Lilith - TI3 (5 page)

"Will do. Until then, stay out of trouble for a change."

"Yeah, yeah... look who's talking. Love you! Bye, bye."

"I love you too. Bye."

The next day Dakota caught up on the latest gossip from both her grandmother and mother. Taking advantage of her daughter’s visit, Tee decided to meet a few friends she had neglected during her own mother’s illness. Pashna secretly confided in her granddaughter that Tee was turning into a stuffy old woman and needed the break. It was obvious to everyone that Gram was improving. On the journalist’s second day at the ranch, Pashna decided to get out of bed and sit in the rocker on the front porch. Listening to the tales Gram told, Dakota decided she wanted to write a book on her ancestry. If she could get her mother involved by recording her grandmother's stories, she felt she would have enough unusual material to be of interest to a certain niche of readers, particularly anyone fascinated with Native American culture. Her departure on Tuesday left everyone a little melancholy but Dakota promised to fly back with Yemaya in a few weeks before their return to Moldova.

"If you two behave I might even be able to get you an invitation to Yemaya’s castle."

"Might?" challenged her mother, crossing her arms and glaring at her ominously.

"Might!"

"Don’t you worry about it, Child," Pashna interrupted. "I’ll make sure your mom behaves herself. I still haven’t met this magic woman of yours, but I’m figurin she’s already family."

Recognizing the name Granny Dakota used to describe Yemaya, Dakota felt a sense of relief. The spirits were definitely looking after Pashna.

"Good! I’ll let you know when to pack. I love you two. Oh... and behave. Neither of you are spring chickens anymore."

Looking at each other, the two women smirked and then grinned.

"Children!" Tee said, rolling her eyes. "No respect!"

"She’s your daughter! It’s obvious she takes after you," Pashna teased.

Driving off, Dakota chuckled quietly at their friendly banter. Tee and Pashna were always picking on each other. It was a sign of their strong bond.

*  *  *

Arriving in Baltimore four hours later, Dakota caught a cab to her flat and threw herself on her bed, exhausted. Rhonda left a message on the refrigerator that she had made a salad and would call her later to catch up on the news. Along with the note was a newspaper clipping advertising a newly discovered nightclub in town. Her friend had written the words ‘
check this out
’
in the margin.

She was almost asleep when her cell phone chirped.

"Devereaux," she replied, yawning.

"You sound tired," whispered a husky voice, sending a shiver down Dakota’s spine.

"Damn you’re good!" Dakota replied, rolling over on her stomach.

The soft laughter at the other end made her groan.

"Are you all right?"

"No! I’ve gone from tired to horny. How are you?"

"Oh, I would say in a similar state and no way to scratch that particular itch. How was the flight?"

"Good. I’m going to make it an early night and then take care of some business tomorrow. Rhonda left me an ad about a nightclub she just heard about so I might check it out before you get here. No use dragging you somewhere if it’s the typical dyke hangout."

"And that would be?"

"You know. Loud music, very little dancing, pool tables... that sort of thing."

"Well, actually, I have never visited a typical dyke bar so I might find it interesting, but I know what you mean. Anyway I just wanted to hear your voice. Sonny is coming over in about thirty minutes. He has some news about the Charleston fiasco. I can tell you all about it when I get there."

"I hope he knows who was behind it. I’d shoot the bastards myself if I could." Dakota said.

"I believe you would. You get some rest. I should be in Baltimore in a couple of days. Call me tomorrow."

"Count on it. Bye, love."

"Bye... and you too." Yemaya replied softly.

T
HE WAREHOUSE district north of the Bay Tunnel appeared abandoned. Except for the occasional security patrol and a few winos, few people visited the area after midnight. It was considered one of the most dangerous places to be after sunset and the perfect place to meet for private conversations. Once the patrol car had passed, two figures emerged from the shadows to continue their conversation.

"This is the last one! I’m not going after any more prostitutes!" the shorter man declared angrily, his voice echoing slightly between the two metal buildings.

"Keep your voice down!" hissed his companion, looking around nervously. "You’ll do what the boss wants! She says she wants ten by the end of the month... and ten it is!"

"Well, she can do it without me! Catrina’s getting too greedy and too careless. Someone is going to get suspicious and start asking questions."

"We’ll worry about that if and when it happens. Until then, we follow orders. Now, where is the whore?"

"The boys picked her up this morning. She was put with the others."

"Good."

"What did Catrina say about the young woman I picked up two weeks ago?" the first man asked, glancing toward a movement several buildings away. He was sure he saw someone lurking nearby.

"She hasn’t decided anything, yet. Knowing the boss, though, I don’t think she’s going to turn the girl loose now," the other man replied. "And quite fidgeting. There’s no one there, Gregori. You’re getting a little too hyper."

Ignoring the comment, Gregori continued on. "Then she’s a bigger fool than I thought," he scoffed. "I'm telling you the Lysannes aren't a problem yet, but they will be if Catrina does something stupid. Just release the girl and send her home. She hasn't been harmed. Buy her a ticket, give her a few dollars, and she’ll forget about all of this. She’s a fuckin whore. All she wants is the money, and she sure as hell ain't going to the authorities. Besides, no one's going to believe her anyway even if she does go to the police. Hell, she isn’t even an American. Immigration would deport her if they found out what she was doing."

"Maybe, but we can't take the chance. If anyone discovers what we've been doing, we'll all end up in jail."

"Christ, Ivan! You're as paranoid as that bitch you work for. No one is going to remember me. I’m always discreet and you know Rohypnol causes memory loss. Since when has my work ever been questionable?" Gregori demanded. "I’m telling you we can’t keep grabbing these women off the streets. Even whores are missed by someone... their pimp or another whore."

Ivan sighed. He knew Gregori was probably right but he had worked for Catrina long enough to know it was in his best interests to follow orders no matter how unreasonable they seemed. His boss had too many connections, not to mention she was ruthless.

"That’s not our concern now. This girl is a problem." If anything Ivan was persistant. Gregori shook his head in disgust.

"I'm telling you, just give her some money and let her go."

"And I'm telling you it’s not that simple and you know it! We can't let her go. She can identify us. Shit, this girl's cousin works for the Lysannes. That complicates things even more. Catrina thinks someone may have put a bug in Raidon Lysanne's ear about the business. She said to get rid of her and quickly."

"Whatever, Ivan. I'm tired of the whole thing. I want nothing more to do with this. I told you, in the beginning, the sex-trade business was a bad idea. Kidnapping and then selling women overseas is too risky. The money isn't worth the risk. I don’t even understand how Catrina gets those stuffy pricks to buy whores? You’d think they’d want less experienced women."

"That’s not for us to question, but I heard they think prostitutes are more experienced and less likely to attract attention if someone does miss them. Whores are used to being bossed around so it’s easier to break them in. Since her clients are willing to pay big bucks for our product, what do we care why they want them."

"Well, you can tell Catrina I'm finished with this shit. I’m not taking any more chances," Gregori said, disgustedly. "She has plenty of other lackies who can do this job." Throwing up his hands, he turned and walked away.

"I already did," Ivan replied, sadly. "I have my orders."

Gregori had taken only a few steps when something slammed into his back. Momentarily stunned he turned to look at Ivan, confused. His companion held a small gun in his hand, the barrel covered with a silencer. When he tried to speak, he felt short of breath. Something warm and wet filled his mouth and he coughed, swallowed and then gagged. Reaching up to wipe away the spittle, he stared at the bright red stain on his fingers. Ivan walked up to him, forcing the gun against his ribs.

"Sorry, my friend. No one quits without the boss's say so. Those are the rules."

Gregori never heard the muffled pop as the bullet punched past his ribs, ripping through a lung into his heart. Ivan caught the body as it slumped and gently lowered the dead man to the pavement. He had known Gregori for several years. This was a part of his job he hated. Slowly he placed the gun on the dead man's chest, crossed his hands over it and then reached up with a gloved hand to close Gregori's eyes. The dead should never be left looking at the living. Standing, he walked away. There was no room for friendship in his line of work, but Gregori had come as close to being one to Ivan as anyone.

*  *  *

"Gregori didn't need to be eliminated!" Ivan shouted, slamming his fist on the desk in front of him. "He'd never have told anyone anything."

"I couldn't take the chance," replied the woman calmly seated in front of him, her accent very mid-European. "He knew the rules. No one leaves unless I say they can leave. I made an example of him to remind the others... and you just in case you are getting too sentimental. Of course if I really thought that, Breshni would be standing here and you'd be lying out there with your friend. Now, enough about Gregori. What about the Lysannes?"

Realizing Gregori was a closed subject, Ivan began pacing back and forth.

"Raidon Lysanne is still in Moldova. He may have heard something about the girl by now, but I doubt if he knows about us... or the business. It’s only a matter of time, though. Unfortunately, as long as he remains in his country, he's almost untouchable. We've exhausted our resources trying to get at him there. Our best chance to eliminate him is through his sister, Yemaya. If we can get rid of her while she's here, he’ll have to come to the States to retrieve the body."

"Where is she at the moment?" Catrina asked, twirling her pen non-chalantly in her right hand.

"Last I heard she was in New York. I have contacts tracking her and a female journalist who's supposedly doing a series of articles on her. From what I hear, the two have become more than friends. Seems the whole damn family is queer."

"Something about gays you don't like, Ivan?" demanded Catrina, her voice suddenly very chilly.

"You're damn right! Men fucking men! Women eating pussy! It's not natural."

"Well, personally, I find 'eating pussy', as you so tastefully put it, quite satisfying," she replied, leaning back in her chair and staring coolly at her second-in-command.

Ivan stopped his pacing and looked at the woman. She couldn't be more than fifty-six, slim and very attractive. Her dark brown hair was shoulder length and slightly wavy, framing an oval face with flawless olive skin. Brown eyes the color of dark honey gleamed with a sadistic humor as she patiently sat through his mental appraisal. Her right eyebrow, raised slightly, emphasized the slight smirk as she awaited his final response. Wisely, Ivan decided to keep any other opinions to himself.

"Nothing to say, Ivan?" she asked disappointed. "You had a lot to say before. Don't let my position stop you. I like to know as much as possible about my employees," she added.

"Like I said, it's not natural. I think that says everything, don't you?" Ivan replied unwilling to reveal anything more about himself. A woman like her could make him disappear, no questions asked. Ivan wasn't foolish enough to believe he was the only one in his line of business working for her.