved people."

"And you're not on the list?"

"Hell no! I'm not even supposed to know
Richie exists."

"I assume they check IDs and all that," I
said.

"I think they would. Like I said, I don't
know how you'll get in," he said.

"But you think I'm going to," I said.

"I know you will. You got that drive about
you, man. Promise me that you'll kill him when you're done,
okay?"

"And you think he'll know what I need to
know?"

"Man, if the family is involved in it, he'll
know about it. His daddy is the boss. He's the underboss. You might
want to wear something bullet proof when you go in there."

"Bullet proof?"

"Nah," he said. "Forget that. Sure thing,
they'll have armor piercing rounds."

"I see," I said. I was less and less excited
about this.

"Give me your word, man. You will not let
them get me," he said.

"I can't promise that," I said. "But I'll
take Richie out. Doubtless he deserves it."

"Man, you don't know how right you are. He's
had hundreds executed."

"Okay," I said. "Get out. You never saw me."
Using the controls on my side, I unlocked his door.

Without another word, he jumped out of the
car and slammed the door behind him. He didn't look back. With his
hands in his pockets, he stalked off down the sidewalk.

I did a u-turn and headed for the main street
a ways back. I hadn't caught its name, but I could tell it was a
main drag. I was too far north, and I needed to get south to the
lakeshore area.

My brain was racing. There had to be a way to
crack this security and get in to see this mob guy. However, the
pimp had said that this was the building Oprah had lived in. In no
way would security be lax in that case.

I had a crazy thought about climbing up the
glass with suction cups and blasting the window open.

The problem with that was twofold. First, I
didn't have any explosives. Second, the explosion could blow me off
the building. That would be a crappy way to die.

The only way to get in quickly would be to
impersonate someone, and I was thinking of maintenance people.
Somehow I'd have to pass myself off as some kind of a worker.

I made a left and headed down into the rich
part of Chicago. The drive took less than fifteen minutes.