A City of Wolves in Sheep’s Clothing

She had been cornered by three young, clean-cut corporate types complete

with suits and loosened ties who clearly fancied themselves as her next boyfriend. Standing close

enough to breathe on her, they were stoned out of their minds.

"Then I made two million on the generalators deal," said the man closest to Will. He was

tall and blonde and standing with his back to the writer. He might have been trying to say

'generators'.

"Oh man, I made four million trading bond hybrids for the Falbig Catalaxy," said another.

Will was not sure that the pronunciation of 'Falbig Catalaxy' was correct either, especially as the

man was slurring his words, but it was time to break up the party.

"Meg!" he said.

"Oh, Will!" The star was glad to see her fired employee.

"Guys I'm on Mr Chalmers' staff and I got the bat signal. Time for her to go."

He grabbed the star's hand who gladly allowed herself to be pulled out of the press of

traders.

"Hay, man!" said the blond trader, grabbing at her. "We wuz just getting acquaint..

acquainted-like."

Will knocked the man's hand away. "Say goodbye to the nice gentlemen, Meg."

"Goodbye nice gentleman," said Meghan. Outside the room she said, "I don't feel so good,

Will. I've only had one drink and one of my sticks, but I'm feeling sick."

"We'll get you home quick." He took his phone out. "George you there? Got her. Get the car

but keep the line open and the phone with you."

"Getting it now," said Henry.

"Those guys wouldn't let me leave," said Meghan, leaning against Will and gasping. The

writer thought that she looked a little green. "My purse. I've left it somewhere. And where's Misty?

We can't leave without Misty."

Two rooms along, with Will holding Meghan's hand tightly, he found Misty in a line of

young ladies mostly in their underwear, two were topless, with the Evil Buddha from the drug

house conducting an auction to a mixed crowd of the LA rich and nasty.

"Guys what am I bid for number three's bra," said Evil Buddha.

"One thousand slurred someone."

Will saw that Misty had a number three on a card hung around her neck and was plainly

terrified. Another girl was obviously unhappy, while the other three were stoned and smiling.

"Bids are off for Misty's bra, guys. Time for Misty to go home."

"Now wait," said Evil Buddha. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Will!" said Misty. "I'm so glad to see you."

"I'm on Ms Chalmers' staff," barked Will. He had a loud voice when he chose to use it and

could give it an angry edge. In such circumstances, a loud, angry voice and assertion of authority

helped a lot more than any amount of martial arts training. Will had seen films where the

protagonists had beaten up a whole crowd of thugs with whom they disagreed. Even if he could beat

up Evil Buddha plus an enforcer type who, Will realised, was now closing in on his left, he doubted

he would get by the three hefty doormen even with Henry's help. They had not looked like 'live and

let live' kinda guys.

"Misty, get your clothes and let's roll. You, number five." That was the other terrified girl, a

cute office type (Will later discovered she was a book keeper from Wyoming) "If you want to come

with us you're welcome. Grab your clothes."

The girl nodded and dashed out of the line.

"I said to wait!" snarled Evil Buddha.

The enforcer type tried to grab Will's arm, muttering "Mr Chan said to wait." The writer

shook him off and whipped out his phone, which was still on speaker. "George you there?"

"Here boss. Got the cops on speed dial."

"Get ready to tell them that there are women being held against their will at this address and

being forced to strip. There may be sexual assaults. There's also drugs for sale."

The crowd was suddenly silent.

"They'll have probable cause enough to enter, Mr Chan," said Will, speaking directly to

Evil Buddha.

Chan gestured and the enforcer type gave up on grabbing the writer's arm. By that time the

two ladies had joined him and were putting on their dresses, not caring about the crowd watching

them, although a lot of eyes were on Meghan.

"I take my friends and there's no need to call the cops," said Will. "No need for anyone to

be taken down to the station or for lawyers to be called. You can forget about the incident."

Chan sneered.

"Where's my purse?" said the cute office type.

"That's a good point. Where are the purses for all the ladies?"

"I'll get them," said Chan, suddenly shifting from defiant sneering to sullen helpfulness, a

shift which surprised Will. "Take over Jer."

The Buddha walked passed Will and the ladies without a word and they followed him to a

sideboard in the main foyer with a piece of decorative glass on top. On the wall above the glass was

an abstract painting - a series of jagged lines set diagonally on a black background. Will was a

writer not an art critic but thought the painting was cheap. Evil Buddha unlocked the sideboard,

pulled out a number of bags and purses and laid them beside the decorative glass. Will realised that

his little group was a long pace behind the foyer's drugs vendor who was busy with customers.

"Mine's the white bag at the end," said Meghan.

Evil Buddha grabbed it but took a step to his right so that for a moment his bulk hid the

purse, he paused for a touch longer than seemed necessary, apparently looking at the purse, then

turned to hand it to Will. The man's movements had been sufficiently odd for Will to look in the

open top of the expensive white leather bag to see a plastic bag of powder. He turned away so that

his own body blocked the view of any observers or cameras, whipped out the pocket square – the

same one that Meghan had given him in New York – from the jacket's side pocket, used it to grip

the powder bag and flung it against the wall, just behind the drug vendor.

"Will, what…!" said Meghan woozily, still leaning against the writer.

"Shh!" said Will.

He turned back just as Chan had completed the same act with Misty's green zip-up bag, but

before Will could warn Misty their host grabbed the cute office girl's black bag and all but threw it

at her. After a single, venomous glance at Will, he stomped back upstairs.

"Misty," hissed Will, "turn around and check your bag."

"It's unzipped," she said, in surprise. She turned around, looked, then gasped, and showed

Will. It contained a plastic pouch filled with powder. "That's not mine."

"Shhh! Use this to grasp it and then fling it in his direction," said Will, handing Misty the

pocket square then gesturing towards the drug vendor. With any luck, when the pouch was found

later, it would be considered to be part of the vendor's stock that had fallen off the table. The cute

office type overheard this and also checked her bag, to go through the same motions as Misty.

"Ladies we are leaving," said Will. "Stick close and keep those bags shut."

They got out to the front gate where Henry was waiting with Meghan's BMW, then drove a

short distance down the road before Will told Henry to stop next to a drain grate he saw in the

gutter.

"Ladies, check your bags and purses again," he said. "Make sure there's nothing illegal.

Henry check the trunk and under the seats. Any odd corners. Maybe the spare wheel space."

"What am I looking for, Will," said Henry.

"The host left the ladies some little packages of powder in their handbags for someone else

to find. They're not likely to have left anything in the car, but better check."

A thorough search found nothing. Will found two of the drug sticks Meghan liked in her

handbag, crushed them under his foot and kicked them into the drain.

"You got any priors, Henry?" Will said as they got back in.

"Possession, small amount, as a teenager. Community service. Means nothing, man."

"I'm sure of that but were you charged as an adult or a minor?"

"Adult."

"Then better let me drive. If we get stopped the driver is the one who gets the attention and

I'm a clean skin."

They drove on a little further and, just as they were turning into the feeder road, a police car

came up behind them and sounded its siren. Will duly pulled over. "No one says anything but me.

They've got no reason to pull us over, as far as I know. That means anything they find is

inadmissible in court. Everyone hang tight."

"Not so well, Will," said Meghan from the back seat.

The policeman who came to the driver's side door to ask for licence and registration could

have come straight from central casting as a clean-cut, square-jawed cop-on-the-job. Will handed

over the documents.

"Was there a problem officer?" he asked sweetly.

"Right, rear indicator not working, sir," said the policeman, "or you were not indicating as

you should."

"I'm sure I was indicating, officer," said Will, politely. "But if there is a problem with the

car can I get out to check before we drive on?"

The cop nodded and Will got out, walked around and yelled at Henry to flip the indicator. It

blinked.

"Seems to be working, officer," he said.

"I was sure there was no light," said the policeman.

Just then Meghan all but fell out of the back passenger door, onto her hands and knees, and

vomited into the gutter.

"Oh my, my," said the officer. Meghan had instinctively brought her handbag, clutched in

one hand, which she dropped on the sidewalk lawn. The cop almost pounced on this, saying "Just

let me get this for you." Then held it up in such a way that he could "accidentally" see inside. He

was still peering inside when Will took it and patted Meghan on the back.

"Let it out," he murmured – about all that he could do.

Misty Dawn stumbled out after Meghan and also threw up on the lawn, although while

standing up.

"Indications of drug use," said the officer, grabbing Misty's bag, unzipping it and looking

inside. "These ladies are famous aren't they?"

"It's evidence that they're sick, famous or not," said Will. "We'd like to get the ladies home,

so they can be sick in private."

"You have a conviction for possession," said the cop to Will. He dredged up a handful of

Misty's possessions from the bottom of her bag for closer inspection, then let them drop back,

disappointed.

"No I don't, officer," said Will. "I've never been charged with anything." Just then the

second officer, who had been checking Will's licence, handed it back to the writer and shook his

head at his partner.

The first officer looked hopefully at the cute office type, who showed no signs of illness,

then said "very well, sir, sorry for the inconvenience. We won't do a ticket this time."

"Thank you, officer," said Will, who saw nothing to be gained by rubbing the officer's nose

in his defeat. "Long night for you I guess. Take care."

They got back in the car.

"Are we going to take the ladies to a clinic or hospital?" asked Henry, as they drove off.

"How's it going back there, ladies?" said Will.

"Still feel off but better," said Misty. "I had some tasty savoury they were offering at the

party. I think that was the problem. But I just got rid of it in a most unglamorous way as you saw."

"What about you, other person?" Said Will. "I'm sorry I haven't yet asked your name."

"It's Lissa," said the cute office type. Really thanks for the rescue, Will, is it? The guy by

the door just grabbed me and forced me into that line. I saw them offering those savouries around

but only to some people. I didn't get one."

"I had two," said Meghan. "I just want to go home, Will. I think I'll be alright and too much

media if I go to a hospital."

"Okay, let's all go to Meghan's place and keep an eye on our two patients. If it gets worse

we can go to a hospital.."

"I can't believe I'm in the same car as Clarise Chalmers and Misty Dawn," said Lissa. "This

is really LA."

When they got home Meghan was apparently asleep so Will picked her up and carried her

inside. It was a strange sensation, Will thought, carrying the star.

Meghan opened her eyes, put one arm around Will's neck, said "I hate you Will Moreland",

and then seemed to go back to sleep again.

"I think she's getting better," said Will.

The traffic incident was later discussed in a police station office by the officers concerned

and a Federal agent.

"We managed to look where you told us to look," said the first officer. "And came up with

nothing. They must've dumped the drugs at the party."

"The watcher said they made a stop just up the street," said the agent. Unlike the officers,

the agent had a very lived-in face with streaks of grey showing his hair. He liked the sit in the

shadow, so the cops through of him as shadow-man.

"We looked there," said the second officer. "Just traces of stuff and a few bits of paper.

Nothing we could hang anything on, even if we could make a connection with the car. As it was the

stop was barely legal."

"It wasn't legal at all," said the first officer. "I had to make up a story about the indicator

and the driver seemed to know it."

"The guy with the drug conviction?" said the agent.

"No that was the guy riding shotgun. They'd also switched drivers. This was a William

Moreland. No record. The ladies were sure sick but otherwise the whole thing was a bust. All we

can show for the incident is to say that Clarise Chalmers is a total babe, even when she's throwing

up on the sidewalk."

"So is Misty Dawn, but still no arrest," said the second officer.

"What it comes down to is the guy who got them is a smart operator and saw us coming,"

said the first officer.

"It's Hollywood," said the agent. "Plenty of celebrities."

"Maybe next time we can make it legal," said the first officer, "without having to plant the

drugs."

"Whatever," said the agent.