But where to begin?" Please, sir, if you let me go, I'll never trouble you, or anyone else, ever again," pleaded Kaliqa."Oh, sure. I can let you go to...the police. They're very good at sorting out these kinds of things. Now," an idea had turned on the lightbulb over my head, "I have to make sure there are no more unfortunate victims of this fraudulent theft like myself. I order you to strip so that I may make sure."Kaliqa managed to get a hold of herself, or at least, stop pretending to not have. We were seated in wooden chairs on the boardwalk outside the Buffalo Cut, sipping coffee. There was a better brew across the street, but here we were. We watched two lean cowboys, skin like rawhide, haze a Brahma bull up Market Street, heading north. He was heavy, lumbering, over two thousand pounds by my estimate. Massive horns wider than I could reach.His maleness swung ponderously back and forth by his rear legs. Across the street on the west side, three young girls, blushing and giggling,. She showed where the cameras would be tagged and stored below the register. The door to the lounge was immediately behind the register, displaying the "Entry Provisions", including the one-time two dollar fee for joining the club, for which each new visitor received a membership card."I will knock on the door, for you to open. I will hand you a slip, showing membership numbers. The menu is on the slip, for you to fill out, bring to the door, and knock. I will knock again when the order is ready. Young Paige d’Lephant didn’t know it yet, but the staff did. I looked around my car for the things I would need: I pulled the SOCOM pistol and a spare magazine from the glove compartment and a small jewelry box from beside the gun. I slipped the gun into the holster in the small of my back and placed the magazine in my front pocket. I tucked the little box into the inside pocket of my sports coat and stepped out. I passed a box from the trunk to the doorman as he came to greet me, leaving.