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Well... business is business. Escobar’s sealed instructions offer not only the coordinates of the Islas Rosario, but how I am to present Renee... effeminately... in makeup, heels, hair styled... and with a very telling article of apparel.
For this task I need to review my list of perverts. I need to find more information about Islas Rosario. But most of all, I need to uncover what so much concerns Pablo Escobar... to travel to New York and joust with a police officer in such a brash manner. Do his fears bring irrationality? Or is what he perceives to be on the table worth the risk of capture and incarceration.
The Waldorf Apartments will be key. What sources have I there? Vice does not get called into such a ritzy environment very often. But I know the security personnel assigned to the hotel operation are wary of extremely high priced call girls. That’s a start.
If there is one thing I have learned about the sexually depraved it is they are consistent. There just does not seem to be an effective avenue of reform... assuming any of the perverts would even choose to take a single step down such a thoroughfare. So in my eight years I have kept personal notes... a log... with names, phone numbers and addresses of every deviant encounter... even those I let off with a warning. It is from this log that I pimp out Renee... those I sprung... after negotiating ‘bail’... money for myself. And none of them has been borne again, instead readily agreeing to a tryst with my little tart whose fellatio is becoming renowned and whose cheeks open on command.
So I review my log... who is wealthy... who has a yacht... who can take the time to cruise the Caribbean and benefit from unending debauchery? The question not needed to be asked... who has the inclination... they all do.
I search. Locate a candidate. Make a call.
Next it’s to the Waldorf; I have the name of retired Detective Sergeant Manny Matthews, now on security detail. We meet. I introduce... with the badge. He is uncomfortable knowing I am Vice. The Waldorf? Vice? We speak sub rosa in a secluded corner. I have Renee’s pic remaining on my cell phone. Seen him/her? Yes, he has... but not in the hotel. Went to the apartments. Which one I ask? Number 2207. He’s good, the childlike Renee raising suspicion. He followed up.
Progress!
***
Monday morning the progress slows. A call to NYC Buildings and Records suggests that Waldorf apartment 2207 is owned by a trust based in the Cook Islands, the level of confidentiality concerning ownership, etc. not to be broken... the paper walls of the trust not to be penetrated.
Correspondence. Someone pays the bills... monthly maintenance to the Waldorf for heat, power and cleaning. I write a note, to whom it may concern, offer my name and phone number. I return to the hotel and leave it with the Waldorf apartment’s administrative office.
Of course they explain the high level of confidentiality... everyone anonymous... no assurances offered that my note will go to anyone of responsibility... but it cannot hurt to try and make contact.
Leaving the Waldorf, I realize that I will need to arrange a vacation for Renee. But when he/she does not return? Too many questions will result. So I call this ‘Mr. Thompson’, he mired with the task of supervising Renee and maintaining sanity in his department. I introduce myself... ‘Sergeant Rogers, NYPD Vice squad’. Some questions concerning a ‘Robert Warren’, all information offered to be kept confidential. He is upset by the call... but not surprised.
And that is all it requires, a transsexual Renee being on thin ice since his alteration. It will require a couple of days, big companies need the approval of legal counsel, but Renee will be terminated. So from an employment standpoint, my ward will not be missed.
Ending the conversation with Mr. Thompson, my cell phone rings, my call to Wadsworth Danforth McBride being returned... and promptly.
“Waddy, so good of you to return my call...” I offer in jest.
He dares not defy me. Waddy, I caught in flagrante delicto some three years ago, standing in a Times Square alley, receiving oral sex from an underage runaway. Well, one would normally say... ‘a guy’s got to do what a guy’s got to do’. But in Waddy’s case, it wasn’t a situation in which he could not keep it in his pants. Waddy was dressed in drag at the time, the head of the girl bobbing away under a flowing pleated skirt.
So, what’s a mega wealthy guy like Wadsworth Danforth McBride do
when confronted by such an ignominious situation? Bribe everyone and everybody with a wallet or a pocket book.
I spared him a trip to the precinct and bought a nice watch.
I have not yet ‘introduced’ Waddy to Renee, saving the low hanging fruit, not to be puny.
“Been sailing lately, Waddy?”
“No Ma’am.”
“How about a little cruise? Where’s your yacht?”
Waddy has some sinecure position at his family’s trust company. And yes, he does wear male clothing when tending to business. But among the trust officers and his family his ‘eccentricity’ is known, though not details like the Time Square alley episode, and therefore very little responsibility is delegated to him. Matter of fact, I believe the more accountable employees at the trust company are probably thrilled with every long weekend taken.
“Fort Lauderdale. New sails. Engine rebuilt.”
“Excellent. I have a proposition for you. Something a man with your refined tastes will not refuse.”
“Word is out on that young trollop, Sergeant Rogers. Have you no shame?”
Yes, the depraved talk to each other... really communicate over the internet in squalid secrecy... and in anonymity, of course.
“Shame that I was not offered first go,” he adds with a snorting laugh.
