know that, too.'
'All right. Did you find out from anybody over there what Lucy told him?'
'I know a supervisor in the squad. He told me they haven't found her. They've talked by phone but she hasn't come in. She won't come in.'
Pierce was about to tell her that he had Cody Zeller looking for Lucy when there was a sharp knock on his door and it opened before he could react. Charlie Condon stuck his head in. He was smiling, until he saw Pierce's face.
'Jesus Christ!'
'Who is that?' Langwiser asked.
'My partner. I have to go. Let me know what you hear.'
'When I hear it. Good-bye, Henry.'
Pierce hung up and looked up at Condon's stricken face. He smiled.
'Actually, Jesus Christ is down the hall and to the left. I'm Henry Pierce.'
Condon smiled uneasily and Pierce casually turned over the printouts from the Zeller package. Condon came in and closed the door.
'Man, how do you feel? Are you all right?'
'I'll live.'
'You want to talk about it?'
'No.'
'Henry, I am really sorry I didn't get over to the hospital. But it's been crazy around here getting ready for Maurice.'
'Don't worry about it. So I take it we're still presenting tomorrow.'
Condon nodded.
'He's already in town and waiting on us. No delays. We go tomorrow or he goes -and takes his money with him. I talked to Larraby and Grooms and they said we're -'
' -ready to go. I know. I called them from the hospital. It's not Proteus that's the problem. That's not why I wanted to delay. It's my face. I look like I'm Frankenstein's cousin. And I'm not going to look much better tomorrow.'
'I told him you had a car accident. It's not going to matter what you look like. What matters is Proteus. He wants to see the project and we promised him a first look. Before we send in the patents. Look, Goddard's the type of guy who can write the check on the spot. We need to do this, Henry. Let's get it over with.'
Pierce raised his hands in surrender. Money was always the trump card.
'He's still going to ask a lot of questions when he sees my face.'
'Look,' Condon said. 'It's a dog and pony show. No big deal. You'll be done with him by lunch. If he asks questions, just tell him you went through the windshield and leave it at that. I mean, you haven't even told me what happened. Why should he be any different?'
Pierce saw the momentary look of hurt in his partner's eyes.
'Charlie, I'll tell you when the time is right. I just can't right now.'
'Yes, that's what partners are for, to tell things at the right time.'
'Look, I know I can't win this argument with you, all right? I admit I'm wrong. So let's just leave it alone for now.'
'Sure, Henry, whatever you want. What are you working on now?'
'Nothing. Just some bullshit paperwork.'
'Then you're ready for tomorrow?'
'I'm ready.'
Condon nodded.
'Either way we win,' he said. 'Either we take his money or we put in the patents, go to the press with Proteus and come January there will be a line like fucking Star Wars at ETS to talk to us.'
Pierce nodded. But he hated going to Las Vegas for the annual emerging-technologies symposium. It was the most crass clash between science and finance in the world. Full of charlatans and DARPA spies. But a necessary evil just the same. It was where they had first courted one of Maurice Goddard's front men ten months before.
'If we last until January,' Pierce said. 'We need money now.'
'Don't worry about that. My job's finding the money. I think I can come up with a few intermediary fish to hold us until we land another whale.'
Pierce nodded, feeling reassured by his partner. With the situation he was in, thinking forward even a month seemed ridiculous.
'Okay, Charlie.'
'But, hey, it's not going to matter. We're going to land Maurice, right?'
'Right.'
'Good. Then I'll let you get back to work. Tomorrow at nine?'
Pierce leaned back in his chair and groaned. His last protest on the timing.
'I'll be here.'
'Our fearless leader.'
'Yeah, right.'
Charlie knocked sharply on the inside of the door, perhaps some sort of signal of solidarity, and left. Pierce waited a moment and then got up and locked the door. He wanted no more interruptions.
He went back to the printouts. After the short report on Lilly Quinlan came a voluminous report on William Wentz, owner-operator of Entrepreneurial Concepts Unlimited. The report stated that Wentz sat at the top of a burgeoning empire of Internet sleaze, from escort services to porno sites. These sites, though directed from Los Angeles, were operating in twenty cities in fourteen states, and of course reachable by the Internet from around the world.
While the Internet companies Wentz operated might be viewed as sleazy by most, they were still legal. The Internet was a world of largely regulation-free commerce. As long as Wentz did not provide photos of underage models engaged in sex and slapped the proper disclaimers on his escort sites, he operated largely in the clear. If one of his escorts happened to be taken down in a prostitution sting, he could easily distance himself. His site clearly said in a prominent disclaimer that it did not promote prostitution or any sort of trade of sex for money or property. If an escort agreed to take money for sex, then that was her decision and her web page would immediately be eliminated from the site.
Pierce had already gotten a general rundown on Wentz's operations from Philip Glass, the private detective. But Zeller's report was far more detailed and a testimonial to the power and reach of the Internet. Zeller had uncovered Wentz's criminal past in the states of Florida and New York. Contained in the printout package were several more mug shots, these depicting Wentz and another man named Grady Allison, who was listed in California corporate records as the comptroller of ECU. Pierce remembered that Lucy LaPorte had mentioned him. He skipped past the photos and read Zeller's opening summary.
Wentz and Allison appear to be a team. They arrived from Florida within a month of each other six years ago. This after multiple arrests in Orlando probably made things tough for them there. According to intelligence files with the Florida Department of Law Enforcement (FDLE), these men operated a chain of strip joints on the Orange Blossom Trail in Orlando. This was before the Internet made selling sex, real or imagined, so much easier than putting naked chicks on a stage and selling blow jobs on the side.
Allison was known as Grade A Allison in Florida because of his skill in recruiting top talent to the stages of the Orange Blossom Trail. Wentz and Allison's clubs were called
'No Strings Attached,' as in full nudity.
IMPORTANT NOTE: The FDLE box connects these guys to one Dominic Silva, 71, Winter Park, FL, who in turn is connected to traditional organized crime in New York and northern New Jersey.
BE CAREFUL!
Their pedigree as mobsters didn't surprise Pierce. Not with the way Wentz had been so calculatingly cold and
