Chasing the Dime

4

When he got back to his office Pierce turned the lights on by hand. The voice-recognition switch was bullshit and he knew it. Something installed simply to impress the potential investors Charlie Condon walked through the place every few weeks. It was a gimmick.

Just like all the cameras and Vernon. But Charlie said it was all necessary. It symbolized the cutting-edge nature of what they did. He said it helped investors envision the company's projects and importance. It made them feel good about writing a check.

But the result was that the offices sometimes seemed to Pierce to be as soulless as they were high-tech. He had started the company in a low-rent warehouse in Westchester, having to take readings on experiments in between takeoffs and landings at LAX. He had no employees. Now he had so many he needed an employee relations officer. He drove a fender-dented Volkswagen Beetle then -the old kind. And now he drove a BMW. There was no doubt, he and Amedeo had certainly come a long way. But with increasing frequency he would drift off to memories of that warehouse lab beneath the flight pattern of runway 17. His friend Cody Zeller, always looking for a movie reference, had once told him that "runway 17" would be his "Rosebud," the last words whispered from his dying lips. Other similarities to Citizen Kane notwithstanding, Pierce thought there was a possibility Zeller might be right about that.

Pierce sat down at his desk and thought about calling Zeller and telling him he'd changed his mind about going out. He also thought about calling the house to see if Nicole wanted to talk. But he knew he couldn't do that. It was her move to make and he had to wait her out -even if it never happened.

He took the pad out of his backpack and called the number for accessing his home voice mail by remote location. He tapped in the password and was told electronically that he had one new message. He played it and heard the nervous voice of a man he didn't know.

"Uh, yes, hello, my name is Frank. I'm at the Peninsula. Room six twelve. So give me a call when you can. I got your number from the website and I wanted to see if you're available tonight. I know it's late but I thought I'd try. Anyway, it's Frank Behmer, room six twelve at the Peninsula. Hope to hear from you soon."

Pierce erased the message but once more felt the weird magic of secretly being inside somebody's hidden world. He thought for a few moments and then called Information to get the number for the Peninsula in Beverly Hills. Frank Behmer had been so nervous while leaving the message that he hadn't included the callback number.

He called the hotel and asked for Behmer in room 612. The call was picked up after five rings.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Behmer?"

"Yes?"

"Hi. Did you call for Lilly?"

Behmer hesitated before answering.

"Who is this?"

Pierce didn't hesitate. He had been anticipating the question.

"My name is Hank. I handle Lilly's calls. She's kind of busy at the moment but I'm trying to reach her for you. To set it up for you."

"Yes, I tried the cell number but she didn't call back."

"The cell number?"

"The one on the site."

"Oh, I see. You know, she is listed on several sites. Do you mind my asking which one you got her numbers from? We're trying to figure out which one is most effective, if you know what I mean."

"I saw it on the L.A. Darlings site."

"Oh, L.A. Darlings. Right. That's one of our better sites."

"That's really her on there, right? In the picture?"

"Uh, yes, sir, that's really her."

"Beautiful."

"Yes. Okay, well, like I said, I'll get her to call you as soon as I get a hold of her.

Shouldn't take too long. But if you don't hear from either me or Lilly within an hour, then it's not going to happen."

"Really?"

Disappointment tumbled off his voice.

"She's very busy, Mr. Behmer. But I'll try my best. Good night."

"Well, tell her I'm just in town on business for a few days and I'd treat her real nice, if you know what I mean."

Now there was a slight note of pleading in his voice. It made Pierce feel guilty about the subterfuge. He felt that he suddenly knew too much about Behmer and his life.

"I know what you mean," he said. "Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

Pierce hung up. He tried to put his misgivings aside. He didn't know what he was doing or why, but something was pulling him down a pathway. He rebooted his computer and jacked in the phone line. He then went online and tried a variation of web configurations until he hit on www.la-darlings.com and was connected to a site.

The first page was text. It was a warning/waiver form explaining that there was explicit adult fare waiting on the website. By clicking the ENTER button, the visitor was acknowledging that he or she was over eighteen years old and was not offended by nudity or adult content. Without reading all the fine print, Pierce clicked on the ENTER button and the screen changed to the site's home page. Running along the left border was a photo of a naked woman holding a towel in front of herself and a raised finger in front of her lips in a don't-tell-anyone pose. The site titling was in a large purple font.

L.A. Darlings A free directory of adult entertainment and services Beneath was a row of red tabs labeled with the available services, ranging from escorts categorized by race and hair color to massage and fetish experts of all genders and sexual orientation. There was even a tab for hiring actual porno stars for private sessions. Pierce knew there were countless sites like these all over the Internet. It was likely that every Internet provider in every city and town had at least one of these sites -the equivalent of an online bordello -sitting in its chips. He had never taken the time to explore one, though he knew that Charlie Condon had once used such a site to hire an escort for a potential investor. It was a decision he regretted and never repeated -the investor was drink-drugged and robbed by the escort before any sex act even took place. Needless to say, he did not invest in Amedeo Technologies.

Pierce clicked on the BLONDE ESCORTS tab for no reason other than it was a place to start looking for Lilly. The page opened in two halves. On the left side of the page was a scrolling panel of thumbnail photos of the blonde escorts with their first names appearing under each picture. When he clicked on one of the thumbnails, the escort's page would then open on the right -the photo enlarged for easier and better viewing.

Pierce scrolled down the panel, looking at the names. There were nearly forty different escorts, but none was named Lilly. He closed it out and went to the brunettes section next. Halfway through the thumbnails he came to an escort with the name Tiger Lilly under her picture. He clicked on the photo and her page appeared on the right. He checked the phone number -it wasn't the same as his.

He closed the page and went back to the thumbnails panel. Further down he came to another escort named simply Lilly. He clicked her page open and checked the number. It was a match. He had found the Lilly whose phone number he now had.

The photo on the ad was of a woman in her mid-twenties. She had dark shoulder-length hair and brown eyes, a deep tan. She was kneeling on a bed with brass railings and was naked beneath a black fishnet negligee. The curves of her breasts were clearly visible.

The tan lines of her crotch were seen also. Her eyes looked directly into the camera. Her full lips formed what Pierce thought was meant to be an inviting pout.

If the photo had not been altered and if it was really Lilly, then she was beautiful. Just as Frank Behmer had said. Pure fantasy, an escort dream. Pierce understood why his phone had been ringing constantly since he had plugged it in. The wealth of competition on this website and all the others on the net didn't matter. A man scrolling through the photos – shopping for a woman, as it were -would be hard-pressed to go past this one without picking up the phone.

There was a blue ribbon posted below the photo. Pierce moved the cursor to it and a popup caption said "photo verified by staff," meaning the model in the photo was actually the woman who had placed the ad. In other words, you got what you saw if you arranged to meet the escort. Supposedly.

"Photo verifier," Pierce said. "That's not a bad job."

His eyes moved to the ad copy below the photo and he scrolled down as he read it.

Special Desires Hello, Gentlemen. My name is Lilly and I'm the most soothing, pleasing and down-toearth escort on the whole Westside. I'm 23 yoa, 34-25-34 (all natural), 5-1 and 105 lbs. and don't smoke. I'm part Spanish and part Italian and all American! So if you're looking for the time of your life, then give me a call and come visit me at my safe and secure townhouse near the beach. I never rush and satisfaction is guaranteed! All special desires considered. And if you want to double your pleasure, visit my girlfriend Robin's page in the Blonde Escorts section. We work together as a team -on you or ourselves! I love my work and love to work. So call me!

Incall only. VIPs only.

Below the ad was the phone number now assigned to Pierce's apartment, as well as a cell phone number.

Pierce picked up the phone and called the cell number. He got her voice mail.

"Hi, it's Lilly. Leave your name and number and I'll call you right back. I don't return calls to pay phones. And if you're in a hotel, remember to leave your full name or they won't put my call through. Thanks. I hope to see you real soon. Bye-bye."

Pierce had made the call before he was sure of what he wanted to say. The beep sounded and he started talking.

"Uh, yes, Lilly, my name is Henry. I sort of have a problem because I have your old phone number. What I mean is, the phone company gave it to me -it's in my apartment and… I don't know… I'd like to talk to you about it."

He blurted out the number and hung up.

"Shit!"

He knew he had sounded like an idiot. He wasn't even sure why he was calling her. If she had given up the number, there was nothing she could do about it now to help him except get it off the website. And that thought raised the primary question: Why was the number still on her site?

He looked at her photo on the screen again. He studied it. Lilly was stunningly beautiful and he felt a heaviness at his center, the growing hunger of lust. Finally, a single thought pushed through: What am I doing?

It was a good and valid question. He knew what he needed to do was pull the plug on the computer, get a new number on Monday and then concentrate on the work and forget about all of this.

But he couldn't. He went back to the keyboard and closed Lilly's page and went back to the home page. He then opened the Blonde Escorts panel again and scrolled down until he found a thumbnail photo with the name Robin beneath it.

He opened the page. The woman named Robin was blonde as advertised. She lay naked on her back on a bed. Red rose petals were piled on her stomach and strategically used to partially cover her breasts and crotch. She had a red lipstick smile. There was a blue ribbon beneath the picture, indicating that the photo had been verified. He scanned down to the ad copy.

American Beauty Hello, Gentlemen. My name is Robin and I'm the girl you have been dreaming about. I'm a true blonde and blue-eyed all-American girl. I'm 24 yoa, 38-30-36 and almost six feet tall. I don't smoke but I love champagne. I can come to you or you can come to me. It doesn't matter because I never rush you. Absolutely positive GFE. And if you want to double your pleasure, visit my girlfriend Lilly's page in the brunettes section. We work together as a team -on you or on ourselves! So give me a call. Satisfaction guaranteed!

VIPs only please.

There was a phone number and a pager number at the bottom of the ad. Without thinking too much about it, Pierce wrote them down in his notebook. He then moved back up to the photo. Robin was attractive but not in the aching sort of way that Lilly was. Robin had sharp lines to her mouth and eyes and a colder look. She was more in line with what Pierce had always thought he would find on one of these sites. Lilly wasn't.

Pierce reread the ad and was left wondering what "absolutely positive GFE" meant. He had no clue. He then realized that the ad copy on both pages -Robin's and Lilly's -had likely been written by the same person. Repetitive phrases and structure indicated this.

He also noticed as he looked at the photo that the same brass bed was in both photos. He pulled down his Internet directory and quickly switched back to Lilly's web page to confirm.

The bed was the same. He didn't know what this meant other than perhaps another confirmation that the two women worked together.

The main difference he picked up from the copy was that Lilly only entertained clients at her apartment. Robin worked it either way, going to a client or allowing him to come to her. Again, he didn't know if this meant anything in the world in which they lived and worked.

He leaned back in his chair, looking at the computer screen and wondering what to do next. He looked at his watch. It was almost eleven.

Abruptly he leaned forward and picked up the phone. Checking his notes, he called the number from Robin's page. He lost his nerve and was about to hang up after four rings when a woman answered in a sleepy, smoky voice.

"Uh, Robin?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, I'm awake. Who's this?"

"Um, my name's Hank. I, uh, saw your page on L.A. Darlings. Am I calling too late?"

"No, you're fine. What's Amedeo Techno?"

He realized she had caller ID. A shock of fear went through him. Fear of scandal, of people like Vernon knowing something secret about him.

"Actually, it's Amedeo Technologies. Your readout must not show the whole name."

"Is that where you work?"

"Yes."

"Are you Mr. Amedeo?"

Pierce smiled.

"No, there is no Mr. Amedeo. Not anymore."

"Really? Too bad. What happened to him?"

"Amedeo was Amedeo Avogadro. He was a chemist who about two hundred years ago was the first to tell the difference between molecules and atoms. It was an important distinction but he wasn't taken seriously for about fifty years, until after he was dead. He was just a man ahead of his time. The company was named after him."

"What do you do there? Play around with atoms and molecules?"

He heard her yawn.

"Sort of. I'm a chemist, too. We're building a computer out of molecules."

He yawned.

"Really? Cool."

Pierce smiled again. She sounded neither impressed nor interested.

"Anyway, the reason I'm calling is that I see that you work with Lilly. The brunette escort?"

"I did."

"You mean not anymore?"

"No, not anymore."

"What happened? I've been trying to call her and -"

"I'm not talking about Lilly with you. I don't even know you."

Her voice had changed. It had taken on a sharper edge. Pierce instinctively knew he could lose her if he didn't play it right.

"Okay, sorry. I was just asking because I liked her."

"You'd been with her?"

"Yeah. A couple times. She seemed like a nice girl and I was wondering where she went.

That's all. She suggested the last time that maybe all three of us could get together next time. Do you think you could get a message to her?"

"No. She's long gone and whatever happened to her… just happened. That's all."

"What do you mean? What exactly happened?"

"You know, mister, you're really creeping me out, asking all of these questions. And the thing is, I don't have to talk to you. So why don't you just spend the night with your own molecules."

She hung up.

Pierce sat there with the phone still to his ear. He was tempted to call back but instinctively knew it would be fruitless attempting to get anything out of Robin. He had spoiled it with the way he had handled it.

He finally hung up and thought about what he had gathered. He looked at the photo of Lilly still on his computer screen. He thought about Robin's cryptic comment about something having happened to her.

"What happened to you?"

He moved the screen back to the home page and clicked on a tab marked ADVERTISE

WITH US. It led to a page with instructions for placing ads on the site. It could be done through the net by submitting a credit card number, ad copy and a digital photograph. But in order to receive the blue ribbon signaling a verified photo on the ad, the advertiser had to submit all the materials in person so that she could be confirmed as the woman in the photograph. The site's brick-and-mortar location was on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood.

This was apparently what Lilly and Robin had done. The page listed the office's hours as Monday through Saturday, nine to five during the week and ten to three on Saturdays.

Pierce wrote the address and hours down on his notepad. He was about to disconnect from the site when he decided to call up Lilly's page once again. He printed out a color copy of her photo on the DeskJet. He then shut down the computer and disconnected the phone line. Again a voice inside told him he had gone as far with this as he could go. As he should go. It was time to change his phone number and forget about it.

But another voice -a louder voice from the past -told him something else.

"Lights," he said.

The office dropped into darkness. Pierce didn't move. He liked the darkness. He always did his best thinking in the dark.