Allure (Mercenaries Book 1) Read online

“That’s for sure,” deVeel agreed. He stood up. “I’ll get in touch with her now. We should know within fifteen minutes, if anyone’s awake out there.”

  “Good. Please check back as soon as Ms Saunders has information. We will be here.” He paused, then added as deVeel started toward the door. “Mr. deVeel. Since Ms Saunders is here, may I assume that Trillian is with her?”

  “I would guess so; that was the arrangement and I don’t know why anyone would change it except Boynton. I’ll ask her, though, to make sure.”

  “Very good. Thank you,” followed deVeel through the archway into the lobby. “Well.” His gaze swept all three of them. “How do you feel this morning? I trust that nothing untoward occurred last night, causing you to stay together for security.”

  “Huh?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Beckie responded. “We just wanted to all be together. Sort of pool our strength, I guess.”

  “Excellent. I hoped as much while waiting for Michael to answer the phone.” Looking at his watch, he continued, “Since we must wait for Mr. deVeel, you may have more breakfast, should you desire. Once we have his information, we will be at liberty to be tourists, looking at the sights.” He looked first at Beckie, then at Melissa. “How do you feel about your role today?”

  “Well,” Melissa said. “We talked a little about it with Mike last night, and he put it pretty well when he said that we were still us, and he knew who we were, and he knew why we were up there doing what we were doing. We still don’t like it very much, having all those people ogling us, but we want to help Cari more. So, we’ll go back tonight.”

  “That’s it, for sure,” Beckie affirmed, glad that Melissa had spoken up.

  “Very well. Please be certain. Carina is important, to be sure. However, you are as important, and—”

  “We understand. You’re helping us a lot. So is Mike, and Mr. deVeel, too. I think we’ll be okay as long as we’ve got you guys to lean on after it’s over. Right, Melissa?”

  “Right, Beckie.” She looked surprised at the use of her full name.

  “So we’ll keep going until it either works, or we can’t take it anymore, and we’ll let you know when that happens. Okay?”

  Jamse looked at each of them in turn. “Very well. I apologize for speaking of it so often; however, I feel obliged—”

  “Yeah, we noticed that you weren’t your usual cheerful self last night. Don’t worry; this isn’t the career I’m going to go to the guidance office with when we get back.” Melissa’s giggle brought a hint of a smile to Beckie’s face. “Or Lissa either, I guess. But it has added to what my English teacher calls ‘life experience,’ for sure. We agreed to help you, and so far, no one’s lied about anything, and we have each other and Mike and you to fall back on.” With a smile, she pushed her chair back and stood. “Now, can we go look at the nicer side of England?”

  Assuming they would follow, she walked through the lobby to the front door, then watched as Jamse ransomed the car once again. He suggested a drive west, to visit the town of Windsor and the castle. Beckie smiled inside when he admitted that the trip would take them past the bed and breakfast near Heathrow.

  Before they reached the M25, Jamse’s mobile phone rang. Beckie listened as intently as the others to Jamse’s side of the conversation. Fortunately, after he disconnected, he explained.

  “Ms Saunders has learned that the men she has been watching have been using the telephone. They made several calls to Germany, and additional calls to Italy and Greece. These were not particularly lengthy. However, they also connected to an ISP for long enough that video or multiple still images could have been transmitted.

  “The facts are still circumstantial. I would like to stop to speak with Ms Saunders, if you do not object?”

  The rhetorical nature of his question became clear when the signs that read Windsor and the West were replaced with ones that marked the way toward Heathrow.

  “Is Trillian there, too?” Beckie asked.

  “No, Boynton has left with her.”

  Beckie didn’t mind Mike’s arm over her shoulder and a quick look suggested that Melissa didn’t either. Actually, that’s a ‘cat with the cream’ look… None of them had any reason to speak, as they mulled over either the immediate future or the immediate past. God, Beckie thought, it’s just Sunday morning and so much’s happened already.

  Jamse used the phone once again, obtaining directions. The roar of a large aircraft lifting off over the motorway caught Beckie’s attention as Jamse made the left onto the ramp and headed west again. In minutes the gravel of the parking lot at the little pub crunched under the wheels as he came to a stop.

  “Hey, it’s cold out here,” Beckie said as she stepped out of the car, hugging herself.

  “This is England in all her glory, Rebecca. However, in April there is little enough warmth,” Jamse replied as he joined them. “And almost never in the morning.” He ushered them through the door.

  “You have a guest, a Ms Saunders?”

  “Yes, I believe so. If you will use that phone,” the clerk said, pointing to an instrument on a table at the back wall, “I will connect you.”

  After a minute’s wait, a young fairly tall Asian woman entered the lobby to be greeted by Jamse: “Good morning, Ms Saunders. These are the young Americans assisting us: Rebecca, Melissa, Michael.” Beckie nodded uncomfortably as Jamse introduced them.

  “Hello, Mr. Jamse.” She nodded to the kids. “A pleasure to meet each of you. Please call me Barbara, or Barb, as suits you.”

  “Hi. Call me Beckie, please.” She ignored Jamse’s slight frown and saw it fade to a tiny smile.

  “Sure. How ‘bout you guys?”

  “Mike.”

  “Lissa will do.”

  “Okay. Com’on, all of us can sit back in the pub and have some tea or coffee while we go over what I’ve got.” To Jamse, she continued, “I have a little more since I spoke with Kevin. It may be a good beginning.”

  “Do you think it will be sufficient that Rebecca and Melissa need not continue?”

  “Unfortunately no, but it narrows the field somewhat.”

  They reached a large table and sat around it. A waiter appeared with a serving tray of tea and coffee. When he left, Barbara began.

  “The phone details aren’t available yet, but the operator remembers three calls to Italy and Greece, all from one room. And the one to the ISP. Also, I was able to get inside that room for a few moments to look around.”

  While Jamse took this information in stride, Beckie saw her surprise mirrored in Melissa and Mike’s faces. While Barbara was Asian in appearance, she spoke with an American accent. In her thirties, she stood just under six feet tall. Her black hair was cut short, almost mannishly so. She wore a bulky sweater over slacks, at once warm and sufficiently ordinary that she did not draw undue attention to herself.

  “I hoped they might have left something to indicate the girls were the targets, or the identity of the person directing them. But the room was almost sterile. It looked so much like they expected someone to be searching that I left without delay.”

  “Good. You noticed no equipment of the type we discussed?”

  “A very small device near the phone. I photoed the identifying marks and control settings, since I had never seen anything like it before.” She handed Jamse a small camera.

  Looking at the viewer, he said, “I must have Mr. Frande confirm my belief; however, I expect that this is the next generation of the device we saw. You have done well.”

  “Thanks. Let me see if the records are available now.” She left the room. At the table, Beckie sat quietly while Mike sipped his coffee. Melissa turned in her chair, looking through the window.

  Barbara returned in a minute. “The records here include only the country, not the specific number. The operator will attempt to have the telephone people give him the number, but believes it’ll take most of the day.” She looked to the door as the desk clerk waved to her. “That’ll be
our men going out. I’ll follow them, unless…”

  “Go ahead. Be cautious, especially after what you saw in their room.” She waved her acknowledgment on her way through the door.

  “Shall we move on?” He rose and held Beckie’s chair.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Stonehenge

  BECKIE PAID NO ATTENTION TO the sights Jamse pointed out as he drove west. Her mind focused on him looking at her in that tiny dressing room—no, he stared, she corrected herself. Does that mean he… he liked—

  The car came over the top of a hillock on the A344. Just ahead, through the mist and trees, she glimpsed an unexpected view of the blue-gray stones of Stonehenge. Jamse turned into the car park; leaving the car, they turned tourist.

  The walk approaching the stone ring was quiet. Maybe, Beckie thought, everyone else knew this mist was coming, as she again hugged herself for warmth. Closer to the stones, she broke away a small distance from the others. Looking at Melissa and Mike, she could see in their expressions that they were as impressed as she. Even Jamse had an unusual look about him, one she thought might be respect.

  Stepping farther away from the others, she kept to the posted track, walking on the lush grass only to get a better perspective on the alignment. When she turned to gaze out of the ring, there seemed to be hundreds of sheep watching her. As she stared, she saw some turning away. Their action evoked a comparison with the men at the club. Embarrassed? she snickered.

  The Sverdupes had visited historical sites near home, but Beckie was quite certain none of them had the provenance of these huge stones. That didn’t keep her from agreeing when Jamse dropped his jacket over her shoulders with a half-hearted smile. “Your trembling seems unrelated to the history here, rather to the rain. Shall we return to the car?”

  The mist never let up until they were back in the car headed back to the city.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A New Plan?

  BACK AT THE HOTEL, THE kids fell into their beds for a few more hours of sleep.

  Jamse went to the bar and ordered a mineral water. He called deVeel to ask what they had learned, but had to leave a message. Closing the phone, he returned to his table to review his plans and how deVeel’s report might affect them. Progress to date was a worry.

  DeVeel had reported that Nigel’s income seemed to be higher than he’d expected from the club; they’d been able to guess what the take and profit from the club would be, based on the attendance over the past few nights. This was the basis for his belief that Nigel allowed trafficking girls out of the club. Jamse believed that the kidnapping of dancers was only a recent business expansion; surely someone would have noticed at least one of a string of missing girls. They had found no reports, either at the police, Scotland Yard or in the papers, that fit the facts.

  In hindsight, he believed that he should have expected Nigel’s approach. Since neither Beckie nor Melissa had ever performed before, it made perfect sense to have them dance together. As he himself had reasoned, they would support each other. Apparently, together they could also be more arousing than either singly. He grudgingly gave Nigel higher marks, at least as a strip club operator.

  In spite of Beckie’s words, he was concerned because he had incorrectly guessed how Nigel would use the girls. However, he was more disturbed by the potential effect on them. He finally concluded that if the team succeeded, any lasting effects would be minimal. If they failed, however, the memories would not have a positive counterbalance, and so would be more likely to pose problems. While he’d needed no further incentive to safely recover Cari, this created one. He finished the sparkling water and ordered another.

  DeVeel followed the waiter to the table.

  “Shaken, not stirred,” he joked, and asked the waiter to bring a lager.

  Jamse acknowledged the joke with a nod of his head and a mock toast as deVeel sat down across from him.

  “Stirring bruises the lemon, as you must know.” He sipped as deVeel commented, tongue in cheek, about the damage that squeezing the slice would cause.

  “Well, Kevin, what have we come to? I should have listened to you sooner; you might have kept me from the blunder in which I am engulfed.”

  “Not likely. Except for Beckie and Melissa, it seems to be the best plan going.”

  “But they are the concern, are they not?”

  “Sure. Including Cari. And the other girls these people might make off with.”

  “We have found no evidence that this has been other than a one-time event.” He paused while the waiter set deVeel’s beer on the table. “If so, our ability to track the culprits with Rebecca and Melissa will be limited.”

  “That’s certainly true. But if it’s not a one-time, rather just starting, letting it go will give them confidence that they can succeed again. And, I may have new information.” DeVeel took a long drink.

  “Ah. Will you share it?”

  “While there have been only a couple reports of missing girls in the official records, the working girls tell a slightly different story. For the past several months, fewer during the winter, girls have disappeared from the streets and, to a lesser extent, the clubs.”

  DeVeel played with the pint glass, making rings on the shiny table top. “The girls who disappeared were newcomers, generally from out of country, certainly not from London. Every one was young. Most of the women I talked to thought, still think, that they’d had given up the life, finding that the money wasn’t enough compensation for the work. It’s likely that some did just that.” He looked up to return Jamse’s gaze. “But I don’t believe that all did.”

  “Have you any proof?”

  “Just my instinct.”

  Jamse said nothing; sipping his water while reflecting on deVeel’s past instincts. After a moment, he asked, “Why do these missing girls cause your instinct to recoil at the intimation that they returned to their homes?”

  “Like I said, some probably did.” He leaned back in the chair, hooking an arm over the back. “But my experience with prostitutes is that they don’t quit because it’s a lousy life. That’s what they expected. Or they have no choice, more likely. There are just a few too many for me to feel comfortable with.”

  He sat forward again, holding the glass in both hands. “From the descriptions Willie and Derek got, many were of a type, like Cari, in appearance. Or Beckie and Melissa. And since they were all newcomers, any reports that they were missing would have been filed somewhere else, not in London.”

  “You have touched on all my concerns. Well done.” He raised his glass in another mock toast. “Still, I have made an error in estimating Nigel’s reaction. What other errors in judgment have I made? Or will I make in finishing this?”

  DeVeel relaxed. “Ian, we have each of us made errors. Some have been large, others small. We look to you since, by and large, your record is far better than anyone else’s. I don’t believe you have made any mistakes that were foreseeable. Unless you’ve been a strip club operator in the past?”

  “No. Thank you.” He paused a second. “Shall we choose the next course, then? I would value your opinion.”

  They spent the next few minutes considering alternatives. Unfortunately, all included the girls continuing to dance. DeVeel verified that Barbara had not been able to obtain the phone numbers. However, Susan had made the necessary modifications to the girls’ outfits and she was arranging the rest of the team, anticipating the need to track them. With no other problems to discuss, Jamse sent deVeel back out, arranging to meet him at dinner.

  Shortly after six, Mike answered his phone to hear Jamse, rousing him for dinner. He had chosen a small Italian style restaurant a block off Covent Garden. While waiting for deVeel, the group paused to watch the buskers play for the pleasure of the crowd sitting at the several bars outside the building. However, the afternoon mist from Stonehenge had arrived in London and like the girls, Mike welcomed the warmth inside the restaurant.

  “I’m not sure just what this would be like,”
Beckie said, holding up the tri-cornered plastic tower enclosing a specialty drink menu. They all read the name of the drink: A Slow Comfortable Screw Up Against the Wall. Mike grinned internally, applauding Beckie’s audacious question, while deVeel wasn’t so restrained, laughing aloud.

  Jamse looked at deVeel. Bet he’d like deVeel to say something, Mike thought. But deVeel kept quiet except for the smile on his face.

  “I regret removing the romance from such a novel name,” Jamse said when it became obvious that deVeel would not, “but the name is derived from the liquors that are used in creating the drink. Sloe gin, Southern Comfort, vodka with orange juice…” After a moment, he continued, “I apologize that I do not know what else is used, as I am unfamiliar with a Harvey Wallbanger.”

  “Don’t look at me,” deVeel said with a chuckle.

  “That’s okay” Beckie said. “I’m not ready for that, either.”

  Mike laughed with the girls. Jamse signaled for the waiter. The meal went well and soon they were on the way again.

  The girls were dressed much as they had been the night before, pleated skirts with new oxford shirts. They were as ready as they could be.

  Standing outside the restaurant, Mike was unsure about his feelings, whether he should even go to the club. Finally, he asked Melissa how she felt, but before she could answer, deVeel spoke up.

  “Mike, we want you outside. Besides, while having you in the club once probably didn’t raise any attention, being there two nights in a row might cause someone to notice that you and Beckie look a lot alike.”

  “Mr. deVeel and I planned to have you watch the back door, in the event of any unexpected activity there. You may require this.” Jamse handed Mike a small communicator; deVeel touched his own radio. Melissa gave him a little hug along with her smile.

  CHAPTER TEN

  According to Plan

  NIGEL WAS AS AFFABLE TOWARD the girls as he had been, and Beckie noticed that Nancy was even more helpful. Their three performances were uneventful, almost commonplace, as Beckie felt more and more comfortable there. Not to say I like this! Well, maybe. A little, she admitted, following Melissa to the dressing room.