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soft enthusiasm.
    â€œExactly. Our customers want to see new faces. Our customers pay to see new faces. They pay very well. And most important, they keep paying us instead of going elsewhere. You’re very good. Who designed my clothes?”
    â€œThe blouse, Cynthia Steffe. I believe the skirt is…is Michael Kors?”
    â€œVery, very good. You are special. What is he wearing?”
    Tamár tinkled a silver bell and a tall, handsome Latino man came into the room. He wore a black silk turtleneck underneath the jacket of an off-white linen suit. The top edge of the turtleneck almost, but not quite covered heavy pockmarks on the left side of his neck.
    â€œNot European,” Yayo said hesitantly. “Not American. Not U.S., anyway. Are you from Mexico, sir?”
    He moved his head sideways, neither a no nor a yes.
    â€œYayo, I want you to meet Mr. Galliano.”
    Galliano bent to take Yayo’s hand and brush it against his lips. Not a kiss, really, just a constant motion of picking up her hand as he bowed his head, moving the hand smoothly past his lips and letting it go slowly, delicately.
    â€œMr. Galliano is in charge of all security,” Tamár said. “He takes very good care of my problems. And even better care of any problems you girls have.”
    â€œI don’t solve problems,” Galliano said. “I just make them go away.”
    â€œAnd now, dear. If you’ll go down that hallway, to the last room on the left, you’ll find many clothes laid out. That will be your bedroom, while you’re at this house. Pick the clothes you most like and come back to model them for us.”
    Galliano watched her bow and leave the room.
    â€œWhat do you think?” Tamár asked.
    â€œWe’ve got problems.”
    â€œYou told me that the black girl wouldn’t be a problem anymore.”
    â€œShe’s not. But she’s unlocked a big surprise. Somehow, she found out about the burial site. She met some U.S. Marshals there. And all kinds of bones are getting dug up. How many girls do you have left to bring into the Circuit?”
    â€œA dozen. Maybe more. How did that black girl find out?”
    â€œDon’t know yet. She tried to sell some coke inside the camp. Other infractions, the camp usually calls the sponsor, dismisses the client. But drugs, that’s an arrest offense.”
    â€œDid our man pick her up?” Tamár asked
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDoes he know about your special young friends? The bikers?”
    â€œNobody knows about them,” he said. “They’re all from Colombia, they’re all vicious, they’ve all made their bones over and over, and it’s time to send them back to Colombia for a long visit.”
    â€œâ€˜Made their bones.’” Tamár grimaced. “Not a great metaphor. Do you really want to send them back?”
    â€œYou mean, should I whack them, too? Too early to tell.”
    â€œAll right. You know best. I’ll call Micah and arrange to get the rest of the girls. Let’s meet here, I’ll tell you when. Here’s my list.”
    She removed a folded piece of paper from a beige clutch purse, ticked off one name with a gold Cross pen.
    â€œShe’s taken care. See to the rest. Start with him.”
    â€œYou want to shut down the whole food chain?”
    â€œAll that computer information trail, yes. We’ve mined it enough. I’ve taken what we needed, sold off the rest. Can you get to this man?” Pointing at one of the names. “The one inside?”
    â€œDifficult,” Galliano said, but he nodded, working out some details.
    â€œThose bones. We shouldn’t have trusted that…that laborer.”
    Galliano took her pen and wrote numbers beside the remaining names.
    â€œWe’re all laborers,” he said. “And Micah?”
    â€œWe have to be the only two left. And then…we’ll leave. Will you go back to