Strange Bedfellows Ch. 02

"We aren't anywhere near making arrests yet and tying Reznik directly to the can isn't going to be easy," Penelope chewed a nail.

"Get me something," Gary patted Penelope's shoulder and moved off.

Jennifer sat at the back of the room watching the exchange.

Penelope walked over to join her. They had the room to themselves.

"Let me guess. The politicians want a perp parade," Jennifer smiled at Penelope.

"How confident are you that we can tie Reznik to this?" Penelope ignored Jennifer's question about the perp walk.

Jennifer continued.

"We will likely be able to tie Reznik to Belarus International Services. If we are lucky we can tie Belarus International Services to the shipping container and prove that the same company recruited the girls," Jennifer replied.

"Reznik will stay under the radar and let his lawyers talk for him. He'll claim that he personally has nothing to do with people smuggling or sex trafficking. He'll claim that rogue elements in the company, to which he is only loosely associated, are responsible. Anyone who can tie him directly to that particular transaction is already back in the Balkans or dead," Jennifer reached out and picked a stray fibre off Penelope's lapel.

Penelope didn't flinch. She stared down into Jennifer's green eyes, fascinated by the blueish heterochromia.

"That might be enough. If we can nail the people who recruited the girls, the border guards who facilitated entry and the truck driver who drove away and left the girls to rot we will have effectively solved the crime and the men in high castles can claim their victories and we can all go back to doing whatever it is we did before this," Penelope watched Jennifer's face for a reaction.

Jennifer remained stoic and returned Penelope's gaze.

The two women stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, neither of them flinching, neither of them talking.

Finally Penelope's face broke into a smile.

"You think I'm full of shit don't you?" she smirked.

Jennifer stepped forward and stood on her toes so that her face was so close to Penelope's that she could taste her sweet breath.

"You don't know me but I know you. Any other law enforcement officer would be happy to put a bow on this case just as you described it and hand it to those men in high castles and walk away and say they had done their job," Jennifer whispered.

"But not you. You saw those girls in that can. You saw what they had endured... how they had been tossed aside like garbage. You don't want some greaser truck driver or some vodka-soaked Bratok who sells young girls into prostitution or some smooth-tongued woman who recruits naïve young girls with promises of milk and honey."

"You want the man ultimately responsible. You want what I want. You want Alexi Reznik. You want The Jackal," Jennifer's lips brushed against Penelope's and it felt like a spark of electricity had entered her body.

Penelope pressed her lips against Jennifer's just barely touching them and then abruptly broke contact.

"You're no different. Dmitriy Yakovich is no better than Alexi Reznik and I don't believe for a second that you're here because Dmitriy is bargaining with the DOJ to have his indictments quashed or reduced. Don't think for a minute that I wouldn't put you behind bars if I had evidence that would put you there," Penelope breathed.

"But... You're right. Right now I want Alexi Reznik and I will do anything to get him. Even lie down with a bitch like you," Penelope brushed Jennifer's lips with her own.

"You are speaking figuratively of course," Jennifer smiled impishly.

Penelope stepped away and searched her pockets for cigarettes.

"How long until your men will have the truck driver here?" Penelope found her smokes and took them from her pocket.

Jennifer looked at her phone.

"About half an hour or so," she looked up at Penelope.

"I'll make arrangements for him to be taken into custody, Mirandized and taken to an interview room," Penelope picked up a phone.

Jennifer waited while Penelope made the necessary calls. She played with her cigarettes and lighter while she spoke on the phone.

"Still trying to quit?" Jennifer nodded at the Marlboros in Penelope's hand.

Penelope gave Jennifer a withering smile.

"Let's go and smoke a cigarette together. I'll buy coffee on the way and you supply the cigarettes," Jennifer grinned at Penelope.

"I reiterate what I said to you in your apartment. Just because I'm letting you work this case doesn't make us friends," Penelope scowled.

"Don't be an asshole. Come and smoke with me. I have something to discuss with you that I don't want anyone else to hear," Jennifer picked up her handbag and led the way outside.

Penelope appreciated the view as she watched the petite little killer walk ahead of her.

They stopped at the mess hall and Jennifer bought coffee and then they went outside to the smoking area.

"Remember what I said about Reznik being too far removed from the crime and being too careful to be implicated and the need to set a trap to catch him red-handed?" Jennifer said.

Penelope nodded.

"I have an idea. The Jackal is not going to come out of his lair unless there is something irresistible for him to eat," Jennifer flicked ash away from her skirt.

"You going to keep talking in parables or are you going to get to the point?" Penelope said a little snarkily.

"I have a plan but I need a tight lid kept on it for now. Just you and I and probably Alice Leasingham," Jennifer breathed.

Penelope nodded for Jennifer to continue.

"There is another reason I brought Katya here, beside her connections and knowledge of sex trafficking," Jennifer said.

And then Jennifer told Penelope her plan.

*****

Dan Murphy drove Katya down to City Park and pulled into a lot filled with mom-cars and SUVs fitted with kiddie-capsules. It was too early in the day to hit the strip club so they intended to interview as many nannies as possible. Katya had advised Dan that approaching the women at the residences where they worked was a bad idea. Best if Katya tried to talk to them alone in the park.

The jungle-gyms, roundabouts, swing-sets and other kiddie playground equipment were filled with kids rugged up against the cold, laughing squealing and a couple of them were crying.

Their nannies sat in ethnic groups.

"Some of those strollers are as big as the fucking SUVs they're driving!" Dan commented.

"Don't blame the nannies. They make a pittance. They are here watching the kids while mom gets her bikini wax or a massage from some big-dicked Latino masseur half her age and then goes to the tennis club for a salad and to gossip with the girls while her husband is at work chasing secretaries around his desk," Katya said bitingly.

"Sounds like you have as much respect for the moneyed elite as I do?" Dan chuckled.

"Not so when I was the moneyed elite, but now I have a different perspective," Katya's accent was more pronounced.

If she had been allowed to have custody of Katerina when she was younger, wild horses would not have kept Katya away from her daughter. How could these mothers neglect their children and leave them to be raised by strangers? Katya cleared her mind and stepped out of the car.

"Let me do the talking. You look too much like a cop," she said to Dan.

The Latino housemaids and nannies tended to be older. They huddled together wearing identical pink synthetic fibre dresses with white aprons and cheap pantyhose under their coats, almost like a uniform. The fabric was wash and wear and didn't stain. The African nannies wore similar uniforms but with colourful scarves and had their dreadlocks piled high, held in place with bright turbans or head-scarves. There were a couple of British girls with rosy cheeks and flaming red hair wearing black and white au-pair uniforms with black tights and sensible shoes.

The Slavic women stood out. Although they were no wealthier than their counterparts, they wore their cheap clothing with style. Chic second-hand skirts and dresses, short-hemmed, showing a lot of leg sheathed in shiny flesh-toned pantyhose. Blouses and bodices opened one button too many, heaving breasts in lacy bras, heavy makeup, too much red lipstick and black mascara, hair styled but done by their friends rather than professionally.

Dan bet a lot of those soccer-moms kept a good eye on their husbands when they were around their au-pairs and nannies.

All of the housekeepers and nannies had developed the art of being able to chatter away nonsensically amongst themselves whilst keeping one eye on their charges. As soon as little Tarquin or Piper fell off the swing and started bellowing they sprang into action, soothing the kid and offering it more affection than the kid received from their parents.

"Offer me your arm. If you look too much like a cop they will clam up but if I leave you here staring at the playground you will look like a paedophile," Katya put out her arm and hooked it through Dan's.

He liked walking this close to her as they approached the Slavic girls.

The women immediately clammed up as Dan and Katya approached.

Katya started speaking some language that Dan didn't understand. He guessed it was Russian or Ukrainian. Four of the girls got up immediately and walked away to settle on a bench on the other side of playground but two of them remained seated and Katya sat down next to them.

"Sit here. Say nothing," Katya patted the seat beside her.

Dan felt like a spare dick at a wedding as Katya and the young girls chattered away in their home dialect. Katya opened her purse and brought out her cigarettes. The girls made gestures which Dan understood to mean that they couldn't smoke while they were looking after the children.

Katya spoke some more and the women pointed to the playground and yammered.

"The boy in the red romper with the snotty nose and the girl next to him in the pink sparkly princess dress, pink tights and tiara on her head. You see them?" Katya pointed to two cute brats sitting in a sandpit playing with toys that probably would have cost him a week's wage.

Dan nodded.

"Watch them. You're a cop; make sure they don't get abducted or anything," Katya squeezed his thigh playfully.

"I'm taking the girls over to the trees for a smoke," Katya stood; her thighs level with Dan's eyeline.

"What do I do if they start crying or something?" Dan whined.

"Dial 911," Katya said flippantly.

"Seriously. We will just be over there," Katya pointed to a copse of trees were a couple of the other nannies were sneaking a smoke.

Dan sat for what seemed like three hours but was in fact just over forty minutes guarding the women's handbags and watching the kids, waiting to be approached by park rangers for being a pervert but nothing of the sort happened. The two cute little brats played happily with each other, sharing their toys, laughing and giggling at each other's antics. He wondered at what age the girl would become a precocious bitchy Heather and the boy would become a spoiled insolent fucktard with a soft-top ride and hardon for the Heathers. The cynic in him couldn't help it.

He heard Katya and the two au-pairs chattering away in Russian or whatever as they approached and he turned to admire three great sets of legs in short skirts and two sets of billowing breasts; Katya's were not billowing but he liked their compact neatness against her suit jacket.

Katya left a near full packet of cigarettes with the girls and he saw them both slip high-value banknotes into their handbags.

"What did you learn?" Dan asked as they walked back to the car.

Katya ignored the question until they were in the car.

"All of the Slavic girls were recruited through Belarus International Services. Some of them arrived on legitimate J-1 visas but most of them are here illegally. Of the illegals, some came into the country on tourist visas which they overstayed and about half of them were smuggled in," Katya checked her makeup in the sun-visor mirror.

"The nannies are well educated and speak good English. The two girls I spoke to said that they were offered nanny positions but it was intimated that they could make more money working as prostitutes. They said that about half the girls they had travelled with were given no choice and were handed over to hard men and taken away. You can guess their fate," Katya said matter-of-factly.

"Is common practice to lure girls with offers of legitimate work and then sell them into prostitution. Some go willingly, some are forced. But Belarus International Services needs to have a pool of authentic clients and customers to operate legitimately but most of the money they make from bringing people in from overseas is from sex trafficking," Katya applied a fresh coat of lipstick.

"You talk about it like it is nothing. Like it is just normal practice," Dan shook his head.

"I told you that the best recruiters are girls that themselves have been trafficked. I am no angel Dan. I made my living targeting individual girls and selling them into slavery. Do not think of me as any different to the criminals we are investigating," Katya put away her lipstick.

She turned to look at Dan Murphy and saw the look of disappointment in his eyes.

Dan filled the seat of large sedan. He was a big man; well-muscled with a flat-top haircut and a trimmed moustache. He was handsome and rugged.

Katya leaned in and kissed his cheek and then rubbed away the lipstick she had left behind.

"I am what I am Dan. Let's get some coffee before we hit the strip club," She patted his knee and made a vain effort to pull down her skirt as she put on her seatbelt.

Dan didn't know how he felt about Katya but when she kissed his cheek his hardon had returned and he had to force himself to keep his eyes on the road rather than her legs.

They drove to Bridge Street where the cleanup crews were finishing clearing away the detritus from the previous evening. In the morning Bridge Street looked tawdry, like a cheap hooker brought out into daylight after working all night. Most of the bars, strip clubs, tattoo parlours, pawnshops and fast-food restaurants were closed or setting up for the afternoon trade. Dan and Katya found a coffee shop that didn't look too ratty and sat down in a booth.

The coffee shop was located across the road from a strip club called Supergirls where a number of girls who were recruited by Belarus International Services worked as strippers, lap dancers and allegedly as prostitutes. Alice Leasingham had done some deep digging and found that Supergirls was not surprisingly owned by a subsidiary of Belarus International Enterprises.

Back at Police Plaza Penelope Bishop and Gary Rasmussen interviewed the truck driver who claimed that he had no idea that there were young women inside the shipping container that he was carrying. He claimed that as far as he knew the container was filled with antique furniture.

His story was shot full of holes. He had no legitimate reason to be driving on the dirt road in the Chihuahuan Desert but confirmed that he was to hand the truck and container over to another man at a truck stop south east of San Angelo.

Penelope had taken a DNA swab from the driver.

"If any of your DNA turns up on or inside any of those girls you're looking at murder in the commission of a felony and life in prison or possibly a death sentence," Penelope said in her best threatening voice.

The driver changed his story and said that he knew that there were girls in the container and that one of them had consented to sexual congress in exchange for permission to ride up front in the cab but that he had put her back in the can when they got closer to Route 87.

He claimed that the truck he was driving was not fitted with ISO twistlocks and that the container fell off the truck while he was on a steep incline, manoeuvring around a tight switchback.

When grilled why he had left the dead and injured girls inside the locked container and driven away, the driver claimed that he had called the Bratok on a pre-programmed satellite phone that he had been given at border and the man told him to set fire to the can and drive away immediately.

It made Penelope sick that the driver had tried to make himself sound like some sort of a martyr for not burning the can as he had been instructed.

The driver was scared for his life because he knew that he would be killed by his employers to cover up their involvement in the crime. He was hired by a trucking company that would later prove to be contracted to Belarus International Services but he had only dealt with low-level peons. This was his fifth trip hauling similar cargo and he had always handed the truck over to the same Bartok he knew only as Karl. He would then hop a ride back across the border on a truck owned by the same company.

The driver had never heard of a man named Alexi Reznik; he only knew the manager of the freight office in Altamira and the tattooed man with the shaved head named Karl.

Penelope had the driver placed in a holding cell and until Tim Morrow returned from Brownsville so he could be transferred to a secure Federal holding facility pending charges. If the investigation dug up the traffickers and the driver was willing to testify against them he may be able to cut a deal with the Feds.

Back at the free zone there was activity at Supergirls. The door was open and the club was taking deliveries and then a transit van pulled up and a dozen mainly blonde young women got out of the van and stretched before they went inside.

"Getting ready for the afternoon trade," Dan commented, nodding at the girls they could see through the grimy window.

"How are we going to play this? If I walk in there and flash my badge the girls are just gonna clam up and the manager and his goons will do the same. This is the free zone and the businesses are not used to police harassment and I don't wanna fuck up whatever arrangement the Balwyn PD has in place," Dan explained.

Katya was sitting across from him and their knees were touching under the table in the tight booth.

Dan jumped when Katya squeezed his thighs and Katya laughed.

"We are both wearing suits right? So we can pass as business people. What if we're from out of town and have just made some big deal and we are out celebrating, looking for some illicit fun before we return to Bumfuck Idaho or wherever to our boring husband and frumpy wife?" Katya said placing her hands on the table.

"That might work but its a bit early for a celebration isn't it?" Dan frowned.

"Yeah. We say we cut the deal over a working lunch and went out to celebrate straight after," Katya further improvising their story.

"Ok. Let's get lunch and then hit Supergirls," Dan dropped a note on the table and squeezed out of the booth.

He caught another glimpse of Katya's pink nylon panties as she extricated herself from the tight space.

They walked outside and looked up and down the street looking for somewhere decent to eat and started walking south. They passed what appeared to be reasonably decent pay-by-the-hour, no-tell hotel and Katya surprised Dan by dragging him onto the stoop.

Katya pressed her body against Dan and kissed him and he responded immediately, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her passionately. Katya could feel what seemed like a generously proportioned erection pressing against her body. She broke the kiss and stared into Dan's eyes.

"We can go to lunch or we can kill an hour or two in here," she nodded at the entrance to the flophouse.

"You're very forward Ms Kuznetsova," Dan was a little breathless.

"We're both adults. It's obvious that you want to fuck me and I like you. I like big strong men who are forceful," Katya squeezed his cock through his trousers.