over a goddamn flight plan?”
“A goddamn flight plan,” Coglan parodied. “Sure, the goddamn orbital flight plan of the space shuttle Adventurer .”
McCracken raised his hands and let the small Oriental push him against the wall in order to search him. The man found his Browning but kept right on jostling him up and down until he was satisfied that was all Blaine had been carrying.
He turned slowly and faced an elegant woman dressed in a blue sequined gown.
“Your errand boy here didn’t take my wallet, Madame Rosa,” Blaine told her.
The woman smiled comfortably. “I thought I’d give you the pleasure of telling me who you are and what you’re doing here yourself.” Her eyes moved to the Oriental. “Chen, show him to my study.”
The Oriental led Blaine down a lavishly appointed hallway lined with original artwork and antique sculptures displayed on pedestals. They stopped at the last door down, and Chen waited inside with him until Madame Rosa made her appearance.
“Stay by the door,” she instructed him.
Chen bowed slightly and took his leave.
Madame Rosa closed the door behind him.
McCracken glanced around the room. It contained a strange mix of colonial furniture and modern technology. A row of video screens was built into the wall above a rolltop desk. A board with either red or green lights flashing for each of the brownstone’s rooms rested on an ancient cherry carpenter’s table.
“So that’s why my ruse didn’t work,” Blaine said, eyes back on the monitors, specifically one that showed the brownstone’s front. Five others provided different views of the building’s exterior.
“It was quite a performance,” said Madame Rosa.
“I aim to please.”
“Just so long as you’re not contemplating any encores in here. Chen is quite adept at dealing with intruders. He would be most pleased if I turned you over to him.”
“Can he buy his clothes in men’s sizes yet?”
Madame Rosa cracked a smile which held no trace of amusement. “All others who underestimated him were buried soon after. I brought Chen over from China. His reputation preceded him.”
McCracken walked about the room, inspecting it. “In which case he must fit in perfectly at this glorified whorehouse. Tell me, did you ever consider putting a red light over the front door?”
Madame Rosa’s face grew taut with impatience. “You mentioned Mr. Easton to the doorman outside.”
“Yes, I suppose I did.”
“If you’re here to threaten closing me down, forget it. I’m protected … all the way to Washington.”
Blaine’s dark eyes dug deep into the madam’s. “Lady, you piss me off and I won’t close you down, I’ll blow you up.”
“You worked with Easton?”
“Let’s say we fished in the same stream and I’m taking over his boat. We have a code in our business that lives on after death. I’m here to find out who killed him.”
Madame Rosa’s sequined gown seemed to blink. “I told everything I know to the others.”
“I like hearing things firsthand.”
“And just who are you?”
“The name’s Blaine McCracken if it matters.”
“It doesn’t.”
“We were talking about Easton. A regular customer, I presume.”
The woman nodded. “Twice a month when he could fit it into his schedule.”
“Same days?”
She shook her head. “Never. His work and security factors made that impossible. Sometimes he would book his appointments only hours in advance, sometimes days. Monday was different.”
“How so?”
“We had filled a … special order for him. He had been waiting for some time.”
The twins, McCracken realized. What kind of world had he entered here?
“That distresses you, Mr. McCracken?”
“Treating people like they were something out of a Sears catalogue has never rubbed me the right way.”
“Then consider yourself in a minority. People need relief, refuge, a place where their wildest dreams can be made a reality. A house like mine releases people’s pent-up
“A goddamn flight plan,” Coglan parodied. “Sure, the goddamn orbital flight plan of the space shuttle Adventurer .”
McCracken raised his hands and let the small Oriental push him against the wall in order to search him. The man found his Browning but kept right on jostling him up and down until he was satisfied that was all Blaine had been carrying.
He turned slowly and faced an elegant woman dressed in a blue sequined gown.
“Your errand boy here didn’t take my wallet, Madame Rosa,” Blaine told her.
The woman smiled comfortably. “I thought I’d give you the pleasure of telling me who you are and what you’re doing here yourself.” Her eyes moved to the Oriental. “Chen, show him to my study.”
The Oriental led Blaine down a lavishly appointed hallway lined with original artwork and antique sculptures displayed on pedestals. They stopped at the last door down, and Chen waited inside with him until Madame Rosa made her appearance.
“Stay by the door,” she instructed him.
Chen bowed slightly and took his leave.
Madame Rosa closed the door behind him.
McCracken glanced around the room. It contained a strange mix of colonial furniture and modern technology. A row of video screens was built into the wall above a rolltop desk. A board with either red or green lights flashing for each of the brownstone’s rooms rested on an ancient cherry carpenter’s table.
“So that’s why my ruse didn’t work,” Blaine said, eyes back on the monitors, specifically one that showed the brownstone’s front. Five others provided different views of the building’s exterior.
“It was quite a performance,” said Madame Rosa.
“I aim to please.”
“Just so long as you’re not contemplating any encores in here. Chen is quite adept at dealing with intruders. He would be most pleased if I turned you over to him.”
“Can he buy his clothes in men’s sizes yet?”
Madame Rosa cracked a smile which held no trace of amusement. “All others who underestimated him were buried soon after. I brought Chen over from China. His reputation preceded him.”
McCracken walked about the room, inspecting it. “In which case he must fit in perfectly at this glorified whorehouse. Tell me, did you ever consider putting a red light over the front door?”
Madame Rosa’s face grew taut with impatience. “You mentioned Mr. Easton to the doorman outside.”
“Yes, I suppose I did.”
“If you’re here to threaten closing me down, forget it. I’m protected … all the way to Washington.”
Blaine’s dark eyes dug deep into the madam’s. “Lady, you piss me off and I won’t close you down, I’ll blow you up.”
“You worked with Easton?”
“Let’s say we fished in the same stream and I’m taking over his boat. We have a code in our business that lives on after death. I’m here to find out who killed him.”
Madame Rosa’s sequined gown seemed to blink. “I told everything I know to the others.”
“I like hearing things firsthand.”
“And just who are you?”
“The name’s Blaine McCracken if it matters.”
“It doesn’t.”
“We were talking about Easton. A regular customer, I presume.”
The woman nodded. “Twice a month when he could fit it into his schedule.”
“Same days?”
She shook her head. “Never. His work and security factors made that impossible. Sometimes he would book his appointments only hours in advance, sometimes days. Monday was different.”
“How so?”
“We had filled a … special order for him. He had been waiting for some time.”
The twins, McCracken realized. What kind of world had he entered here?
“That distresses you, Mr. McCracken?”
“Treating people like they were something out of a Sears catalogue has never rubbed me the right way.”
“Then consider yourself in a minority. People need relief, refuge, a place where their wildest dreams can be made a reality. A house like mine releases people’s pent-up
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