“Do you know how the client will react if you are terminated from this job after they have invested twelve weeks in you?”
“Eleven weeks, half of that in training, which doesn’t really count.”
“The point is the client is dismayed that this case is taking as long as it is and disappointed in our lack of progress.”
“We have progress. If you get the photos out, I’ll show you.”
He pulled a manila file out and slipped it across the table. He must have had it tucked under his thigh, because it was still warm. I opened it and quickly reviewed the report that was on top, reminding myself of what I’d written in the middle of last night. I thumbed through the stack of photos. Not bad images, considering the distance from which I’d had to shoot and the bad lighting and the fact that I’d almost been busted by the target. I pulled out the best image of Angel.
“That’s Angela Velesco. She calls herself Angel, of all things, and she runs the hooker ring.”
“Alex, as we have yet to establish the validity of your ring theory, I would prefer that we not refer to it as such until we have firmly-”
“There are constants in every transaction. The women involved almost exclusively work the first-class cabin. They only turn tricks when they’re on the road. They never do business in Boston. They do not solicit onboard, and they never flash the cash in the open, which means there is some sort of scheduling and payment system behind the scenes, and I’ll bet any amount of money it’s on the Internet.” I had to stop and take a breath. “This is a prostitution ring, Harvey. It’s all very smooth and organized and sophisticated, and she”-I pointed to the picture of Angel-“is the one who made it that way.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Proof, no, but I know it’s going on. I heard something interesting today, that Angel is trying to expand her operation to the West Coast.”
He cleared his throat, straightened his napkin, and cleared his throat again. “We are supposed to be winding down, not expanding the scope.”
“ Harvey, the case is what it is. I’m not expanding it. I’m trying to keep up, and I’m trying to do it given the severe limitation imposed by the airline.”
“Limitation?”
“You know the one I mean. We’re conducting this investigation as if were after the men. We’re after the women, which means we have to prove that money is being exchanged for sex. If I can’t ask the men, how am I supposed to do that? Photos aren’t enough, but they would be enough to leverage statements from the johns. We have the names. I could approach-”
“No.” He sat back in his booth and shook his head hard enough to make his cheeks ripple. “Absolutely out of the question.”
I sat back in my booth. “Option two would be me hiding under the bed while they have sex.”
“I know I do not need to remind you that the client has asked us, I dare say demanded, that we leave their passengers out of the investigation.”
“Can we refer to the client by his name? Can we please call him Carl? I prefer to think of our client as a person, a human being who can be influenced by other reasonable human beings.”
“Very well. As the director of corporate security, Mr. Wolff has made it clear on behalf of the airline that we are not to approach their passengers under any circumstances. We abide by his wishes. It is part of being a good investigator.”
“Oh, and me thinking the goal was to solve the case.”
“Your goal is the client’s goal, and might I remind you that we sold this case on the idea that you could infiltrate the group, that there would be no need to approach the passengers? Metaphorically speaking, you promised them you would be able to get under the bed to get the evidence we need. I am loath to say this because I know how hard you are trying, but we are three months in, and you are not any closer today to becoming an insider than when we started.”
There was that perceptive Harvey again. I had collected lots of information and taken lots of pictures but had yet to make the right contacts to get really inside, mainly because I had overestimated my ability to fit in with a cadre of gorgeous women at least ten years younger than I who had sex for a living and aggressively rejected anyone who didn’t. I stared at the delicate rice paper partitions that separated our booth from the next one.
“Is there some reason you bring this up?”
“The client-Mr. Wolff-is scheduled for his budget review in two weeks. He plans to present one of two scenarios. Either we brought the case in and he is a hero, or we failed to bring the case in and he has fired us.”
“How can they fire us when they’re under pressure to deal with this problem?”
“Apparently, the wife who complained and threatened to go public has been mollified with the promise of several free tickets to destinations of her choice.”
“So they fixed the immediate problem. This ring is not going away. In fact, it’s getting bigger. More wives will find out about it. At some point, one of them will decide not to be bought off and she’ll go public. An airline that is aware of illegal activity going on in the operation and doing nothing to stop it would make a great investigative report, don’t you think? If they’re allowing prostitution, what else are they turning a blind eye to? Smuggling? Maintenance problems?”
“The client is aware of what is at stake. Do not forget that he has the option to hire someone else to take our place.”
My tempura had materialized in front of me sometime during the debate. It looked heavy and smelled greasy compared with the clean and simple sushi I should have ordered. Another opportunity missed.
“What do you want to do?” I already knew the response, but every once in a while, I held out a hope that Harvey might surprise me.
“We should put what we have in a final report and turn it in with our last invoice. They are not going to court. All they want is for the suspects to resign quietly. For that, they need reasonable evidence, which we have given them.”
“It won’t work. I’m getting to know these women, or at least about them.” I picked up a photo. “If you put these in front of one of them, she will not dissolve in tears. She will not implicate her friends. She will say, ‘So what? I went out on a date with a passenger in Pittsburgh. That’s not against the law, and let me introduce you to my union rep.’ The union is solidly behind these women. If we confront them now, we will drive them further underground, which is exactly what happened the last time they tried to get them without the proper evidence.”
“What is your suggestion?”
“Give Carl a plan that gives me until the end of the month, when I have to go back to flying reserve. That’s the two weeks up to his budget review.”
“What will you do in two weeks that you have not already done?”
“Find a way to get under the bed.”
Chapter 4
THE VESTIBULE OF MY APARTMENT BUILDING looked shabbier than usual when I rolled in. The tiles were mud streaked and the grout a few shades smudgier than when I’d left. The mailbox area looked like a flea market, littered as it was with free newspapers, delivery notices, and piles of take-out menus from Wong Fu’s Wok and Gianella’s Pizzeria. Both rows of boxes were festooned with yellow sticky notes and scraps of taped paper, temporary tags meant to identify permanent residents.
My mailbox wore a clean, computer-generated label I had slotted neatly into the cutout provided for that purpose. My life felt like a mess in so many ways, I figured I’d try for neat and tidy wherever I could find it. The inside of my box was another story. When I keyed it open, it looked like a cross-section view of a trash compactor. As near as I could tell, the postman loaded the narrow boxes from the top, making the envelopes fit by jamming them down with a pile driver. Anything that didn’t fit-magazines, catalogues, tax returns, divorce decrees-went into the communal pile on the floor and ultimately into the trash if not promptly claimed.