"Who is threatening you?"
"A couple of thugs," he said. "They're acting on somebody else's behalf, of course. The man in charge probably won't show his face until it's absolutely necessary. I don't know, but I assume that's the way it works."
"Do you know this person's name? The one in charge?"
"I have an idea who he is. He has quite an operation going."
"But do you know his name?" she repeated. He frowned. She was being pushy again, and she feared it would draw his suspicion. "I mean, in case you have to go to the police," she added quickly.
He glanced down at his coffee cup. "I've already said more than I should. "The less you know, the less anyone knows, the better."
Jamie suspected she was on to something. The gods must be with her, because the last thing she had expected was to meet up with somebody who might be able to give her some information, albeit unintentionally, but answers nevertheless. She didn't have enough to go on, and she might never see the man again, which meant she had to act fast.
"Listen, Michael, I haven't eaten, either." Which was true. Her donut was untouched, and it had suddenly lost its appeal. "There must be a restaurant nearby where you can enjoy a healthy breakfast. And you really look like you need a friend."
"You don't even know me."
"I believe things happen for a reason."
"What do you mean?"
"Well ..." She paused. She was grasping at straws. "A lot of wonderful people helped me during my time of loss. If I can say one thing to help you, I've managed to return the favor." It sounded lame in her own ears, but he suddenly nodded as if it made complete sense to him. It didn't feel right that she was lying to him, using him, to get information, but it was necessary.
"There's a little place not far from here," he said after a moment. "I go there a lot. Or I did until recently," he added.
She offered him a bright smile, hoping she could bring one to his face as well, even under his current circumstances. "Tell you what, I've got an old truck outside, but it will probably get me to the restaurant. Why don't I follow you?"
* * * * *
When Jamie pulled into the driveway beside the cabin, she found Max pacing the yard. Lord, she hadn't realized how late she was. She and Michael had talked almost two hours before she'd thought to check her watch, before she'd finally mumbled a hurried good-bye. Unfortunately, Michael had not divulged more information about those threatening to extort money from him, as though he feared he'd already said too much. That didn't mean she was giving up.
Max yanked the door open as soon as she'd parked. "Where the hell have you been?"
"I told you I was going to Wal-Mart."
"We just got back from there. You weren't in the store or the restaurant area. Your truck wasn't in the parking lot. I tried to call you a dozen times. What happened?"
"Jeez, you were spying on me?" Jamie realized she had her head cocked to the side like Fleas did when she asked him if he had to take a leak.
"No, I wasn't spying on you; I was afraid you'd broken down in the truck or that something had happened. Jesus, Jamie, you've been gone for three hours."
She saw the deep concern on his face. She wanted to tell him the truth, about Michael and their meeting, but she needed time to think about it herself. She had sworn not to utter a word of what Michael had said to her. Sworn to him. And rule number one for journalists was never to compromise your source. Especially when there was more information to be had. Better to keep her mouth shut. For now.
Still, not confiding everything to Max felt like lying.
"Jamie?"
"Yeah?" This time Max had his head cocked to the side.
"I lost track of the time, OK? And I must've forgotten to turn on my cell phone. I'm sorry I worried you."
Jamie saw Dave leaning against the Bennett Electric truck. He wore a thick bandage on his arm. He was staring at Fleas.
"Is that your dog?" he asked. When Jamie nodded, he gave a deep frown. "I'm allergic to dog dander. Dust mites thrive on animal dander."
"Dust mites thrive on everything, Dave," Max said, "including your own skin."
"I'm not as allergic to poodles or Italian greyhounds," Dave went on as though he hadn't heard Max. "Oh, and whippets and Mexican hairless dogs are pretty much hypoallergenic. I wish you had a poodle," he told Jamie.
Jamie looked at Fleas, who had followed her out of the truck. She tried to imagine him as a poodle and couldn't. "He's really a good dog," she said.
"Don't you take allergy shots and medication?" Max asked Dave.
Dave ignored him. "My eyes are already itching." He stepped closer to Max. "Are they red and puffy?"
"They look perfectly normal to me."
"I'll try to keep the dog away from you," Jamie promised.
Dave sighed. "I suppose I can double up on my medication. I may have to run back to the hospital for an allergy shot."
Max turned to Jamie. "Dave is going to follow us to Knoxville for your rendezvous with Rawlins."
"Us?"
"I'll drive you part of the way so I can get updates from Muffin. Once we're at the hotel, Dave and I will be close by in case something happens."
"What if Harlan recognizes you?"
"He won't see me." He paused. "Trust me, Rawlins has something up his sleeve or he wouldn't have invited you to lunch at a hotel in Knoxville."
"He's a womanizer, Max. That doesn't make him dangerous."
"What are you going to do when he suggests getting a room?"
Jamie had already considered it. And planned for it. She had purchased an extra-strength fast-acting laxative in the pharmacy at Wal-Mart, and she planned to put it in Rawlins's tea or coffee if the opportunity presented itself. It was probably the dumbest idea she'd ever had, which was why she had no intention of telling Max, but it might prove a deterrent if things got out of hand.
"I'm going to have to play it by ear, Max," she said after a moment. "I have to appear interested and hope I gain his trust without, well, you know—"
"Yeah, I know. Which brings me to the next subject," he said. "I think you should wear a wire. In case something happens."
Jamie looked from Max to Dave, then back at Max. "That's kinda risky, isn't it?"
"Going in without a wire would be more of a risk," Max replied. "Dave and I have had Rawlins under surveillance since yesterday. From what we've been able to learn through his conversations with his bodyguard, he mouthed off at the guy who's been bleeding him for money the past few years. Have you heard of the Santoni family?"
Jamie nodded. "Who hasn't? Two of them went to trial a few years back for murder."
"They whacked a cop who was on the family's payroll," Dave said. "Supposedly, it was an honest mistake, but you don't kill cops, especially the ones covering your ass."
"They got off, if I remember correctly," she said.
"The star witness literally disappeared off the face of the earth," he said, "despite around-the-clock police protection. One of the shooters, Nick Santoni, was involved in the cop killing. His uncle sent him to Tennessee, as sort of a punishment. The other shooter accidentally drowned in his bathtub."
Jamie arched one brow. "How come Nick Santoni didn't suffer the same consequences?"
"His father headed up the family until he died of a heart attack five years ago," Max said. "Nick was supposed to take his place, but the family vetoed it, and Nick's uncle was forced to come out of retirement and take over. He wanted to see Nick eventually head up the family, but it isn't likely."
"Why not?" Jamie asked.
"Nick has a habit of disobeying orders, moving in on other people's territory, you name it. He's got a chip on his shoulder and doesn't get along with the family, except for this uncle."
Jamie pondered it. "That's odd, since the uncle is the one who took what Nick would consider his rightful place."
"This uncle protects Nick," Dave said. "Not only is he Nick's godfather, Nick was always his favorite. So he sent him here, an
d Nick has opened shop, so to speak. He's got Rawlins by the short hairs. On top of that, we think Nick is supplying Rawlins with uppers and downers."
"The rest of the family merely tolerate Nick," Max told her, "but it looks like Nick regained their favor when he got his hooks into Rawlins. But Nick has a serious gambling problem and squanders money. Both the Santoni family and Harlan put up the money to buy my TV network but lost the bid. Harlan is convinced Nick blew the money in Atlantic City, at least that's what we heard him tell Reed, and it's a real possibility, since Nick visits the area a couple of times a month.
"Now, Nick has raised Rawlins's percentage, probably hoping to pacify the family until he can get his hands on enough money to pay them back. But Rawlins has had enough, despite the fact Nick is feeding what looks like a drug addiction. Rawlins is thinking of going over Nick's head and telling the uncle the truth."
"The mob has their own code of ethics," Dave said. "Family honor and all that. Nick is a rogue player who doesn't care who he hurts as long as he gets what he wants. And right now he wants and needs money. If he catches wind that Rawlins is thinking of blowing the whistle on him, he could get really dangerous."
"Either way, Nick loses," Max said. "If he has Rawlins killed or pushes him too far, there goes his meal ticket, and the family is going to wash their hands of him. If he lets Rawlins live, there's a chance he's going to be found out."
"And that could be equally bad," Dave said. "Would Nick's own family kill him?" Jamie asked.
"It's been known to happen," Dave said. "Nick Santoni is a desperate man right now. He'll probably try to make some quick business deals in order to get his hands on money. Max and I don't know exactly what he's involved in, although it's almost a sure thing he's involved in prostitution, backroom gambling, drugs, and probably gunrunning, just to name a few. We tapped into his computer yesterday, but we haven't been able to decipher the information."
"It's all coded," Max said. "The codes are similar to those used by the CIA, but damned if I've been able to crack them. We need more time."
"That's why we're concerned about your meeting with Rawlins," Dave said. "Harlan's bodyguard checks for bugs in the office and home every day, but Nick may have found a way to prevent detection. We did it by hooking into the phones and cameras."
"What it boils down to," Max said, "is we don't know what Nick knows. If he even suspects Harlan might go over his head there's going to be trouble. Big trouble. And you just might find yourself right in the middle of it."
Chapter Ten
"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Jamie asked.
"We're gathering information as we speak," Max said. "While you've been, um, shopping, Muffin has been hard at work tapping into every resource she can find. She's been e-mailing information to us as she gets it." He paused. "I'm not holding back anything, if that's what you think."
Which explained why Muffin hadn't questioned Jamie when she had returned to the truck after having breakfast with Michael, she thought. Muffin had been preoccupied. And Jamie hadn't offered an explanation because she knew Muffin would say something to Max.
And then Max would interrogate her to the nth degree about Michael.
Jamie was determined to get information from Michael, which was why she had suggested they meet again the following day. But she was going to be careful and subtle about it. Max had his mighty computer and enough contacts to overthrow a small country, but she had genuine empathy for people, and she hoped Michael would sense it and open up. She felt a little guilty about using him when he was grieving and probably at his most vulnerable, but she might be able to help him in the end as well. If she did learn something, if it was something that could put Michael in danger, then she would have reason enough to break her oath and tell Max.
She suddenly realized Max was talking to her.
"... So far we don't have much on Santoni. Other than a couple of photos of him ducking in and out of the courtroom during his trial," he added. "They're not very clear. Also, he wore a beard at the time, so he could look completely different today. He has a number of aliases, which make it hard to get an address or anything else on him.
"I suspect he stays in the background as much as possible. He's probably got a couple of men he trusts who see that his orders are followed. Which is how it usually works for those in the upper echelon; they look like legitimate businessmen, but the businesses are merely fronts for illegal activity."
"Do you think Nick Santoni hired Vito Puccini and ordered the hit on you?"
Max nodded. "We have it on tape. Harlan discussed it with his bodyguard at length after Santoni paid him a visit yesterday. Rawlins had nothing to do with arranging it, but I think he suspected something was going on, and for some reason he decided not to go to the police. Which leads me to believe Santoni has something on him," he added. "Rawlins might be a lot of things, but he's probably not a killer. We still think you should wear a wire. In case there are any surprises."
Jamie didn't look convinced.
"It's like this," Max said. "I don't like the idea of your meeting with Harlan in the first place, but it's already set up, so I'll agree to it, but only if you're wired. I want to know where you are at all times. Otherwise, I'm calling this whole thing off."
He and Jamie locked gazes in a battle of wills. "What if Harlan discovers the wire?" she asked.
Max met her gaze. "That's not likely to happen as long as you keep your clothes on, Swifty."
* * * * *
Muffin greeted Max and Jamie in a surly voice when they climbed into the truck at ten-thirty for the drive to Knoxville. "That dog whines constantly. I don't like it."
"I know he's an inconvenience right now, Muffin," Jamie said, "but I don't know what to do with him."
"Try the animal shelter."
"Nobody would adopt him."
"Is he ugly?"
Jamie and Max both glanced over their shoulders at Fleas, who had his face pressed against the back window. Max shrugged; Jamie grinned. "Actually, he's pretty cute," she said.
"I guess it could be worse," Muffin said. "I guess I could be strapped to a moped or tied to the back of a mule."
"You should feel flattered that we need you so badly," Jamie told her as Max pulled from the driveway with Dave following. She glanced at Max. He looked distracted; Jamie knew he was worried.
"This is your big day, huh?" Muffin said. "You're having lunch with Rawlins."
"Uh-huh."
"You wearing your slut outfit?"
"No, I toned it down since we're meeting at the Hyatt Regency."
"Her skirt is a little short," Max said, "and she's wearing a push-up bra. If she sneezes she's going to pop out all over the place."
"And get this, Muffin," Jamie said. "I'm wearing a wire."
"You planning on doing the nasty?" Muffin asked.
Jamie gave a burst of laughter. "I don't believe you said that."
"Because if you are, you're going to have to excuse yourself and go to the rest room so you can remove that wire. Things get too hot, it might short-circuit on you."
"Time to change the subject," Max said. "You got anything new for me?"
"I'm still trying to find an address for Santoni. The man doesn't exist on paper, not even under the aliases he's used. Doesn't own property, doesn't even pay a light bill. I figure his family got all new identification for him when he relocated to Knoxville."
"Maybe he lives in Sweet Pea," Max said. "A man like that would enjoy the seclusion this area offers."
"I'll keep looking. As for looking into Harlan Rawlins, I've checked police records within a three-hundred-mile radius. There's a lot of domestic violence in this part of the country, which I attribute to financial stress. The unemployment rate here is very high. Harlan has never been arrested, but I did find something interesting when I checked the local hospital records. Harlan's wife has visited the emergency room twice, once for a fractured wrist which she claimed happened as a result of falling off her h
orse, and another time with a concussion when the same horse threw her and she hit her head against a tree."
"It sounds legit," Jamie said.
"Sounds like she needs to get rid of the horse," Max said. "Or Rawlins," he added. "If he was actually abusing his wife and Santoni knew, that in itself could be cause for blackmail." He pulled into the parking lot of a gas station. "The Hyatt is less than a mile from here. Dave and I will follow you. We'll be close by at all times.
"Now listen to me, Jamie. If Harlan suggests going upstairs to a room, I want you to get the number to me. I don't care how you do it, work it into the conversation somehow, but make sure you say it loud enough for me to hear."
Jamie nodded. "I'll be OK, Max."
"One last thing. If there are any surprises, scream like hell. Dave and I will kick in the door if we have to, but I don't want you taking chances. I don't care if we blow the case or not when it comes to your safety."
"I'll be careful, I promise."
They climbed from the truck, and Jamie got in on the driver's side. As she put it into gear, she noticed her hand was trembling. She pulled onto the street once more and headed for the hotel.
Jamie noted the strange look on the valet's face as she pulled up to the Hyatt entrance. She didn't know if he was more amazed at the amount of rust on the truck or the sight of Fleas in back.
She handed the young man her key and smiled. "It's an antique," she said, motioning to the truck. "Please see that you don't put a scratch on it."
He remained straight-faced. "Yes, ma'am. I'll take good care of it. What about the dog?"
"He'll be fine. He's got food and water back there."
"You're not worried someone might take him?"
Jamie patted her wig into place. "Would you be if you were me?"
He looked at the animal. "On second thought, no."
Ward Reed was waiting for Jamie in the lobby. He motioned her toward the elevator. "Reverend Rawlins decided to order lunch in his private suite," he said. "I hope you don't mind."
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