Follow the Money

It appears my money is making a trip without me. I intend to find out where it’s going.

Noon

Las Vegas. The last time I was here, I tailed Dag for two days and then had to reveal myself at the SpyCon trade show. He had a heart attack after dinner and hired me the next day. So much has happened since then. I still have a hard time admitting that he’s gone and has left me swimming in water so far over my head I can only hope I don’t touch bottom. I’ve pulled out my Riley Finn identity. I’m working the red wig and slinky dresses. I flew in as Deb Riley in my conservative brown bob. As soon as I’d collected my bags, I ran to a restroom and emerged as Riley Finn. One thing I don’t have to worry about is that this alias is the same age I am. The big differences are hair color and a propensity for more makeup and bigger sunglasses. You wouldn’t believe the number of stares I got as I was headed for the taxi line. Two guys actually gave up their place in line for me to go ahead. Yeah, I could see what they were checking out. I wore my black satin slacks and the short bolero jacket. Las Vegas is too cold to wear it without a sweater underneath. It’s January and rainy.

Cinnamon and I had a long chat last night after she took me to the hotel. The one thing I want more than anything else is for her to be safe. She was determined to go back to the house and finish the packing. I don’t trust anyone there, though. Deonn might be in Las Vegas, but who knows where Rick is. We know Susan is home watching for us. Any of the other women could be there as well. I hope I convinced her that I needed her in the office. I have the house cameras playing on the big screen in my office and I’ve shown her how to switch from channel to channel to see things that aren’t being broadcast to the public. I thought it would be too conspicuous for the two of us to show up in Las Vegas together. We’ve got to assume that anyone involved would recognize her as Peg Chester’s companion. Seeing the companion with a different woman would bring that woman under scrutiny, which is exactly what I want to avoid. I’ll be wearing a wire wherever I can and even have that little button camera that I wore last year on. As long as I don’t go into a casino everything should be fine and Cinnamon will be able to see and hear almost everything that I do. She’ll also be able to help me and run searches in real time. She’s got experience and knowledge that I fake.

I was appalled at the rate I was going to be charged at The Venetian, but when I showed up to check in, they were practically falling over themselves to be helpful. They upgraded me to a nice suite at no extra charge and offered the services of a concierge to help me get around. I told them flat out that I didn’t want any attention drawn to me and they nodded and practically bowed. So who do they think I am?

8:00 p.m.

Okay. So they think I’m a porn star traveling incognito and everyone is waiting for the big reveal. Sorry, honey, but you’ve seen all you are going to. It seems that I stepped into Vegas right at the start of the Adult Entertainment Expo. I chose the right get-up for my alias. In my slinky satin pants and bolero top—minus the sweater—I was downright conservatively dressed when I walked into the Sands. I insisted to the hotel that I didn’t want to draw any attention, but the fans of porn here absolutely pounce. Random guys were coming up to get their picture taken with me. I kept declining to give autographs. Finally, a hotel security dude stepped up beside me and just told guys that Miss Finn is late for her next appointment. He escorted me to the entrance of the show at the Sands and said I should be safe inside and to please call his number when I was ready to leave the show.

In the meantime, Cinnamon was on top of things in my ear. “Oh my God! You’re at a porn show. You can’t go out without an escort. You’ll need credentials to get in. I’m registering you for the show. There should be a badge or whatever at the entrance. Look for the gate marked ‘Producers.’ I figured you’d prefer that to actress. Did you remember to put in your green contacts? I should have come with you.” As soon as I was free of my bodyguard and could whisper to Cinnamon I got her to slow down with the running commentary.

“Cinnamon, you’ve got to not talk about everything in my ear. I have to listen to what people are saying around me. Give me the play by play, but don’t add any color, okay.”

“Okay. Sorry sugar. Try to give me a signal if you need me. I’ll control the squee.”

“You’re a doll. Producer you say? This should be good.” I stepped up to the registration desk and gave them my name.

“Oh yes, Ms. Finn. Your assistant just called and took care of everything. Just go right in.”

“No badge or anything?”

“Not usually for ladies,” the registrar said. “But we do have the producer ribbon if you’d like it. You’ll be mobbed by starlets though. I’d suggest just having it handy to show to people if you need to. Ladies go pretty much wherever they want to go in the show, except the gay section. You don’t want to be mistaken for a drag queen.” If she only knew. It was actually a good cover if I gave it some thought. Give them the old Victor Victoria routine and be a woman playing a man in drag.

I stepped through the black drapes behind the registrar desk into a world that definitely wasn’t Kansas.

“Adult Entertainment” covers a wide range of activities and industries. Over half of the attendees are shopping for goodies to put in their stores—videos, sex toys, novelty items, surveillance, and even talent. Maybe especially talent. Owners of strip clubs and their posses were easy to spot. Not far behind were producers. You’d swear they were carrying contracts with them, looking for fresh talent. The adult toy stores wanted guest appearances.

On the other side was the merchandise. What I saw in Georgia’s closet and dresser was nothing compared to what was available. The show floor was divided up into general areas, like video, novelty merchandise, gay, S&M, services, vinyl, and so on. Within each area, there were booths like you’d see at about any trade show. But the demo dollies went beyond being scantily clad. The video queens were the top draw. But there were obviously performers of other types demonstrating their talents. One booth had a woman demonstrating how to wear nipple clamps and then turned around to show a well-implanted butt plug.

Since I was there as a producer, and I was looking for the guy spending my money, I zeroed in on the video area and found the aisle of Internet porn. I learned more in ten minutes than I had in three weeks of research and discovery. There are seven basic types of Internet porn. The granddaddy of porn on the Internet is written material. Stories. While there are big free sites of pornographic “literature,” there are also a few authors that actually make a living selling what they write. Some is available online and some in print. Porn eBooks are pioneering the space, as one vendor said. Second are the sites that have lots of pictures. Some of the pictures are just naked girls or sometimes men. Others have more explicit photos and occasionally even drawings. Third are the forums where people can meet, arrange things, and satisfy each other’s desires. Fourth, chat rooms. You write messages to each other in real time and mostly try to bring each other off with a chat. Fifth, webcams. Sixth video download sites. And seventh, interactive sites. And all these sites run on technology.

There was as much high-tech gear here as you’d find at a computer tradeshow. Everything from state of the art cameras to high powered servers. And RAID arrays for hard drive back up. I knew we’d be here soon, but these guys are talking not just Terabyte storage but Petabytes. That’s 10 to the 15th power. We’re talking Quadrillions of bytes of storage. But when you are recording video around the clock, you’ve got to have a lot of storage.

Georgia was using a setup that would keep video cameras running around the clock without putting too much strain on any individual computer. That’s why she ran each webcam from a separate computer. Georgia Central was responsible for uploading selected files each day. Nobody needs 22 hours of an empty room being stored for two hours of action. Static periods are cut before the action is uploaded. One manufacturer sold software that would automatically edit out the static time on the file.

I was pretty fascinated by this tech because it has applications that we could use as well and was about to ask a question when there was a small pop in my ear and I heard Cinnamon’s voice.

“I see your subject at 10:00. Look up.” She had seen—through my button camera—Deonn hanging around outside a seminar room.

“My God, they teach each other here.” I said quietly, then read from the sign outside the room. “How to produce live webcam shows.” I walked up to the door and Deonn, with no more than a glance at my producer ribbon. “I’m in,” I said. “Let’s see what we can learn.”

The first thing that I learned was that the speaker was none other than the landlord, Rick Thomas. “Ladies and gentlemen before we get started here we want to repeat the credo that you will hear at every seminar you attend this week. Nothing you hear during this seminar is intended to be taken as advice, either legal or financial. While we will explore a theoretical business model that can be used without legal or financial repercussion, your experience could be different. Nothing we say here today should be construed as an exposure of our specific business practices. You should seek legal counsel in your jurisdiction before implementing any of these devices. Also, I’d like to take a moment to remember the woman known to all of us as Peaches who would have been your speaker today if she had not lost her life just a month ago. We miss you Peaches.”

Wow. You couldn’t get a better disclaimer on that would seem to excuse you of any kind of wrongdoing if you had a lawyer write one. Speaking of which, why haven’t we found Georgia’s lawyer or accountant? “You’d better put this on record,” I whispered to Cinnamon. “See if there is anything in that box of papers we brought to the office that has the name of a lawyer or accountant in it.”

“I’m on it, sugar,” Cinnamon responded.

And with that Rick started explaining exactly how their business works. I’d figured most of it out, but he filled in a couple of holes. He showed them being filled on screen with clips from Georgia’s archives. I wondered how he got access to those. When I left the seminar room after the presentation, Deonn was handing out invitations to a private party sponsored by one of Georgia’s web servers. I decided I was going to need more—or at least different—clothes this week than I’d planned and called my escort to take me to the resort fashion shops along the Grand Canal. He didn’t seem to mind watching over me while I selected a couple new outfits. I asked him if he’d escort me to a party tonight.

“Miss Finn, I’m happy to provide service to you as a body guard, but I’m a happily married man and I don’t even watch porn.”

“I didn’t mean anything else,” I said, a bit embarrassed myself. Why did I use the word escort? “I’d just like to get to the party and get back safely. And I don’t drink or do drugs, so I won’t need to be carried.” He grinned and said he would be ready whenever I was.

And now I’m about ready. So here goes.