That did it. The toothy grin opened as her head went back.
“Ah. Excellent choice. Very beautiful. And you, sir?”
For the first time that night, Harry was stuck for an answer. The best he could do was, “I’m with him.”
I have no idea what that suggested to the honorable madam. Whatever it was, it did not upset her sensibilities. The grin was a fixture, but nothing even registered in her eyes.
“So. Please follow.”
She opened a second door and welcomed us to a room that made the first room look like a freshman dorm. She closed the door behind us. I assumed that she went to hustle up Mei-Li.
I looked at Harry, but not before taking in the essence of our surroundings.
“I take it the clientele here is not off-the-street.”
He exhaled as if it were his first breath since we came out of the cold. He was smiling, but shaking his head. The message he was sending was something between conflict and frustration.
“You can’t understand. There’s just no way.”
I came close enough for a whisper to work below the level of the music.
“I’m willing to learn, Harry.”
Something caught in his throat that made his voice sound like gravel.
“You still don’t get it. The people they serve here have more wealth and power in their own world than you could dream of.”
“Drugs?”
Harry edged closer and dropped his voice below the level of the music. His hands went up in a gesture.
“Tip of the iceberg. Drugs are big, but this empire runs on everything illegal. Extortion big time. Illegal alien smuggling. Slavery, prostitution, those two go hand in hand. Police corruption. That’s a commodity they can sell to other organizations in other states. You beginning to get it?”
“What I don’t get is how you know about it. You’re not into this.”
For a fraction of a second I was tempted to end that last sentence with a question mark. I decided to go on faith. It probably saved our friendship.
“You don’t have to be a part of it to know about it if you’re Chinese. There isn’t any Chinese I know, no matter how far out of Chinatown, who doesn’t have family or friends who are being victimized.”
Questions were running wild in my mind, but there was one I had to get in before that door opened. I whispered this one.
“What in the world did you say to that ape on the stairs?”
“I used the two words they fear more than death.”
“Which are?” He was dragging it out. I didn’t blame him.
“Immigration Service.”
“The hell you did! You told him you’re an immigration officer?”
“No. I told him you are.”
I took a deep breath while I counted the number of years following disbarment I could get for impersonating a federal officer. Then I considered what could happen if any of these bozos compared notes with the crowd at the Ming Tree restaurant where I was known as Bradley’s defense lawyer. I figured disbarment and jail time would be the good news.
“One question. If this place is populated with illegal aliens, how come they let us in?”
“I told them you’re a good INS agent.”
“Meaning?”
The knob turned on the door as Harry whispered the last few words.
“Meaning I told them you’re on the take. They may not love you, but they sure as hell want to please you.”
The ramifications of that were beyond computing. I had about two full seconds to dwell on it before my senses were sent into overload.
There’s striking. There’s astoundingly beautiful. And then somewhere beyond that there’s Mei-Li. The woman that came through that door carried poise, radiance, and charm to a level I’d never experienced off of a movie screen.
You could say it was the cascade of midnight hair flowing to the waist of a lithe body that moved with an almost choreographed grace. Or it could have been the exquisite facial features that expressed elegance without intimidating the male ego. It could even have been the packaging of form-fitting turquoise silk from alabaster neck to floor.
Whatever it was, it was stunning, in the literal sense of that word-until I realized that it was empty. It was a picture carefully assembled for one purpose. She was a prostitute. The whole fragile image was created to carry off a relationship no deeper than a onesided sex drive. I couldn’t help thinking that somewhere beneath that perfection there must be a human being as carefully hidden as any blemish that lay beneath the makeup. If she was in there, she was the one I had to reach to keep my end of the fortune-cookie bargain with Red Shoes.
She closed the door and bowed, respectfully, from the waist. The smile she carried across the room was beautiful, but prerecorded. I don’t suppose that mattered to most of the men she found waiting in that room.
If she was surprised to find my round eyes meeting her almond disks, there was no clue in her features. I met her halfway across the room. The problem was an opening move. There was no way to tell whose headset or video monitor was playing the Mei-Li and Michael Show, so a little misdirection seemed in order.
I took her hand while we locked smiles. The bed area consumed the third of the room to the left, and the “getting acquainted” area took up most of the rest. There was a dark corner of dead space off to my right. It seemed the least likely to spawn any action that would be worth recording, and probably the least likely to be the focus of any hidden camera.
I led her slowly to what I hoped would be off-camera. She followed in step. I think as long as I played the John, she’d have dutifully followed me to Taiwan. The question was how to reach the girl inside who made her own choices. I decided, When in doubt, fly direct.
I kept my voice so low that it could only have been picked up if she were wearing a microphone.
“Mei-Li, do you read Chinese?”
Her voice was higher than I expected.
“Of course.”
I handed her the note that Red Shoes had delivered with the fortune cookie. She scanned it while I read her eyes. The best I could hope for was a flash of gratitude for the rescue she’d prayed for. The worst was what I saw. Nothing. The shell was intact.
She handed back the note without a quiver.
“What does this mean?” The little high-pitched voice gave up nothing but mild curiosity.
“I was hoping you might tell me. Do you have any idea where I got it?”
“No.” It peeped out like half a syllable, as if I’d asked if she knew the capital of Montana. I was leery about tipping too much information, and I was getting precious little in exchange.
“Mei-Li, no one can hear us. I can help you if you need it. Are you in any kind of trouble?”
She seemed perplexed by the question, but peeped out, “No.”
“Are they keeping you here against your will?”
“No.”
“Are you ill?”
“No.”
“Are you in any kind of danger?”
“No.”
Each little peep carried more of the implication, “and how stupid of you to ask.”
Considering what it cost Harry and me in lost heartbeats to get there, plus the need to keep the only hope of help for young Bradley alive, I was beginning to swim in frustration.
Then it occurred to me that she might have tensed up because of listeners. I took her hand and mouthed the words, “If you need help, squeeze my hand.”
I could have been holding a dead mackerel.
I could feel trip-hammers pounding on the nerves behind my eyes. An overwhelming sense of defeat flooded
