Detour Paris: Complete Series (Detour Paris Series Book 4)

by Dancer, Jack

  It's James.

  “Hello,” I answer, low and suspecting.

  “It's James, Tucker. We need to meet again, tonight, early evening if you can. I have some information, new information, and you're going to want to hear it . . . Tucker, are you there?”

  “Yes, I'm here.”

  “Good, can you come over here? I mean to the Fira. Meet me in your old room . . . the room you had with Ebba? You still have a pass card don't you?”

  I pause. "Yes, I think so.”

  “Okay, then over here . . . say . . . seven thirty, yeah, seven thirty. Okay, Tucker?”

  Pushy little bastard when he wants to be. He bulldozes ahead. No chance to respond.

  “I don't hear you, Tucker, so I'm taking that as a yes. Listen, Tucker I gotta go; I'll see you tonight.” And the son-of-a-bitch hangs up already.

  I think if I have to talk to one more person today I'm going to lose it. Who would have ever thought hiding out would be so freaking busy?

  What the hell's he wanting now? What's he going to tell me? Something I already know? Probably. And I have to go all the way over there just to hear something I already know? I don't want to go to the friggin' Fira. Back to the room where it all started? Well, almost started. Shit. I don't have time for this. Creepy too, being back in that room. I've hardly thought of Ebba lately. Poor woman. Wonder what's been happening with her. Hope she's alive and not suffering. None of 'em has done anything to deserve that. Who wouldn't be suffering something . . . held against your will? I should be ashamed. She's been gone nearly a week and Terry too.

  I go to the kitchen for a glass of water, then lie on the couch and let my bones settle in for a few minutes, and boy when they do; everything collapses into itself. It feels good just to lay here in the quiet and peace.

  Stop.

  Listen.

  Quiet.

  Like a graveyard.

  ***

  I don't bother knocking, just slide my keycard through the reader, and let the soft click open the door and walk through, startling James, who comes off the couch in surprise.

  “Give me a second I really gotta go,” I say and pop over to open the bathroom door. And when I do . . .Holy shit!” I jump seeing Lisa standing there in front of the toilet, lid up, peeing like a man. "Sorry, I didn't . . .” and swiftly close the door.

  "Did I just see . . . never mind,” I say and walk over to James with my hand out.

  “Sorry, the traffic was murder.”

  The toilet flushes and a moment later Lisa walks out with her eyes locked on me and says, "your turn.”

  “Thanks,” I say and hurry past her locking the door behind me. No need raising the lid and seat.

  What the hell? I'm thinking. Did I just see what I think I saw? Yes, I'm not blind. Lisa's a friggin’ guy? Or, maybe she's just learned to stand and pee . . . naw. Impossible. I've never heard of such a thing . . . ever. She's a he? I would've never . . . Damn, she's a good-looking guy; I mean he's a good looking . . . never mind. Zip, flush and I lower the lid then step over to the washbasin and throw cold water on my face.

  Maybe it was an illusion, I'm thinking. I didn't see a prick so . . . who knows?

  Coming out of the bathroom, James is on the couch but looking around, no Lisa.

  “Don't bother, Tucker; she's gone; you embarrassed her,” he says.

  “Sorry man, I didn't mean to.”

  “The world has changed, Tucker. Get used to it. It wasn't long ago fags like me couldn't get into this line of business except for special, undercover work.”

  “Guess so. I didn't mean to embarrass her . . . him . . . whatever,” I stumble.

  “She's a he and his real name is Leroy. I've known him for years, and he's going through the transition now, stage one. She looks damn good though, huh?”

  “Yeah, had me fooled.”

  “Fools everybody and that's exactly why Leroy needs to be Lisa, you know, to be who he really is; she is, I mean. She just needs to kick the old habits and think about what she's doing sometimes and remember she's a lady now. Its hard though.” he cracks a smile at his slip of the tongue, "I mean, ha, ha, see? I can't even keep it straight myself. Oops, there I go again. You can't say anything without it being a double entendre can you?” he says.

  “And they made you two partners?” I ask.

  “Yeah? So what?” he says defensively.

  “Nothing. Just a little irony in there somewhere,” I say, "don't get all worked up about it, for crying out loud. Look, can we just get on with it? What is it you have planned?”

  “Fine. You can apologize to her later.”

  “What? Apologize she's a he?”

  “Don't be a smart-ass, Tucker. It's not nice, and it just makes things more difficult for us,” he whines.

  “Us, who’s us?”

  “You know what I mean. All right just drop it. Look, what I have planned for tomorrow is pretty simple. We'll be at the location an hour or so beforehand, in position.”

  “Who're we?” I ask interrupting him.

  “Me, Lisa, maybe somebody else on the team.”

  “Leroy?”

  “Watch it, Tucker. And I'd advise you not to address him as Leroy. She's Lisa, address her as Lisa, that's her name.”

  “Fine. So, who else, James? Who's the rest of the team?”

  “That's yet to be determined. You don't have to concern yourself with that. We'll have someone else there, and you'll see none of us anyway. We'll be thoroughly in the background.”

  I've got to turn away at that because a blood vein just ripped in my neck and I need to not blow it and strangle this guy. I turn back.

  “Look James. Don't get snippy with me," I say pointing my finger into his face. "This is my money, we're talking about, not yours and not the government's. Mine. So, don't tell me it's none of my concern.”

  “Sorry, Tucker. I didn't mean it that way," he says stepping back, "I know it's your money; the government knows it. Trust me here, Tucker, we'll have at least one other person on site; I just don't know who right now. My boss and another operative are flying in tonight, late, so I don't have a name to give you, and even if I could I'd need clearance.”

  “Clearance huh? Okay, fine. So, remind me again, James, why is it, I want you guys involved in this? I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything, but you need to understand a couple of things here. I've been dealing with a lot of shit this past week starting with one guy dropping dead in my train compartment, three kidnappings, two of whom were very dear people to me.”

  I dig my stare into him and emphasize, "And don't you even start with the wise cracks.”

  “I'm not saying anything,” he says, palms out.

  “Yeah, well it wouldn't be difficult. Men I don’t know have stalked me, and do I know why. I've been threatened and assaulted on more than one occasion, lied to; I've been forced into hiding to protect myself; this is costing me nearly three million dollars, and I haven't even had a vacation yet. Now, you show up at the eleventh hour wanting to save the day. Well, let me tell you. You and Lisa, or Leroy or whatever the fuck it's name is.”

  “Lisa.”

  “Yeah, Lisa. You two have been around all week, and you could've done something. You knew about these flight crew scammers from the very beginning and still, three people are missing.”

  “Now wait a minute we couldn't prevent . . .”

  “Bullshit, you couldn't prevent. You had suspects; you knew what was going to happen.” I pause and think, "Yeah, and how about those suspects? All you've told me is you suspect Pat.”

  “And we still do, Tucker. I'm fully confident when you make the ransom payment tomorrow, if it's not Patrick himself who makes the pickup, I'd lay money it'll lead directly to him and when it does . . .”

  “You're not laying any money on anything, James.”

  “You know what I mean, Tucker. It was a figure of speech.”

  “The only figure is what I'm putting on the table tomorrow and as far as suspects
go, the only one you've mentioned to me is, Pat. You told me Nanette wasn't involved.”

  “She isn't.”

  "You said neither Terry nor Ebba is involved except as victims."

  "They aren't."

  “Then, just who else is on your list or do you even have any other suspects?”

  “Okay, there's another flight attendant, Evelyn, who we've got pegged as a definite maybe.”

  Holy shit. Nanette.

  “What about Nanette? She a suspect?” I ask again to see if he slips.

  “I already told you, no, she's not a suspect. We've had her checked out from here to Sunday.”

  Uh oh. Now, I know you don't know shit because Nanette told me at the Taverna la Tomaquera last Monday her "friend Evelyn” had already given her a heads-up on Monica and me. If Evelyn rates a "definite” on the suspect list, then Nanette's got to be at least, a maybe. Why would Evelyn give Nanette a heads-up on us in the first place? I'll tell you why. Evelyn was letting her know the mark is on his way, only taking a different route. They must have gotten a real kick talking about how Ebba's boyfriend is on his way; except he happens to be with another woman and is taking his time about it. And, by the way, did you know they're honeymooning! Cause we told Evelyn that. This wasn't just a newsy update on the mark; this was gossip so juicy they must have been wetting their panties!

  This is too rich! And it's everything I can do not to bust out laughing.

  “Why does that make you smile, Tucker?”

  Uh oh, busted.

  “About Nanette?” he asks.

  “No, about Monica actually. I was thinking if she were here listening to all this; she'd have a conniption. But, trust me, she'll not hear anything about this from me; I promise. The whole thing is just so incredible she'd think I was lying for sure.”

  “Yeah, she probably would. So, back to tomorrow. You're to make the ransom drop off at three o'clock?”

  “Yes, at the Park Güell. But, I still have to get with the bank and I don't know if I can get the cash that quickly.” I say.

  “I expect you'll be successful. Either way, I want you to please keep me posted so I can have things in place, you have my number,” he says and stands. Meeting's over.

  “That's it?”

  “That's it. Just let me know, either by voice or text, the status. I'll be ready at three o'clock at Park Güell unless you tell me different.”

  Either Homeland Security is a bunch of Bozos like Dick says, or this guy's a total fraud. I honestly don't know which.

  “Fine. But let me tell you one thing about all this, James. I'm putting this ransom up in the hope these women will be freed. If they are then the money will have been well spent, but if they aren’t, I'll do everything in my power to hunt these people down and make 'em pay.

  "But, my warning to you is this, if you or Lisa or anyone with Homeland Security fucks this operation up, and by that I mean if your objective is to get the bad guys at the expense of these women, I'll do whatever it takes to hunt you and Lisa or Leroy or whatever-the-fuck down, and you'll pay dearly.” At which point I reach into my coat pocket and withdraw the pistol Dick gave me last week, and I put it to James’ head and say, "do you fully understand what I'm telling you, James?”

  All the color from James’ face evaporates and he's as white as a Klansman. He never expected anything like this, but I was pretty certain he wasn't scared of me. He is now. This was the only way I could be sure he's getting the point.

  “I understand, Tucker.”

  I pulled the trigger, and the audible click was the on-switch to his bladder.

  “Just wanted to make sure. Now, there's one more thing. After I make this ransom payment tomorrow you, and I will meet in this room at exactly six o'clock, and you will give me a full report on the outcome. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” he says and with that I walk to the door leaving him standing in his puddle of piss. I turn and say, "And be sure this carpet is clean when I get here tomorrow evening. I may need this room again, and I don't want a carpet cleaning charge,” then walk out the door.

  I'm not convinced James and Lisa are who they're purporting to be. And my gut tells me Nanette is probably in this up to her pretty eyeballs and James is setting Pat up to take the fall. I don't know any of this for sure, but that's what it smells like. I swing by Pat's room and knock. No answer, so I take the stairs down and stop by Scruples and sure enough, there he is at the bar, alone.

  "Figured I find you here,” I say walking up.

  “Well, look what the cat drug in. What're you doing in this neck of the woods, Tucker? Slumming?” he says without a note of sarcasm.

  “Yeah, forgot my toothbrush, so I came over to retrieve it.”

  “Must be a damn good toothbrush. What's it been now, four or five days?” he turns to the bartender and says, "Hey bartender, pour this fellow a Glenfiddich on the rocks with a splash before his dentist has him arrested for public endangerment.” He turns back to me, "right, Tucker? Glenfiddich with a splash?”

  “That's it, Pat. I'm impressed. You're a scholar and a gentleman after all.”

  As the bartender prepares my drink, Pat turns to him and says, laying his arm on my shoulder, "Jose, you might not believe this, but it is a real honor for all of us to be in the presence of this man. He is a man of honor and integrity beyond anyone I've ever had the privilege to know. He is paying, out of his own pocket, two million euros to free three unfortunate women who've been . . .”

  I pull him to me and whisper urgently into his ear, "Don't say any more, Pat. They were abducted by a bartender who works here.”

  “Get outta here.”

  “Mucho gracias,” I say tossing down a ten euro to the bartender as he walks over and passes me the drink.

  “Usted es bienvenido, gracias Señor,” the bartender says nodding with a smile.

  I turn back to Pat, "Let's take a table okay?” We pick up our drinks and move over to one of the small tables out of the way, so we can talk.

  “Hey, Tucker, sorry if I embarrassed you. I didn't mean . . .” starts Pat.

  “I know, and I appreciate it, Pat, really, but you know the girls - at least Ebba and Terry - were abducted by a guy by the name of Juan, who was working as a bartender here, and I just didn't want to raise any attention right now. You never know. This guy (I nod to the bartender) could be Juan's cousin or something.”

  “Got it, Tucker. Juan was the guy driving the limo Monica jumped out of, right?”

  “Right.”

  “The Juan's sauce guy Terry was so interested in, the same one who was supposed to be taking them to his brother-in-law's restaurant, right?”

  “Yeah, right. I'd forgotten about that whole thing with the Juan sauce now that you mention it.”

  “I remembered because I was making jokes about how Terry wanted Juan's sauce and all that.”

  “Bad joke.”

  “Turned out to be, yeah, me and my big dumb mouth always rattling on, getting me in trouble. Listen, Tucker, I wanna tell you again I'm really sorry for all the shit I've been giving you. You've turned out to be one hell of a guy puttin' up all that money to ransom those two women, really; you are, and I commend you for it. I don't know, even if I did have that kind of scratch, if I could do it.”

  “Three.”

  “Three what?” he asks perplexed.

  “Three women. Now, it's three women missing. Monica was snatched off the street last night when we were walking from the Hilton.”

  “Are you kidding? You lost another one? Wait. I didn't mean it that way. I need to keep my big trap shut. Seems like the more I drink, the more my mouth starts running off screaming what an asshole I am. It's always getting me into trouble. Sorry man, really.”

  “Don't worry about it, Pat. The more I'm around you; the more I'm beginning to understand you. You might be an asshole on the outside but underneath all the blather, you're really a pretty decent fellow.”

  One thing I'm beginning to know about Pat is he ma
y be a blustering asshole on the outside the more he drinks, but what does come spilling out of his mouth is what he's really thinking and mostly the truth, at least a far as he knows it. He's the what-you-see-is-what-you-get kinda guy. You might not like it; you probably won't, but at least you're getting the unvarnished Pat.

  “Glad you can see it, cause damned if I can. So, what the hell happened with Monica? Somebody snatched her, you say?”

  “Yeah, we were walking back from the Hilton after you guys left last night . . .”

  “Back? Back where? I thought you were staying there. Am I missing something?”

  “Yeah, you are, Pat, but it's not your fault. Monica and I had taken a room at the Hilton initially but when those guys came around the Fira looking for us, we figured it wouldn't be long before they'd find us. See, I was stupid enough to register under my real name. It wouldn't take long for them to call around and ask to be connected to Tucker Blue's room, and then they'd know where we were, so we took another room at another hotel but this time, not under my name. We still kept the Hilton room open, just in case we might need it. That's why we had everyone there last night.”

  “Okay, so you and Monica were walking back to your new hotel room when she got snatched.”

  “Right.”

  “What happened? I mean how'd it go down?”

  “It was pretty quick. We were just walking along enjoying the evening, taking our time, when this van pulls up and out jumps two guys. One walks up to me and shoots me with a Taser . . .”

  “What!”

  “Yeah, hurt like a son of a bitch too. My muscles just collapsed, and I fell to the sidewalk. I couldn't do anything except watch the other guy punch Monica in the stomach and then drag her kicking and screaming into the back of the van. Then, a bum, whom we'd just passed - he was laying on the sidewalk up against a building - he jumped up and started after these guys.”

  “So, what did this tramp do? Just scare ‘em off?”

  “Oh, my God Pat, you wouldn't have believed this guy. He jumped over me lying there on the ground, screaming like a total nutcase. He came out like a boogeyman screaming, jumping and thrashing all around scaring the shit out of these guys. They wasted no time getting out of there. I guess it scared the driver most of all because, he floored the car and the guy couldn't do anything, but grab hold of the door and hang on.”