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.
Taylor got out and Luis slid behind the wheel as Taylor and Brodie both got in the back seat as though they were tourists with a driver.
Taylor asked, “Any luck?”
“Sí,” replied Brodie. “There’s a place called…”
“El Gallinero,” Luis said as he pulled out and began driving up the hill.
“Right. The Hen House. Very young chickens.”
“You think this is the place?”
“Let’s check out the location and exterior to see if it fits our friend’s description, and if it does, I’ll come back tonight.”
“I’m coming with you tonight.”
“We will discuss.”
They rode in silence as Luis navigated the narrow, unpaved streets of the July 24th neighborhood.
Well, thought Brodie, if El Gallinero was the place where Simpson had seen Mercer, it had been easy to find. Trouble was always easy to find. Sin and corruption and human depravity were easy to find. He’d found those things all over the world. Even in the hills of Kentucky and the barracks of Army posts. He always had to remind himself that virtue and goodness were