I rap my knuckles on the table. “Sorry to disappoint you assholes, but you seem to have missed me saying the fuckin’ photographer has disappeared, and unless he’s found, I won’t be getting shit for,” I raise my hands and use air quotes, “‘pimping my ride.’”
“How we going to find this fucker?” Salem looks disgusted on my behalf. “You don’t steal from a Satan’s Devil and get away with it.”
Prez has been closely following the conversation. He looks down the table at Token. “You couldn’t find him?”
“Nah. I couldn’t track his phone as he’s clearly ditched it. I suspect Devon Starr might not be his real name, as he’s not registered with any of the utilities. He’s like a ghost. He appeared, took photos and went.”
“You sure he’s local? Could be he just flew in for the day.”
“First, Alicia, the female model, had another photo shoot with him about three weeks ago. Second, I’ve spoken again to Owen Leesom, the male model that day.” I pause to wipe my hand over my brow, considering what to say. “My gut feel is that he knows a fuckload more than what’s coming out of his mouth. I asked him if Devon was local, and he jumped too fast to say he didn’t know where he was located.”
“Can we find this Owen?”
Token nods at Lost. “That we can as long as he doesn’t ditch his phone. And as long as he isn’t using a made-up name.”
Lost stares at the table for a moment, then raises his head. “I know authors use pseudonyms, but photographers and models as well?”
“I’d say it’s possible.” Pennywise rubs at his nose. “Maybe because they want a memorable name, or just want to keep their sideline away from their normal life.” He pauses and nods toward me. “If Patsy didn’t read those mommy porn novels, you’d never have known your photo had been used.”
Lost bristles at the reference to the suggestion his old lady reads porn but lets the comment pass by. “So, we could be looking for people who don’t exist. What the fuck do we do now?”
“Those studios he rents. That kid modelled again for him, I think you said?” When I nod, Salem continues, “What name were they rented in, and how did he pay?”
Token sighs. “Devon Starr and cash.”
Lost raps his fingers against the table. “For a businessman, he certainly is elusive. You’ve reached a dead end, Toke?”
Token hates to be beaten. Give him a problem, and he’ll solve it. But this is like looking for a fucking needle in the proverbial haystack. He rests his hands on the table and turns them palm upwards.
“If Token is stumped, what about asking Utah?” As all eyes go to Blaze, faces form expressions which aren’t particularly friendly. The tattoo artist shrugs. “They seem to be technical geniuses with shit at their fingertips far more than you have, Token. Why not ask them for help?”
Lost grimaces, but in the way that he does, he takes a moment to think. “If we trusted them, then yes. But I don’t. We know Stormy was a loose cannon, but what do we know of the rest of them? Snatcher’s still got a way to go to prove he can run his club right. And don’t forget, it’s this week the clock runs out on Stormy.”
He's going to be out bad for certain. Justice, as far as I’m concerned, will be served. From the murmurs around the table, it’s not just me who thinks it.
Dart raises his chin. “One reason they stayed under the radar was for precisely this reason. If they’re to be believed, they focus their power on righting wrongs, big things, like stopping or rescuing people from kidnappings. They don’t want their computer power to be tied up in smaller shit.”
“It’s a fuckin’ big thing to me,” I grumble. “I’m out at least a thousand big ones.”
“I hear you, Brother.” The VP’s eyes soften. “But it’s not in their league.”
“Perhaps if they did apply themselves to helping us out, maybe we’d see them as Devils,” Dusty states, tugging at his ear.
I raise my chin toward Prez. “If they’re willing to help, might go some way toward mending bridges. I, for one, would like to see what they’re made of. Must admit it would be hard to take out a man wearing a Satan’s Devils’ patch, but if they don’t come to our assistance, then maybe they don’t have the right to call themselves Satan’s Devils.” And then I wouldn’t have so much hesitation pulling the trigger.
Lost is again quiet, then he leans forward. “Point well made, sergeant-at-arms. I’ll run it past Drummer. I presume you’ve spoken to Mouse?” He stares at Token for his answer.
“Yeah, and he can’t offer anything more. We’ve nothing to go on other than a description and a fake name.”
“Well, all I can suggest Grumbler is you keep in touch with the model’s mother, see if Alicia is contacted again.”
Nodding, as that will be no problem, I offer something else as well. “Alicia and Owen are friendly. I’ll have a chat with her, see if she can press him on where Devon can be found.”
“It is her money at stake as well.” Lost stares at me.
“You mentioned the girl and Owen are friendly.” Token’s brow is creasing. “Can you get her to set up a meeting with him?”
“Yeah, if they get together, get us the details, Brother.” Pennywise stops and picks something out of his teeth. “We can be gate crashers.”
Now that’s an idea. I’ve got a niggling feeling that whatever scam the photographer is running, Owen is also in it up to his neck. The problem is, Alicia might be a handful, but I don’t want to see her being used again. Not by Devon as an unpaid model, or us as bait for a trap.
“Can we table that for now until we’ve exhausted other avenues?” I grimace, rubbing at my face. “She’s only seventeen and I can’t reason with her as though
