Brodie unholstered his Glock and slipped it in his waistband under his jacket, then motioned Luis to follow him.
Luis, who had by now come to realize that he’d scored the worst job in Caracas, dutifully followed Brodie toward the bordello of the damned.
Brodie did a quick case of the building as they approached. It was about forty feet square, and there were no windows on the second floor, which Brodie assumed was where the girls did their tricks. Toward the back of the building was a concrete enclosure, and Brodie recognized the sound of an electric generator. The bordello’s clients might not mind screwing in the dark, but they wanted their cerveza cold and the hellhole air-conditioned.
There was one steel-barred window on the side of the building, and Brodie looked into the dim interior, where he could see bar lights and a neon beer sign.
They approached the front entrance and Brodie noticed a security camera above the metal door. He pushed the intercom buzzer and waited. A voice came through the speaker in Spanish and Luis responded. Brodie didn’t know what Luis said, but he recognized the words “cerveza” and “turista.” Beer for thirsty tourists was not the primary business of the Club of the Damned, but the door buzzed open. A tall guy with a big nose and shifty eyes looked at them.
Luis, playing the part of a driver or guide with an Americano client, said a few words to the man, who gestured them inside.
The place was cool and dark, and smelled of cigarette smoke and stale beer. There was a bar along one wall, and mounted on the other wall were some colorful spinning club lights. Two large speakers sat silently on the concrete floor. The only other patron they could see was a heavyset guy in a T-shirt and jeans who was sitting on a stool at the bar sucking down a beer. The young lady they had followed was sitting at a table near the speakers, smoking. She shifted in her seat and smiled at Brodie.
Brodie said to the guy who had let them in, “I’m looking for something special.”
Luis translated, and the guy smiled. He replied, and Luis translated: “We have very special girls. Monica here will give you a good time. We have other girls too, upstairs. I can bring them down for you to see.”
“I want younger than her,” said Brodie.
The man replied, and Luis said, “He has an extra-special girl, Lucia, she just turned eighteen last week and is still a virgin. Very beautiful. He can call her to come in. This will cost you extra, of course.”
Brodie took five twenties from his pocket. “Younger.”
Luis translated: “Una niña.” The man stared at the money, then looked Brodie in the eyes and said in English, “Not here.”
“Where?”
The man hesitated, then said, “El Gallinero.”
Luis said, “A gallinero is like a… a place for lady chickens.”
“A hen house,” said Brodie.
“Sí,” said Luis. “The Hen House.”
Brodie looked at the guy. “Where’s the Hen House? Dónde?”
The man looked between Brodie and Luis, sizing them up. He said something to Luis, who said to Brodie, “He says El Gallinero is a place you are brought to, not a place you seek out.”
“What’s this guy’s name?”
Luis asked, and the guy replied, “Pepe.”
“Okay,” said Brodie. “Pepe from the Club of the Damned recommended the Hen House to us.”
Luis communicated that, and Pepe nodded, then said something else to Luis while gesturing as if he was explaining directions.
Luis said to Brodie, “The barrio roads have local names, but no signs.But he has given me directions that I think will make it possible to find. It is farther up the hill, a big white building, one story, no windows.”
That matched the description Brodie had gotten from Al Simpson. It was pretty general, but then again, how many child prostitute whorehouses could there be?
Pepe spoke again, and Luis translated: “It’s open only at night. At seven.”
Brodie looked at the shifty-eyed man and wondered what Pepe’s relationship was to MBR-200. Would he report this to the colectivo? Brodie would soon find out. He gave the guy the money.
Pepe didn’t say thank you, but he looked happy with his unexpected score of greenbacks, the equivalent, thought Brodie, of maybe eighty billion bolívars.
Brodie and Luis walked out onto the street toward the car.
