As her eyes adjusted, she saw she was in a room that appeared to be used as a store room. There were two broken chairs. One had smashed legs. Looking at that chair made her think of a fight, or an argument, or perhaps even 'extracting information.' It didn't look like it had just been crushed by someone heavy when they sat down. She guessed that told her a lot about the way this place dealt with people. She didn't want the same treatment, and knew she'd have to be fast and careful, because she was one person, up against many.

  Elsewhere in the room, there were a couple of boxes, a few old mops and brooms, some dusty planks - and as of now, a few recent scuffs and footprints.

  This room had not been used for a long while, Cora saw, as she moved to the door. The aircon had been disconnected, a new one installed, probably some time ago. Dust had settled. The old room, and that weakness in the wall where the vent had been inserted, had been forgotten about, but it had supplied her with a way in.

  Now, time to find out where 'Poodl' was, if he was here at all.

  She pushed the door handle down gently, listening hard. Nothing could be heard outside. It was a quiet day in the office. Poodl might be out, doing his gangster activities elsewhere.

  But then again, the place was well guarded, and in Cora's experience, the level of guarding moved up a few notches if the boss was home. She opened the door cautiously, poking her head out first before stepping out.

  It looked all clear. For now, anyway.

  Cora slipped out of the storeroom, wincing as the hinges let out a short, sharp wail. She closed the door and headed into a passage, made from drywall, that stretched out before her. It was dimly lit, and the only sound was the hum of the new air conditioning unit. She crept down the hall, scanning the doorways on either side for any signs of activity.

  Where would the boss be? She needed to find him, without alerting any of the guards.

  Stepping quietly down the corridor, she froze.

  Footsteps ahead, and voices. Two people were walking down the passage toward her.

  Cora's heart accelerated. There was time only to duck to the nearest door and jump inside, flattening herself against the wall behind the door, her heart now feeling like a drum in her chest.

  "Yes. If you go through later, we can organize," the first voice said.

  "And when will Gino be finished?" The note of respect in the second voice told her that Gino might be the boss man.

  "Maybe ten minutes," he said.

  They'd come in here to get something from one of the other rooms, she judged, from the sound of those footsteps. Keys, it seemed like. They'd come in to take a set of keys from the room where those were stored, which thank goodness, had been one door down from the room she'd dove into to escape them.

  Now, they were coming back.

  "You need a bag?" the man asked his partner.

  Cora froze. This was bad news for her.

  Against the wall of the room she was in was a pile of old gym bags. Shabby, ordinary zip-up bags that were innocent and innocuous looking, and which she guessed might be used to transport large amounts of cash, or weapons, or anything else that these people were in the business of dealing with, in an undetectable way.

  Say no, she prayed. Say no. She didn’t want to blow her cover now. Not when she hadn’t figured out who Poodl was, and he could still make a run for it.

  "Yes," the man said. "Better take one."

  Cora drew a deep breath, edging herself further behind the door, as the man entered the room.

  If he rummaged through the bags, if he took his time finding one, then the likelihood of him spotting her was just about a hundred percent.

  He walked in. She felt the door rattle as he brushed against the door frame. A big guy for sure, with a heavy footfall. She tried not to look at him, because sometimes, people could feel your eyes on them and that was a fact. She stayed quiet, kept her gaze down. She held the door handle tightly, pressing it close against her, trying her hardest to be soundless and invisible.

  A rustle as he grabbed a bag. A pause, during which cold sweat prickled her temples.

  And then, the footsteps left. Both men headed back to the entrance and Cora let out her breath slowly.

  She now had maybe five minutes to find Gino, the boss man, who was still somewhere in this building and about to leave. Most likely, he’d been the driver, but if not, he’d know who the driver was. Starting at the top of this local gang headquarters was the best idea.

  Presumably Gino was alone, but what if she was wrong? What if he was surrounded by his men, or worse, a lookout had spotted her after all, and he was already onto her plan?

  Forcing herself not to imagine the worst, she edged out of the room, and continued down the passage.

  Here was a branch in the corridor. A narrower section went off to the right. She stopped, wondering which way she should choose, knowing that the wrong choice might land her in the unwanted company of Gino's men.

  She thought the men’s footsteps had gone straight ahead, which was presumably the way out. Replaying the sound in her mind, she was pretty sure they'd headed that way.

  So to the right, was where she thought Gino would be. Hiding away somewhere at the heart of this internal maze.

  Hoping she had made the correct choice, Cora headed that way, treading quietly, listening. He must be somewhere here, alone. What was he doing. Bathing, resting, making a private call?

  As she turned the corner, she saw a light coming from under one of the doors on the right. It was faint, but it was there.

  Was that a whiff of cigar smoke? She thought she could pick up a faint trace of its fragrance in the air. She was getting close. Was he behind the door? If so, what was he doing?

  Then, tiptoeing closer, she heard it.

  The soft, papery, rustling noise was coming from the next door in the corridor. Approaching it quietly, she saw the door wasn't set in drywall. It was protecting a room that was made from concrete, and that got Cora's mind racing. A safe, a strong room. Gino must be in there, counting his money.

  He was about to have company.

  This would need to go fast. There was a hundred percent likelihood that he'd have a gun in there, but if he was counting money, she guessed he wouldn't have it in his hand.

  Would the door be locked?

  It might be, and she'd need to be ready for that, because as soon as she made a noise, he'd be on the alert, and then she'd need to get in there, faster than he could react, even if it was locked. Or she’d lose her chance and he’d get to that gun.

  Cora prepared herself for what she needed to do. Time to act with speed, calm, resolve. Think about the outcome, but don't overthink, and be prepared for any eventuality.

  Three, two, one.

  Then, she grabbed the handle and twisted hard, throwing herself against the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The door crashed open, and Cora burst into the small, concrete lined room.

  Her gaze flashed around it, and she saw a man, with heavy, lined features framed by slick, dark hair, sitting at a big desk, with several of those gym bags lined up on it. They looked full. Piles of cash surrounded him. An ashtray held a couple of old cigar butts.

  As soon as he saw her, he tensed. His face hardened and he made a grab for his gun, which was on the desk. He moved economically and he wasn’t panicking. Intent was in every line of his body and if he got to that gun, she knew he would fire it. Immediately. To kill.

  But Cora reached it first, knocking it off the opposite side so that it spun and clattered onto the floor. Her wild swipe at it caused the piles of cash to tilt and slide, notes showering down off the desk, and the man let out a furious yell.

  "I’m here to talk!” Cora shouted.

  But Gino wasn’t going to talk. Her actions had precipitated him into defensive mode.

  "What the hell?" he shouted, glancing beyond her as if expecting others to arrive behind her. His hand shot to a button on the wall and before she could react, he punched it.

  A loud, insistent buzzing noise began reverberating through the building, and Cora swore. He'd activated the emergency alarm. Now all those thugs would be heading her way.

  Swearing under her breath, she turned to the door, kicked it shut. Grabbed the chair on her side of the desk, and slid it across the concrete floor, its legs scraping and bumping.

  She shoved it under the handle. It might not keep the back-up out for long. Chairs in this place seemed to have a short life expectancy from what she'd seen. But it might hold them off for long enough.

  "I want to ask you something," she shouted again, but he was already on his feet and storming around the desk toward her. This gangster was ready for a fight.

  He lunged at her, and she dodged, only just avoiding him, her arm scraping against the concrete wall. For a big man, he was faster than she expected, and immediately, he aimed another blow at her, jaw clenched, fists bunched.

  She ducked under it, dodging his meaty fists as he swung them at her more wildly now, frustrated that he’d tried twice and she hadn’t gone down. He was intensifying his efforts now. If she went down, she knew what he’d do. Kick her, breaking a few ribs, and then when she was semi-conscious, he’d let his goons in. Most likely she’d wake tied to a chair, and then things would go downhill for her, fast.

  But Cora was determined to get to the truth, and no thug was going to get in her way. She was here for answers, and this man was going to give them to her one way or another. She had the advantage in that she was calm and he wasn’t. She knew why she was here and he didn’t. She didn’t want to use her gun, it was a last resort. But she had one. His was lying in the corner under a pile of scattered banknotes. For now, anyway.

  Footsteps thundered down the passage, and the door handle turned, jamming up against the back of the chair.

  “Boss? You okay in there? Boss?” Shouts came from outside, someone rattling the handle, thumping at the wood. But her focus was on Gino. He didn’t have time to reply to his thugs, but was readying himself for another attack, raising his arms, fists bunched.

  Cora kept in mind where that gun had fallen. She needed to stay between it and him.

  "You the Feds? What the hell is this?" he muttered, not waiting for an answer, but launching himself at her again.

  “What’s going on, Boss?” More shouting. Now, she drew her gun and fired a shot into the top of the door.

  The hammering stopped abruptly. She’d bought herself a reprieve from his goons. Nobody wanted to actually die while protecting the boss from an unknown stranger. Especially when there was a nice solid door between him and them. But Gino was still coming at her and he was mad.

  This time, Cora was ready for him. She ducked under his swing and drove a fist into his stomach. She had to get inside his reach to do that. His fist smashed down on her shoulder, but she’d expected it, and rode it, twisting away from the blow.

  "I'm not the Feds!" She yelled out the words "Private investigator. I need to ask you questions. Urgent ones."

  He responded by driving his fist at her face, and she leaped back just in time, almost losing her footing as she slid on a pile of fallen cash, regaining balance just before the fall took her down. He used the opportunity to send another punch her way, but this one was slow and easier to dodge. She retaliated with a kick to his knee.

  Finally, she got in a good blow. He staggered, grimacing, dropping to the floor, and she followed it up with a chop to the gut. Now, the air blew out of him in a giant, gasping huff. He looked like a fish out of water, gulping wordlessly as he strove for air.

  “I don’t want to fight,” she repeated, holding up her hands, showing him the empty palms, knowing that he knew she’d have every chance to shoot if she’d wanted to.

  "How the hell did you get in here?" he finally managed to choke out.

  "Never mind," she answered. "That's not what I came to talk about."

  Another volley of blows at the door distracted her.

  "Call your guys off!" She could hear the annoyance in her own voice now. "I want to talk. I want to ask you some questions and get information from you. Tell them to stand down. Do you want them to break in here now, and see you like this?"

  With him writhing on the floor, and piles of cash everywhere?

  She saw him acknowledge that. And she could tell she'd earned his grudging respect. She saw it in his eyes. For now, he was calling a truce.

  "It's okay, boys," he called. "I've got someone in here. We argued, but fixed it. You can stand down."

  She could hear the incredulous silence as they tried to piece together exactly how that had happened. The boss had someone with him? How had the someone gotten in? Were they in trouble?

  Muted mutters followed, but the footsteps moved away.

  The silence that followed was broken only by his gasps as he regained his breath.

  "What the hell do you want to ask?"

  “Your license plate. Is it Poodl?”

  He looked astounded, then nodded. “Yeah. That’s one of mine.”

  "On Tuesday morning, you picked up a working girl in your Mercedes, from the truck stop south of here. She was being chased by three other guys in a blue truck, and she jumped into your car. Who was she, and what happened to her? There have been several of those girls going missing, and I'm investigating why."

  She could see her words hit home. From the look on his face, he was worried.

  He sighed. "Look, she was one of my girls. My working girls. She joined my setup about a month ago. Moved over to us from somewhere else."

  "And? Why did she get into your car?"

  "Because I heard she was there, and came to fetch her. She was part-timing at the stop, but I don’t allow that. My girls don't work part-time at that stop. It's a rule." Now he frowned, looking mad.

  "Why is it a rule? You don't like that they earn an income apart from you? You want to take a cut of everything they earn?" Cora asked angrily.

  Gino stared at her, his face impassive.

  "No. That's not the reason why."

  "Then what is it?"

  "The reason is that a few of my girls have gone missing from there, over the past few weeks. Maybe three or four of them. At least one ran away, went out of state, but the others? That truck stop was their last known location."

  Shivers prickled Cora’s spine as he continued.

  "It's a known pickup joint and they all like to work it because it’s easy, but my girls have been going missing from there and disappearing, and it's hurting my business. I don’t treat my girls bad. They’re not slaves; they earn decent money. They’re assets. I look after them, but sometimes it’s tough love, like this time. So I made a rule. Nobody works from there. And I drive past, time to time, to make sure they’re listening."

  "And what happened when you spoke to your woman?" Cora was still unsure, and wondering if Gino had exacted his own revenge.

  "I told her to get the hell away from there, to go to the parking lot, and get back into her car and leave the place. I thought she was going to. But she obviously didn't listen, or else, someone got to her, or else, she didn’t like that I screamed at her and she skipped town. Because I never saw her again."

  "You didn't take her?"

  He frowned at her in frustration. "I told you already. They make my business tick over. Look, I'm tough on them. But they're my investments! I would never harm them!" There was a note of defensiveness in his voice.

  "In that case, do you have any idea who's taking them? What's happening to them?"

  He stared at her, his eyes dark and unreadable.

  "Yeah," he admitted. "I don’t like my assets being damaged. Nobody takes what’s mine. I've been doing my research, and I have a pretty good idea about that."

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  "You have? What's your idea?" Cora asked Gino. Did this gang boss and pimp know more; was he somehow hooked into the same underworld where this killer lurked?

  He stared at her, a considering expression on his face, for a few moments. Then, as if reaching a decision with himself, he nodded.

  "There's another rival gang, a few towns over. They've been encroaching on our turf," he muttered. "We've had some battles. Some wins, we’ve gained some territory."

  "Go on?" Cora said, feeling relieved that he was talking.

  "They're mad at us. I think they've been taking some of our girls. Either killing them or holding them, forcing them to work for them, behind locked doors, for revenge. Maybe it’s part of a strategy, to get some of the best girls off the street, to open things up for their people to work. I don’t know. It’s an idea I have. I’m pursuing it." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “They’re a ruthless bunch. We need to handle them.”

  Cora nodded. Depending on the level of ruthlessness, working girls might be considered an expendable asset, something to be used in a territory war.

  “I have plans in mind,” he said.

  Cora didn’t want to know the extent of those plans. She was sure, whatever they were, those plans were going to be deadly.

  “I need to find that out,” she said.

  He shrugged. "Go ahead. Get in there. You got in here, but I warn you, their headquarters are locked up tighter than Fort Knox, and they will shoot to kill. They don’t have a soft heart, like I do.” Self-congratulation was clear in his voice.

  "Where is this rival organization based? Who heads it up?" she asked.

  He stared at her, slyness now evident in his expression.

  “Why should I tell you that? You want to go there, don’t you? I’ll tell you if you promise to give me information on them,” he said. “I need it to destroy them.”

  Cora stared at him in astonishment. “And I should do that, why? Surely you want your working girls to be safe? I’m trying to make sure they are. That should be enough for you!”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “You see there? On the wall?” He pointed.

  Cora looked. She saw a map of the city with a few red dots on it.

  “That’s the map of areas where we’ve had trouble, and clashed with people who are trying to put us out of business. We have too many of them. I’m whittling the numbers down. We’re not ruthless. We treat our working girls right. Others don’t. So you owe me.” He pointed a finger at her.

 

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