Choked Up

by Janey Mack

  The maître d’ led us to Eddie’s table, set for six this evening. Zuzu Coles, Eddie, Mayor Coles, and three empty chairs. Zuzu gave a girlish giggle. “We’re so very improper around here. But boys will be boys, talking over each other. I find it’s easier this way.”

  Stannis sat next to the mayor. I sat on Stannis’s left next to the empty chair between Zuzu and me that I assumed belonged to Bobby Blaze.

  “Chyornyj Yastreb will not be with us tonight, Vatra Anđeo,” Stannis said softly to me. “He had some difficulties in his travel plans. But you will meet him soon enough.”

  One less gangster to worry about.

  As soon as politely possible, I made a beeline for the restroom and texted Edward.

  Ever see The Eagle Has Landed? Maybe I can come by tomorrow and we’ll watch it on Netflix.

  I returned to my seat, only to have Zuzu pat the chair next to her. “Miss McGrane?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Zuzu, please.” She smiled but her eyes were shrewd. “Why, are you wearing an engagement ring?”

  “Yes.”

  “To Mr. Renko?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Why, isn’t it the sweetest thing you ever heard, Talbott?” Zuzu exclaimed. “Eddie had just told me the terrifying story of how Mr. Renko saved Miss McGrane from a violent assault.” She pressed her hand theatrically to her breast. “Have you ever heard of anything so romantic?”

  For a split second I actually wondered if steam would shoot out of Talbott Cottle Coles’s ears.

  Apparently Zuzu did, too. “Eddie, dearest, shall we order champagne for the table?”

  Eddie grinned. “Certainly.”

  Stannis showed no interest in anything or anyone, including me.

  “Mr. Veteratti,” I said, trying to calm the bizarro love triangle at the table, “you are too kind. While it is so generous of you and Mrs. Coles, Stannis and I are not here as your guests. We came to celebrate a success amidst friends. And as is the Serbian way, rakija is our drink this night.”

  “What kind of success?” Eddie asked.

  Stannis eyed him coldly. “Not yours.”

  Seriously? WTH?!

  Eddie jammed a finger in his ear and shook it. “Oh, I fuckin’ know you din’t just say that to me.”

  “My business is not your business.”

  “You’re in my goddamn town, asshole. You think you talk to the Don and everything’s copacetic? Is that it?”

  “Yes.” Stannislav’s hand strayed toward his pants pocket.

  “Eddie, really!” Zuzu put a hand on his arm.

  “Just kidding around, Zuzu baby.” Eddie backed down, thinking he had lost a step with Zuzu. He scowled at Stannis. “Renko’s the biggest fucking joker of them all. Isn’t that right, Miss McGrane?”

  Whoa. Definitely put a foot wrong tonight.

  I flashed Stannis a love look for Zuzu’s benefit. “Oh, he’s the king.”

  Zuzu didn’t care either way. “Eddie, let’s us toast their future together with your fabulous champagne cocktails.”

  This perked Eddie up tremendously. He gestured and the waiter was instantly at his side, taking his order. Eddie and Zuzu put their heads together behind the menu in deep discussion.

  I stared uncomfortably into space, ignored on both sides.

  Talbott tipped his head to Stannis. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said, voice low and forcibly contained. “You know who her fucking family is, don’t you?” He sounded eerily like Eddie. “Cops and lawyers.”

  “Defense attorneys,” Stannis said. “I meet her mother last week at Tru. Lovely woman.”

  That didn’t go over well. “Is she your fucking secretary or isn’t she?”

  “Vatra Anđeo is no secretary.” Stannis gave him an electric smile with sparks dancing in his eyes to match. “She is my luck.”

  “Good luck charm? That calamitous bitch?”

  Stannis turned slowly to face Coles head-on. “Never call her that.”

  Coles shook his head, jaw slung forward. He glared at me. “There’s a contract in the car I want to show Eddie. Why don’t you go fetch it?”

  Luckily, Stannis didn’t recognize “fetch” as Coles meant it. Any reason to get away from this sniping was good enough for me. I stood up. “I’d be happy to, sir.”

  Stannis caught my wrist and pulled me down to whisper in my ear, “Take man with you.”

  I nodded and he let go.

  On the way out, I stopped in the lounge to see just who the lucky winner was going to be.

  Not Gorilla, who had a girl in a shiny gold dress sitting on his lap. Kontrolyor loomed sullenly in the corner, mouth in a snarl. I signaled him over. “Can you walk me outside but not stay too close?”

  “That is not valid protection,” Kon said.

  I gave him a polite smile. “Fine. I’ll ask someone else.” I surveyed the lounge full of drunken patrons.

  Kon blew out his breath and held out his arm. I took it and he escorted me out of The Storkling and into the night.

  Fifty feet ahead of the valet stand, Zuzu’s Bentley was parked behind Coles’s limo, directly in front of the alley where Jeff Mant had tried to suffocate me.

  Ah, the memories.

  In full chauffeur regalia, Poppa Dozen leaned against the trunk of the limo, blowing smoke rings.

  “How about you wait right there?” I said to Kon and pointed to the mouth of the alley. Better than a kick in the shins, he begrudgingly obliged.

  “Hey, Dozen,” I said.

  Dozen gave me a lecherous once-over, complete with wolf whistle. “Damn! Where you been keepin’ your fine self, Bluebird? You out lookin’ for a razzle?”

  “Uh . . . no,” I said. “Coles sent me to retrieve some papers?”

  “Man ain’t got no papers.” Dozen fingered the soul patch on his chin. “He just want you to go away.”

  Yeah, I figured. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Well, we better find some. Renko’s not going to appreciate him sending me on a fool’s errand.”

  “Girl, where the fuck your head at? Din’t you hear me at Impound?”

  “I heard you.”

  “Hell, you did! Look, I ain’t gonna bust him out, but you saved my goddamn life. So I’m gonna tell you what I tole him, ‘I got no problem merking a mutherfucker. But I got a big problem merking a mutherfucker who done me a solid,’ you dig?”

  “Coles asked you to kill me?”

  “Yeah. But he weren’t serious at the time.”

  Cripes. I ran a hand through my hair.

  “Hold up!” Dozen grabbed my left hand, eyes wide.

  Kon lunged out of the shadows. “Easy, Kon,” I said. “It’s cool.”

  “No, it ain’t.” Dozen still held my hand. “Who side bustin’ our conversation?”

  “Renko’s man.” I freed my hand from his.

  “That a fuckin’ wedding ring?”

  “Engagement,” I corrected, “But—”

  “We be like . . . friends an’ shit, Bluebird, so lemme lay you some. Coles ain’t nice, and Renko ain’t nicer. Find yourself a new screw, you feel me?”

  “Yeah, I feel you.”

  Bobby Blaze was belting out a sexy, campy version of “My Man.” She caught my eye and then looked at an open table near the dance floor.

  A return delay to Stannis and Coles’s table of strife was A-okay in my book. At that moment I would have happily slipped on an apron and bussed tables.

  The torcher ended to healthy applause. The spot went dark and she exited the stage, making the rounds until she finally slid into the seat across from me.

  “Hey, kid.”

  “Hi, Paulette.”

  She put a finger to pursed lips. “I’m only allowed to be ‘Bobby’ in the club.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Thanks for New York,” she said. “I owe you.”

  “Fuhgeddaboudit. My Mob savvy is a direct result of continued exposure to The Godfather and Goodfellas.”

  “You’re f
unny. And fast. I owe you, Maisie.”

  I tried out my best Cagney. “If youda’ left me singin’ alone, see, I’d be just another canary wearing a Chicago overcoat.”

  Paulette was polite enough to laugh. She leaned across the table conspiratorially. “Things haven’t been going Eddie’s way lately. I’m not saying he’s in a jam or anything. But he’s a little touchy.”

  More than a little, at least on Thursday night.

  Hank’s Law Number Twenty: The most dangerous enemy is the one with nothing left to lose.

  I nodded. “This, too, shall pass, yeah?”

  Her red lips twisted up at one end. “Eddie may be a hophead asshole, but he’s my hophead asshole.”

  I couldn’t help glancing at Eddie V. and Zuzu cozied up at a private back corner table.

  “All clear on that front.” Bobby swung her curtain of auburn hair over her shoulder. “Gal’s got a stick so far up her ass, she never needs a toothpick.”

  I guess that’s one way to put it.

  “We oughtta get together, you and me. Have a girls’ night. What do you say?”

  “That’d be—”

  A long, low note played.

  Bobby jumped to her feet. “Later. I got another set.”

  I sat through one more song. But Coles and Stannis didn’t look any happier. With a sigh, I forced myself to return to the table. I stopped as I heard their low, angry voices.

  “It is business.”

  “You get engaged in Tampico and don’t tell me?” Coles said. “That’s monkey business.”

  Stannis’s face was shuttered. “Stop.”

  “Then you take her to Honduras for four fucking days.” Two angry red spots bloomed in Coles’s cheeks. “Honduras. And don’t bother telling me it wasn’t all white sand and sex.”

  “You make fool of yourself,” Stannis said coldly.

  If you’re trying to turn Coles inside out, you succeeded.

  I walked to the table, sans papers.

  “Where’s the contract?” Coles asked.

  Jackhole! Instead I said with a mouthful of honey, “Your driver said an aide picked it up.”

  A waiter pulled out my chair.

  “No.” Stannis got to his feet. “We go.”

  “You’re not leaving with her,” Coles said.

  Stannis took my hand and twined our fingers together. He raised my ringed finger to his mouth and kissed it.

  I’d seen the violent side of Stannis before. But never the sadistic one.

  We left Coles. Bitter and burning with fever.

  Chapter 42

  I sat at the kitchen bar, drinking a sugar-free Amp. “Be careful today,” I cautioned Stannis, as he slid his Smith & Wesson .44 short into the waistband holster at his back.

  He hesitated. “You worry? For me?”

  “Of course I do.” I twanged the metal tab on the top of the can. “Eddie’s a loose cannon. When his girlfriend lovingly describes him as a hophead asshole, it’s safe to assume he’s trouble.”

  “See? It is as I say. Drugs bad. Drugs scourge of business. Don Constantino would do well to kill him.”

  Okay-doke. Good talk. “You’re not planning to . . .”

  He laughed. “Eddie V. is not my trouble.”

  “He might be.”

  Stannis came over and kissed my cheek. “I like you to worry.” He pinched an inch between his fingers. “Only little.”

  He left with Kontrolyor, Raw Chicken driving them in the Range Rover to meet Black Hawk. That left me with hungover Gorilla, who was as sick as a small hospital. And about as mobile.

  The best liver and onions in town were at Au Cheval. But the lazy bastards didn’t open until 11:00 a.m., and honestly, who had that kind of time with a seven o’clock hangover?

  I coaxed Gorilla out of the house with a promise of as much as he could eat breakfast at Hollywood Grill on North Avenue. He gorged himself on eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausage, toast, hash browns, coffee, and a milkshake. When we left the restaurant Gorilla looked practically sprightly. Or at least much less green.

  “Where do you want to go?” he asked.

  “Silverthorn Estates. To see my uncle Edward. Then to my parents’ house.”

  Gorilla grunted and drove us to the assisted living facility.

  “I’m going to be a couple hours at least,” I said. “He wants to watch a movie. Call you when I’m done?”

  “Okey.” He drove me to the door, got out, and escorted me to the door.

  For once, I didn’t feel the slightest guilt at knowing he’d just be waiting around in the car. Nothing like a nap after a big breakfast.

  I rode up the elevator, straightening my black suit jacket, smoothing my pants, trying to gear up for a proper ass-chewing.

  Anita met me at the doors. “Good morning, Agent McGrane.”

  Oof. That hurts.

  I stiffened to keep my shoulders from sagging. “You, too.”

  She accompanied me to Danny Kaplan’s office, opening the door and closing it behind me.

  Not good.

  Hank’s Law Number Thirteen: Anyone can endure expected pain.

  Edward and Kaplan were in position at the conference table. Kaplan wore a pantsuit the color of an editor’s red pen, but it was Edward’s houndstooth sports coat over a polo shirt that was more damning than Anita’s door-to-door service.

  Bureaucratic trouble is always accompanied by formality.

  “Sit.” Danny pointed at the chair with a nail varnished the color of dried blood. “I honestly don’t even know where to begin. Edward?”

  Edward plucked at a salt-and-pepper brow. “’Twould be only fair to remember this is McGrane’s first undercover assignment.”

  “Horseshit!” Kaplan said. “Anyone savvy enough to ingratiate herself with Stannislav Renko can figure out how to get out and make a goddamn phone call.”

  Oh yeah? Why don’t you try it, sister?

  She put her elbows on the table, wrists limp. She resembled nothing so much as a praying mantis spray-painted scarlet. “Do you even realize what a clusterfuck this has become?”

  “No, ma’am,” I said. “After the shooting, Renko hasn’t allowed me anywhere unaccompanied.” I tapped the BOC watch they’d given me. “Lights up at the penthouse.”

  “The shooting?” Kaplan’s head twitched from side to side like Netflix with a signal lag.

  “Renko’s driver and I may have been targets at the Circle K two weeks ago Tuesday.”

  Edward put his hand on my arm. “Yeh didn’t report it, lass.”

  “No one was injured and it was impossible to know who the actual target was.”

  “I don’t recall receiving the memo that Special Unit had become an EEOE, do you, Edward?” Kaplan said. “But apparently we’ve hired our own idiot savant.”

  Aren’t you just as compassionate as your average Islamic terrorist?

  She ticked off on her fingers. “Unreported shooting. Damaged our relationship with the Feds. Faulty data—”

  “My information was solid,” I said, unable to stand it. “One of Renko’s men transferred the cars to another intermodal train yard. Renko had no idea until your men inspected the containers.”

  Kaplan and Edward exchanged a look. “Is it possible you’ve been compromised?” she asked.

  “No.” I shook my head. “Eddie Veteratti’s fallen out of favor with the Don Constantino. And he blames Renko.”

  She sat back in her chair. Her red suit was so vibrant I saw her negative reflection in green every time I closed my eyes.

  Kaplan raised her index finger. “Just for the record, who the hell gave you permission to go to Tampico, much less Honduras?”

  “Ma’am?” I asked.

  “How could you not consider this would compromise you as an agent? Or worse, compromise Special Unit, or even the BOC?”

  “I was in the continued presence of Renko and his men. I called in as soon as possible. The JLB train travelled via Juárez into Tampico, where the containers w
ere shifted to ship.”

  “That route is well-documented and irrelevant,” Kaplan sniped.

  Edward gave me a rueful smile. “Once the cars have left US soil, their value is gone.”

  Jaysus, why not kick me down the stairs and be done with it?

  Edward turned to her. “You must admit, her ability to get so close to Renko is remarkable.”

  Kaplan raised her hands in dismissal. “It’s up to Sawyer now.”

  Feck. I wasn’t serious.

  Anita had waited for me outside of Kaplan’s office.

  Terrific. I need a minder now.

  She walked me out past the Grims and into the assisted living hall. At her insistence, we stopped in the dining room and had a mini-bottle of water before resuming the march of the condemned. Past the dining room, library, and numerous private rooms.

  At the end of the hall, she rapped twice on the door, then twice again.

  It buzzed open.

  It was an office like any other privately held CEO’s. Elegant but utilitarian. I could detect the faint strains of Liszt. Walt Sawyer sat beind a banker’s desk of Carpathian Elm Burl, looking as suave and debonair as a Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. “Please, have a seat.”

  I perched on the edge of a wood-backed upholstered chair. My knee started bouncing. I crossed my legs at the ankles to stop it.

  “Last week, two-point-six million dollars’ worth of new cars were stolen from the very insurance companies paying Special Unit to take down Stannislav Renko.”

  I tried to swallow. The muscles in my throat worked, but nothing happened.

  “The largest single theft he’s pulled off to date. And one of my own agents accompanied him throughout this process.” Walt pressed his fingertips down on the black leather desk blotter. “You have proven yourself a brave and resourceful operative. But far too inexperienced for this assignment.”

  He bowed his flaxen head and said softly, “Patience and caution come with age and experience. I blame myself for allowing this situation to escalate beyond your range as a special agent.”

  “Sir, while I agree I have become very close to the subject—”

  “Your eagerness and inability to maintain boundaries has caused you to compromise the safety of Special Unit, yourself, and your family with the Grieco Cartel.”