"It's Calin Roberts. How are things progressing, Rachel?"

"Way above expectations, Captain. I'd suggest you get the Feds to arrive just before dark settles. They'll need warrants. Who knows what might be found here? I'll bet my life there's much more than just prostitution. Everyone here could be facing twenty to life. " Calin interpreted the message, it was fear provocation. She wanted her words heard by those she was questioning.

"Any luck in finding who owned the place?"

"No." The question prompted a new thought. She just hoped none of the girls knew the property's ownership. The call concluded.


"You heard that," she threw her question at the five girls. "Twenty to life, that's the norm for those convicted for racketeering and/or consorting with criminals." The carefree smiles of moments earlier had given way to frowns.

"She's lyin'," argued Mac's friend.

"Have it your way," said Rachel as she turned away. "We've got more than enough on camera. She then signed off. "Rachel Costello, CCN Evening News."

"Rachel, what sort of questions would you like to ask?" The camera focused on the speaker.

"Let's start with your name."

"Tonight I'm Randi, but my real name's Denise. Can you promise my face and name won't be shown on TV? Especially in California, my mum would be horrified if her friends found out what I was doing."

"I'll be honest, the news director decides what goes to screen, but I'll do what I can to ensure your anonymity."

Anger erupted as one of the other girls charged at Rachel swinging punches. She landed two before three of her companions restrained her. A cut opened on Rachel's cheek. "Back off, Candy," one of the girls screamed as she grabbed the attacker's hair and pulled Candy away from Rachel. She then offered an apology. The camera kept rolling.

"Sorry Rachel." The hair-puller then approached with a handkerchief which she placed on the wound inflicted by Candy. She then continued.

"On the street I'm known as Sandy but my family call me Rebecca. I'm from Nashville but I've been working around these parts for almost a year. I'm trying to get enough money together to go back to school. I don't want to go to prison."

"We might be able to get you some help in getting back to school, Sandy."

"You're gunna need help, Sandy, 'cause 'round here you're now fucked." Candy's tone guaranteed there would be neither reconciliation nor forgiveness.

"On that note perhaps, we should leave," said Rachel. The cameraman nodded. "How many people can the 'copter carry?" she asked.

"Six, I think," Rachel replied. Turning to the girls ahe added. "We've got three seats, girls. It's time for you to choose. Do you want to stand with Candy, and if that's your choice I wish you well. Or do you want to side with the truth and come with us?"

Randi and Sandy crossed the floor while the other two girls stood with Candy.

"Last chance." The vote remained two all. Rachel followed the cameraman, Sandy and Randi out the door. She then watched as the pilot fired up the helicopter. The two girls climbed onto the rear seats, wrapped themselves in the blankets located on the seat and settled down for the flight. Rachel took a position between the two. The cameraman stowed his equipment on the floor then took the seat beside the pilot.

The chopper lifted off. It had risen to about fifty feet when one of the remaining girls emerged from the house waving. Had she changed her mind? Or was it simply a trap?

"What do you want me to do?" asked the pilot.

All sorts of scenarios rushed though Rachel's mind. Had they found the Senator? Who had in turn located a cache of weapons? Surely, had that been the case, the aircraft would now be under fire. Conversely, was the girl genuine in her escape? She had ten seconds to decide, abandon or rescue?

"Tell me about her?" She sought the opinion of the girl's companions.

"I'd trust Mandy with my life," said Randi.

"Go back." The pilot swung the aircraft around.

About ten feet from the ground, the cameraman opened his door. He reached out and lifted the young woman into the aircraft the instant it touched down. He positioned her on his knee. The pilot maximised power and climbed as rapidly as safety allowed.

"What made you change your mind, Mandy," demanded Rachel raising her voice above the roar of the engine.

"Finding the Senator dead."



Conversation stopped. Fear unlike anything she had ever experienced overwhelmed Rachel. Had he choked on the gag? Would they be charged with murder? What had happened?

Rachel debated on what to do. Should she report the Senator's death? And the circumstances? How could she explain her presence at the scene?

Procrastination, a practice she hated, became a viable option. What though would be gained by waiting? Would the buying of time allow creation of a plausible alibi? Could both she and the cameraman claim the Senator was already dead on their arrival? Was she capable of maintaining such a lie?

Another more likely scenario developed. No doubt Candy had already reported it? Police would be waiting when they landed. There was no escape. Why had she listened to Calin Roberts, the man was a criminal.

As the shock receded she remembered the obvious, the cameraman had recorded footage of the Senator, alive and well. That film would save them.

Rachel glanced at the cameraman, his eyes were closed and his face carried the contented smile of pure delight. Concerns about a dead Senator were a thousand miles away. A closer look revealed the source of his satisfaction. His trousers were unbuckled and Mindy's left hand was providing pleasure.

"No." Rachel's scream snapped everyone out of their reverie. She saw Mindy's right hand wrap around the camera while the left hand diverted its attention from within the cameraman's trousers to the door's handle. Ice cold air filled the cabin as the door broke free. The camera and its evidence disappeared through the gap that had seconds earlier been a door.

"Want me to go down and look for it?" asked the pilot.

"No point," said the cameraman. "It'll be in a thousand pieces."

"What is it about you men?" Rachel was too disgusted to complete her thought. In a sense though, Rachel accepted blame, the decision to go back for Mindy had been hers. One point troubled Rachel, who had come up with the idea to destroy the camera? It was, Rachel conceded creative, clever and devious. Who possessed all of those traits? Mindy? Unlikely, she was little more than a messenger, someone despatched to carry out a task. Candy? Anger, more often than not clouded a person's ability to assess. An angry combatant relied on the quick strike, not a planned response of subtlety. Rachel knew nothing of the other girl. But she did know McIntosh, and his reputation. It had to be him. The bastard was still alive.

Rachel fumed. She'd come upon the story of a life time and had it stolen from her. She had been outsmarted by a corrupt politician and a prostitute. Was there a way of turning the tables? The sight of Mandy, now squatting on the floor where the camera had been, intensified Rachel's anger. As did the smug look of accomplishment on Mandy's face.

Desperation forced Rachel's hand, time was fast running out. Mindy had adopted a stony silence, refusing to respond to Rachel's every question. It was time for a different approach. Bluff was all she had left. Rachel hoped the pilot would provide the support she needed. Rachel directed her first question to the pilot.

"Did you get the navigational co-ordinates where the camera went out the door?"

"They're locked in."

"Can you arrange for police to meet us when we land?"

"Sure thing," the pilot replied. "Why?"

"Advise them we have a passenger on board who has wilfully damaged...." Halting there, Rachel addressed the cameraman.

"How much was your equipment worth?"

"Around four grand." The smile on Mandy's face had vanished.

Returning to the unfinished instruction she had part delivered to the pilot, Rachel continued. ".....the aircraft, jeopardised flight safety and thrown expensive recording equipment from the aircraft." The pilot relayed the detail to the control tower where they were scheduled to land in seventeen minutes. The control tower voice repeated the request prior to concluding.

"Roger that."

"Would you care to tell our friend here the type of penalty she can expect for her actions."

"She'll go to prison, a minimum of five years, I'd expect. The Federal Aviation Authority has a history of demanding maximum penalties when it comes to blatant breaches of safety."

"Mindy, guess it's time to choose. You've got about fifteen minutes. So, what's it going to be? Will Cindy and the Senator support you in goal? Will they keep you safe from the prison nasties? They're known to fight over fresh meat."

Rachel studied the young woman now slumped on the floor. Fear had gotten to her. Mindy had tears in her eyes. Still though determination ruled, she held her nerve.

"That's if she lives long enough to get to court," said the cameraman. "I've heard there are a staggering number of cases around these parts where prisoners are found dead in their cells."