Quicksand (32 page)

The rest of the agents looked at each other in sudden, confused silence. “What?” Burton demanded.

“From a sexual disease. It's a miracle she hadn't died already,” Ben repeated.

John, Nora, and Eric all stared at him, confused.

He started to laugh. “I think I know where the flash drive is,” he said excitedly.

“What? Where?” John demanded.

Still laughing, he grabbed Nora by the arm. “Give us an hour!”

“Where are you going?” Burton called after them.

“Medical examiner!” Ben called over his shoulder, pulling Nora by the arm through the hall. He almost bumped her into six different agents as he hurried her to the elevator and punched the down button.

“Have you lost your mind?” she asked, yanking her arm back and rubbing it.

“What was weird about the scene in the loft?” he said excitedly.

Nora shrugged. “Everything about that scene was weird.”

“The bathroom?” he prompted, clearly expecting her to know the answer.

Nora reflected as he pulled her by the other arm into the elevator and punched “B.” The car was already half-full of employees from the ninth and tenth floors. “There was a laptop in the bathroom?”

“Yes, but what else?” he pressed.

“Ummm, toiletries?” She scanned her memory. “Condom wrappers?”

He snapped loudly, startling his fellow passengers. “Not condom wrappers!
A
condom wrapper. One.”

Nora shrugged. “So?”

“The whole reason we have Dewayne in custody at all is that he has left his semen
all over the city
.”

The woman next to Nora wore a dark gray suit and a pile of pearls. She eyed them both with distaste, then appeared grateful when the doors whooshed open at the lobby.

Ben continued undaunted as he and Nora waited for the car to continue to the basement. “Reality is a gangster, and a player, and he does
not
wear condoms.”

Nora frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I'm saying,” he said, green eyes flashing, “that the easiest way to smuggle something—say, in my field, drugs—out of a tricky situation is to
swallow it in a condom
.”

“Eww…” Nora winced. “Are you telling me…?”

Ben laughed out loud as he ushered her into his car. “… that the hooker I shot had just eaten her flash drive!”

*   *   *

The Philadelphia medical
examiner hadn't even touched Lisa Halston's mostly headless corpse until Nora and Ben stormed in. The flash drive that the M.E. pulled out of the dead hooker's stomach was indeed a moneypot. Libby and Jonas had taken only a few hours to decrypt it. One level of decryption allowed them to see what the Internet clients would see: girls, some as young as nine, in a variety of poses, sometimes completely naked, sometimes scantily clad, sometimes alone, sometimes with adult men or women touching them, displaying them. The second level of decryption exposed Lisa Halston's files on each child. Her name, how much she was bringing in, how many clients she could service per day (the average was five). Tameka Cooper was among them, and so was Jane Doe, whose picture appeared next to the name Susan.

There was a list of security guards at local motels who would keep their mouths shut, and for how much … There was a list of clients with cell phone numbers or e-mail addresses for each name. And most damning, an accounts receivable page listing Dewayne's cut and hers. Lisa Halston had been organized, thorough, and utterly soulless. Had Ben Calder not shot her in the head, the seventy-six girls on that flash drive would have netted her and Dewayne no less than twelve million dollars a year.

It was only a few hours after John Wansbrough had signed the evidence disclosure statement when Dewayne's lawyer called to let them know he would cut a deal.

The lawyer, whose name was Jenkins, twisted his Rolex back and forth on his arm. “I'm here to ensure that my client's rights are not violated during the process of helping the state with its case.”

Nora did not disguise her disgust. “Such a noble public servant.”

Dewayne laughed out loud at that—“Aww, the sister dissed you, Jenk…”

Before he got any further, Nora rounded on him. “I want to know about gang pimping.”

“You would make a nice addition,” Dewayne answered, letting his eyes travel slowly over her entire body. “Kinda skinny, maybe, but you smell real good…”

Nora let her rage smolder, looking to Ben who was standing next to the table. “Why minor girls, Dewayne?” he asked.

Dewayne shrugged. “Customers pay more. Just business. The younger ones is fresh, sweet. You know.
Softer
.”

Nora bit back her fury as Dewayne spoke. She accepted a steadying look from Calder, then said, with great deliberation, “But there's something more, right? They're easier to scare.”

Dewayne thought this over. “It's a business. I can't take them home to mama each night for cocoa and bedtime stories. They have to believe that it's life or death.”

“They perform for you or someone gets hurt.”

Dewayne glanced at his lawyer who shook his head.

“And Kylie?” Nora demanded.

“Kylie was different, she came to me. But she did it. She was good at it, didn't complain like the others.”

Nora recalled the doodling in the girl's biology textbook. “Because she loved you?” Nora asked, suddenly peering curiously into Dewayne's icy eyes.

Dewayne didn't answer. Nora knew she hadn't expected him to.

“Did you kill her?”

“I keep telling you people, I didn't kill her. Why would I kill her?”

“To mess with Kevin Baker?”

Jenkins interjected, “All of this is hypothetical, you needn't answer at all, Dewayne.”

But Dewayne ignored him. “Naw, man. Kylie made me a lot of money, see. It woulda been stupid.”

“Do you think Kevin Baker killed her? Because she was sleeping with you, his biggest rival?”

Dewayne shook his head. “I don't know, man…”

“Or perhaps it was Rashid Baker? Different brother, same reason?”

Nora saw Dewayne glance at his lawyer, and she pounced. “You know something about Rashid Baker.”

Dewayne shrugged, frowning.

Ben sighed in frustration. “Come on, Dewayne. Were Rashid and Kylie close—did he know about the two of you?”

Dewayne rapped his knuckles against the tabletop, a deep frown still furrowing his brow. Then he looked up and said, “Kylie hated him. He was always up in her face, askin' where she goin', what she doin', who she doin' it with … Didn't like her clothes, didn't like her attitude. She start comin' to me after he got out. He made her crazy, so it was like she wanted to get away, you know…”

“Did he threaten her?”

“Every day, man,” Dewayne answered.

“Did he know about the two of you?” Ben repeated. “Or that you were pimping Kylie?”

Dewayne shrugged. “I don't know, man. I know Kylie was too scared to tell him—about me. Or about the tricks.”

Nora asked, “Did you know he could cook?”

Dewayne nodded slowly. “It was Kylie said he was starting to bring all these bottles and shit into the basement, made her swear never to go down there. Her mama don't go down there anyways, what with her knees, right—but Rashid started tellin' Kylie don't go down in there. I understood, then. Even sent a runner to talk to him, see about supplementing our current suppliers with some homegrown product.”

Ben and Nora shared a glance. Then Ben asked, “Did you hear anything about Kevin Baker's Escalade being stolen?”

“The Escalade they used to take down Benzo?”

“The same.”

Dewayne narrowed his eyes. “A&As sayin' they didn't do it?”

“Kevin Baker says he didn't do it, that his car had been stolen. What do you think?”

Dewayne seemed to be thinking. He glanced at Jenkins, who said again, “You only have to answer direct questions—you're not here for conjecture.”

Ben glared at the lawyer. “He's asking for a deal in exchange for volunteering useful information. He can engage in a little conjecture.” He turned his gaze back to Dewayne. “Come on, Dewayne. You have to have a theory. Same Escalade was used in a drive-by against federal agents. Lot of arrests happened after that. Could it be that someone's trying to play the JBM and the A&As off against each other, trying to punk you?”

Dewayne worked his jaw back and forth. Then he said finally, “There's some Africans on the scene.”

Nora sat up straighter in her chair. “Go on,” she said, hoping to keep her tone measured and calm.

“New in town, you know. Mean motherfuckers.”

“How did you hear about them?” asked Nora.

Dewayne tapped his finger meditatively on the smooth tabletop. “They was offering deals to get into the business. To get hooked up, you know. So they could be sellin'.”

Ben leaned forward. “What kind of deals?”

“They had some girls who was off the grid, see? No one lookin' for them. No papers. No missing persons databases.” He said this last as though there were no greater irritation in the life of a gangster. “These girls were guaranteed ready to go all day every day, if you know what I mean—little meth, little H, and they was … cool. For the right info, the right connections, you could get a couple. For keeps. After that, they could make it regular, you know. Start bringin' 'em in whenever.”

Nora looked at Ben, then looked away. Ben sensed her rage, and asked for her: “They were
selling
the girls?”

Dewayne nodded. “Offering a couple samples, like I said, in exchange for information. If we liked, we could make some investments.”

“Did you take any?” Nora demanded.

He held her gaze. “Not this week.” He held up his cuffed wrists. “Been busy.”

“Did he say where the girls came from?” Nora asked.

“Nah. But the brother was definitely from Africa.”

“Who was it that approached you?” Ben asked.

“Not me,” Dewayne answered. “He went to one of my crew. My boys tried to follow them, but they disappeared. Said they'd contact us to follow up. That was that.”

Nora and Ben exchanged glances, then stood to go. When Nora arrived at the door, however, she turned and crossed back to Dewayne. “There's only one thing that makes me feel better about all this,” she said softly.

Dewayne smirked. “What's that, beautiful?”

“Your cellmates will be so irate over contracting that sweet case of gonorrhea you have that they'll probably kill you themselves.”

She was gratified to see her words had wiped the smirk right off his face.

*   *   *

It was late
afternoon when Nora walked into the psych ward. Nurse Bedford gave her the look. “Six to eight,” she said.

Nora stared her down. “I need to see her now. Let me in
or I will take you in
.”

That got the woman's attention. She muttered all sorts of unfriendly remarks as she led Nora down the hall, but Nora was no longer interested in popularity contests.

When the nurse had left, Nora stood by the bedside, immobilized for a moment, watching the girl as she clutched tightly to the teddy bear. “I'm sorry,” she said, her voice a whisper. “
Susan
. I'm sorry, Susan.”

At the sound of her name, the girl looked up, but then looked away once more.

“It's going to be easier now to find your family and get you home, I promise.” She groped for words, feeling that something trite like
It's going to be okay
would be a vicious lie. Finally, she just knelt on the floor next to the bed and placed her hand on Susan's thin arm. “I'm so sorry for what they did to you, what they made you do. I'm sorry.”

Susan Jackson held her bear tighter, pushing her chin against its soft head, as tears welled up in her wide, brown eyes.

*   *   *

On the practice
range the next afternoon, Nora was angry. “John, I've never been so frustrated. Ever. They're like ghosts. I mean, look, even Dewayne and his crew couldn't track them. How could they move so fast into an area and be able to blend in, and begin operations, not even scared of reprisals?”

John nodded, reloading, and realigning his body to compensate for the arm injury. “They had to have help, Nora. Facilitators. You heard Dewayne: their MO is to take existing structures and build on them. That's why they wanted to key into the JBM supply lines instead of trying to start their own. It's smart. Like a corporate takeover. Dumping Kevin Baker on our sidewalk was actually brilliant, I have to admit.”

Nora considered this. “Brilliant,” she conceded. “But just, like … satanic, right? Every time I think about those girls, that prison you found…” her voice trailed off, and her anger flowed out of her trigger finger. She was gratified to see the target with almost as many holes through its head as the one John was reeling in.

He pulled his ear protection off, peering at her work. “Looks good, Nora.”

“The thing is, John, we're talking about sex slavery. Homegrown. Our own gangsters are doing it right under our noses.”

John sighed. “Slaves used to run to Philadelphia to
gain
their freedom.”

“Well, then, I guess we have something to work toward. In the meantime, I found Susan's parents in Albany and had to call and ask them to drive down to pick up their very sick ex-slave daughter.”

Their eyes met, and he nodded, and she could see him imagining what that must have been like for the parents. “Any word on—who was the girl?”

“Tameka. Our agents located her at the motel Dewayne was using in Camden. Tameka was supposed to have been picked up after servicing a client. But then all hell broke loose, Dewayne was arrested, the crew scattered, and her ride never showed. The security guard had been getting fat kickbacks from Dewayne, so he'd locked Tameka in a closet this whole time. He'd been scared she'd get away and Dewayne would come back and kill him.”