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"You are a very beautiful lady," Starkey said. "Listen, we're heading over to
our suite at the Radisson. You be interested in three big tips, instead of
just one? We kind of like to party together. It'll be good, clean fun."
Starkey could be charming, and also respectful. He had an easy smile. So the
blonde hooker got into the Suburban. "You all promise to be good boys," she
said, and smiled that wonderful smile of hers again.
"Promise," the three of them chorused. "We'll be good boys."
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"On the road again," Griffin sang.
"Hey, you're pretty good," the girl said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
She was good with men, knew how to handle them, especially soldiers from Fort
Bragg, who were usually decent enough guys. Once upon a time, she'd been an
Army brat herself. Not so long ago. She was nineteen.
"You hear that? This beautiful lady likes my singing. What's your name,
sweetie?" asked Griffin. "I like you already."
"It's Vanessa," said the girl, giving her made up street handle. "What's
yours? Don't say Willie."
Griffin laughed out loud. "Why, it's Warren. Nice to make your acquaintance,
Vanessa. Pretty name for a pretty lady."
They rode out of town, in the direction of 1-95. Starkey suddenly pulled the
Suburban over after a mile or so and shouted, Tit stop!" He let the car roll
until it was mostly hidden in a copse of evergreens and prickle bushes.
"The Radisson's not far. Why don't you wait?" Vanessa asked. "You boys can
hold it a little longer, can't you?"
"This can't wait, "said Griffin. Suddenly, he had his pistol up tight against
the girl's skull.
From the front seat, Brownley Harris had his gun aimed at her chest.
"De had tay len daul'Thomas Starkey screamed, his voice deep and scary.
Hands on your head.
"Ban gap nhieu phi en phue roi do."
You're in serious trouble, bitch.
Vanessa didn't understand a word but she sure got the tone. Bad shit was going
down. Real bad shit. Her stomach dropped. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have gotten
into a car with three guys, but the driver had seemed so nice. Now why was he
yelling at her? What kind of messed-up language was it? What was happening?
She thought that she might throw up and she'd had a chili dog and Fritos for
dinner.
"Stop, please stop! "Vanessa said, and started to cry. It was an act, kind of,
but it usually worked on the soldiers from Bragg.
Not this time, though. The insane yelling in the car got even louder. The
weird language she didn't understand.
"Ra khoi xe. Ngay bay gro," said Thomas Starkey.
Get out of the car. Do it now, bitch.
They were waving their scary guns and pointing, and she finally understood
that she was supposed to get out of the car. Oh my God, were they going to
leave her out here as a sick joke? The bastards!
Or was it worse than that? How much worse could it get?
Then the one in the front seat smacked her with the back of his hand. Why? She
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was already getting out of the car. Goddamn him! She almost toppled over on
her silver platform shoes. Willie Nelson kicked her in the back and Vanessa
gasped in pain.
"Ra khoi xe!" the man in front screamed again. Who were they? Were they
terrorists or something?
Vanessa was sobbing, but she understood she was supposed to run, to hightail
it into the dark woods and creepy swampland. Jesus, God, she didn't want to go
in there! There'd be snakes for sure!
The one from the backseat punched her in the back again, and Vanessa started
to run. What choice did she have?
"Lue do may se den toil'
You're going to die.
She heard shouts behind her.
Oh God, God, God, what were they saying? What was going to happen to her? Why
had she let them pick her up? Big mistake, big mistake!
Then all Vanessa could think about was running.
Chapter Twenty
Let her go," Thomas Starkey said. "Let's be fair now.
We told Vanessa we'd be good."
So they leaned against the Suburban and let the frightened girl run off into
the swamp, gave her a good head start.
Starkey slid on one of the Ranger's new tan berets. It had replaced the black
beret of the Special Forces, once the rest of the Army had gone to black.
"Here's the first side bet of the evening. Ole Vanessa will be wearing her
platform heels when we catch up with her. Or do you boys think she'll shuck
the shoes?" asked Starkey. "Bets, gentlemen?"
"Shuck 'em for sure," said Griffin. "She's dumb, but she's not that stupid.
I'll take your bet. Fifty?"
"She'll be wearing the shoes," pronounced Starkey. "Girl that pretty working
the street, she's dumb as a board. A hundred says so."
Just then they saw a pair of lights veering off the highway. Someone was
driving toward where they'd parked. Now who the hell was this?
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