There's a tiny silver pendant among Marique's belongings. Hanging gently on a filigree silver chain a tiny archer draws a long bow, the metaphor makes Rick sigh. Just touching it causes his tears to well. He's exhausted and emotional. He wants it over. He wants to find her, rescue her, meet her. So much wanting, needing and so little resolving. He catches his breath and sighs, collecting himself and focusing on the necklace. The clasp is broken. Rick rummages into the pockets on either side of the bag and pulls out the note from "Ammeh".
The epiphany exciting. Flashes of a regional airport mingled with a girl, a rucksack and a customs official probing its contents. A woman in a hijab, loosening it's tie. The confusion as cacophonous as a Rachmaninoff concerto. The phone rings and breaks his concentration.
This is the first time he's shared such information with Silverman. He's been aiming to solve the mystery with a solid session and meet the girl before the Authorities get hold of her. It seems futile now that Silverman has such information so he capitulates and tells all that he knows to date.
"She's had some trouble. I think she caused some trouble, but she's alive and I'm pretty sure she's in California. Gimme a few. Get hold of that hobo that found the bag. Bring him in. I'll call you back."
He focuses hard on the pendant...and feels he cool of steel between his legs, the salt of tears upon his cheeks.
Her bag's packed, waiting for the first opportunity. Until then she has to tolerate their beer breath and groping hands. At least he hasn't made her sleep with any of them, yet. Still the violation of their hands is enough to make her feel dirty and desperate. Especially him, the one in the corner all pimped up with an erection forming a bulge in the left leg of his expensive suit. He curls his finger and beckons her. Andrew's watching like a hawk, and nods at her to go forward. She gyrates and sashays, bends forward and he puts hundred dollar bills down the front of her g-string and licks her nipples as his hands grope. She loved it when Drew touched her but now, it's like some alien slime ball tainting her perfect skin with saliva. The punter's dirty hand between her legs, he grabs the straps of her g-string and tries to remove it before she slaps him hard and runs into the dressing room.
She's still beautiful in her anger, "Fuck you Andrew. I am not a whore. I dance, I strip, I let them touch me where only you had touched me! I'm not fucking them...not now, not ever, ever!"