“How is the briefcase being neglected?” Jake glanced at Bear.
“I do not wish to discuss details over the phone. But I would like to meet you. Alone. You will then help me.”
“What makes you think I’d help you?”
“Because I will kill your friend Logan if you do not.”
Jake and Bear shot wide-eyed looks at each other.
“Bullshit,” Jake said, the hairs on his neck standing on end. “You don’t even know who Logan is or where he is.”
“Oh, but I do know, Caldwell. Logan is the drunken man you have partnered with to find me. He is in Room 406 at Truman Medical Center, and I am looking at him right now.”
Jake hit the mute button on the phone. “Call the hospital now.” He unmuted the phone. “Prove it, Voleski.”
“Fine. Logan has a…how do you say…tattoo on his right arm of a star. It is not a very good one, I’m afraid. Looks like he got it from a back-alley artist in Moscow.”
Bear nodded; his phone pressed to his ear. Jake took the phone off speaker mode so Voleski wouldn’t hear Bear talking to the hospital.
“What else?” Jake asked.
“And there is a little stuffed gorilla on his table. Actually, I like this gorilla very much, and I am going to take it. Give it to my girlfriend.”
“You touch Logan, you die.”
“Enough with the dramatics,” Voleski said. “You help me, and I don’t touch him. You don’t help me, and I will ensure he never wakes up. Since you are going to call the hospital now, I will be leaving. But meet me at three o’clock at Dreams. Come alone. Same room where you stuck your big nose in before. No police. And remember, because I am leaving here now does not mean I or one of my friends won’t be back for Logan if you do not comply.”
The line went dead, and Jake dumped the phone in his console rather than smash it. Bear said they sent security to Logan’s room. They waited in silence, bloody, nightmare scenarios running through Jake’s head. A minute later Bear hung up the phone.
“He was gone by the time they got up there. They’re checking the security footage to see if they can get anything of use.”
“How the fuck does he know about me and Logan?” Jake’s hands ached from the death grip he placed on the steering wheel.
“Probably has ties all over the city. Any number of dickheads could have given him that information.”
“We should get Logan some protection.”
“I’ll call in some favors.” Bear scrolled through the directory on his phone. “What did Voleski say?”
“He wants my help.”
“Help with what?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Jake said. “We’re meeting at Dreams at three o’clock.”
“The strip club?”
“Yup. You can even come in this time.”
Bear leaned back in the seat. “This day keeps getting better all the time.”
* * *
“What do they know?” the man asked Agent Snell. His normal, robotic voice tinged with exasperation.
“More with each minute that passes, but not enough. Yet,” she said. She white-knuckled the phone receiver at her desk, digging the fingernails of her free hand into the leather of her chair. Talking to him made her want to scream.
“He is becoming a problem.”
“A problem who is going to lead us to the solution.”
“I don’t know if I can trust you to do what needs to be done.”
“You don’t have a choice,” she said.
“There can’t be any loose ends. He’s a loose end. You were supposed to take care of this.”
“No, I was supposed to find Voleski and the briefcase. Anything beyond that is in your ballpark, not mine.”
“Either way, you have failed,” he said.
“As have you.”
“But your stakes are higher than mine.”
She rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “My stake is in your hands, but you screw me on this, and I’ll bury you. Literally.” She didn’t know who they were, so she wasn’t sure exactly how she’d bury them if this deal went south. But she couldn’t risk crossing them. Not yet.
“You do your job, Agent Snell. I’ll do mine and the terms of our agreement will remain intact. Now about the loose end…where can I find Jake Caldwell?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Thirty minutes before Voleski was set to meet Jake Caldwell, he called his girlfriend’s cell phone and left her specific instructions of what to bring to the club. She packed a light tote bag with a few essentials, her passport, and the Glock 19 Voleski had stashed under the bed. The gun was a little bigger than the one he trained her on, but she could shoot it fine if that became necessary. She hauled the bag to the front door of the apartment and took one last look around, knowing full well she wouldn’t set foot in the place again. What she left could easily be replaced. She’d be able to buy anything she wanted after midnight. She yanked the door shut and headed north toward Dreams.
* * *
“There she goes,” Devaroux said.
“About fucking time,” Stanton said, sitting up in his seat. He wanted a shower and a shave, and to change his stale, rumpled clothes. “We’ve been cooped up in here so long you’re starting to look cute. Follow her.”
Devaroux started the car and trailed the girl up the block. “We should take her now.”
“If we wanted to do that, we would have nabbed her last night. We’re supposed to get the case and Voleski. Bet you twenty bucks she’s meeting him.”
“She’d better be.” Devaroux checked his watch. “We’re down to eleven hours left.”
* * *
Twenty minutes outside of Kansas City, Bear disconnected his cell and tapped the unit on his leg like a drumstick.
“Logan’s secure. They moved him to another floor and changed his registration name. Have a cop outside the door and one inside the room. Voleski won’t get near him.”
“That’s at least one thing we have going. It negates Voleski’s leverage on us.”
Bear watched the road ahead, eyes vacant, deep in thought. He opened his mouth to say something but instead settled back in his seat.
“What?” Jake asked.
“We should call Snell.”
Jake flinched. “Why?”
“Why not? She’s in the fucking FBI. She has resources we don’t.”
Jake inhaled deeply and wiped his teeth with his tongue. His spider-sense tingled when he thought of Snell. What was it about her? Maybe it was the way she folded into herself to shut everyone out. Maybe it was that secret she couldn’t or wouldn’t tell, that one bubbling at the surface just waiting to burst out. She dangled it in front of Jake like Lucy held the football for Charlie Brown, just waiting for him to commit before yanking it out of reach. Jake didn’t want to end up flat on his ass because of her.
“I can’t trust her,” Jake said.
“Why? And give me something other than your gut feelings.”
“That’s all I have, Bear. They’ve served me well in life so far.”
“Seriously? You really want to examine your life track record and tell me your gut feelings have led you down a road of prosperity and joy?”
“They’ve saved my ass more than once.”
Bear laughed. “No, you being a bad-ass motherfucker with fists of fury has saved your ass more than once.”
“What’s your point?” Jake got the feeling he was on the losing end of this argument. Bear had a way of wearing you down.
“Snell may be hiding something,” Bear said, “but I’ve worked with her enough to know she’s one of the good guys.”
“That was over five years ago. People change. Motivations change.”
“Everything changes. You go around questioning everyone’s motivations on everything and you’re going to end up being a dog chasing its tail and getting nowhere. You gotta trust somebody, Jake.”
“I trust you and Maggie. Not much beyond that.”
“We don’t know what we’re rolling into,” Bear said.
Jake said nothing and drove.
“Could be some kind of trap,” Bear continued.
Jake drummed the wheel before turning on the radio. Kenny Chesney sang about Beer Can Chicken. Bear turned the radio off.
“Be nice to have another gun watching our backs,” Bear said.
Jake groaned and smacked the back of his head against the rest, realizing there would be no shutting his friend down. “Fine. Call her.”
* * *
“I’ll meet you there.” Snell tossed the phone on her desk. She leaned back in her chair in the FBI office and glanced at the clock on the wall—her service anniversary award for her first ten years in the Bureau. A senior agent named Bryce gave it to her in front of a gathering of her peers. She’d reported to Bryce for just a few weeks, and he relied on observations from her fellow agents. His comments about her character during the short recognition ceremony included honest, hard-working and trustworthy.
Honest. Trustworthy. Her daughter’s face beamed from the screen-printed mouse pad on her desk. From her fifth birthday—all teeth and rosy cheeks covered with watermelon juice. They had been all alone. The Dynamic Duo. The only thing her baby girl wanted for her birthday was her daddy and all the watermelon she could eat. She hadn’t gotten her baby an appearance from her worthless father, but she got her the melon. As difficult as those years were, they were much simpler than today’s world.
Snell’s face burned, and the world grew blurry, guilt weighing her down in her chair. She knew what she wanted to do. She knew what she should do. Instead, she did what they told her to do. She snatched her cell and dialed the number she’d been given, her fingers slow and unwilling. The man answered.
“He’ll be at Dreams in fifteen minutes,” she said. The man clicked off without a word. Snell buried her face in her hands, and hot tears coursed down her cheeks. Everything she loved and worked for clashed together in a whirlwind of someone else’s power and greed.
The minutes clicked away. Honest. Trustworthy. She slammed her fist on her desk, the keyboard and a homemade ceramic pencil holder jumping from the force. She grabbed her gun and jacket and trotted out the door. She couldn’t unring the bell she’d rung, but maybe she could do something to allow her to live with herself. Two minutes later, she was in her car speeding toward the strip club.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jake peeled off the highway and darted through the River Market, stopping in front of Rudy’s Rib Shack. It was a flat-topped expanse of dingy concrete, not a shack, but it served up some mean ribs and burnt ends.
“You’re stopping for lunch?” Bear asked.
“We have a few minutes and I want to check something since we’re by Logan’s place.”
Jake jogged into the building and was out in a few minutes with a greasy white bag. He set it in the console between him and Bear. The smell of mesquite and spices wafted through the truck. Bear licked his lips and fingered the bag opening.
“Don’t eat it,” Jake said. “It’s not for you.”
“You didn’t get me anything?”
“You’re watching your cholesterol, remember.”
Bear’s eyes smoldered. “You’re a dick.”
They left the River Market and headed toward Logan’s office. Jake stopped at the curb and snagged the bag. “Give me a couple minutes.”
Jake ignored Bear’s plea for at least one onion ring, took the stairs to Logan’s floor two at a time, and knocked on Marcus’s door. The old man’s feet shuffled against the hardwood followed by the clicks of locks. Marcus stuck his chrome dome out the door, grinning.
“That barbecue?” he asked.
“From Rudy’s. Though I should throw it away after you let me get busted the other day.”
Marcus shrugged. “What can I say? They snuck past me. I ain’t as sharp as I used to be.”
Jake handed him the bag and drew out his phone. “Tell you what, you answer one simple question, and all is forgiven.”
He punched up Ogio’s text message with the picture and showed it to Marcus.
“Am I supposed to recognize the guy in the picture?” Marcus asked.
“I’m hoping so.”
Marcus looked at the bag in his hand. “You get me fries, too?”
“Better. Onion rings.”
Marcus smiled. “That’s one of the four guys that beat up Logan.”
* * *
“Get what you needed?” Bear asked as Jake climbed back in.
“Yup. I know who kicked the shit out of Logan now.”
Bear waited; eyebrows raised. “You going to tell me or make me guess?”
“I’ll let you know when we see them. Let’s go get Voleski.”
Jake and Bear arrived at Dreams ten minutes to three, parking in the lone remaining space in the back. Jake checked the magazine on his Glock and jacked a round into the chamber. Bear held a Sig Sauer P226 9 mm in his lap.
“You ready for this?” Jake asked.
“I’d be better with some of those ribs in my belly, but I’ll live. What are we looking at when we get in there?”
“Bar area and stages with naked girls. If you can avoid tripping over your tongue, Voleski will be in a back room hidden by a curtain behind the bar. Short hallway leading to a thirty-by-thirty room, couches and armchairs in the middle. Another hallway behind the couch leading to an exterior door that dumps in the alley.”
Bear absorbed the description. “We should have fuckin’ shotguns for this kind of deal.”
“I don’t have a shotgun.”
“You should get one. In case you have to storm an enclosed room with bad guys in it.”
“I don’t need a shotgun,” Jake said. “I have you.”
“What if they have shotguns?”
“I still have you. You take the blast, and I stand behind you.”
Bear’s eyes narrowed. “That plan sucks. I already got shot for you once.”
“If you wanna be a pussy about it, you could cower in the alley and cover the exit in case Voleski makes a run for it.”
“But I wouldn’t get to watch the naked girls.”
Jake allowed a wry grin to creep up. “We all have to make sacrifices, Bear.”
Bear scratched his beard a few times. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Stanton and Devaroux followed Voleski’s girlfriend block after block. Stanton wished they had another car so they could bob and weave, keep her in their line of sight but not stick out like a sore thumb. They trolled a half-block back and hoped her observation skills weren’t up-to-par. They lost her a couple of heart-pounding times when traffic lights held them but managed to pick her up again.
The girl clipped around a corner onto Grand Avenue. They slowed at the corner and spotted her fifty yards ahead, talking to a giant black man in a skin-tight, t-shirt two sizes too small under an awning outside a brick-faced building—the entrance to Dreams. Stanton pointed to a nearby spot on the street, and Devaroux pulled in behind a white panel van.
“I can’t see shit,” Devaroux said. “Damn van is blocking me out.”
“She’s talking to a big, black guy outside the titty bar,” Stanton said, leaning against the passenger door where he could see around the back end of the van to the sidewalk.
“You ever been in this one?”
Stanton shook his head. “Strip clubs don’t make much sense to me.”
“How so?” Devaroux asked.
“If you were starving and hadn’t eaten for days, would you pay hundreds of dollars to let someone wave a juicy, T-bone steak in front of you? You can see it, you can smell it, you might even get a little lick of it, but you can’t eat it. Would you?”<
br />
“Probably not.”
“Same premise with a strip club except the steak gives you herpes if you eat it.”
Devaroux ticked his head to the side. “I guess you have a point.”
The girl stroked the bouncer’s arm and disappeared through the door to Dreams. No sign of Voleski yet. Two big guys, one clean-shaven and one with a beard rounded the corner from the nearby parking lot. They stopped and talked to the bouncer outside the building.
“Check it out,” Devaroux said, pointing across the street to their left.
Stanton followed his partner’s finger. Two guys in dark suits and sunglasses in a shiny, black Escalade glided into an empty slot across the street.
“Recognize those two?” Devaroux asked.
Stanton did indeed. “The Senator’s lap dogs. This is getting interesting.”
* * *
Jake and Bear rounded the corner from the parking lot. Marco the Bouncer was on duty, his gaze locked on the swinging back end of a red-head walking into the club. Probably one of the dancers. Marco spotted Jake and peeled away from the girl’s ass, taking a defensive position in front of the door. Jake smiled to show there were no hard feelings. Marco didn’t respond in kind.
“What the fuck do you want?” Marco crossed his arms across his thick chest, striations of muscle threatening to burst through his dark skin.
“Just a drink,” Jake said. “No trouble this time.”
“We don’t serve alcohol. Try the bars in the Power & Light district.”
“But they don’t have naked girls in the P&L,” Bear said. “It’s not the same.”
Marco ran his eyes up and down Bear. “You with him?”
“Sometimes,” Bear said. “When he’s not being an asshole.”
“He made me climb the stairs. I hate those stairs.”
“Yeah,” Bear said. “But I heard you made him pay for it. Call it even.”
Jake Caldwell Thrillers Page 39