Empire's End

Twelve / Candy

Meyer had a handful of colorful rock candy, probably homemade, that he munched obnoxiously as he and Pat Morgan walked Voorhees down to the shore of Lake Michigan.

“I thought this was an invitation to lunch,” said Voorhees. Meyer shrugged. “Not hungry.”

“Crooked and cheap. But I’ll bet your whores are top dollar.”

“Interested in a lay, Officer?” Meyer grinned. “I can get you a special deal. You ever fucked an Asian girl? I do mean girl, by the way.”

A quiet chill settled in Voorhees’ gut. “What do you want? If this is about either bribes or threats you’d best just save your breath. I don’t care.”

“I have a lot of little girls,” Meyer continued, as if Voorhees hadn’t spoken. “In basements all over Gaylen. They’re quite willing, too—”

Voorhees seized Meyer by the collar of his coat. Morgan whipped out a.45 and stuck it against his temple.

“I didn’t think guns were allowed in Gaylen,” Voorhees said through gritted teeth. He didn’t let Meyer go.

“Oh, they’re not,” Meyer replied, his breath sickly sweet. “Neither are booze or hash or meth, but there seems to be a steady demand and, well, why send people away empty-handed? I don’t believe in that. The government doesn’t believe in that.”

“You’re trash. If this were my city I’d—”

“Yes, I’ve heard how you did things back in Louisiana. So trusted, so admired that nearly every citizen and all your cops bailed on you when the military withdrew? Leaving you with what, a handful of bums? What else happened down there, Voorhees? I’ve heard lots of strange talk about weird things in the southern badlands.

“You know what they say?” Meyer asked, delicately extracting Voorhees’ hands from the folds of his coat. “People say that there are ghosts and gods roaming about out there. They call these days the Last Days. But I don’t subscribe to that, and I’m sure you don’t either, being a rational man. Just the same—”

He slugged Voorhees in the stomach, doubling the old man over, and shouted in his ear “In here, I am God!”

Morgan clipped Voorhees in the back of the head with the butt of her gun. He fell to his knees, vision swimming, the voice of Finn Meyer fading in and out and then gone altogether.

He looked up to find himself alone. It was starting to snow.

Upon arriving back at his office — a warehouse basement downtown — Meyer was informed that he had a couple of sellers sitting upstairs. He liked to handle this end of the business personally. He removed his coat, smoothed his suit and headed up.

The couple was sitting in a small windowless room, isolated from the goings-on in the rest of the building. Entering with the lieutenant who had summoned him, Meyer shook their hands warmly and said, “First things first. How much are you asking for?”

The woman looked at the man, who cleared his throat and said, “Ten thousand.”

Meyer clapped his hands on his knees and laughed. “Well, this must be quite a filly! Ten thousand? Let’s see her. Where is she?”

The lieutenant opened a narrow door into a smaller room, where a few toys — dolls, blocks, crayons — were scattered about on faded carpet.

Lily looked up from her place against the wall, arms and legs crossed, and said “When do I get to go home?”

Meyer licked his lips. He looked back at the couple. “How old is she?”

“Twelve,” Jack Calvert said.

“Come on now,” Meyer said in scolding tone. “I’ll need to see papers on that.”

“She might be thirteen or fourteen. We’ve only had her a few months.”

Meyer said to Lily, “Just another minute, sweetheart,” and closed the door to the smaller room. To the Calverts he asked, “Why ten grand? You must know how steep that is.”

“Yes,” Jack said, “but we’re in debt — we owe people and they want it all now. Or else.”

“I see.” Meyer crouched in front of them and said, “Maybe you should refinance with me. Wouldn’t that be better than selling off the girl?”

Jack and Molly looked anxiously at one another. “You’re not really in debt, are you?” Meyer smiled coldly.

Jack stared at his feet, clearing his throat again, trying to find the right words to say. “Just tell me the truth,” Meyer said. “What are you into?”

“You must know about the airfield,” Jack said. Meyer frowned. “Airfield?”

“They’re building an airfield east of the city. The Senate. I think they’re going to have planes come from somewhere and take them out of here. We just — I need to buy seats for me and my wife. We have to get out of here. The girl — Lily — we only took her in for the government support check. We can let her go. We just want the money.”

Meyer stood in silence, staring at them while he sucked on a piece of candy. The room seemed to grow even smaller to Jack and Molly, pressure building behind their eyes, hands trembling… finally he spoke.

“Seven thousand credits.”

Jack nodded immediately. He’d probably expected a lot less than ten. He put his arm around his wife and said, “Yes. Seven. All right.”

“Give this man here your account number. Expect the transfer within the hour. It’ll be entered in as a tax refund. Understand? You were never here. In fact, you never had the girl — I’ll take care of it. All of that clear?”

They both nodded. They looked like they wanted the hell out of there. Meyer decided to suck his candy and let them stew a few more minutes.

What sort of person would sell their child, even a foster child, into sexual slavery? Of course Meyer could make it right on his end, but how did they live with themselves? Heartless people. At least she’d be taken care of now. And she’d be loved… oh, his clients would love little Lily with her budding breasts and long dark hair. S.P.O. Casey would really love her.

“All right. Give my guy your account and walk out of here, and then forget all this,” he said. They scuttled from the room like spooked roaches.

He opened the door to the smaller room. Lily looked a bit more apprehensive. She hadn’t figured it out yet, but she soon would.

“My name’s Finnegan,” he said. “Want some candy?”

She shook her head.

“That’s good. You don’t take candy from strangers. But soon I won’t be a stranger, and then when I offer you candy you’ll take it. Okay?”

He knelt in the doorway like he was talking to a puppy. “Jack and Molly can’t take care of you anymore. They want you to stay here for now. There are lots of other girls here. You’ll like it.”

She drew into a ball and whimpered, “I want to go home.”

“You are home, sweetheart.”