Scion by Murray McDonald

sale,” said Darius, as he followed Clark’s gaze.
    “Everything’s for sale,” replied Clark licking his lips at the thought of the girls blood mixing with her sweat and rolling down into the small of the back. Screaming for him to stop.
    “There is some truth in that ,” agreed Darius. “Now how can I help you?”
    “I need some information about one of your girls,” asked Clark.
    “Can I ask why?”
    “No.”
    “Well I’m sorry I can’t help you.” Darius rose to his full size towering over Clark, signalling an end to their conversation.
    Clark did not want to resort to violence to obtain his information, it was not always reliable. “Wait, I believe this girl may no longer work for you, her name’s Rosie.”
    “T hat fucking bitch,” spat Darius. “All I know is she isn’t who I thought she was.”
    Clark ’s ears perked up at that piece of information. “What do you mean?”
    “She was supposed to be a prostitute but if that girl ’s spread her legs for a few bucks, I’m a fucking Benedictine monk.”
    “So who do you think she is?”
    “Don’t know. Maybe some sort of journalist looking for a story or something. The bitch zapped me with a fucking Taser and legged it this morning.”
    “Shit, do you know where she went ? Like a home address or something? Phone number, anything that can help me track her down?”
    “ We tried her home address, fucking bitch got three of my men locked up. Other than that all I’ve got is a cell number.”
    Clark couldn’t believe his luck. “Perfect.”
    Darius opened his drawer and retrieved the number from his phone book, writing it down on a sheet of paper before handing it over. “So who are you? Some kind of government dude or something?”
    “No,” replied Clark simply, as he stood and left Darius’ office, he had what he needed. 
    “What you going to do to her ?” shouted Darius after him.
    “Exactly what you’d want me to do to her. Fuck her and then kill her.”
    Darius smiled for the first time that day.
    As he made his way to the car , he made a call, barking instructions before reading out Rosie’s number. As he hung up, another call came through. He answered and smiled. The operative he had requested was on the way. They would arrive by helicopter at about eight.
    ***
    Tyson’s Galleria was only a five minute diversion on the way to Dulles International and would be perfect. Nieman Marcus would resolve her wardrobe crisis. Of course it would take longer than five minutes but Ashley had plenty of time. It was at least two to three hours before she needed to be at the airport, only another twenty minutes from the Galleria.
    As the cab pulled into the mall , Ashley’s face drained, it was Sunday and at 5.50 p.m. she had less than ten minutes to get into the store, pick her clothes, pay and leave. It was never going to happen. The second the cab stopped she bolted into the store. Being a regular may just save her. The security guard tried to stop her entering the store but she wasn’t having any of it, shouting “I’ll just be a second, it’s an emergency!” She quickly made her way to the ladies’ designer-wear section and was met with a huge smile by Doug, the very heterosexual manager of the department. Ashley almost kissed him. She had hoped he’d be on duty but managed to stop herself when the leery eyes quickly covered every inch of her body. No attempt was made to hide his mental undressing of her right there in front of him. Ashley had always found him repulsive but as repulsive as he was, he was the best judge of style in the Washington area. It seemed all the other women agreed that his drooling over them was a small price to pay for the perfect outfit. He’d been there for years despite numerous complaints.
    “I need a complete wardrobe before I board a flight tonight!” she gasped, staring into his eyes as deeply as her stomach would allow.
    Working on commission and faced with one of the stores biggest spenders,