INFAMOUS TRADE by Andrej Koymasky (C) 1998 - 2002 written the 20th of July, 1995 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Jer
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"INFAMOUS TRADE" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
EIGHTH
New York - December 1988
Kevin Black was convinced that people called only when they needed something. That's why he wasn't enthusiast about receiving telephone calls. But that morning at the District, there was a call that demanded from him, if not courtesy, at least some attention.
A guy, named Charlie Yearley called to say he was sure that Dos Santos had been kidnapped. Black had only slept for two hours. With no breakfast and a twelve hour shift ahead of him, he was not in very good mood. So he told him that he had to report the fact to the local police. In fact, at first he thought the man was either crazy or a maniac. He had just returned from the District Attorney's office, where a reluctant Silvan York administered the oath that promoted him to Federal Marshal.
Charley Yearley replied that he had already reported it. But since he was a family friend, and Grace's close friend involved with Terry's disappearance, he thought he had to inform him.
Charlie had an agreeable voice, or rather pleasant, somewhat hoarse but with precise diction as if he took lessons. Kevin asked himself what he looked like -- he was certainly young. Without knowing why, Kevin figured he had to be slender and had a shrewd expression like that of a fox.
Charlie explained that he knew Grace since he was a child, as his mother lived for a while with Grace when they both tried to break into show biz. Grace as a singer and his mother as an actress. They both failed-- to be successful, they lacked only three things -- talent, luck and that special quality that helps you to go on stage and bare your soul in front of an audience of strangers. Charlie also said that he had been Terry's Confirmation Godfather, and that he was really very much affectionate toward the boy.
He explained that he lived only three blocks from Grace, Max and Terry's house and that they agreed the previous evening to have supper at their place. When he arrived and rang the bell, all the lights were on but nobody answered. Taken aback, he tried the back door, that of the kitchen opening on the garden. He entered, he was always at home there. Everything was perfectly in order but there was no trace of Terry's parents. Thinking that they went out for a moment, since the TV set was on, he waited for them. It seemed strange that a guy like Max, could go out leaving all the lights on. But around midnight, as they were not yet back, he went to the police with a bad foreboding. Also because he noticed in the entrance Grace and Max's coats -- they went out in the cold winter night without covering themselves...
Kevin felt a shudder along his spine. Especially when Charlie Yearley said that also this morning there was nobody at the Dos Santos' house. Kevin asked himself if this Yearley really was who he said he was -- he certainly had a really worried voice on the phone. Kevin thought he had to be a fascinating person... While Charlie was talking with his voice of a fox cub, Kevin browsed through the list sent to all the stations about all the crimes happened in the town in the last twenty four hours. The Dos Santos were not on it.
Meanwhile something that Charlie Yearley told him, forced him to stop reading the list: "I have a picture of you and Grace, taken in South Carolina when you were in the Marines. I think it's when you graduated from Special Military School. Grace said you were going to be married, but that then you had an experience in Vietnam that made you call off the wedding..."
His eyes closed, Kevin massaged the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb; "Can you describe the picture, please?"
He took a deep breath, exhaled and cleared his throat. His heart beat accelerated. On one hand, he wanted to know what that Charlie had to say about the picture, and on the other how much he did know about the reason why he didn't marry Grace,
"You are in the open, on what seems to be a parade field, I think. You wear full dress blues, that fit you very well. You have very short hair with a high taper and no sideburns. Grace wears your marine hat on her head, a little crooked. It's a white hat. You both seem very young and really happy..."
"Yes... we were young and happy. We believed that all our lives were in front of us... It was before Vietnam..."
"I gave Grace some pictures of my mother she wanted to look at... you know, my mother died two years ago. When she gave them back to me, among them there was also this picture. I thought to give it back to her but I never found the occasion -- I just forgot about it... So I still have it...."
"I would like to see the picture again. I don't have a copy of it any more. Would you please send it to me?"
"I think that it is a very precious picture for Grace... I don't want it to get lost. Rather, we can meet, so that I can hand it to you. Is there news about Terry? I can't sleep, after he disappeared. And now also his parents. All this is a very weird story..."
"Unhappily I still don't know anything concrete. And if now his parents disappeared too... I have perhaps to investigate in this direction -- who can have grudges with the Dos Santos? With the entire family?"
"I don't know. It seems so strange to me -- Grace is so sweet, gentle, she had no enemies. And also Max, with all his flaws, was a mild man. If they kidnapped poor Terry for money, it was not really believable but it was possible. But why all three of them?"
"Right. Thank you for having informed me. I will see that an inspection is carried out at Grace's house..."
"About this picture... when can we meet?"
"You are very kind..."
"I have a date for supper with a customer, this evening. We can't meet. Can't you stop by the restaurant? Even late..."
"Will you please give me the address?"
"At the corner of the 64th and Madison. The restaurant's name is "Umbria". I think it's the region the Italian owner came from. It is right in front of my house. Grace, Terry and I often went there on Saturdays for brunch... while Max spent his week-ends with his girlfriend..."
Charlie had a warm, sensual voice that compelled again Kevin to ask himself what did he look like, How old was he? The policeman answered: "I'll do my best to come..."
"Don't worry, I'll not waste your time, I know you are very busy. But it will be a pleasure meeting you. Grace so often talked about you..."
"All right, then. See you this evening, possibly around eleven 'o clock, if that's good for you."
"Certainly. I will wait for you with pleasure."
"Thank you for your call."
Kevin put down the receiver and relaxed against the back of the chair. He asked himself who was this Charlie, If he was Terry's Godfather, could give him new evidence? And what about the mysterious disappearance of Grace and her husband... He was afraid Charlie could be right to worry about that.
It was a quarter to ten, when Kevin and his colleague, detective Ellen Dekker, entered the Umbria. The restaurant was a long narrow room and at its end there was a private room. Both the rooms had a low ceiling with fake lacunar with a white bottom, candles at each table and walls of bricks with pictures representing old towns, probably of Italy. Kevin, instinctively, didn't like the place.
He didn't care for the phony ritual attitude of the place, nor for the conceited snobbish air of the customers. Almost all were surely inhabitants of the neighborhood. Kevin thought the Umbria was exactly the same as hundreds of suburban restaurants where you are served spinach salads with exotic names. Premises that you enter through ground glass doors and where Californian wines with French, Italian or German names are served. Men that wore expensive suits that were anything but elegant. Women dressed in what looked more like uniforms than something confirming their individuality.
The only black face in the restaurant was Kevin's colleague, Ellen Dekker. If this annoyed her, she didn't show it. She was a thirty two year old woman, with tall cheekbones, her hair had a reddish tinge, and a flattened nose that she got when thirteen years old. She had successfully resisted a rape attempt by a cult minister in Harlem. The girl managed to free herself, after a violent brawl, when she gave a formidable kick to the horny pastor's testicles.
At the District she was nicknamed Lil' Bag, as she always entered a dangerous area with her hand slipped inside her bag, where she kept her .38 Smith & Wesson. As she once told Kevin, she didn't care about leaving those places with her head held high, as long as she was still alive. Ellen's house was at the edge of Spanish Harlem. It was a large apartment in a block considered safe, since there never were more than two homicides a year. Those days Ellen was carrying the largest load of the work assigned to Kevin Black and her. To offer her a meal that evening was his way to say "Thanks."
She had been married to a Haitian artist for sixteen years. A boring man, obsessed with his own ego. But she was totally devoted to him. Their relationship worked. Her strong character gave him self-assurance. Moreover Ellen was a woman who gave everything, and with extreme sweetness, to the one she loved, without asking for any thing in return. They didn't have any children.
When needed, Ellen could also be very hard. Two years previous, she and Black (of course nicknamed by their colleagues "Black and Decker") were involved in an operation on West 83rd Street. They had to arrest a Cuban accused of raping a four year old girl. They went up to his apartment. The Cuban, Raoul, opened his door holding a thirteen shot Browning automatic aimed at Kevin's throat. Three shots were fired. Kevin at that point was resigned to die. He heard only the first shot. Ellen shot three times in rapid succession firing through the little pearl bag that her husband gave her for their fourteen anniversary. Kevin repaid her for her ruined bag by buying her a 250 dollars Courrege bag, the nicest he could find on 5th Avenue. When Ellen confessed to him that for almost twenty years she dreamed of killing a rapist, Kevin thanked her for waiting until that moment.
The hostess, a woman in her thirties wore a white tail coat, her nails painted red and eyelids heavy with eye shadow, led them to Charlie Yearley's table. He was a twenty four year old man, a large lock of his brown wavy hair on his forehead. Tanned and wearing a dark olive green colored suit with a straw colored shirt and a white necktie, he looked very elegant. A man in his fifties was sitting with him at his table. Gray hair and a strangely childish face, he was wearing a very expensive dark double-breasted suit with a lavender shirt and a light green necktie. Kevin thought that the suit alone could cost not less than five thousand dollars. This man's shoes would probably be equivalent to an entry level detective's weekly salary. He was the restaurant owner, Mister Alberto Sacchi. Kevin at once felt he detested the man -- Sacchi's attitude made any other man in the restaurant seem more likable .
As he became aware of Black's presence, the Italian stood up from his chair, smiling. He held out his hand introducing himself and stressing that he owned the premises. Kevin, in turn introduced himself; but not mentioning that he was a policeman. He just said his name then introduced Ellen as his friend Mrs. Dekker.
Alberto addressed Ellen calling her Signora in Italian, kissed her hand and assured that it was a real pleasure meeting her. He didn't notice the glance that, while he was bowing, Ellen threw to Kevin, lightly brushing him with her side. The compliments came from a professional flatterer, and this made her at once suspicious but also fascinated. Amused, Kevin looked at Ellen who was thanking Alberto in the correct Italian she learned in her childhood from the wife of her older brother. Alberto looked at her astounded -- he was evidently surprised that an American, moreover a black woman, spoke his language fluently. Kevin appreciate the way Ellen was attracting the Italian man's attention, making him slowly go away from the table. She was a clever woman, able to go from zero to one hundred miles per hour like a cheetah. She knew everything about Kevin's investigations and about that evening encounter. Kevin sat at Charlie's table.
The young man smiled with relief: "My client canceled our appointment at the last minute. He is in bed with a bad flu. Alberto was inviting me at one of his special parties... I was having difficulty getting rid of him, you just arrived in time..."
"And yet he seems such an affable type..."
"I am not a bigot, I can assure you. I had relationships... adventures. But Alberto is too weird for my taste. We went out together a couple of times, some months ago. He said he wanted to become my friend... But his way of living doesn't appeal to me. After all I am a good boy. Your... friend is really your colleague, isn't she?"
"Yes, we practically always work together."
"I guessed it. I understood you didn't want Alberto to know you are two policemen. Did she call my office to find out if I really worked there? My boss told me it was a woman... Are you always so suspicious?" The young man asked with a slightly provocative smile.
"This doesn't mean we are not able to be likable people." Kevin answered fascinated by the way the young man spoke, moved his eyes and lips.
"I guess so... I'm glad to meet you." Charlie said with a smile.
Charlie Yardley was surely worth having crossed the entire city with that Alaskan weather. He was a handsome and intelligent boy -- he didn't tell the restaurant owner he was waiting for a cop, and at once understood that Ellen was not, as he said, just a friend. Kevin decided he had something more. He was sweet and sweetness was such a rare thing in New York, mainly in a man.
Charlie was born in Denver, he had lived in New York for fourteen years and now lived alone with two cats. He was not married, earned a good salary and did volunteer work at Gramercy Park Hospital one night a week. He had a slightly sad smile but decidedly deep and attractive eyes. He was warm but virile. Just the kind of man that aroused Kevin's interest, that attracted him. Experience anyway taught him that very seldom that kind of self-sufficient and strong man was also gay.
"Would you tell me about those... strange parties?" Kevin asked.
Charlie lowered his eyes to the table, then looked straight into Kevin's eyes: "Grace told me why... you didn't marry. So I know I can speak honestly with you. She told me that three years ago, when I told her that I was gay. Well, also Alberto is gay... He said that those parties were attended by really high society people. Only the best American and European society, he said. A select gay clientele, as he put it. I was not forced to do anything, he said, really nothing -- if I attended I could simply stay and look or take part as I pleased. It was a very particular party, according to his words. Let's say it was a kind of orgy..."
Silence descended on the table while a young and too lean waiter, with a weasel face, served them drinks. Ellen was admiring and commenting to Alberto about some pictures on the walls, going gradually farther away from their table.
When the waiter left, Charlie took the glass in his hand and looked intensely at it: "Alberto has weird ideas about sex, that's why I stopped dating with him. That stuff was too much for me. I really didn't like it. You... you are a really gorgeous man... By the way, do you have any news about Terry?"
The fast passage from Alberto to him to Terry took him somewhat by surprise.
"I asked a stupid question -- if you had news you would have told me. The fact is... I don't want now to shock you. I don't want you to think evil of me, but... The fact is that... I am in love with Terry. And he with me. He told me so. No, I swear, we never made love, not even feeling each other. Just a few kisses, chaste kisses. I told him we had to wait, he is still too young. For a while he insisted, he said he wanted me to be his first man. He said he already knew everything about sex. But I held fast. He agreed only when I swore to him I loved him and I would wait for him. How long? He asked me. I told him At least three, four years.. He made me swear I would wait for him, I would continue to love him. When we were alone, we embraced each other, gave each other some pecks, nothing more -- just to remind him that I was still in love with him... Terry, Grace and I planned to go together to the Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall. We went there every year. No, Terry didn't run away -- any problem he could have had, he would have come to talk to me, I'm more than sure about that."
"Thank you for being so honest with me about these things... I would like to talk some more with you, possibly in a more quiet place... But, about Alberto's parties..."
"Right, this is the reason I broke off with Alberto. He took part in those weird parties, then he told me about them and I was fed up. That kind of thing disgusts me. Once he even invited me to one which he called a sex auction. Would you believe that? He said it was just a way to amuse themselves, just a pack of jovial people gathering to have a good laugh and to fuck."
"I'll say that this Alberto seems permanently in heat..."
"I could not even believe he used that expression -- a sex auction. According to his words, there are boys who really allow someone to sell and buy then for sexual purposes. Whoever buys them takes them home, and fuck with them until he becomes tired of them, then takes them to another sex auction. He said that this is not a crime, as they are all of age and they do it out of their free will. I think he invented everything just to scandalize me, to pull my leg, to persuade me to go to see, I don't know. But even only as a fantasy, I find it appalling. And, I repeat, I am not an altar boy. But even if it is just an adventure, I think, there must be mutual respect, kindness. So I left him."
Ellen was approaching their table and Alberto going into the private room.
"Mister Sacchi asked me what your job is. I told him you make system analysis, as usual."
"And what do you answer if somebody asks you which kind of system I do analyze?" Kevin asked amused, while Ellen was sitting at their table.
"I tell them to ask you, of course."
Kevin nodded. Charlie handed him a white envelope, taking it from his briefcase, which was on an empty chair. Kevin put it down without opening it and made a nod of thanks to the young man. He finished his drink and looked at Charlie who was talking with Ellen. He asked himself if he should leave with his colleague or stay a little longer with the young man, letting Ellen understand he wanted to be alone with him. Decidedly they both felt a reciprocal interest -- why not try it?
The waiter reappeared with his order pad. They said they didn't want to eat, that the drink they ordered before was enough. The waiter looked a little put out but left, removing the wide menus, and went to the private room.
"Hey, you'd better call him back, along with the menus he took also your white envelope..." Ellen said.
"Oh shit! That's true!" Kevin said standing up and went towards the private room, feeling Charlie's eyes on him.
He would make his move when he got back. He could let himself do it with Ellen there, she was the only one of his colleagues who knew he was gay.
The private room was a smaller replica of the wider restaurant room, with reserved tables and small showcases exposing the lists of the specialties of the day, and Neapolitan music in the background, diffused by hidden low-speakers.
Only one of the tables was in use. There were three men sitting, eating and chatting in low voices, near a small, lit fireplace. There was nobody else, except weasel-face who stood near the entrance door. He was at the right of Blake and was swallowing pills and drinking a Diet Coke. Kevin didn't know how many calories there were in a Diet Coke, but was certain it was a soft drink, and instead from the can came the smell of alcohol.
He was about to ask the waiter for the envelope with the picture, when his attention was drawn to the three men. Two were Koreans, squat and with flat faces, dark suits, black neckties and crew cut hair. The bigger one had to be in his thirties, had a really ugly face, a massive neck and the chest of a body builder fanatic, making his jacket swell. The typical gorilla, Kevin thought. Hired to protect his master from an evil and envious world. The second Korean, he too with the look of a bully, must have been the same age as Kevin. Narrow lips, straight nose on which perched a pair of horn rimmed glasses.
The third man was Alberto Sacchi, the only one who was not eating. He was trying to keep the conversation going and it seemed more of a plea than an exchange of opinions. Nervously brushing his hands, the Italian was speaking rapidly, apparently anxious to get his point across. Kevin got the impression that he was trying to dupe the two Orientals with reasoning that went completely unheard. Trying to move those two didn't seem being a fruitful tactic.
Suddenly Kevin's cardiac beat accelerated and his mouth became dry. He felt his legs weakening. Upset, he went towards the Koreans. He knew the older of the two, for sure he knew him! And if the younger one was who he thought he was, then there would be serious trouble, very serious.
The first who saw Kevin was Alberto, who leaned forward and whispered something to the two Koreans, arousing a fast reaction in the one recognized by Kevin. His fork in his hand, as soon as he saw him, the Korean became still, and observed with widespread eyes detective Black. And his head swung with small but convulsed movements.
"It's you, bastard... it's really you." Black thought while slowly drawing nearer to their table.
The younger Korean stood up, moving with the arrogance of a man in the habit of being feared and respected because he can break your head as if it was a peanut. His fingers closed to form huge fists, he looked at the detective as if he was the most useless little ant on earth.
"Red alarm... this one wants to earn his salary." Kevin thought.
But his first target, the only one, remained the Korean with the horn rimmed glasses, a man reported as dead in Vietnam fourteen years before. Kevin hated him enough to kill him on the spot. The Korean with horn-rimmed glasses was Kim Shin, former captain of the Tiger Division of the South Korean Army. The one that fourteen years before, at the General Quarters of the South Vietnam Police accompanied Yung Chem and with him slaughtered his companions. In Kevin's head the grenade exploded a second time and he heard again the screams of his dying companions.
The inquiry about the homicides in the General Head Quarters of the South Vietnam National Police had been a farce. The CIA and the Defense Department didn't want another story of corrupted allies and of atrocity ending up in the newspapers, so they shelved the case. They wanted to destroy any news regarding the sale of registrations that Chem concluded with the North Vietnam Army, because this would demonstrate that Americans were not able to protect their ally. To survive the hurricane the CIA needed a scapegoat and the South Korean government had no intention of allowing that a valuable agent of their secret service like Yung Chem was punished by a foreign government. The killing of these marines was an internal American affair, and the stolen documents just meant that the Vietnamese would have continued to do each other in. A problem that didn't interest the South Koreans at all. Thus they gave notice to the Americans, only to have allies in their struggle against communism, that they had to close an eye about a South Vietnamese drug smuggler. For the same reason they could now close one eye about Yung Chem and the stolen records. It was in America's interest forgetting about the tapes or the Congress and the press would became furious if only they knew about their existence.
Seen it that perspective, the life of a poor marine corporal was expendable. But somebody had to assume the responsibility for the death of those marines. Black was the only survivor in the computer room -- the others, Americans and South Vietnamese, were all dead. Thus it was said that Black's wounds were the result of a showdown between him and his accomplices. Young Chem and the Korean authorities had spread around lies to take revenge of a defeat they undergo in a karate match between allies. Kevin Black saw the perspective to spend twenty years at Leavenworth.
Mercy arrived in the person of Herald Twentyman, a massive lawyer of Mexican origin, with a big nose, who helped a peanut farmer named Jimmy Carter become a governor. Twentyman was Maxey's father and he too had been a marine in the Second World War, wounded in Saipan. His drowsy way of moving and speaking hid a sharp mind. He wanted to know the truth about his son's death, and he had been in politics long enough to know that governments bend and twist the facts at their convenience. The entire story, he said to Kevin, was more stinking than carrion left in the sun. As the story began to unwind, Twentyman started to assume the defense of Kevin Black. Against the wishes of the CIA. Twentyman received the deposition of the marine Al Jellicki who swore he saw Yung Chem and his captain with three South Korean soldiers leaving the General Quarters in a rush, taking with them four small suitcases. Then Twentyman received the promise of the governor of Georgia that if this didn't convince the CIA there would be a Congress inquiry about how the stolen records ended in the hands of the North Vietnamese Army.
In the end, Twentyman found in the archives of the military police, the bullets extracted from the bodies of the killed marines and fragments of the grenade, all were of the kind in use by the Korean Army. At this point, Black had been fully acquitted by the War Army Tribunal and even received a citation and a letter of reference from the Corps.
Twentyman commented: "We put it in the ass to Washington, long, straight and hard. I think that my Maxey can rest in peace now. I knew he was your friend, and thought highly of you. I owed him to pull you out from this shit where those pigs put you."
Black went out of the procedure with the conviction that nothing is more dangerous than a government wanting to protect its back. About Kim Shin, the reports said he was dead, killed by a Vietcong sniper on the last day of the war. Black didn't cry for that -- his hate for Shin and Chem would last his entire life.
Now, in the small private room of the Umbria, Kevin stopped at a few yards from the Koreans with a vice gripping his chest. Fourteen years or not, there was too much bad blood between him and Kim Shin to pretend that nothing was going to happen. Something was about happening in that moment and in that place.
He was aware he witnessed a meeting that had to remain secret. He had caught Kim and Alberto red-handed, even if he didn't know about what. Slowly, with caution, he extracted his badge from his jacket and clearly showed it. He had only that badge to try to lower the tension and keep everybody calm. What would Shin do now?
"I am a policeman, detective Black. Twentieth district. Everyone please be quiet, don't make any sudden moves."
Kim Shun addressed Alberto with low and hissing voice: "A policeman? You allowed a policeman to enter here? Stupid bastard! When I tell him what you did, he'll kill you!"
Alberto, shaken, hurriedly stood up. For some seconds he kept still then moved towards Black. Kevin asked himself how could one like Alberto Sacchi have a casual conversation in his private room with dirt like Kim Shin.
His arms frantically waving, Alberto screamed: "Go away. Out, out, you have no right being here. Go in the other room with your friends, I order you to go away, immediately."
Kevin shoved the Italian stopping his rush. The two men challenged each other with their glances, then Alberto lowered his eyes.
"Physically resisting a policeman is not a small crime, it's a serious mistake. If you don't want to be arrested for having assaulted a policeman, I advise you to move away from me and to put your ass on a chair elsewhere. Meanwhile I will exchange a few words with mister Kim Shin. It's been a long time since we've met, but I'm not able to forget him. I would like to know how he managed to come back from the dead. Did he perhaps follow a diet that I too should know?"
Alberto stepped back and hurriedly left the room. Kim Shin, his eyes staring at Kevin, whispered something in Korean to his companion who nodded in assent but said nothing.
After a few seconds of silence, Shin screamed: "Why did you come here? Why did you follow me here?"
"Follow you? I didn't even know you were alive, until I saw you."
"It's a lie! You followed me. You disobeyed your orders."
Kevin asked himself if he heard correctly what the fucking hell was that little bastard saying: "Orders? Which orders?"
The question had to wait. Kim Shin ordered something in Korean and Mister Muscle moved towards Kevin.
It was a long match with karate chops, but without sport rules -- the Korean wanted to kill him. Kevin slowly, was getting the worst of it even if he gave his opponent some problems. Tables, chairs, tableware and napkins were flying to the floor in an incredible confusion. And blood, Kevin had been almost held fast by his opponent. He saw Kim Shin approaching on him wielding an unopened bottle of the best wine. Kevin felt it was going to end really badly -- he could read in the eyes of both the men the will to kill him and shuddered. With a desperate effort he wriggled free and hit the older man with a short and fast chop to his genitals. The man went white and with his cupped hands pressed between his legs and stumbled forward. Kevin was about facing Kim and felt a sense of pleasure when he saw hesitation, then fear in his adversary's eyes. At that moment three uniformed policemen broke into the room, followed by Ellen, Charlie and Alberto.
Alberto, hysterically started to shout: "Arrest him! He assaulted a Korean Diplomatic! Arrest him"
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER NINETH
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