Behind the Facade (15 page)

“So they usually need a lot of work?” asked Michael.

“Not always. We try and ensure as little work as possible is
needed by selecting raw material that is as close as possible to the client's
specifications. That is where our spotters’ skills come into play.”
Harry,
appeared to be oblivious to the fact that he had just
referred to the girls as if they were some kind of product.

 “Spotters?” queried Michael.

“Well, perhaps a better name for them Michael is scouts.  I’ll
elaborate later. Let me introduce you to some of the girls, and show you the
delightful spa.”

As they continued their tour of the complex, Michael was
suitably impressed at the excellence and extent of the facilities. There was
not only a beautiful marbled spa area, complete with pool and
jacuzzi
, but also other more
mundane essentials, such as a huge larder and freezer for storing food and an
ecological waste disposal system. These, Harry told him, enabled them to keep
deliveries to the complex to a minimum.

The girls he encountered were relaxing in the pool. They were
clearly not used to seeing men around who weren’t employees, with just a job to
do. They took delight in preening a little when he was introduced by Harry as a
business associate and even invited him to join them for a swim. He politely
declined. “I’m here for business, girls,” he explained, but thanked them for
flattering him with such an offer. 

They were indeed beautiful, ranging from the dark mystical
beauty of Asia to the pale, freckled freshness of closer to home. Michael
noticed that they were not as young as he’d imagined they might be and
certainly seemed content with their situation, as Harry had attested.

He was however, becoming a little frustrated at the image of a
Shangri La that was being presented. He knew there was something murkier
lurking underneath. He’d been shown a very professional looking photography
studio, during the course of their tour, where the girls “model portfolios”
were produced but, from what Harry had told him in the club that day, these
women were not destined to be models. This was not a modelling agency
business.  There was artifice being employed here.

Everything he saw, as Harry had promised, was a part of the
process, but he wanted to understand the whole.  He turned to Harry, as
they re-entered the reception area, and bluntly challenged, “Those girls don’t
have the first idea what’s going on here, do they?”

“Does that bother you?” returned Harry. 

“Not particularly. They wouldn’t be such willing volunteers
otherwise,” said Michael. Then his voice rose in frustration.  “But the
problem is
,
I still don’t know what’s going on
either!”

“Oh, but you do,” admonished Harry. “I know you’re much smarter
than that, Mick. I’ve already given you a rough outline. I bet you’ve figured
it all out. You’re not the man I thought you were otherwise. You know as well
as I do what we’re trading in and you know there’s money in it. That’s why you
signed today.”

Michael shrugged in concession. “That might be true, Harry, but
I’m a stickler for details, especially where my money and my name are
involved.”

 Harry put an arm around his shoulders in a conciliatory
gesture. “Let’s go to your room. We’ll have a drink. You tell me what you’ve
learned so far and I’ll fill in each and every blank. You’ve given me your
money, and with it your trust. I believe it’s time I gave you mine.”

The room Harry showed him to
was
everything he’d promised. It wasn’t glaringly opulent yet there was understated
luxury in every detail. They entered the room through a lounge suite, where
there were a couple of inviting white sofas, a sleek glass coffee table and a
flat panel television.  Spectacular forest views were visible from the
wide windows that looked out onto a patio area complete with hot tub. To one
side there was a refreshment centre with coffee maker, bar and drinks cabinet.
The sitting area then led off to a magnificent bedroom and en-suite bathroom,
containing a high-spec shower with a rain spray head and a large whirlpool
bath.

 “It’s like being in the Ritz-Carlton,” commented Michael
as he had a good browse around.

Harry nodded in delighted acknowledgement. “Yes, and I’m hoping
you can replicate this in the US, so take a good look. Now take a seat and let
me get you that drink. What’ll you have?”

“A Scotch, for me Harry, easy on the
ice.”

As they both settled with their drinks into the comfortable
sofas on each side of the coffee table, Harry crossed his legs
  and
invited Michael to give him a run-down of what he
had surmised.

“Well now,” said Michael, “you have a plethora of
extraordinarily beautiful girls here. They enjoy a life of luxury and are
pampered, worked on, photographed and convinced that they are going to secure a
modelling career. Clearly, they are the women you referred to when you first
took me into your confidence and described an exclusive matching service. These
women don’t know they’re being matched with anyone though, do they?”

Harry grinned. “They’re already matched. We don’t bring them
here otherwise.  I’ll tell you exactly how it works. We receive a
specification from a client in just the same way we receive them for a car but
via a highly secure, access protected website. We send out a scout. The scout
finds the right girl, as close to spec as possible. They’re invited, along with
a number of other girls who act as window
dressing,
to
an interview in an office we simply rent for a couple of hours. Inevitably only
the right girl succeeds. We sign her up to a contract that states we will
provide the platform, the marketing, everything for propelling her into the
modelling world.”

“It has one tiny proviso: should she not obtain a modelling
contract within 3 months, she has to pay back every penny for every service she
has received. This is put forward as a necessary safeguard for us but one that
is very rarely enforced. The time itself is not wasted as surgery can take a
few months to heal, as can making sure the girl is precisely as required, and
of legal age.”

“A honey-trap,” Michael remarked.

“If you like.
Of course, the girl never gets a modelling deal. The bill after
3 months is huge, she can’t afford to pay it and doesn’t want any enhancement
surgery reversed or to be shamed in front of her peers or family. We have a
legitimate contract. Our expenses were only waived because of the hefty
commission we would have received as part of a modelling agreement. She can’t
just renege. We’ve done everything possible for her.”

“But you can only hold her to that contract if she’s 18?”

“Well, she doesn’t necessarily know that Mick. We can offer to
involve her parents but she’d far rather we didn’t.”

“What happens to her then?” Michael asked.

Harry’s eyes gleamed, but the dark irises seemed to absorb the
light rather than reflect it.

“Then an outside party comes to the rescue and offers her a way
out of the nightmare. A sponsor who has seen her portfolio will pay her way so
we can continue to market her. He’s sold on her and considers her a
foolproof
investment. In return the sponsor simply requests
her company for an evening.”

“But that’s just another hoax,” Michael said, expressing his
conclusions out loud. “She was sold to this “sponsor” all along. And she
doesn’t learn the truth until it’s too late.”

Harry watched him, a little concerned by the perspective Michael
seemed to have. However, Michael’s next words both reassured him and caught him
off guard.

“I don’t get it,” said Michael rather bluntly. Harry frowned.
“All this effort.
Why even bother with the whole charade?
Why not use other more direct and forceful means of persuasion?”

Harry nearly choked on his drink. A laugh erupted from him. “I
like how you think, Mick! But this is about making sure both sides are comfortable.
The client doesn’t want some distressed, battered maiden on his doorstep. The
client expects a genuinely willing, untouched companion and that’s what we
deliver.”

“Have you ever had a refusal?”

 “We have,” said Harry, sipping his drink thoughtfully. 
“A girl who accused us of setting her up and of suggesting she was a
prostitute. She had a great deal of pride in her virginity.”

How dare she?
thought
Michael. 

“We pointed out we’d hardly have spent so much time and effort
on making her beautiful just to make her a prostitute.
Which
is perfectly true of course.
  After all we don’t groom them, at
least not in the sexual exploitative sense of the word. We explained it was
understandable she would seek to lay the blame elsewhere but it was as much a
disappointment to us as to her. She was being offered a lifeline. It was only
one night and she would have complete control. We’d be a phone call away.”

“Of course, once with their sponsor, he can do whatever he
wants, for as long as he likes,” said Michael, his understanding now complete.
“But are they never reported missing?”

“We eliminate that risk because of our methods. These girls
aren’t just snatched off the street. That’s what clients like about the
process; they don’t have to worry about the initial appropriation or the risk
of being seen with them or watching them. We also allow the girls access to
email and social networking sites whilst here. Our system records their email
address and their account details and we post regular messages, adopting the
same style and tone as previous ones. We send an email to say that they’re now
in some exotic location filming for an advert. We even send pictures and money
to their family, if necessary. No-one is ever the wiser.”

“What happens if the client tires of them or isn’t satisfied
with his purchase?”

Harry smiled but Michael thought he caught a glimmer of
something in the murky pools of those eyes, like a slithery creature disturbing
the surface of otherwise placid waters.

“It is extremely rare but the client must alert us. We can
provide a replacement.
At a cost of course.
We take
the other one back. They’re not always in the same pristine condition in which
they were delivered, unfortunately, especially if the client has had them for
some time.  But we have someone who’ll pay to take them off our hands.”

“Don’t you ever feel guilty about what might happen to them?”

Harry shook his head. “I deliver them to the client healthy and
intact. If the client chooses to harm them, that is their doing and their responsibility.
Believe it or not, we once had a client who simply wanted a girl to look at all
day
and another who treated her like a queen. It does
happen and there are long and happy relationships. I explained before-we’re
just providing a companion that suits exactly what they are looking for in a
woman, without the usual unreasonable female expectations. They control what
happens next.”

“The client’s also responsible for keeping them secure from
thereon in I take it? Isn’t that rather risky?”

Harry nodded. “The risk is entirely theirs. There’s nothing to
link the girl to us. We do however, pass on certain information that can assist
with....keeping them in line.” He shifted in his seat and seemed keen to move
off this subject. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

“How big a cut am I getting, exactly? You didn’t quite give me
time to read that contract.”

Harry grinned. “You get 25% of any profit. I’m banking on you to
drum up some business across the water, son and to eventually run our
enterprise there. I’m investing in this too, you know. I’m investing in you.”

Michael chewed on this. “And your average asking
price,
is?”

“Well, we don’t get hung up on or advertise prices. You get a
feel for what the client’s after and how hungry they are for it. Then you pitch
the price at just the right level.
Much like a car sale.
On average we get nothing less than quarter of a mil, but I’m sure the Yanks
have deeper pockets.”

Michael
clinked
his glass to Harry’s.
“I’m in. I’m happy to fly back to the States as soon as you’ve shown me how the
website and orders work.”

“No time like the present.” Harry rose and, after re-filling
their drinks, clicked on a panel in the refreshment centre and a black computer
console rose smoothly into view. “The website simply sits like a shadow behind
the Bespoke Cars site. You just click on the curlicue that sits in the bottom
right corner of the home page.”

“What if it’s clicked accidentally by someone who’s only
interest
is
cars?”

“It doesn’t lead straight to it and you need a passcode. 
I’ll demonstrate.”

He brought up the BC site. Clicking on the curlicue, it brought
up an error message. “
This guards against unauthorised
users,”
he explained, whilst swiftly cutting and pasting the numbers
from the error message into the browser. The page re-loaded and a new screen
appeared which requested a username and pin. “Customers are issued with a
username and a pin generating device,” he revealed, as he quickly gained access
and an impressive looking webpage presented itself.