by Lynn Bohart
He shifted a thoughtful gaze to Rudy. “I’ll see what I can do.”
David got up and left. As soon as he was gone, Goldie asked me, “Aren’t you going to tell him about the ear wigs?”
“No. They only allow us to communicate with each other, not David or the police.”
“Since we only have four of them,” Doe said, “we’ll have to split up.”
“Right. I was thinking that Blair and I would pair up. You and Rudy. And then Goldie and Aria. I’m not sure how we’ll be seated, but I figure we can’t sit down for too long, anyway. We’ll work in pairs and keep moving around. Roy and Monty could be anywhere in the building.”
“Who will use the fourth com?” Blair asked.
I turned to José. “You game?”
He grinned. “Sure. Just like Law and Order.”
“Won’t it look weird if we just keep roaming around?” Aria asked.
“People move around all the time at these things,” Doe said. “You just have to look purposeful. You know, like you’re going to get a drink. Going to the ladies’ room. Pretending to see someone you know across the room. Stopping to chat with each other.”
“Okay, but the six of us ought to have a code if we see Monty or Roy,” Rudy said.
“Why do we need a code?” Goldie inquired. “I thought we were just going to text.”
“That’s to David. What if Monty is standing only a few feet away from you? You can’t text all of us or blurt out his name. So…maybe you say something like, I can’t live without chocolate. The word chocolate would alert us that you’ve seen Monty. Get it?”
“Hey, chocolate is my line,” I said.
She smiled. “Well, we should use something personal and true, but not something that would raise an alarm.”
Goldie’s features lit up. “Oh, oh, I get it. I can’t live without chocolate can be for Julia. But if I see one of them, I could say that chocolate gives me the runs.”
Blair burst out with a laugh. “What? No.”
“I don’t think we need to be that literal,” I said, holding back a laugh.
Her face fell. “I thought we were supposed to make it personal. You love chocolate, but I’m allergic to it.”
Rudy said, “I was just using chocolate as an example. Let’s use the weather instead. Okay? Don’t say anything about the weather tonight unless you see Monty or Roy. If you mention the temperature, it means you’ve just seen Monty. If you mention rain, it means you’ve just seen Roy. Does that work for everyone?”
“Yeah,” Goldie said. “Temperature is Monty. Rain is Roy. I get it.”
The door opened and David stepped back into the room.
“Okay,” he said. “We can get two of you in as wait staff, but you’re going to have to get some appropriate clothes.”
“No problem. We’ll take care of it,” I said.
“Okay, the sketch artist is on her way up. After that, do your shopping. José is going to need something to wear, too. I’ll meet you at the Sheraton around six-thirty.” He leveled a stare at me. “This could be very dangerous, Julia. We have no idea what they’re planning or who they’re working for. And that’s the wild card. The person you call Yoda could be anyone in that room, or not be there at all. He could be giving orders remotely, so be careful. Very careful.” He paused a moment, as if he wanted to say something else, but glanced around at the other faces staring at him and left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Goldie and I can be the wait staff,” Aria offered, holding her phone. “I’ve already googled a restaurant supply store in town that sells uniforms.”
I nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Aria.”
We spent the next twenty-five minutes with the sketch artist and then left. It was almost three-thirty by the time we made it out into the humid afternoon.
“Listen, we’ll have to get to the banquet hall early if we plan to blend in with the banquet staff,” Aria said. “So we’ll meet you there.”
She nodded and hurried down the sidewalk with Goldie hustling after her.
“Then I guess it’s time for us to do what we do best,” I said to the others. “Shop.”
The five of us spent the next ninety minutes at Saks Fifth Avenue, loading ourselves down with a suit and tie for José, and new clothes, shoes, stockings, jewelry, makeup, scarves, and wigs for us. Yes, I said wigs. If we were truly going undercover, we couldn’t let Monty or Roy ID us first.
Since José was staying at the Park Hyatt, we parted ways on the street with a promise to pick him up a little after six o’clock.
Back in our rooms, we quickly took showers and got ready. At six o’clock we met in the hallway dressed in our finery. I had on slender leg velvet pants with an Irish green sequined top, accented with a short, blond wig with bangs.
“Damn!” Blair said. “You look fantastic, Julia.”
I was grinning from ear to ear. “Thanks. I hope David recognizes me.”
Blair gave me a quick double lift of her eyebrows. “Recognize you? He’s going to want to jump your bones.”
Doe and Rudy laughed and murmured their agreement.
“You look great with long, black hair,” I said to Doe. “And that beaded jacket is stunning.”
Rudy had chosen crepe pants and a bright orange chiffon blouse with a patterned scarf. She’d added a dark brown wig cut to her shoulders.
“I love those colors on you,” I said to her. “I could never carry off orange.”
“Thanks. I hope I can last in these new shoes, though,” she said, wiggling her right foot.
“Humpf,” Blair grunted. “That’s why you should have brought some sensible shoes.”
We looked down at her three-inch candy-apple red heels.
“Right, cuz those are so sensible,” Rudy quipped.
“Well, you look terrific,” I said to Blair.
“I just hope someone doesn’t mistake her for a call girl,” Rudy said.
Blair wore a short, red sequined dress cut down to her waist. Her long crystal beaded earrings caught the light and sparkled every time she moved. Instead of a wig, however, she had pulled her blond hair up in a stylish mess of curls on top of her head.
“So, no wig for you,” I said.
“Naw. I have a feeling no one will be looking at my hair,” she said with a sly grin. “C’mon. Let’s go. We need to pick up José.” She threw a lightweight black sequined shawl around her shoulders and spun on her shapely heels and headed down the hallway.
We decided to drive the rental car rather than try and get a taxi. Since I had done so little of the driving on the trip, I volunteered to take the wheel.
We found José at the curb of his hotel. He climbed into the backseat and Blair whistled.
“You look sharp,” she said, referring to his black suit and tie.
“Just headin’ out with my ladies,” he replied with a grin.
Rudy laughed. “Should we call you Sugar Daddy?”
He cracked up. “Sure. If I’m the daddy, you’re the sugar.”
Rudy groaned. “Oh, stop.”
“Let’s get going and get this evening over with,” I said.
I had already programmed the address for the Sheraton Grand Chicago hotel into the car’s GPS and pulled into traffic. Within minutes, we crossed the Chicago River and turned left onto W. Grand Ave. Inside the car, we ran through scenarios of how Monty and Roy might get into the dinner. They could dress up as wait staff, or they could attend as guests.
“What if they dress up as security guards?” José asked. “I’m sure the event center will have heavy security.”
“Yeah, they could do that,” Rudy said. “There’s also a media center. They could get fake media credentials.”
“No. Remember the media center will be closed,” I said.
“Still, we’re going to have to move around the entire building,” Doe said
“Do you have our ear wigs?” I asked, glancing across at Rudy.
She was riding shotgun and
opened her fancy bag to bring out the small earpieces. She gave one to José, one to Blair and kept one for herself. Aria and Goldie already had the fourth one.
Rudy, Blair and José each placed them inside their ears. Rudy had the main switch in her bag and turned it on.
“Ooh!” Blair exclaimed with a jump. “Turn it down.”
Rudy did as she was asked. “Is that better?”
“Yeah, perfect,” Blair said. “Julia, I might give this to you when we get there. You can hide it under your wig. My hair is up, and it might show.”
“Okay. No problem,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road.
We were just about to cross the Chicago River again, when Rudy looked out the window and said, “Didn’t we already cross the river?”
“Yes,” I replied. I glanced over at the GPS. “We’re still on track, though.” I turned back to the road, carefully navigating the traffic around me as we rumbled across the bridge.
We discussed why Owens might be a target, including his abhorrent personality, until Rudy said, “Hey, Julia, this doesn’t look like the right area.” She was peering out the window again. “Hold on.” She pulled up the address for the Sheraton Grand Chicago on her phone. “The Sheraton is on East North Water Street.” She leaned forward to read the GPS on the dash. “You programmed in North Walker Street.”
“Oh, shoot. I’m sorry. How far out of the way are we?”
“I don’t know,” she said, adjusting the address in the GPS. “Give me a minute.”
She fixed the GPS, and the female voice told me to continue for six blocks until I got to W. Chicago Ave, where I would turn right.
“Okay, we’re good to go now,” she said. “And we still have a little time.”
We continued for a few blocks until the GPS told me to turn right, and we crossed back over the Chicago River again.
“At least we’re getting multiple views of the river,” Blair joked, craning her neck to gaze at the water.
“Well, this tour company aims to please.” But as we came off the bridge, my nose crinkled up. “What the heck is that smell?”
“Smells like someone lit a smoke,” José said.
“We must’ve passed a manufacturing plant or something,” Rudy said. She cracked a window to let in fresh air. “This should help.”
The night was warm and clear, so Rudy left the window open, clearing the bad smell. Slowly, however, the burning smell returned and kept getting stronger.
“Where is that smell coming from?” Doe asked, concern seeping into her voice.
“I don’t know, but it’s getting pretty strong,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road.
“Oh, damn,” Rudy said. She pointed to a thin trail of smoke coming from the dashboard.
“Oh, my God!” I said, glancing at the smoke.
A sizzling, snapping sound startled everyone. I flinched and took my eyes off the road and drifted into the next lane, prompting a horn blast from another driver. I swerved back into my own lane.
“Julia! Be careful,” Doe reprimanded me.
I checked cars behind me, yanked the wheel to the right and pulled to the curb, killing the engine. Everyone threw open their doors and hurried out. The inside of the car had already filled with acrid smoke; it smelled like we had fried a major motor cable.
“What do we do now?” Blair asked, throwing the shawl around her shoulders.
“We could call Triple A,” Doe offered.
“No,” Rudy replied, glancing at her watch. “It’s already ten after six. We need a ride.”
“We’re only a few blocks from the Godfrey Hotel,” Blair said, staring at her phone. “Let’s just walk up there and grab a cab?”
“Okay, but what do we do about the rental car?” Doe asked as we set off.
“I’ll call the rental company and tell them where it is,” Rudy said. She looked up the number and made the call.
“You sure you’re okay in those heels?” I asked Blair, glancing at her feet.
She erupted with a laugh. “Are you kidding? I could do a marathon in these.”
We started off and turned right at the next light. Blair guided us to Huron Street, where a giant Rubik’s Cube-like building appeared. The enormous steel and glass structure was jaw-dropping in its design. I was contemplating what Jake would think of it when Rudy pulled me out of my thoughts.
“There’s the Tioga!” she yelled.
We all turned and saw the retreating tail lights of the stolen RV disappear into traffic.
“They’re heading for the Sheraton,” I said. “Damn! We have to hurry.”
“We need a car,” Rudy said.
“So where’s a cab?” I said, looking around with desperation.
There were zero cabs parked in front of the hotel and none passing on the street.
“Damn!” I said again. “There are too many people in town.”
José was eying the valet parking operation. “How badly do we need a car?”
I followed his gaze. “No. We cannot steal a car!”
“Why not?” Rudy asked. “We’ll borrow a car and leave it at the Sheraton in pristine condition.”
“Where have we heard that before?” Blair sniped
“Why don’t we just call Uber?” Doe asked.
“It will take too long,” José said.
“God, here we go again. Okay, what’s the plan?” I asked José.
We were huddled together in front of a bistro a hundred feet up the sidewalk from the hotel’s valet stand. José stripped off his suit jacket and handed it to me. He rolled up his sleeves and tucked his tie inside the buttons of his shirt.
“Give me a minute. But be ready.” He glanced around and then walked confidently down the sidewalk.
There were two guys running cars that night, and they were extremely busy. José walked casually up to the front entrance of the hotel and waited off to one side. A tall skinny kid took the keys from a board behind the station and ran out and around the corner to retrieve a car. Just then, a Mercedes pulled in. The second young man handed the driver of the Mercedes a tag, took his keys, got in and pulled the car out the circular drive and turned left toward the parking lot. The car owner entered the hotel.
That’s when José stepped in.
A black Cadillac pulled up and a couple emerged. José grabbed a tag and handed it to the driver as he got out. He took the man’s keys and then got behind the wheel as the couple entered the hotel. José pulled out the circular drive, but turned right instead of left. He pulled to the curb where we were waiting.
Once more, my heart was hammering as we jumped into the car.
“One of these days our luck is going to run out,” Doe said with a distinct edge to her voice.
José pulled away from the curb. “They’ll never have to know the car was gone.”
“Then, let’s get there fast,” she replied.
Blair had her phone out again. “Turn right at the next street.” José followed her directions. “We’re close,” Blair said, staring at her phone. “Just a few more blocks.”
“Okay, the sooner we get rid of this car the better,” Rudy said. “I’m as nervous about this as Doe is.”
The sharp sound of a siren made everyone whip around to look out the back window. Red and blue lights flashed two blocks behind us, coming our way.
“God, that was fast,” I said in a panic.
“Don’t worry,” José said with his eyes on the rearview mirror. He spun the steering wheel, throwing all of us up against the left side of the car as he made a sharp right turn into a darkened alley.
“Whoa!” I said, holding my painful ribs. “Take it easy.”
He rolled the car into the middle of the alley and cut the engine and lights. We all grew silent as we sat in a tunnel of deep shadows, flanked by piles of trash and a couple of dumpsters. The siren and flashing lights blasted past the alley behind us and kept going, bringing audible sighs of relief from everyone inside the luxury car.
“Tha
t was close,” Doe said, flopping back against the seat.
“No kidding. Let’s get out of here,” José said. He started the engine and flicked on the headlights.
Everyone froze.
Three heavily-tattooed men blocked the front of the car, arms crossed, looking anything but friendly.
“Uh…Julia,” Doe muttered.
Damn!
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Tension flooded the car as we stared at the men illuminated by the arc of the car’s headlights.
“Back up!” Rudy snapped.
José put the car in reverse, turned around and began to back up, but came to a screeching halt.
A fourth man stood directly behind us, blocking our path backwards. He held a baseball bat and slapped one end into his open hand.
“Damn,” I said again.
We couldn’t go around them. We couldn’t go through them.
“What do we do?” I whispered with a nervous twitter in my throat.
“Shhhh,” José shushed me. He turned back to the men in front of the car.
The three men stared back at us, unmoving. Tattoos covered exposed flesh, including one young man who had an angel’s wing imprinted across his right cheek and down his neck. They all wore baggy jeans that looked ready to fall off. One was wearing a cloth headband, while another had on a baseball cap backwards. The tallest man stood a few feet off to one side. He had a shaved head and multiple large chains hanging from around his neck. He also had a gun tucked into his belt.
For the umpteen millionth time my throat constricted, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“Let me handle this,” José said. He turned off the engine and opened the door. “Stay put.”
We didn’t argue.
He left the door open and approached them slowly with his palms open and out to the side. He said something in Spanish and then glanced back at the car and chuckled, giving the car a dismissive flick of his hand.
What did that mean?
The men followed his gaze and then responded in Spanish. The guy with the shaved head pointed to the inside of José’s wrist. José glanced at his hand.
José’s arms were littered with tattoos, and I knew he had one on the inside of his right wrist that had always made me wonder if it was a gang marking. He’d come from a troubled past, growing up on the streets of Los Angeles stealing cars. But I had never felt comfortable asking him about the details, and truthfully, it didn’t matter. Now, I wondered if that tattoo was going to help us or be our downfall.