Ray snorted and said, “You gotta be kidding me.”
Carson switched his cell phone to speaker, then tossed it into the center console as he looked over his shoulder before pulling out into the street. He raised his voice as he continued his story. “So I started spending some time in Vegas on the weekends and got involved with a woman who worked in a club there. Turns out she’s the missing woman reincarnated as a stripper. The rest you know. Now she’s gone, more than likely at the hands of this Sam Charles I have you chasing down, and I don’t have time for any more chitchat. I need to find her before the lunatic husband does.”
Eyes on the traffic ahead, he tapped his fingers on the wheel and wished he could push his speed, allow it to take him away from the stress building inside his head.
Ray let out a sympathetic grunt, then said, “Okay, tough guy. I found out that this Sam Charles isn’t exactly a nobody in the porn industry. He did start out making small potatoes for films, but about a year ago he was brought in by a big-time production company. The company does it all—movies, live webcams, print. They run a private LLC called Mystique with all these entities, but I was able to connect the dots with Mystique and Religion Plus Press. It took some technical digging, so the average Joe wouldn’t be able to put it together. Do you know who owns Religion Plus Press?”
Carson was just pulling onto the interstate as he said, “Uh, no. If I did, I wouldn’t need you. Hurry the hell up and tell me.”
“Well, I’m not sure if it’s the same person, but one of the major shareholders of Religion Plus is Elon Finder.”
The car swerved, and he narrowly missed being the cause of a multi-car pileup. “Fuck! You have to be shitting me! Elon Finder? He’s the husband, which means he’s running Religion Plus as a front for Mystique, acting all high and mighty when he’s nothing but a perv. This also means Sam Charles works for Elon, which makes me think Elon has Lila as we speak. Sam fucking kidnapped her from her place for Elon.” He slammed the steering wheel with the palm of his hand as he ground out, “Fuck me.”
“Yeah, dude, I think you’re right.”
“Did you find out where this Mystique houses their production facilities? My guess is they keep it away from the religious shit.”
“Exactly,” Ray said. “The religious stuff is done in two locations. One located in Jersey, which is probably how they originally connected with Sam Charles. The other in Brooklyn at a small printing press and warehouse, but get this. Around the corner from that warehouse is a large unfinished building leased to S. Charles, LLC by none other than Mystique, LLC. These people are really robbing Peter to pay Paul. My best guess is they pay Charles to run the webcams and he sublets the space from them, while they make print and movies there. No matter what, none of it appears to be on the up-and-up.”
“Fucking hell,” was all Carson could say.
Ray went on. “As an added bonus, my man, I’m now interested in the whole shebang because it looks like Mystique is not crossing all their t’s and dotting all their i’s. Which opens them up to violating a number of federal offenses and who knows what else. I’m gonna keep digging and find more shit on these assholes.”
Carson fought the anger rising within him and asked, “What’s the fucking address, Ray?”
Those were the last words Carson spoke before disconnecting the call and plugging the address into his phone’s GPS. As he followed the directions, he called Asher and brought him up to speed. It wasn’t a conversation either of them wanted to have, but Carson was determined to make it all right. Or die trying.
The address took him to a dilapidated warehouse building. The area was run-down; most of the streetlights had been broken by vandals, which left the area extremely dark. On the outside it was decrepit, but a stealthy walk around the perimeter and quick peek inside a window or two showed him the inside was a different story. Someone had invested a ton of money in expensive film equipment and a pornography scene setup.
For the most part, the inside of the building was quiet except for some live webcam action he caught in the corner. Thanks to the infrared goggles he’d invested in a while back, which he fortunately was carrying in his travel bag, Carson learned there were only a few video and sound people in the building, in addition to the actors on the live sets. Although Carson watched the warehouse for several hours, it continued to be quiet. Dawn would arrive soon, which would make his stakeout more difficult.
No one else came or went.
Where the hell is Lila?
Carson was losing patience, which was bad on a stakeout. Especially an unauthorized one for his own personal cause; one where he had no jurisdiction or warrants. He started to think either Elon or Sam didn’t have Lila, or if they did, they took her somewhere else. His phone rang just as he decided to get a hotel room and do some Internet research.