Interludes: Miami Part 2

 

Michael smiled to himself and layed down on the bed. He took a swig of the Jameson’s and laid there enjoying the silence. He slowly drifted off to sleep. A few hours had passed and night had fallen on the city. Michael slid out of bed and headed to the shower. The water was piping hot and soon the room looked more like a sauna than a hotel room. Michael made his way down to the lobby. He turned the corner and was left stunned. He first noticed the shoes, they were red with straps that went halfway up her calf. Then there was the dress, she had on a white silk dress. The silk was quality, Michael could tell. His mother’s family had been silk traders for several generations before the second world war. Michael grew up with hours of familial conversations concerning the quality, or lack thereof, in the modern day silk trade. As a kid, Michael would ask his mother, if the family was so passionate about silk why not still be in the trade. His mother’s answer was a simple one. “Mahjong pays better.”

 

The woman locked eyes with him and with a cool smile simply said. “Good evening, Michael.”

Michael was a bit confused, for a moment his mind made the mental note of his revolver tucked in his waistband. He glanced at the front desk and Michelle was there apparently unbothered by this one other guest. Michelle noticed Michael looking over at her and she yelled. “She’s hot and said she knew you.” Michael laughed and asked the woman.

“Agency or Private?”

She smiled back and said “Private,my name’s Beretta.” Michael took a moment to process the answer and the manner in which it was delivered. He now locked eyes with her to examine their character. “Are you here alone?” he asked

“Yes, I am on assignment alone. But we are not alone.”

Michael smiled and took a moment. “You want to clue me in?”

Beretta smiled and laid back in the chair. As she leaned back her dress slipped a bit higher on her hips and he could see the tip of a Saturday night special Beretta Minx peaking out on her right hip. “Well, Michael, if I were to tell you what’s going on I’d lose my bonus. And I really want that bonus.”

Michael smiled and sat down next to her. “So, Beretta,where do I need to go?”

She glanced towards the door. “Down the street there’s a gentleman’s club. It’s run by the Russian mafia and they don’t treat their ladies very nice. Anymore and I’ll lose that bonus.”

“Fair enough, but you want me to go in there unarmed? It’s not like I have any kind of authority here. I don’t even carry a diplomatic passport.”

Beretta stood up and leaned over and whispered in Michael’s ear. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Just remember where we hide the minx.” She stood up and walked out onto the street and into a red Mercedes SL500. Michael looked at her as she sped off. When she did, he caught the refecltion of Jeff in one of the windows across the street. Michael went back upstairs and placed his revolver back into the attache. He said to himself “remember where we hide the minx.”

Michael made his way back down and headed out onto the street. The club was only a couple blocks from the hotel. Michael looked up at the bright neon lights and could hear them buzzing. He thought to himself, impossible to mix busniess and pleasure.  He paid the door charge and was frisked. He then made his way down the dark hallway and into the club’s main hall.

 

Michael stepped through a set of red velvet drapes and took in  the club. He looked around and caught sight of the bar. He made his way over slowly, taking his time so he could scan the entire place. Michael noticed right off the bat there was something off about the girls working there. While he was no veteran of strip clubs; he had been in enough of them to know when the vibe was off. Some of the girls were sitting staring off into the distance and the others simply seemed disinterested. He leaned against the bar and was soon greeted by a brunette vixen. In a thick, eastern european accent she asked, “Hello love, anything to drink?” 

Michael did his best to concentrate as he was thrown by her looks. She had deep, brown eyes that glinted like a gun’s barrel when the light caught them just right. “Stoli, neat.”

She seemed pleased with this order and quickly came back with a shot glass and a bottle of Soviet era vodka. “I leave the Bottle for you baby, I’m Tatiana if you need anything else. Michael smiled and watched her walk away. She moved with a quiet confidence that left an impression on Michael.

Michael did his best to look like he enjoyed the vodka. He leaned against the bar and started to look around. Soon, some ladies had come up to make their introductions, he tipped accordingly, all the while examining their mannerisms for signs of duress and their bodies for any signs of physical abuse. He really didn’t pick up on much out of the ordinary, other than they all seemed drugged, and not in the good Miami kind of way that the city had become notorious for. No, this seemed like something else. Michael’s first thought was something with needles. From his years in the Hong Kong PD, he knew tract marks were easy to hide in between toes. He made his way over to a booth to watch some of the dancers work the pole. That is when he knew; something is seriously wrong. The girls were barely able to complete a routine. He looked over to examine the patrons of the club and none of them seemed touristy.

Michael Chang knew he was the one who clearly didn’t belong.

Satisfied with his initial investigation he decided to ask for a dance. He looked over the girls and noticed one who seemed to stick out. She had caught his eye when he was at the bar and now she was slowly making her way over to him.  She stopped at each table and greeted the patrons. She finally arrived at Michael’s table and greeted him. She was a natural blonde, with long legs, what caught Michael by surprise was her accent, it was English.

“Where are you from stranger?” She sat down next to him and he noticed her eyes were clear and present. Michael did a risk assesment and replied. “My friend told me I should check this place out.”  She smiled cooly at him. “Well stranger, fancy a dance?”

Michael simply smiled and nodded. She took him by the hand, “call me Candy.” She led him to the back. As he sat down she closed the curtain behind them. “Beretta sent you?” she said with a skeptical note in her voice. Michael had grown accustomed to being underestimated. He smiled and said “I’m the best she could get on such short notice.” Candy sat next to him and began to speak softly into his ear.

“I’ve been working this place for 3 months now. The owners are definitely trafficking some of these girls, and there’s a new management group that wants to take over.”

Michael was now focused, his mind sharpened, “What’s the issue?”

Candy replied “The owners have the local PD in their pockets plus some blackmail on the administration.”  Michael knew his task just became a lot more difficult. She continued, “the new management group wants to take over this place and clean up this part of the beach. They call themselves the “group of six” and don’t like what’s going on here anymore than we do.”

Michael knew the time was running out as the song ended. He got up and looked at Candy. “Let me think all this over. We’ll see each other again soon.” Michael paused before he stepped out of the small room and said. “I do love the posh midlander accent.” Candy smiled at him and they both walked back out to the main floor. Michael didn’t want to raise any more suspiscion than he already had. He made his way back to the bar and asked for another stoli. He pretended to enjoy it , then found another girl and asked her for a dance. Shortly after Michael feeling a bit light headed from the vodka and women calmly made his way out of the club.

He had made it maybe half a block from the club when he quickly found himself face down on the ground. There was a man on top of him with a Badge around his neck. Michael came to his senses but didn’t struggle; he felt the cuffs slip onto his wrists and the man pulled him up. He slammed Michael against a Chevy Caprice which Michael gathered from his glance at the interior was an unmarked police vehicle.

“Well, what is this? You got drugs on you scumbag?” Michael kept quiet and the man stuffed him in the back of the car.

As soon as the Detective sat in the front seat he looked at Michael through the rearview. “I’m sorry about that Mr. Chang, I had to make this convincing. I’m gonna have to take you to the station. We won’t book you but we need to make everything look copascetic.”

Michael was piecing things together. He decided to take a chance and ask a question. It was simply one word “Beretta?” The detective put the car in drive and looked back at Michael again through the rearview. “Yes, she’s a friend, you can call me Devin, I’m a detective with the local PD. I’m trying to turn this department around.”

Michael was impressed by the man. He came off as someone who had integrity. He could tell by the eyes. Any cop whose spent enough time on the beat knows the eyes can tell you everything you need to know. “One man against a whole city? I like those odds Devin. The detective smirked and replied “Change always starts with one man, hopefully it becomes contagious.”

Suddenly that Bruise on Michael’s face didn’t feel so bad.