Free The Color of Greed (Raja Williams 1) by Jack Thompson Page B

girl. I can take care of
myself.”
    “That’s good. I’ll keep you posted
when we find out more.”
    Raja ended the call just before pulling into the
parking garage in Studio City.
    Vinny was waiting by the elevator when he pulled up.
She loved the open road as much as Raja did. She had her hair tied in
a pony tail and sticking out the back of her Rays cap. With her
rolled up jeans and baggy shirt, she looked like an overgrown kid
going on a family outing to a ball game.
    Raja wished it would be that simple. He couldn’t
help smiling as he watched her gather up her things. Raja’s cup
was usually half full, but Vinny’s was always overflowing.
    “I already locked up,” said Vinny. “I
packed you the usual and everything I need,” she said while
tossing two bags into the back seat.
    “You sure we have everything?”
    “G-T-G, boss. Let’s boogie,” said
Vinny, as she climbed in beside Raja.
    “I take it that’s a yes.”
    “No doubt about it.”

Chapter Twelve: Road Trip to Hell
    Raja drove the scenic route to San Francisco along
the Pacific Coast Highway. Vinny kept to herself, running algorithms
through her iPad to track the judge’s movements, and all the
while continuing her investigations of the various names she had
accumulated. First, she collected all the data on Judge Griggsby’s
locations in the city over the past two years. She could access
financial transactions and video feeds from surveillance cameras
throughout the city. Then she ran the data through an iCloud program
she had installed from the computer back at the loft. Simultaneously
she was searching all the SEC filings on investments he had made
during his tenure as a federal judge.
    Meanwhile, Raja breathed in the fresh sea air and
tried to forget about the case as much as he could. He took every
case personally, which made him a force to reckon with during an
investigation, but the closeness also took its toll emotionally.
Cruising along the PCH was the perfect antidote. The twilight
stretched out over a long time along the coastline and the lights
played over the horizon in subtly shifting hues that soothed his
mind.
    When darkness finally closed over the coast, Raja
had begun to relax. First he rolled up the windows to deflect the
wind. His razor-sharp memory allowed him to play a favorite Mozart
piano concerto in his head, including the ambiance of the Vienna
theater where he had originally watched the performance. He could
even feel the bristle of the theater seat upholstery on his arms.
    “Woo Fong,” said Vinny, bringing a
sudden end to the concerto.
    “What?” asked Raja, thinking it must be
another one of Vinny’s hipster expressions.
    “Woo Fong Mandarin. It’s a restaurant in
Chinatown. That should be our first stop in San Francisco. My
modality program says we have a sixty-seven percent probability of
finding the judge from there.”
    “Chinatown it is.”
    When Raja exited Highway One and headed into San
Francisco, it was quarter to nine. The restaurant was closed so they
headed to the tenderloin district. The judge’s sexual tastes
made the S&M clubs a good place to start.
    There were plenty of choices in the Castro District.
    “Where to first?” asked Raja, as they
tooled along Market Street.
    “I’ve got blogs on two man-boy clubs in
the underground scene,” said Vinny. “Nothing here. We are
looking for Baker Street—somewhere off Market—I’ll
have it GPS’d in a moment.”
    There were private clubs along Market Street with
small signs meant only for clientele who knew where they were going.
Raja pulled over and watched a group of men coming out of one of the
leather clubs. Two of them looked like conservative businessmen. The
third was considerably younger, probably in his early twenties,
wearing a spiked leather collar around his neck. As he bent down to
climb into a Black Lexus, Raja read the tattoo on his lower back. It
was mocked up like a green rectangular street sign that read OPEN