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He gripped the collar of his coat and pulled it tightly against his neck. His shoulders were already soaked with rain. He shivered and made his way across the parking lot of Hank’s Quick ‘n’ Easy.
He exposed one hand just long enough to grip the front door. His frozen knuckles ached red and raw. The door gave way and he entered, sliding his tender hand back into his coat pocket.
“Sal,” greeted Janette, Hank’s overnight cashier.
“How’s business tonight?” Sal asked, squinting against the brightness of being inside.
“Awful, nobody wants to get out in this shit.” She answered back.
Sal nodded in agreement and made his way over to the batteries. He snatched a pack of double A’s and went over to the coffee station.
“Just made a fresh pot.” Janette said
Sal smiled, grabbed a styrofoam cup and said, “Janette, you’re a goddamned angel.”
Wisps of steam rolled off of the rim of his cup as Sal filled it to the brim. He was so cold and so drained that he didn’t bother with sugar. He picked the cup up with both hands and set the cup to his face. The steam melted away the chill from his face long before he took his first sip. In a moment, he would have to venture back out into that dismal night.
“Tough case?” Janette asked when Sal finally dragged himself to the register.
“You really wanna know?” Sal replied.
He set his money on the counter, she took it, gave him a knowing look and said, “just the juicy parts, then.”
“Elections are three weeks away. Mayor Kern’s bid for senate hinges on his family first stance.”
“Yeah, when the guy isn’t kissing babies, he’s handing out soup or building houses.” Janette said handing Sal his change.
“Well, when his daughter isn’t at class, she’s snorting blow or getting trains run on her.” Sal stated. He slipped a camera from his coat and popped open the battery compartment.
“You’re joking.” Janette said, but she knew he wasn’t, she just refused to believe it.
Sal grinned while he ejected the old batteries and replaced them with the fresh ones that he had purchased. Janette pitched the old ones for him and then waited for him to fire up his camera.
“Sweet, little Ashley, from daddy’s campaign ads, was just caught sucking her English professor’s cock while his T.A. fucked her from behind. Of course, he did a line of coke off her ass first.” Sal explained as he thumbed through his photos. He found the one he was looking for and slid the camera over to Janette.
Clear as day, in glorious HD, was Ashley Kern naked and double stuffed. She was on all fours in what looked like a college classroom. Behind her, the hunched form of a man was mid thrust into her wanton cunt. In front of her sat her professor, cock out. His hand was pulling on Ashley’s hair giving the camera a full profile shot of her face as she throated his cock.
“That’s gonna be a hard one to explain,” She said, “was it Jameson that hired you then?”
Sal took the camera back and put it back in his coat. Roger Jameson was the opposing senatorial candidate. Sal had a hunch that someone from his staff did hire him, but he wasn’t one hundred percent istanbul escort sure, so he said, “Probably. I’m about to find out, meeting place is the power plant down on Industrial.”
“By the canal?” She asked.
Sal nodded and left. That was the bad part of town. Every city had one, that few blocks of ‘anything goes’. Where a cop cuffing a hooker is part of the kink and a gunshot doesn’t get noticed. There were a million and one ways for shit to go south from here for Sal and he knew it.
The chill had gotten worse. The rain had picked up and it only took a second to cool Sal’s coffee from hot to tepid. He fought off the blur in his eyes and hurried back to his sedan. He didn’t remember the Mercedes being parked there before, but it was there now right beside his car. He felt another chill, but this one came from within.
HE eyed the luxury model in the space beside his car, nobody appeared inside. Nevertheless, he entered his car and locked himself in quickly. He set his coffee in the cup holder while he started the engine. His car purred to life, spewing hot air from the vents. It melted the chill from his bones and put him at ease as he pulled out of the lot.
Something was off. Beside the smell of stale air that pumped through the car, Sal caught a whiff of lilac. He looked down at the long since cooled coffee, but that couldn’t be the source. He glanced up at the rearview mirror and directly into a pair of eyes looking back at him. Then there was a click.
“Keep driving.” She said.
Sal gave her another glance and obliged. She was in her late forties by the look of it. Well maintained and tactfully dressed. A red pea coat with matching red lips that snarled at him from the back seat. She gripped a pistol in her five hundred dollar leather gloved hands. Her eyes, like ice, brought a frosted Sal’s flesh.
“Mrs. Kern,” Sal began trying to sound amicable, “is there something that I can help you with?”
“Shut the fuck up and keep going,” she hissed.
Sal felt the cold press of metal on the back of his skull.
He kept driving towards the power plant. If he could make it there, he might be able to get out of this mess. With that piece nestled up against his head, he wouldn’t be doing much from the car. Sal was under the impression that if he so much as sneezed, Mrs. Kern would put a slug in him.
They made it across the canal street bridge and were turning left on industrial before she said another word to him.
“You have something that I want.”
“Ma’am, I will happily give it to you, just let me pull over.” Sal offered. He slowed the car, but quickly rethought it when Mrs. Kern dug the muzzle into his head further.
“No, you’re going to go through with it, like nothing is wrong.” She commanded.
This was a red flag if Sal had ever seen one.
Sal kept on, they were nearly there anyway.
He turned off of industrial and into the power plant’s sprawling complex on the edge of the canal. His instructions were to meet his client on the water’s edge, by the runoff chambers. avcılar escort Somehow, Sal no longer feared being gunned down unseen in the night. There would at least be one witness, either way.
The runoff chambers roared over the sound of the car’s engine. Thousands of gallons of water were dumped by the minute into the frigid waters below. Sal pulled his car along their spewing plumes and up beside the lone, black limo that waited for him.
He snapped a look behind him, Mrs. Kern had removed the pistol. She lay flat on the back seat now, out of sight. The pistol was still cocked, and draped across her chest aimed towards the limo.
Sal took the camera from his pocket. He popped out the memory card from inside of it and slipped the camera between the seats. Then, with a deep breath, he opened the door.
The limo door opened and two imposing men in suits stepped out. Before the door closed all the way, Sal caught a glimpse of the politician in the back. He acted the fool and focused on the body guard that addressed him.
“Yeah, right here.” Sal said.
The man snatched the memory card out of his hand and knocked on the limo’s window. It rolled down just enough to slip the card into and shut again. The seconds ticked by and Sal stood there shivering under the thundering sounds of gushing water in the frozen night.
The window rolled down again, this time a little farther. An envelope was pushed out for one of the men to grab. It passed from the limo, to the guard, to Sal, who inspected it briefly. A stack of crispy hundreds.
Sal nodded, and returned to his car. He cringed when he opened his car door. There was a fifty/fifty shot that he’d get blasted with gunfire from behind. He only heard the limo start up. With a sigh of momentary relief he sat behind the wheel and closed the door.
“Why does your husband want highly provocative photographs of your daughter?” Sal asked.
“You tell me, you work for him.” She said as she sat upright in the back seat again.
“I don’t work for him.”
She padded the front seat for the cash and held up the stack of bills, saying, “No? What in the fuck do you call this, you slimy dick? And what did you make my baby girl do?”
She didn’t know. Fuck. Sal felt between the seats for the camera and explained, “I was asked to get photographs of your daughter. I was told where and I was told when. Afterward, I was told to meet here to exchange the photos for the cash. I figured the job came from Jameson, he seems to want to ruin your husband.”
Sal flicked over to the camera’s internal memory and handed the camera back to Mrs. Kern.
“What is this?” She asked taking the camera.
“The photos were on the card I handed over, but the video I took was on the internal memory. Hit play if you really want to see what he had me record.” Sal said.
She pressed her finger on the play button and watched.
Taken from outside of the room of Professor Gonzales, the video began with Ashley Kern being ushered into the room by Gonzales’ assistant. She set her purse on his desk and opened it. She pulled şirinevler escort out a zip-lock bag full of white powder, three straws, and a razor blade.
She set them all down on the desk and let the two men set it all up. Gonzales poured and his assistant lined the powder up with the razor blade. Behind them, Ashley stripped out of her clothes. Blouse, jeans, even her bra and panties were removed and tossed aside.
The two men each snorted a line and moved aside for Ashley. She snorted a line while they took off their clothes.
Sal looked at Mrs. Kern’s horrified face in the mirror. Her brow wrinkled in agony, but she didn’t look away from the screen.
Once everyone was naked and tweaked, the two men began groping the nineteen year old’s small breasts. Gonzales sank to his knees. The camera only caught the back of his head, but Ashley’s open mouth and closed, fluttering eyes did more than enough to imply what the professor was doing for her.
His assistant moved his way behind Ashley and kissed the back of her neck, his hands snaked up her waist and continued to molest her tits from behind. As the video drew to a close, the three lovers were moving towards the chair. Gonzales sat down and withdrew his cock. Ashley got on her hands and knees. The round pear of her upturned ass was being used as a table for another line of coke.
The video ended where the pictures began.
“Look, Mrs. Kern, I’m sorry that you had to see that. But I really don’t know anything more about it, and I don’t know that I want to.” Sal said apologetically.
“How about for another fifty?” She offered, and she didn’t mean a green bill emblazoned with Grant’s face, either.
“Why don’t you sit up here while I drive you back to your car, and you can give me the details?” Sal said and leaned over to open the passenger side door. Mrs. Kern was hesitant, but agreed. She slid out from the back seat and reentered the car beside Sal. She shut the door and put her gun away.
Sal kicked his car into drive and pulled out of the power plant’s complex. When they were back on industrial, she divulged her plan.
“Tomorrow night my husband has a debate at the Grand Towers, downtown.” She said.
“Yes he does, and the news won’t shut up about it.”
“He will be staying there that evening as well. Penthouse suite, 1504.”
“You looking for anything specific?” Sal asked as he drove them back over the bridge.
For fifty big ones, she could be asking him to fuck, kill, or ruin her husband…or all three, but he needed something specific to do to earn that cash, she was just giving him background info.
“Yes. I am not a fool,” she began, “I’ll admit, Ashley is a shock, but she takes after her father. He will be in suite 1504, I will not be. He won’t be alone though, I just don’t know who joins him.”
“You want to get acquainted?” Sal inferred, but he needed more to go on still.
“I want you to find out who he’s fucking, then I want you to find out why he wants pictures of his daughter having sex.” She said. They were two lights away from Hank’s Quick ‘n’ Easy.
“No. That’s just it for now.” She said and slipped him a piece of paper.
When they were parked, he looked down. It was her business card. She got out without another word. Sal watched her slip back into her Mercedes and drive away.
Sal had a lot of questions to answer, both for Mrs. Kern and himself. He had a lead, at least.
“Grand Towers, it is.”
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