Innocence (10 page)

“Cora?” Sharo stood waiting for her, bags in hand.

“I’m coming,” she returned to the steps of the club, following Sharo down the way she had taken six months ago.

Later, dressing in the gorgeous bathroom, Cora recounted the rest of that first night. Marcus had seemed like a hero. He offered me a place to stay, she thought as she applied a soft layer of lipstick. He gave me something to drink. Cora frowned at the mirror, then smoothed her features. The clothes Sharo had purchased fit very well. The fabric of the skirt and blouse was silky and fine, if a bit light for colder weather. Marcus liked it when she was cold, though. He would see the prickles on her skin and offer her his coat. Such a move marked her as his own.

And as she walked down the hall to Marcus’ office, Cora remembered the night the fairy tale had begun. The next morning, he brought me clothes in my size. Standing in her new dress, light and grey as a cloud, Cora’s fingers froze on the doorknob. Then she pushed it open.

“There’s my girl,” Marcus said, looking up from his accounts. Without answering, she walked to him; his eyes devoured her form. “Come to me,” he begged and she did. She leant towards him only to kiss him, but, swiveling his chair to face her, he tugged her into his lap.

“It’s so good to see you,” he purred.

“You too, Marcus,” she whispered.

He captured her lips with his. She submitted, but sighed when the kiss was done. It was a sigh of fatigue, not passion, and he could tell. Instead of impatience, though, he leaned back in his seat with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Long day?”             

“Mmmm,” she nodded. Her head sank down; her eyes felt heavy, as if the warmth of Marcus’ den was pulling her into sleep.

“Tired, too? You’re not getting sick, are you?” Marcus put a hand to her forehead. Finding no heat there, he stroked her hair instead. Cora’s heart beat faster. Marcus’ hands moved downward; Cora’s body rippled with another sigh, then straightened as the searching hands found her hips. There the hands cradled her gently, further trespass confined to a small area under his thumbs. Just the slight stroking of the skin stretched across her pelvic bones, however, was enough to madden her. She was awake, now. And Marcus was smiling with the knowledge that he had brought her quickly to life.

“You’re getting thin,” he said. His thumbs slipped across her skin, the fragile bones.

“Models usually are,” she said, alternately arching her back to escape, and leaning in to find his lips. He eluded her, but she felt his breath on her face as he gave a chuckle.

“It’s not right that you’re not eating enough…after all the restaurants I take you to.”

“Marcus,” was all she could say, feeble protest against the interminable movement of his thumbs. She wanted him. Despite everything, she wanted him to take her.

Marcus kept whispering. “You’ll have to promise to eat tonight. I’m taking you to 6th street—Santonio’s place. You remember old Santa?”

Memory and thought eluded Cora. Her body could not draw breath.

“Good dinner, good wine, a little chat with Santonio…then I’ll take you home.”

“Take me home,” Cora echoed. She was breathing again, all in a rush.

“That’s right.” Marcus leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the temple. The movement of the thumbs abruptly stopped. Cora drooped, her head coming to rest on her lover’s shoulders. Under the new clothes Sharo had bought her, Cora was faintly damp with sweat. Marcus pulled her further too him, sliding his arms around her in ultimate embrace. He rocked her slightly, whispering, “Cora, my love. My own.”

She closed her eyes and wished that life was only this.

*

Cora met the agent at the diner again. This time, their booth was deep in the corner, and the waitress had strict instructions not to disturb them.

“Can you tell us of your boyfriend’s movements, Miss Cora?”

“I don’t know. He goes to work and then visits me, or calls to say he’s working late and will see me another day. Lately, he has worked late two days in a row. Is that what mean?”

The agent nodded. “Do you know where he has been?”

“No, he doesn’t tell me. What is this about?”

Instead of answering her, the agent countered with a question. “How were you selected to be in the fashion debut last week?”

“Uh…Marcus told me about it. He set it up; he was friends with the designer.”             

The agent’s eyes swept over her and Cora felt strangely bare. The man’s eyes rested on the jewel on her finger, the red tear. Cora knew that look. In this man’s eyes, she was as good as bought and paid for.

“What’s this about?” Cora asked again.

“We have reason to believe that Ubeli’s whole purpose in attending was to conduct business with Santonio.” The agent slid a picture of an older gentleman towards Cora. “Do you recognize this man?”

She almost laughed. “Papa Santa? He’s one of Marcus’ old friends. I think he and Marcus’ father went to school together.”

The agent was not laughing, his fingers still on the photograph. “You know him?”

“Every so often Marcus takes me to his restaurant. Santa always comes around and says hi.” The agent’s eyes bored into her, so she said, “Everybody calls him Santa. At least…” her voice died under the agent’s stare, “that’s what he said...”

For a moment the agent said nothing, studying Cora as if trying to see if she was real. Then, in an abrupt movement, the agent slid the picture away. “Miss, I’d like to take you in for more questioning.”

Panic rose. “Take me in? Like, to the station?”

“No, not the police. My partner is in a mobile operating station nearby. We can debrief you there and give you what you need to continue surveillance of Mr. Ubeli.”

“I don’t know….”

The agent leaned in towards her. “I think that you have information that could do a great deal of good towards our line of investigation. But that’s only if you want to help us.”

“But if Marcus found out…” Cora was still fretting. Part of her told her to run away from this man, and his empty promises to give her answers. But part of her had to know.

The agent shifted in his suit and straightened his tie. “Ma’am, we’re going to do everything in our power to keep your involvement from his knowledge. Our concern is for your safety.” He rose and waited until she slid out of the booth after him. “This way.”

Keeping her head down and hoping no black cars were sneaking around corners, Cora followed him out of the café. The agent led her into the street, then down an alley way, heading straight towards a white van. When he reached it, the side door slid open. With some hesitation, Cora stepped into the van.

Inside was a dark cave of surveillance equipment. Stooping until offered a corner seat at a little table, Cora absorbed the scene slowly. Bulky black monitors lined the van’s walls; further down were screens a second agent was watching intently.

“This is my partner,” the first one introduced the man, but he barely took his eyes from the screen. Seated so far away, Cora couldn’t see more than dim grey shapes flickering on the boxy eye. She wondered if her image ever had walked across the screen, on the way to a shop or home.

“We’ve been following Mr. Ubeli’s operation for some time. His presence has been linked to some murders in the Sticks.”

Cora could barely comprehend what the agent was telling her. The agent interpreted her stare as confusion about something else, “The Sticks are the south sections of the city. A really rough area.”

“Very hot with crime,” the second agent finally swiveled his chair and took his gaze away from the computer screen. He blinked at Cora, as if surprised to see her, even though she’d just been introduced to him. “Very hot,” he repeated, looking her over. Cora crossed her arms lightly in front of her, looking away.

The first agent noticed her discomfort. “Forgive my partner,” he said smoothly, “He doesn’t get out of this van very often.”

“You’ve been…doing surveillance a long time?” Cora asked.

“We’ve been investigating activities in this area for a long time now,” The first agent said.

“Your boyfriend has been a long time player in the city’s underworld,” said the second.

Disbelief played across Cora’s face, though in the back of her mind a voice whispered,
You knew this, you always wondered…
“Just what has he done?” she appealed.

The second agent snorted, “Just about anything. Smuggling in illegals—weapons and goods, drug rings, heists small and large, money laundring, petty theft.”

“We can’t prove he’s directly involved, yet,” the first said cautiously. “We’re building a case.”

“But we’re pretty sure he’s had his fingers in all of this and more. Violence, murder, prostitution. He’s the kingpin. He’s the boss.”

“I…I can’t believe…” Cora said.

“We’re not asking you to believe us, ma’am. We just want you to let us know if you hear or sense anything suspicious,” The first agent had a look of grave concern and the second one mirrored it. “To be honest, we’re concerned for your safety as well. When there’s crime involved, the people around tend to get hurt. Even if they aren’t aware of what’s going on around them.” The agent glanced at his partner and said, as if to emphasize his point, “She called Santonio ‘Papa Santa.’”

The second agent looked shocked. “Sell-em-by-Santonio? The man who owns half the red light district?” He leaned towards Cora as if passing secrets, “They call him that because some of his workers have ended up in snuff films. Like they have a sell by date. He likes them young.”  

Cora looked from one agent to the other, unsure if the nightmare was real.

“I bet he told you himself to call him ‘Papa Santa.’ You’re just his type…” the second agent remarked.

Blood flooded Cora’s cheeks, and the first agent cleared his throat.

“So you see, you could be in considerable danger,” the first took the role of counselor. “Any information you give us on these people will save a lot of lives.”

“I don’t know…” Cora murmured. She felt nauseous, trapped in a cave. “I don’t know what I can do.”

“Recent surveillance has uncovered a deal between Marcus Ubeli, your boyfriend, and Mr. Santonio. Evidence suggest some arrangements were made before and during the after-party of a designer’s debut.”

It took Cora a moment to understand this, “What…the photo shoot?”

“That’s right,” one agent held her eyes while the other shuffled through a file. A picture was produced—Marcus with Santonio, both holding glasses of champagne. “We think that the two men met and agreed on date and price. Their excuse to come together so publicly was their mutual friend.” The agent snapped a second photograph towards Cora: it pictured her as the Queen of the Dead, on the arm of the designer, Armand. The shot was grey and blurry. “Santonio often befriends young designers. We think he hires new models for photo shoots of his own.”

Again, the nausea clenched her stomach. Cora didn’t flinch. I can do this. I can play the game. Only it wasn’t a game, anymore.

Agent #1: “Now there are shipments arriving at your boyfriend’s warehouses.”

“Shipments of what?” Cora asked.

Agent #1: “We’re not sure yet.”  

“So, it could be anything…” Cora wanted to reason out of their bleak world.

Agent #2 snorted. “Anything. As long as it’s Underworld business.” His eyes went to the screen and stayed there, even when Cora stared at him.

Agent #1 cleared his throat softly. He was a thin man, wearing a suit and tie. He looked…bland, plain. Utterly nondescript. Cora realized she could have seen him on the street a thousand times, and never remembered. But she had seen the white van outside the cafe that day she went walking. If she had been approached that day and asked about Marcus, she would have spilled everything suspicious: the cars that followed her, the private club where Marcus spent days “doing business”, the friends of his who studied the world shrewdly behind ranks and ranks of bodyguards. Dating Marcus Ubeli, Cora felt like an ocean diver plunged into new depths, able only to stare silently at a strange new world.

A month ago, she would have told them all of this. She wouldn’t have been able to help it. But now, she wasn’t so sure. Swallowing hard, she asked, “What exactly do you want me to do?”

“We need to establish who Marcus’ business partners are, and what the nature of the transaction was. Any info would be useful.”

“Okay.”

Sensing her uncertainty, Agent #2 pitched in, “Could you ask him about his designer friend? Maybe if he had any business during the party?”

Cora recoiled instantly, “Marcus doesn’t like me asking about business.”

“Did you ever wonder why?”

There was a long pause, during which Cora twisted and twisted the ring on her finger. She was unaware she was doing it, but both men noticed and exchanged glances filled with quiet victory.

“Miss Cora,” Agent #1 said soberly, “do you know what men on the street call your boyfriend?”

Mute, she shook her head.

Agent #2: “Lord of the Underworld.”

“What?” Cora whispered.

“We’ve had him under surveillance for years. Crime in this city used to be controlled by three families. The first moved. Now it’s all Ubeli. And while your Marcus isn’t the head of the family, we suspect he’s at the bottom of every deal the family does.”