Four Blind Mice

mouth, but it disappeared when she flashed them her best hundred-dollar smile.
    “You are a very beautiful lady,” Starkey said. “Listen, we’re heading over to our suite at the Radisson. You be interested in three big tips, instead of just one? We kind of like to party together. It’ll be good, clean fun.”
    Starkey could be charming, and also respectful. He had an easy smile. So the blond hooker got into the Suburban’s backseat, beside Griffin. “You all promise to be good boys,” she said, and smiled that wonderful smile of hers again.
    “Promise,” the three of them chorused. “We’ll be good boys.”
    “On the road again,” Griffin sang.
    “Hey, you’re pretty good,” the girl said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She was good with men, knew how to handle them, especially soldiers from Fort Bragg, who were usually decent enough guys. Once upon a time, she’d been an army brat herself. Not so long ago. She was nineteen.
    “You hear that? This beautiful lady likes my singing. What’s your name, sweetie?” asked Griffin. “I like you already.”
    “It’s Vanessa,” said the girl, giving her made-up street handle. “What’s yours? Don’t say
Willie
.”
    Griffin laughed out loud. “Why, it’s Warren. Nice to make your acquaintance, Vanessa. Pretty name for a pretty lady.”
    They rode out of town, in the direction of I-95. Starkey suddenly pulled the Suburban over after a mile or so and shouted, “Pit stop!” He let the Suburban roll until it was mostly hidden in a copse of evergreens and prickle bushes.
    “The Radisson’s not far. Why don’t you wait?” Vanessa asked. “You boys can hold it a little longer, can’t you?”
    “This
can’t
wait,” said Griffin. Suddenly, he had his pistol up tight against the girl’s skull.
    From the front seat, Brownley Harris had his gun aimed at her chest.
    “Dê hai tay lên dâu!” Thomas Starkey screamed, his voice deep and scary.
    Hands on your head.
    “Ban gap nhieu phien phúc rôi dó.”
    You’re in serious trouble, bitch.
    Vanessa didn’t understand a word but she sure got the tone. Bad shit was going down. Real bad shit. The girl’s stomach dropped. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have gotten into a car with three guys, but the driver had seemed so nice. Now why was he yelling at her? What kind of messed-up language was it? What was happening? She thought that she might throw up, and she’d had a chili dog and Fritos for dinner.
    “Stop, please, stop!” Vanessa said, and started to cry. It was an act, kind of, but usually it worked on the soldiers from Bragg.
    Not this time, though. The insane yelling in the car got even louder. The weird language she didn’t understand.
    “Ra khoi xe. Ngay bây gio,” said Thomas Starkey.
    Get out of the car. Do it now, bitch.
    They were waving their scary guns and pointing, and she finally understood that she was supposed to get out of the car.
Oh my God, are they going to leave me out here as a sick joke? The bastards!
    Or was it worse than that? How much worse could it get?
    Then the one in the front seat smacked her with the back of his hand. Why? She was already getting out of the car. Goddamn him! She almost toppled over on her silver platform shoes. Willie Nelson kicked her in the back, and Vanessa gasped in pain.
    “Ra khoi xe!” the man in front screamed again. Who were they? Were they terrorists or something?
    Vanessa was sobbing, but she understood she was supposed to run, to hightail it into the dark woods and creepy swampland.
Jesus, God, I don’t want to go in there! There’ll be snakes for sure!
    The one from the backseat punched her in the back again, and Vanessa started to run. What choice did she have?
    “Lúc dó mày se den toi!”
    She heard shouts behind her.
    Oh God, God, God, what are they saying? What is going to happen to me? Why did I let them pick me up? Big mistake, big mistake!
    Then all Vanessa could think about was running.

Chapter 20
    “LET HER GO,” Thomas Starkey said. “Let’s be fair now. We told Vanessa we’d be good.”
    So they leaned against the Suburban and let the frightened girl run off into the swamp, giving her a good head start.
    Starkey slid on one of the Rangers’ new tan berets. It had replaced the black beret of the Special Forces once the rest of the army had gone to black. “Here’s the first side bet of the evening. Ol’ Vanessa will be wearing her platform heels when we catch up with her. Or do you boys think