Kivgalo stared into the fire. His eyes sad. He never argued with Riita. They had cared for the Living Ones together for decades now. She was always right. She always knew when their time was up. She always knew when hopelessness had locked in. He nodded.

Billy parked his car and crossed the road to the hotel overlooking the river. He had many memories of dropping troops here. There were so many of them during his military years. Polly was not wrong when she said she had taken care of their type. They had been regular customers to more than a few Ladies of the Night. The boys liked having them around. They knew what to do. How to get it done without commitment. No having to say words you would never mean after all of it. Never having to call them the next day. It was a cut and dried business transaction. It was perfect.

He strode up to the doorman and introduced himself. Extending his hand, he said in an authoritative voice, “Hello, I’m Major General Billy Townsend, and I’m hoping you can help me.”

The doorman lifted his tired eyes to meet Billy’s. I’m so sick of this shit, he thought. So sick of these military types showing up out of nowhere and throwing their rank around like it means something beyond the barracks. Still, he couldn’t be rude to the man. He knew there were cameras all over the inside and outside of the building. He knew he was under heavy surveillance.

“How can I help?” the doorman said politely, but all he could think about were the whores these guys dragged through the doors on Remembrance Day each year.

The doorman wished the rest of the country knew what he did. The women he’d seen the servicemen use. The way they talked about getting a whore to break two of the biggest rules of their profession. How they got them to kiss their lips. How they got them to orgasm. Vessels. That’s all those women were to them. Hollow containers to be filled. He detested these military types. Men who lived falseness, but who expected everyone to bow down to them once a year and remember that they had given us our freedom.

“I understand there were a couple of women who used to work out of here. I’m looking for them. I’ve been told that they were Inuit women. A daughter and mom duo. Ever seen someone wearing a hoodie like this?”

Billy put the picture of the hoodie in front of the doorman’s eyes. The doorman had seen it before. He had talked with those women. He knew who they were, but why would he help another creep?

“Sorry, sir, I’ve never seen that hoodie and have no recollection of a couple of Eskimo whores working in our establishment.”