Vice Cop Ch. 10

Previously on Vice Cop, a European rock star responsible for murdering his own fans at his concerts and lavish shows, eluded the detectives who were after him. Hudson and Lexa confronted the villainous rock star who has set a death trap for them in an abandoned theater, resulting in his arrest.

In this episode, you will again find the hardcore action and heavy plot that make up my style of writing for Vice Cop. But you can read a lesbian sex scene on SCENE SEVEN, involving an Asian Mafia lord's wife who fancies herself to be an ancient Chinese Empress. You will find two seperate sex scenes on SCENE NINE involving Hudson and his newly acquired mail-order bride and Lexa and Detective Mason enjoying intimate sex inside a cabin in The Poconos mountains.

*

ONE

Lexa O'Neil was looking at Hudson Banach from her window.

He was sitting alone in his bedroom, shirtless, in dark tight jeans, smoking; staring at nothing in an absent and far-off gaze. He was listening to a record he had borrowed from the Professor. It was an opera album and Lexa recognized the music. It was Puccini's Madame Butterfly, a role her mother had sang in her own career as a soprano. It was beautiful, sad, divine; a song so full of special emotion that it brought her back to the past when she had been a little girl and she remembered her mother on the stage as Butterfly; in that flower-specked kimono with a jasmine flower in her hair. Hudson was listening to the finale in which Butterfly kills herself by thrusting a saber into her stomach after being painfully dishonored by her American husband, the colonel B.F. Pinkerton who had taken an American wife after abandoning Butterfly and her child.

Why was he listening to what was considered one of the saddest operas ever made? Why did he stare so longingly into the nothing, and why was he smoking so much? She knew that he was depressed. He had not been himself lately. He had always managed to tell jokes and laugh along with other officers. But there he was, lonely and crestfallen, listening to that beautiful song, a lonely soul's companion. She felt sorry for Hudson and it hurt her to see him that way but she knew she could not go to his house next door for any reason. They had agreed they would not see each other. As she turned her face away from the window, her phone rang.

It was four in the afternoon and Lexa was off-duty as was Hudson. Lexa had done some grocery shopping and had been running errands and tidying up her house to pass the time. Hudson had done very little on his day off save for shopping and visiting his own family back in Middle Village Queens. For about two hours he had just been brooding in his bedroom listening to that sad opera. Lexa picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Miss O'Neil, it's Mason," the detective's voice came through the receiver.

"Oh, hello, Detective, how are you?" Lexa said, with a smile.

"You forgot didn't you?"

"Forgot what?"

"We are supposed to be making plans to vacation in the Poconos, remember? I invited you to spend the weekend with me at the cabin owned by a friend of mine. He let me spend a weekend there. You said you'd love to come."

She put a hand over her forehead and laughed.

"I forgot. I was so wrapped up in that last assignment and you know I've never really had a vacation since I was a little girl when my parents took me - "

"I figured. You're all work and no play just like me, Miss O'Neil. But we deserve to have some fun, we really do. Come on. Get your things ready and packed and let's go."

"Alright. I'm sure I can be ready before nightfall."

"Good. I'll be over at your place at six."

She hung up the phone and she heard Hudson's sigh coming from his home.

TWO

Night had come to New York City.

Hudson had smoked an entire pack of cigarettes, which he had not done in years. He remembered how he had convinced the Professor to quit smoking. Thank God he wasn't here to see what he had done, thought Hudson. But he knew why a smoke was sometimes needed. It was a way to vent. He became hungry. He had not eaten a proper lunch in his depressed state. He had declined an invitation to the favorite "cop's donut shop" Christie's which was near a grove of trees facing a bridge which crossed over the waters into Manhattan. He had always loved going there but today he had no inclination to go.

Hungry as he was, he went for a ride in his black Camaro (newly designed so that it looked like a Thunderbird with phoenix bird emblem). He searched for a nice little restaurant where he could have his solitary dinner. The city had restaurants to spare so he knew he would eventually find something he'd like. Tired of eating in Manhattan and Queens, uninterested in eating at fast food restaurants in Brooklyn or the Bronx, he decided he'd go to Chinatown. He recalled one long ago summer night in which his father had taken him to eat at Madame Chang's, a beautiful Chinese restaurant shaped like a Chinese palace. It was located in Chinatown and he knew how to get there by heart.

He reached Madame Chang's and it was still early in the evening. His father used to frequent the place back when he was alive. It was possible the same owners were running the place. Madame Chang and her husband. Or maybe things had changed and the place had new owners. It had always been a popular restaurant and many tourists and non-Asian New Yorkers were frequent visitors. The decor of the restaurant was so lavish looking for all its fake kitschy appearance. Red pillars with golden bases stood at the entrance and more pillars inside.

At the door to the restaurant were two mason lion statues which the Chinese called fu lions. Inside, beads hung over small chandeliers, the tables were covered in pretty tablecloths with tiny little cherry blossoms and the murals and walls were painted with scenes of beautiful Chinese landscapes as cherry blossoms, bridges, mountains, Chinese country folk in triangular little hats and above them good luck dragons and clouds.

"Are you dining alone?" said the Chinese woman at the door.

"Table for one," Hudson replied, "my name is Hudson Banach."

"Please wait," the woman said.

She was rather stout for an Asian woman but she was youthful looking. She was in casual clothes. At one time, everyone who worked as hosts dressed in traditional and ancient Chinese robes. Hudson stared at the lady as she jotted down his name.

"Does Madame Chang and Mr. Chang still -"

"No. Not anymore. New owners. But they are hardly ever here except sometimes to supervise. "

Hudson thought that was very odd. All of the restaurant owners he had known were dedicated to their business and often looked as if they lived at the restaurant. But that was back in the day when his father came to eat at restaurants in the city. Hudson was showed to his seat by the same lady and he was seated in a small table for one toward the back next to a large golden Buddha. Various colored Chinese lanterns hung on the ceiling above him. He sat down and looked over the menu.

"A waiter will be right with you," said the lady.

The Muzak playing was ancient and traditional Chinese folk music which was purely instrumental. It was pretty and upbeat and it made Hudson feel a little better. He was, as a matter of fact, in a Chinese kick and had become enamored with Asian themes. He knew it was the Professor's influence. The Professor had been listening to Puccini's two operas set in Japan and China - Madame Butterfly and Turandot. Plus, the Professor had taken him to see Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado, after having learned that his blind date with Sally Dee, the wild daughter of a country singer, had discarded the tickets he had bought.

Hudson ordered some Cantonese food as the restaurant served both Cantonese and Chinese foods. He had to wait a while and so he drank a lot of water. He had jokingly called this part "Chinese waiter" torture when he had taken Kyle Lennox to this place in the past. He sighed. The waiter, a Chinese man, arrived with his meal. Hudson chewed his food slowly wit leisure. He began to overhear the conversation going on behind him. Two men, in business suits, were talking. Both men were white and apparently New Yorkers.

"I'm with Cherry Blossom," the man said, "ever read any of our picture catalogs?"

"I'd like to receive one. You're in the mail order bride business, correct?"

"That's right. So moving on. Did you decide you wanted to do it?"

"Well, I don't see why not. I'm so lonely and tired of seeing all these Manhattan couples. I'm good at my business but I need a wife at home. I have always heard Asian women are very obedient wives who don't give any trouble. I shall like that."

"Here."

Hudson turned to look. The man handed the other guy a catalog book which he looked over slowly and pensively.

"These women are beautiful. They are legal age right?"

"Naturally. They put up their own ads and they seek to leave China which you know is not such a great country and want to marry American men. So let me know which one you want. My name is Nat Coldwell. Here's my number. I can get a woman for you and it would all be legitimate."

Hudson noticed as the man who was not the agent Nat Coldwell got up and left after shaking hands. For a while, the man sat smoking. Hudson felt his heart beating faster. A wife. And to get one so easily and fast just like that. He stared into the nothing again, contemplatively.

It was one way to end the sadness that had come over him. He thought of Lexa and Mason and envisioned them marrying in a beautiful ceremony attended by all the cops on the force - including him. He would have to endure that. Or maybe not. It would be Lexa who would attend his wedding to -

"Mister Coldwell," he said to him, approaching the table.

"That's me," the agent said, smoking his cigar.

He looked like a tough man, with pretty sinister looking features and dark hair and eyes. Hudson wondered why he was always seeing a sinister note on many men he came across. Maybe he was too much of a cop and saw corruption and vice in every face even when it wasn't so. They shook hands. The man continued to smoke.

"May I sit down?" said Hudson.

The man made a gesture with his hand offering him the seat on the other end of the table. Hudson sat down and he put his hand over the catalog.

"My name is Hudson Banach, I'm a cop," he said, "and I'm interested in purchasing a mail-order bride."

"Let's talk shall we?" said Nat Coldwell.

THREE

When Hudson got back to his Camaro and drove away from Chinatown, a young Asian girl who had been working as a waitress at Madame Chang's had stepped out of the eatery, leaving work. She did not drive a car and lived within close proximity to the restaurant in a tenement building. She was still in her waitress outfit, which was a short cocktail gown, red and with golden little specs in a cute resemblance to a Chinese woman's robe only cut short to allow her to move to serve meals and drinks.

She had on heels. She was young but older than twenty one. Her heels echoed in the sidewalk as she crossed her usual route toward home. She had to cross an old and abandoned brick building which once, years ago in the late 60's, had been a brothel and bath house, catering to gay and straight New Yorkers. Eventually, the Asian cathouse was shut down owing to reported violence and sexual crimes. It was an illegal house of prostitution and had eluded New York Police Vice Department's scrutiny for years until they were busted in the mid 70's.

She hated the look and smell of the place. As old as it was, as dilapidated and foul as it was, she couldn't help feeling as if there was something still going on in that place, something wicked and morbid. She knew she was probably just being paranoid but she had always felt as if someone was watching her from inside. A row of broken windows were found at the top of the building. Sometimes she swore eyes followed her as she walked past the building after leaving work. She also felt chills down her spine. Chinatown had never truly been a crime-filled spot, though there was always the occasional murder or murders plural, as well as prostitution often disguised as massage parlors.

The girl hated to walk down the little alley which stood by the old building but it was the fastest way to her home. It was dark and the silence was nearly death-like. Only a few cars could be heard passing by in the street nearby. She brushed aside a strand of dark hair that fell over her face. She walked down the alley, walking at a moderate pace. It was only minutes later that she heard other footsteps behind her. At first she thought it was the sound of her own heels in the echo of the alley.

She was wrong.

As she turned to look behind her, a man's hand, covered in a dark leather glove, seized her by the mouth to keep her from screaming. He had her in an arm lock and she began to struggle against his grip.

In the intermittent street lights that glared, she could see that it was a slim but strong young man in a black ninja get-up. Quickly, he took her away from the alley, and his swift movements were nearly balletic, dragging her away from sight and to a remote street. Beneath the sidewalk step was an open sewer, whose lid had just been opened. He dragged her down into the sewer and into the dark below...........

Kicking and screaming the girl was dragged ever downward. It was completely dark but then the ninja retrieved a lantern which stood at the foot of the ladder he had descended. He was carrying the girl in his arms now, running across a long road by the banks of a dirty sewer river, full of feces and waste.

As he hurried along, going further into the bowels of the sewer and under the streets of Chinatown, the girl noticed rats running about and it made her scared. After a while, they were in some kind of large cave but the cave had the effect of being man-made, like the set to some movie. The ninja removed his dark face and head covering and the girl stared right into his face.

He was Chinese just like her.

"Where are you taking me?" she said to him.

"You're the new sex slave for the Emperor," he said, "come I'll show you what I mean. You will never see daylight or your old world again. Prepare to live in the Forbidden Palace. Look. There it is."

She looked up. A large faux palace, with pillars and many rooms and a small courtyard was before her eyes. She couldn't believe it. It was like stepping back in time to ancient China. She had only read about a palace like that in history books. The young man took her into the courtyard which had no vegetation growing and was mostly bare stone. Two fu lions guarded the entrance.

Inside a host of men in business suits and some in Chinese robes from the past were seated on the floors, others walking about. Music blared. It was ancient music. From the throngs came a woman, statuesque and in a long flowing robe. She was Asian and her hair was raven-black and crowned in a diadem.

"Empress, I have a gift for you," the guy said, " a new slave for the palace."

"This one will do nicely. Where did you get her from?"

"She works at Madame Chang's restaurant."

"Almost too funny. My husband is the owner of that place. He hardly ever sees to that business. He has someone else running it for him. You did well. My husband will pay you of course. Now leave us."

Empress Ming surveyed the girl with her eyes and hands. She guided her hands from the girls' shoulders down to the small of her back, felt her hips and her legs. The girl squirmed, uncomfortable with a woman touching her this way. The Empress had a malicious gleam in her eye and a grin.

"I think you shall be our cup-bearer but as with the other girls," she said, "you will still be used for the sexual gratification of our guests."

"Who are you and what is this place? Why was I brought here?" the girl said, nearly in tears.

"You were selected by the Emperor Zheng, my husband, to be our new slave girl. He has men who dutifully take girls from the city he feels are perfect for service at the palace. You will not be paid but you will have a room at the palace, clothing and garments, food and care. You are now beginning a new life. I am Ming. If I have need of your services, I shall call you. The slave girls are under my protection and they take orders from me as well. Come, I shall show you to your room."

In tears, the girl was taken to a small but pretty room in the "Palace". It was a room full of small throw pillows, a divan a large bed with satin sheets. All the robes in the armoire were made of silk. A large mirror stood against a wall and fu lions were at either end of the room. It was a room tailor-made for lovemaking. She cried as the Empress closed the door, leaving her alone in the room.

FOUR

Again, Hudson was called to the Chief's office.

He had recently bout himself a pet monkey. Every cop in the precinct thought the Chief had gone completely nuts. He had recently behaved like a rich eccentric. It was true the Chief had friends who moved in higher social circles and were among the rich elite of New York in a group that included politicians, the Mayor and his family and the Governor and his brood, but Chief Hiller was still a civil servant, a strong help to the city of New York who was not paid a high salary himself. The people he protected were the crème de la crème. But no one in the force said a word about his odd behavior. He named the little chimp, a male, Sergeant Pepper. Pepper was seated on the Chief's chair and the Chief was standing next to him feeding it a small banana and petting it.

"Ah, sorry to interrupt Chief," Hudson said, closing the door, "I hope I haven't come at a bad time."

"Not at all. It's just feeding time for Pepper. Then I'll have Mandy take him home and she'll look after him there."

Mandy was the twenty two year old girl he had recently hired as personal assistant, a very uncommon thing to do for a police chief. Mandy was reliable and did her job well, too well, as if she had been trying to get into law enforcement in a way that wouldn't actually involve her wearing a uniform and going on active duty. She was a short slip of a girl with red hair and her thin features, freckled face and youthful aura made her look a tad like Pippi Longstocking or like the girl in the Wendy's burger restaurant signs. She followed the Chief around a lot and the two were comical to look at, especially when Sergeant Pepper was with them.

"What can I do ya for, Banach?"

"Well you were the one who told me I was needed for an assignment with Vice regarding Chinatown."

The Chief looked at Hudson with a puzzled expression. His memory was failing. He was already approaching sixty which would be retirement age. He sat down on the chair and put the monkey on his lap.

"Oh, right," he said, "I remember now. Yes, it's a new case. It doesn't involve Homicide. We are pretty sure it's Vice crimes. For one thing, we are getting reports about brothels we thought were long gone after busts conducted by Vice years ago. The Chinese are getting more discreet and cunning and hide the fact that a massage parlor is also a way for men to pay for sex after the massage. It's also being said it happens in restaurants and theaters. It's all handled in private and looks like a business because many of the women who are Madames or the hookers are learned and polite and professional, some speak English. It's time for Vice to look into it."

"And you want me to -"

"Investigate. Look into it. If it's really about prostitution, then you need to organize a bust. You and some other vice cops will take care of it. It's a big deal, Hudson and you would be well rewarded. You show me and the force that you can handle other cops under you and do a big time bust then you'll make it higher into the ranks."