“I want to stop by and see you. I can be there in twenty minutes. You’re right on my way.”
“Only if you want to come over and help me lift tickets. They’re hanging from the rafters out here.”
“I like to get paid when I work. We can meet in front of your ticket counter at what? Eight-fifteen? Better make it eight-thirty in case the tunnel is backed up.”
“Shanahan-”
“Come on, Dan. Take a break. I haven’t seen you in…too long.”
“You’re full of shit. You want something from me.”
“That, too. I need your help.”
“I’ll give you fifteen minutes,” he said. “Don’t be late.”Click.
Dan approached the way he always did-walking fast and talking faster. When he spotted me, he vectored over, barely clearing the slow movers as he sliced through the crowd.
“Hey, Shanahan, get me a pillow from the overhead bin, and top off my rum and coke. Just kidding. C’mon, let’s get a doughnut or something.”
He took off again and I caught up with him at Dunkin’ Donuts, leaning over the counter, having a speed-talking contest with the woman pouring his coffee.
“What do you want to drink, Shanahan?”
“Tea.” I pulled out my folding money, ready to slip him a couple of bills.
“Fucking tea from a coffee stand.” He shook his head. “Put your money away.”
“I invited you.”
“I’d hate for my cup of coffee to tip you over into bankruptcy.” He reached for his own cash, digging deep into the pants pocket of his very sharp charcoal suit, which, I noticed, was suspiciously well tailored to his wiry frame. His tie was silk instead of a polyester blend, and it matched his precision-pressed cotton shirt.
“Is that a custom-tailored suit, Dan?”
“Don’t talk about the suit.” He reached up and dragged the knot of his tie off center, as if to make it less perfect. He was trying hard to be insulted, because true operations guys never cared how they looked. He certainly hadn’t the first time I’d ever seen him. On my first day on the job at Logan, I looked out the window to see him sprinting across the ramp in a heavy rain with a kidney in his hands. Not his. A transplant kidney in a cooler. It had arrived on a late inbound flight from Chicago and was overdue at the hospital. He was soaking wet. Just another day at the office for Dan.
“Awfully spiffy, Mr. Fallacaro.Very corporate.”
“I’m warning you, Shanahan. Don’t start.”
But now, despite himself, he had become a mucky-muck, and he had people to run out into the rain for him. He liked his job, had been surprised to find out how good he was at it, and I would have bet any amount of money I didn’t have that he loved that suit and the way he looked in it. God forbid he should let anyone know.
He handed me my tea and took his jumbo steaming brew, and we walked to a couple of chairs that faced the ticketing lobby. “What do you want from me now, Shanahan? I already got you a job, for Chrissakes.”
“You didn’t get me a job.”
“I gave you the contact at GrapefruitAir, didn’t I? I hooked you up with Harvey. How’s he doing, by the way?”
“He’s okay. Physically up and down, but mostly down about the case.”
“The hooker case? Are you still on that? Jesus Christ, how long has it been? Months, right?”
“Please, don’t you start.”
“What’d I say? What’s so hard about chasing hookers around?”
I looked around to make sure no one was listening. Dan had, indeed, been our first contact on the case with OrangeAir, for which I was eternally grateful. I just wished he didn’t talk so loud. “It’s not hard to find them. It’s hard to find them doing anything actionable. Right now, all I have are a bunch of shots of women in killer evening gowns and Prada shoes coming and going from expensive hotels, climbing in and out of limos, and leaving parties and restaurants with passengers. It’s not enough.”
“What more do you need?”
“Proof that money is changing hands. I need statements from the men in the photos saying they paid for sex. But since the hookers’ customers are also the airline’s best customers-”
“Don’t tell me, the airline doesn’t want you fucking with their revenue base.”
“Exactly right. They think it would be a bad idea to accuse their full-fare first-class business travelers and heavy-duty frequent fliers of patronizing a prostitution ring. Go figure.”
He pulled the stirrer out of his coffee, stared at the ceiling as he sucked on it, and put it back. “Okay. Here’s what you do. You sit down and draft up a proposal for the airline. Call it a new business opportunity. Outline a revenue-sharing arrangement. Get the hookers to cut the airline in on their action. In return, they can continue to operate with no hassles.”
“That’s your idea?”
“Think about it. They’ve got the same target market. They can do joint marketing. ‘Use your frequent flier miles to get laid.’ It’s a win-win.”
His delivery was so perfectly deadpan it made me laugh. “I don’t believe this is the kind of advice the airline called on us to provide.”
He leaned back and shrugged. “It’s a new day, Shanahan. You have to think outside the box.”
“Well,” I said, hopping out of the box, “it is an intriguing idea. The airlines are always looking for ways to burn off that frequent flier liability. Ten thousand for a lap dance. Think of all the liability you could burn off on a single New York-LA transcon.”
He stared at the ceiling. “Seventy-five for a threesome. In Bermuda.”
“You’re such a guy, Dan.”
“Threesomes and girls doing each other. Are you kidding me? They’d put the rest of us out of business in a week. I’ll let you have that idea. You should think about it.”
“I think I’ll stick with the client’s fundamental premise that prostitution is a bad thing.”
“Suit yourself. I’m just saying, don’t fuck with market forces. These guys love to play the frequent flier game. This is just another way to do it.”
“I have a different idea. I want to get someone from the inside, a client, to give me information about what’s going on.”
“What kind of an asshole in his right mind would do that?”
I unzipped my backpack and pulled out the envelope I’d brought. I slipped out the photo I’d printed, the one that had caught my attention last night, and passed it over to Dan. “This kind. Look at the man behind the brunette. He has his hand on her butt.”
“Holy shit. Is that-”
“It is, isn’t it?” I was delighted to see the flash of recognition in his eyes. “It’s that guy from Florida who used to fly in and out of here about once a week. You used to meet and greet him.”
“Still do. He’s one of my best customers. Filthy rich. Lives down in West Palm, but his mother is still out in Weymouth. Every time he comes through here, I take care of him. Every time he goes out, he offers me a job with his company. His old company. I don’t even know what he does. He had a bunch of businesses and sold them.”
“That’s a prostitute he’s fondling, Dan, one of the ones I’m chasing.”
“Good for him.”
“So, here’s what I was thinking. I really need information on this group. Your buddy from Florida is obviously on the inside. I was wondering if you could talk to him for me.”
“Talk to him about having his hand on a hooker’s ass? I don’t think so. I just told you he’s one of our Very Important Travelers.”
“You could talk to him as someone interested in becoming one of their clients.”
“You mean a trick.”
“Well…yeah. That way, you could ask him questions about how it works, is it secure, how does he schedule dates, does he know many of the women. I can give you a list of questions if you want.”
“Shanahan…” We were perfectly isolated in the hollow center of an airport din. There was no more private place to talk, yet he still checked around and leaned closer. “The reason I had to hire Harvey in the first place was because my ex accused me of hiding assets. Can you believe that shit? That’s all I need is for her to get wind that I’m out blowing the child support on hookers.”