A shiny bald head poked through the open door, its nose hawklike between two pure blue eyes.
"Boss, ya gotta minute?"
"Not just now, Carl, Goddamn it! I've got too much to do this afternoon," Wade Jackson's polished voice answered.
Carl didn't want to wait. "It's important!"
Wade Jackson sat at his desk, small stacks of papers and accountant sheets spread before him. Even though he had a small army of accountants, he always took pains to check their work over every week. "No one cheats Wade Jackson," he had once said, and so far during the last twenty years, no one had even tried.
"Christ!" he said, pausing for a moment. "Come on in."
Never one fucking minute to myself, he thought, trying to feel sorry for his executive image, an image he lived up to.
"Alright, what is it?"
Carl Pearson entered the room dressed like a typical East Coast company vice-president. His expensive three button suit fit perfectly, accented by a matching vest and blue button-down collar shirt with a carefully selected tie. He dressed his part well, always appearing to be a businessman, which he was during the day, but his nights were spent in search of new and exciting perversion, fed by an ever-growing number of young prostitutes owned by the syndicate.
"It's bad news," he said with a scowl. "We're getting trouble on two fronts."
That's all I need, Wade thought, something else to throw a Goddamned wrench into the works.
"Well, Goddamn it!" he practically yelled. "What is it this time?"
"Your friend Paula," he paused waiting to see if Wade would recognize the name. "Yeah, that's the one. She turned down a trick last night after Red called her. She said that she already had one lined up, but Red told her to come anyway."
"That's not so bad. What gives?"
"Sammy Wynn is what gives, or gets, depending on how you look at it. Paula's watchdog, George, said that Sammy and Paula got pretty thick when he came to make the collection last night, and finally left together after she had talked to Red."
"Shit," Wade whispered. "What else?"
"This is the bad one," he said taking a deep breath of reassurance. "That editor, Lee. We got a tape of him and Carmen last night. They got real chummy at the house, and she took him to her place, making her think he was a regular john.
"I suppose I could say Carmen didn't know better, but when they got to talking he convinced her to spill the beans about our organization. They had one helluva wild screwing, four times in as many hours. But afterwards she told him everything."
Wade sat silent for a moment, his hands covering his eyes. Then suddenly he slammed his fist onto the table. "That son of a bitch," he yelled. "We should have eliminated him months ago. Now he knows too much; probably wrote everything down last night."
Wade paced the floor while Carl stood patiently, waiting for orders.
"Send Red in here," he said finally. "I think we can fix everybody up with the right medicine."
Half a minute later Red came through the door, his bulk nearly filling the entire entranceway. At six-foot-six-inches he weighed two hundred and sixty-five pounds without an ounce of fat on him, except between the ears. His physical prowess and cruelty were his only assets, but good enough assets for Wade to have kept him for ten years, running hundreds of dirty errands and using his muscle wherever needed.
"Ya want me, Boss," he asked, a sheepish grin on his face.
"Of course, I do. Why do you think I called you?"
"I'm sorry, Boss," he whimpered. "I didn't think."
"You're not paid to think, right," Wade said, pausing for the big man to nod. "We've got a job to do, so I want you to listen carefully."
Wade stopped while Red settled himself in a large leather chair. If he were going to remember everything, he would have to be comfortable with nothing to distract his attention.
"You remember calling Paula last night?" he asked rhetorically. "Well, she didn't show for the trick. Do you remember what we did to her the last time she tried that?"
Red nodded again, pleased with himself that he understood everything that Wade had said. He remembered, and hoped that he could do the same to her that he had a few months ago.
"O.K., now listen: I don't want you to do the same thing with her this time. I want you to feed Jocko well today. Do you know why?"
Red knew Jocko but he couldn't see the connection between feeding the giant St. Bernard and punishing the girl.
"You're going to take Jocko and Carl over to Paula's this afternoon and do some training. Get the picture?"
Red still wasn't sure, but a wide grin spread across Carl's face. He knew exactly what Wade had in mind.
"I'm putting you in charge, Red, so that you can teach the girl how to screw with the dog."
Immediately Red's face flushed with pleasure. He remembered that the dog had been trained before to perform sexual intercourse with another girl while a group of high paying customers watched. Red had enjoyed the training before the show, because he had taken turns with Jocko, each of them screwing the girl until she had finally collapsed from exhaustion and humiliation.
Wade's face turned very serious. "I don't want you to trade off with the mutt like you did the last time, dammit."
Red felt a pang of disappointment, but Carl knew it was only temporary, and Red would do whatever he pleased with the girl.
"You almost killed her," Wade continued, "So you can't do the same thing this time. Understand?"
Red held his lips tight, trying not to pout, and nodded his head.
"I won't do it, Boss. Whatever you say."
"Good!"
"Can I fuck her once, Boss?" Red suddenly asked like a child.
"Sure, Boss, why not," Carl intervened. "That way he can soften that warped little pussy of hers up so that she'll be more ready for the dog."
Red looked at Wade and saw that he was going to say no.
"What if I just have her suck me off, Boss," he pleaded, hoping for some sort of consent to torture the young prostitute.
"Hey, Boss," Carl said again. "She's gotta suck the dog off for the show, so why not let her practice with Red. Hell he oughta get something out of it. It was his order that she refused."
Wade thought for a moment longer, then opened a drawer and took out a cigar.
"O.K., Red. You can let her suck you, but Goddamnit, you better not hurt her, not like the time you beat her up. She is one of the best I have and I don't want her put out of work for another month. We got a busy season ahead."
"Hey!" Red exclaimed, jumping out of the chair, totally pleased with himself.
But Carl interrupted, "What about Sammy?"
"Leave the kid to me," Wade said. "He's a nice kid. It's just that he doesn't know all the rules yet. If he hasn't run off with the take, then send him to me and I'll have a little heart to heart talk with him. He'll understand."
The matter was settled and Red went for the door, eager to feed his dog and get over to Paula's. He knew that the dog only performed well on a full stomach, so he would be sure to give him plenty of good red meat.
"Hold it, Red," Wade said softly. "I've got another surprise for you."
Red turned and looked for a sign from Carl. He wanted to know if the surprise was going to be good or bad. He immediately broke into a grin when Carl nodded and motioned him toward the chair.
"You remember that newspaperman who's been snooping around so much?" Wade asked, almost sure that he didn't remember, even though Red's head nodded immediately. "Well, he's found out too much, so I want you to teach him a lesson he'll never forget."
Red's grin grew as he pictured himself working Lee over with his huge fists until the man would drop dead. He'd done it before for Wade and enjoyed it almost as much as beating up the girls he would rape.
Wade pulled a folder from the middle drawer in his desk. It was complete, except for a picture, but he was sure he could get one soon. For months he had a detective follow Jeff's every movement and dig into his past. He held in his hand a complete dossier of the editor's life from the time he was twenty-five.
"Right here," he said smiling, "Is how we're going to get Mr. Lee. His wife, gentlemen, is a beautiful, but according to the report, sexually inactive young lady."
Red smiled at "sexually".
"Carl, women are really your specialty. How would you handle it?"
Pleased that he had been asked, Carl immediately developed a plan.
"If we're gonna get the husband through the wife, then he's gonna have to know all about it. You listening, Red?"
The red-headed bodyguard nodded.
"I can see her now," Carl said. "She'll be at home when we get there. It won't be hard to get in, and as soon as we are in, we'll give everything we've got."
"Fly, Carl," Red asked, hoping that he had contributed to the plan.
"Good idea! We'll fix her with some Spanish Fly, let it settle for a few minutes, then fuck the hell out of her?"
"Hey!" Red exclaimed, excited by the mental picture of what he could do.
Wade said nothing, listening all the time and enjoying himself. Jeff Lee had bothered him once too often, and now he'd take care of him for good. It sounds so good, Wade thought, I might even try a bite of the action myself.
"But the best part," he continued, pausing for a moment. "The best part is when we call her husband on the phone."
"Why do ya wanna do that?" Red asked, screwing up his nose in a puzzled look.
"Because, stupid, when we call her old man, we're gonna be screwin' her, and he'll hear it all."
"Then he'll come over, right," Red asked, sure he had guessed the answer.
"Right! But when he does, we don't mess him up," he paused for dramatic effect. "We make him watch instead."
"Hey!" Red shouted again gleefully.
Wade chuckled. "With all that fly in her the little bitch will be wilder than a fuckin' nymphomaniac. Yeah, Carl. I like that!"
"Yeah, Carl, me too!" Red added.