Fast and Loose

by Fern Michaels

  The time was 11:51.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie noticed five tall, attractive, casually dressed women weaving their way through the tables to the Reservation Room and then to the head of the largest table in the room.

  “Game on,” Jack whispered as he buried his nose in the oversize menu.

  At five minutes past the hour, the threesome placed their orders. Maggie and Jack opted for the spaghetti and meatballs because they figured they would gain a few minutes until the pasta was cooked. Harry ordered a garden salad after the waitress promised the greens were from the owners’ very own garden. He asked for the soy dressing on the side, then asked if they could double the amount of edamame beans in the salad. The waitress assured him that could be done.

  Thanks to Maggie’s wise choice of tables, she and Jack had a clear view of the women at the long table. Harry had only a partial view, but that didn’t prevent him from offering up a comment.

  “It’s hard to believe all those women are showgirls. They look more like soccer moms or suburbanites. Look at how they’re dressed.” With Harry, it was hard to tell if he was voicing approval or disapproval.

  “Incognito to a point,” Maggie said as she eyeballed the women’s attire. Some wore jeans with holes in the knees, sneakers, capris with flip-flops, slacks and tees. None of them appeared to be wearing makeup or jewelry, and yet they still managed to look beautiful and drew plenty of male attention from the diners, and even from a couple of the waitstaff. Two of the women wore baseball caps and had long ponytails hanging down their backs. All of the women carried whopping carry bags or backpacks.

  “Obviously, this is their day off, and they don’t want to wear all that theatrical makeup, which is so hard on your complexion, and dress to the nines. This is a girls’ luncheon with an agenda. La natural. In other words, guys, they do not want to call attention to themselves and really do not care how they look.”

  The threesome continued to watch as the women greeted one another, laughed and joked as they poked each other on the arm. For all intents and purposes, a fun luncheon with a large group of friends. Carafes of white wine were placed on the table. The little boy who had delivered the water to their table had been replaced with a gangly young boy who carried a tray of water glasses and set them on the table for the women to help themselves.

  “They’re just socializing right now. They won’t get to the main event until they’ve finished the first glass of wine. So, relax, guys. I know how this works,” Maggie said, her voice ringing with authority. Since this was really Maggie’s show, there was really nothing for Jack or Harry to do but go with the flow.

  “Hold that thought, guys. A text is coming through from Sparrow,” Jack said.

  While Jack’s fingers worked the keys, Maggie looked around to see if she could spot Snowden and the two operatives he’d brought with him. She finally spotted one of the females in the little hallway by the women’s restroom. She smiled to herself, because she knew that the button on the operative’s blouse was a mini-camera and that she had positioned herself to film the women she could see at the long table. Maggie’s gaze traveled to the opposite hallway in time to see the male operative doing the exact same thing. That was good. They had photographed everyone on both sides of the table. At least now they would know who they were dealing with. They no longer had just a burner phone with a name. They had real flesh and blood to complete the ID.

  What happened next made Maggie’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. She kicked Jack under the table and rolled her eyes. Snowden’s two operatives converged at the same moment from the restrooms and collided at the end of the long table. Both laughed and apologized profusely to the women, who just stared at them, mesmerized by their clipped British accents. Maggie wondered if anyone but she and Jack saw the clever sleight of hand with which a listening device was planted under the table just as Snowden himself showed up, presumably to enter the restroom. He deftly sidestepped the two operatives, and a second device was planted behind one of the women’s chairs.

  “Slick,” Harry said as he speared a chunk of lettuce onto his fork.

  “Yeah. That’s why he gets paid the big bucks,” Maggie said.

  Maggie’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Charles. She looked down at the text, then over at Jack. “Do we stay or go?” she hissed.

  * * *

  “Time to go,” the two Snowden operatives on babysitting duty said at the same time.

  Mary Alice looked at them with defiance, wondering what, if anything, would happen if she dug in her heels and refused to leave now that the Chinese guy and the killer dog were gone. Then, her eyes narrowed into slits, she looked over at Sparrow, who was watching her carefully.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “I know what you think you can do once we get you outside. You think you’ll be able to alert someone by screaming or somehow calling attention to yourself. Right now, right this very second, I want you to rid yourself of such foolish, negative thoughts, because it isn’t going to happen. Do you want to know why that isn’t going to happen, Miss PIP?”

  “Why? Because you’re going to kill me! You goddamn well kidnapped me, and that is against the law. In broad daylight,” PIP shrilled. “I know who you are, too! So there! I’ve seen your pictures in the paper. You head up the FBI. Wait till I get out of here! You just wait! I’m going to sell my story to every damn tabloid there is. Picture this, you bastard! Director of FBI kidnaps woman and takes her across state lines to hack into a gambling casino! Can you picture that! Huh? Well, can you, huh?” she screeched.

  “No. Because that is not going to happen. I want you to picture this. It’s a felony to lie to an FBI agent. We can hold you for seventy-two hours without benefit of counsel. People other than myself, those more . . . shall we say . . . attuned to dealing with people like you, might take it into their heads to secure or extract whatever they think might be in your head. Waterboarding is not off the table. Sodium Pentothal is another possibility. Now, if you ever want to send out another packet of your organic seeds to your customers, straighten up and fly right.” Sparrow threw his hands in the air and said to the two operatives, “Do it. She’s not going to cooperate.”

  “Do what? What are you . . . listen . . . okay, okay,” Mary Alice screeched.

  “What did I just tell you about your decibel level? As my mother always used to tell me, ‘Indoor voice. Indoor voice.’ Or do you have some sort of hearing problem? No, you’re lying. I can see it in your eyes,” Sparrow said. He turned to Snowden’s two operatives. “Just do it so we can leave,” he said to the two operatives.

  Before she could move, blink, or draw a deep breath, PIP felt something go around her neck and clamp shut. She tried to grab for it, but someone yanked at her arm and held it steady. Snowden’s operative then clamped a bracelet onto her wrist that was attached by a fancy, gem-studded chain to an identical bracelet, which she clipped onto her own wrist.

  “What you’re now wearing, Miss PIP, is something that is more or less like a dog collar that pet owners use to train their dogs. This collar, while pretty and sparkly, will choke you if you so much as make a whimper. All that pretty lady has to do is move that jewel-studded tether, and you’re toast. Nod if you understand what I just said. Remember what I said would happen to you if you so much as whimper.”

  Mary Alice’s eyes filled with tears as her head frantically bobbed up and down so fast, the air moved around her head to create a breeze.

  “I thought you’d see it my way,” Sparrow said happily. “I’ll meet you all at the elevator. I want to go through this suite one more time, just to be on the safe side.”

  Ten minutes later, the foursome climbed into a rental SUV with tinted windows. Sparrow sat in the passenger seat up front, while PIP and the female operative sat in the back.

  Traffic was a bear, as the operative put it. Traveling from The Venetian to Babylon should have taken less than ten minutes, but with all the traffic, it took a full t
hirty to get them to a parking spot in the first-floor parking garage. Earlier, Sparrow had been the one who rooted around in the maintenance room until he found four bright orange road cones and who then positioned them in the parking space so it would be available to them on their return. He climbed out, stacked the cones, and carried them back to the maintenance room.

  Sparrow practiced his tradecraft the way he always did when he found himself in strange surroundings. He was instantly aware of everything around him. He saw two cars move, one parking, one backing out. He heard and half saw the stairwell door open, saw a figure walk through the opening and continue down the side of the garage just as the doors of the SUV opened to allow PIP and the operatives to climb out. Nothing bothered him or put him on alert until he saw PIP jerk and point, and he knew she was about to try to scream or shout.

  Sparrow ran across the garage, expertly avoiding the car backing out of its spot and straightening out. He watched as PIP frantically pawed at the jeweled collar around her throat, her eyes wild and yet pleading, as her arms and hands jabbed forward.

  “Take it off!” Sparrow ordered. The operative did as she was told.

  Mary Alice gasped again and again as she struggled to draw air into her lungs. “That was RC! I just saw him. When the door to the stairs opened, he walked right out into the garage and went that way!” she croaked hoarsely as she pointed to her left.

  Sparrow didn’t stop to think or to wonder if the woman was lying. He reacted to the moment and his long years of training. He ran, shouting over his shoulders for the operatives to reconnect the collar and take PIP to the concierge floor.

  Sparrow was glad at the moment for all the early morning hours he had spent in the gym. He wasn’t even breathing hard, much less breaking a sweat, as he tore outside, brought up his hand to his forehead to ward off the sun, and searched to see if PIP was telling the truth. There was no sign of the big man whom she and Tookus had described. He squinted to let his mind race. The frantic young woman had seen someone who was on her radar. Like he had half seen someone exiting the garage door. He looked right and left and saw a young man in a brown uniform patrolling the perimeter of the casino.

  “Hey, did you happen to see a really big guy out here in the past few minutes?” Sparrow asked.

  “Yeah, and he was clipping along. That’s for sure. He went that way,” the man in the brown uniform said, pointing a finger to the left of the driveway. “There’s a side street over there, and sometimes cabs line up there. I think he hailed a cab. Can’t be sure, because I really wasn’t paying attention. He was big, though.”

  Sparrow took a deep breath. “Describe big!” He fished around in his pocket and withdrew a twenty-dollar bill and held it out as an incentive.

  “Well now, let me think. You look to be around six-two, right?”

  Sparrow nodded.

  “Okay, that guy had twelve inches on you. You know that Asian guy who played basketball? Yao Ming, I think. He was that tall. Weight-wise . . . close to three hundred pounds, but even so, he moved easily. He didn’t, you know, lumber the way some fat guys do. This guy was not fat. He was just big. Does that help?”

  “Have you ever seen him before around the casino?”

  “Nah. I’d remember someone that big. Check and see if there’s a line of cabs over on the side street. Talk to them. I really think he took a cab, so I must have seen something out of the corner of my eye.”

  After handing over the twenty, Sparrow took off at a fast sprint. There were four cabs parked in a line. He walked up to the first one in line and posed his question. The driver just stared at him until Sparrow handed over a fifty-dollar bill, because that was all he had in his pocket.

  “Yeah, a great big guy did come this way. Couldn’t make up his mind if he was going to take a cab or not. Then someone else came along and climbed in. He left, went down this street, and the only thing in that direction is a crummy park with a little pond that’s all scummy. Sorry I can’t be more help.”

  “What about the other drivers? Do you know them?”

  “In a manner of speaking. The two behind me speak little to no English. The last guy I don’t know at all. They all just sit there and read their papers while they wait for a fare. The last guy in line is a foreigner, too. He might speak English, but I’m not sure.”

  Since he was out of cash, Sparrow also figured he was out of options, so he ignored the last cab in line and ran down the street, toward what the first cabdriver had described as a crummy park with a scummy pond. He was right on both counts. An overweight teenager was throwing a Frisbee to a yellow Lab, who jumped in the air to catch it. Sparrow chuckled to himself as he toyed with the idea of telling the kid to have the dog toss the Frisbee so he could run to catch it.

  Instead he said, “Hey, kid. Did you see a big guy come through here a few minutes ago?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Did you see where he went?”

  “Nope.” He tossed the Frisbee high in the air.

  “You sure?” Sparrow asked skeptically, his gaze sweeping the area for clues.

  “Dude, I am so sure. You want me to swear on a Bible or something?”

  “No. Nice dog. What’s his name?”

  “It’s a her, not a him, and her name is Nellie. Why do you care what her name is? What? You writing a book or something?” the kid asked belligerently.

  “Are all you kids so fresh, or is it just you?” Sparrow demanded. He shook his head as he walked away, wondering what had ever happened to courtesy and manners. His shoulders sagged as he walked back the way he’d just come. He’d been that close.

  When Sparrow was out of sight, the chunky young boy said, “You can come out now, mister. He’s gone.”

  Philonias Needlemeyer stepped out from behind a thick, twelve-foot-high, overgrown privet hedge, which had concealed him from sight. He handed some folded-up bills to the boy and tweaked Nellie’s ears before he strode off. His heart pounding in his chest, Philonias exited the crummy park and flagged down a taxi. Two bad ideas in one day. Three mistakes. Things were not looking good.

  All he knew was that they were somehow onto him, and he wasn’t sure how he should or could get rid of them. Whoever the them were. He wished now that he had paid more attention to the little skirmish he’d seen out of the corner of his eye as he raced around the corner of the garage. That little to-do had to be something the guy chasing him was involved with. Who were they? How did they get onto him?

  Chapter 11

  Maggie looked down at her cell phone, then at Jack, just as their waitress appeared to refill their water glasses. Her eyes were full of questions, the main one being: “Leave or not leave?” She shook her head. The spaghetti and meatballs were just waiting to be devoured, and besides, she hadn’t had a chance to put her plan into action. Whatever was going to go down back at Babylon could wait. With Charles, Fergus, and Sparrow in charge, she didn’t see the need to hustle back. She did love spaghetti and meatballs, and the sauce was just the way she liked it. She sucked on a long strand of spaghetti, the way she’d done when she was a kid. Jack laughed and did the same thing. Harry grimaced, his eyes on the long table in the Reservation Room.

  Maggie was well on her way to finishing her third meatball when one of the women got up from the table, walked around the end, and headed for the ladies’ room. Maggie was on her feet in a second and headed in the same direction. All Harry and Jack could do was stare at her retreating back.

  “What the . . . ,” Harry said.

  Jack sucked up another long strand of spaghetti. He looked over at Harry. “I think that’s her plan. Whatever it might be. I’m thinking we should probably finish up here, ask for the check, and be ready to leave. Something tells me when she comes out of that room, she’s going to head straight for the front door. Or . . . she is going to join those women at the table. If I were a betting man, I’d go with she’s going to be joining the ladies.”

  Harry popped a thick slice of cucumber into his mo
uth. “And you know this . . . how?” He crunched down, his eyes never leaving the table where the women were seated.

  “Pure gut instinct,” Jack said, waving for the waitress to compute their bill.

  Inside the restroom, Maggie headed straight for the sink, crying and sobbing, as though her heart were breaking. All she had to do to make herself cry at any given moment was to remember the day her beloved dog Daisy died. Even though it had been years since the little dog passed over the Rainbow Bridge, the memory was still painful.

  The fourth stall at the end of the room opened, and a young woman with a long auburn ponytail rushed up to her. “What’s wrong, honey? Are you okay? Are you sick? Do you want me to call someone? Let me help you.”

  Maggie raised her head and stared into bright blue eyes. She continued to sob. “Do you know how to fix a broken heart?”

  “No, no, sweetie, I don’t. I wish I did. Been there, though. I’ll tell you what all my friends told me. No man is worth your tears. You know what else? Your heart isn’t broken. You can’t break a heart, because a heart is a muscle. Your heart is just bruised. That means it will heal, even if you don’t think so right now. You aren’t buying this, are you?” the woman said with a wry grin.

  Maggie shook her head. “He promised me the world. He said I was his soul mate. That he wanted to grow old with me. I was supposed to be the mother of our children. He said he wanted four kids, all girls, and for them to look like me. I believed him. I came all the way from Washington because I hadn’t heard from him for over three weeks. Three weeks. That’s an eternity! I met him eight months ago, when I came here to visit my brother. He said we could make a long-distance relationship work, and I believed him. It was all a lie! Oh, God!” Maggie wailed again.

  “I’ve called and called and sent dozens of texts. He never responded, so that’s why I came here. Then my brother, who warned me about him when I first started dating him, said he saw him with a beautiful showgirl. I refused to believe him. That’s another reason why I came here. I wanted to confront him in person, but I can’t reach him. He said we would get engaged next month. He promised me a three-carat emerald-cut diamond. I didn’t care about a ring. It could be a zircon, for all I cared. He has money, because he really wined and dined me. He promised a fall wedding, because I love autumn, and he said he did, too.” Maggie sobbed harder.