He slipped an arm around each of our waists, playing the big man as he led us toward a back hallway. His abandoned gaggle flashed us dirty looks in his wake. Lots of smirking male head nods were tossed at our guide.
I was just happy to be working on an empty stomach.
He pulled us into a small bedroom lit only by a lava lamp. Figures. He clicked the door shut behind us, plunging the room into an eerie silence. Suddenly the situation became much more real.
What does she have planned? I began to feel a little uneasy, walking into such a vulnerable position. I would never have done it willingly on my own.
Sloan stepped away from us, holding a cell phone aloft. “Where should I set this up?”
“Hey,” the guy said, “is that my phone?” He tried unsuccessfully to swipe it from her.
“They said you’d appreciate a nice record of your evening,” Sloan replied, once again bored. “You want to delete it, that’s your call sweetie. But it would be a real shame. Shall I turn it off?”
He stared at the recording phone a moment, thinking. “Nah, let’s see what we can come up with.”
“Alright then.” Sloan flashed a mischievous look as she handed it to me. “Maybe you can play cameraman for a bit? I know you like to watch.”
“You got it.” Still lost, I zoomed in and pointed the camera at the target.
She turned back toward our host, throwing a thumb toward the door. “You sure you don’t want to bring in that fella with the diaper? He looks like he’s into some weird stuff. Could be interesting.”
“Are you kidding?” he scoffed. “Dude’s as boring as they come. He’s only doing that because I make him.”
“Mmm,” Sloan murmured as she moved slowly toward him. “So all those guys just do everything you say, huh? Do you make them all wear diapers and what not? That’s pretty hilarious.”
“Damn right, they all do as I say.” He watched her carefully as she neared. “But only the outsiders have to pay like that.”
I caught Sloan’s glance. She had an evil twinkle in her eye. I think I get it now.
She reached Devin and fingered at the collar of his shirt playfully. “Outsiders?”
“You know, the affirmative action ones.”
“So, what, you have to let guys like that in here?” Sloan scoffed, disgusted. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s not so bad.” He shrugged. “I kinda like to watch ‘em squirm.”
I cackled. “You’re so bad,” I said, fawning.
Devin grinned, his attention jumping back and forth between us. He seemed to notice the camera again and raised his voice a little. “What? It’s not my fault a towelhead like that just doesn’t belong, they’re not one of us. But we need at least one.” His voice became mocking. “Lest the world say we’re some kind of racists.”
He attempted to slide his arm around Sloan’s waist and she slipped away gracefully.
“Please, like it’s racist to want to keep to your own kind.” She sat gently on the edge of the bed and began fiddling with the tiny strap on her heel. “It’s just nature. He’s lucky you even let him in here, I say.”
“Exactly.” Devin was enamored as she slipped the first shoe off. “Although, they do have their perks. My grades have never been better.”
I giggled. “What, you steal his homework or something?”
He was busy watching Sloan flip her legs to tackle the other stiletto. “Nah, stealing’s a strong word. But the president has the right to inspect anything they want.” He glanced up to smirk at me. “Looks like I’ll actually pass my engineering classes this time around.”
“Niiice.” Sloan glanced to me. “Say, I have an idea. Hand me that camera?”
I handed it over. Devin looked on, slight impatience creeping in.
“Sup?” he said.
“One sec,” she said, punching at the screen several times. “Okay, all set.” Sloan handed the phone back to a confused Devin before slipping her heels back on in a flash, straps tucked out of the way.
She straightened and stood tall in front of him, her grin tight. “I think we’re all done here.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Benton was waiting anxiously for us outside the vehicle as we made our hasty exit. A baffled Devin, left standing alone with his phone, had not followed us far. But some raised voices on our way out told me he definitely knew something funny had just gone down.
I watched the party scene recede as we sped away across downtown. Safely escaped, I turned to Sloan. “So, I have my guesses . . . but maybe you can fill in the gaps?”
She was positively glowing. “Oh, you know exactly what was going on. We were just helping their dear leader to be free with his feelings. Open up a little. Good for the soul, you know.”
“It’s probably also pretty good for his reputation.” I raised an eyebrow at her. “Assuming other people find out about his little soul-bearing exercise?”
“What, you mean like all his family and friends?” Her face was playing innocent. “Acquaintances, university authorities . . . everyone he’s ever known, really?”
I gaped, finally understanding the scope of her game. “What did you do?”
Sloan shrugged. “Just passed along his true feelings to everyone in his contact list. And his social media. Not that there was likely much doubt, but now Devin’s unique point of view has been made clear for the world, just as I’m sure he would want. He is the president and all. A real ‘man of the people.’”
I sat back a moment, letting the result of our little prank sink in. It was fairly sophomoric, but it felt so right. Sloan’s face told me she had a similar satisfaction.
“And don’t worry,” she leaned in to say. “I don’t think anyone’ll be able to recognize us on the recording.”
“Actually, I was out of the frame entirely,” I said. “And I kept you in shadow. All you can see is his sleazy, bragging face.”
She shrugged with satisfaction. “So no one has any idea who went in there and did that.”
“Did what?” I said, flashing back a devious smile.
My instinctual pang of guilt had been quickly overtaken by a sense of justice. I didn’t necessarily condone revenge, but some people deserved to be exposed a little. Hung by their own truth. And that guy had definitely been a prime candidate.
“Alright, time for our next stop,” Sloan finally said, shaking me from my awe. “You never really answered earlier, so I’m guessing that’s a no. Don’t have any special accent skills up your sleeve, do you?”
Already onto the next deception. I shrugged. “Never really come up before.” I thought back to my previous exploits in getting the businessman Walter alone. Back when we were trying to solve the original mystery that started this whole wild ride. “I did think I pulled off Southern pretty well before, though.”
“Wasn’t bad, I’ll give you that.” Sloan nodded. “It’ll come in handy later. But I don’t think it’s quite right for our purposes tonight.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And what purposes are those? Surely we aren’t going for invisible, in these outfits.”
“Can’t.” Sloan shook her head. “If someone already knows you, pseudo-invisible won’t work. We instinctively seek out the familiar. Instead you have to try to distract. Make them notice everything but what’s recognizable. Dazzle with the new and exotic.”
“And thus, the over-the-top outfits?”
“Exactly. Normal could just call attention to our recognizability. The outfits were fine for hiding from Sayid in that obnoxiously loud party, among other purposes. And for keeping our anonymity in the aftermath.” She grinned for a moment, thinking of it. “But we’re going to need another layer for this meeting. Remember, Christopher knows my voice pretty well. And he just talked to you earlier today. We’ll need voice precautions.”
“What did you have in mind?”
�
��You remember that high-end escort you brilliantly sloshed out of the picture, when you needed to get Walter alone?”
I pictured the woman’s face after I ‘accidentally’ soaked her dress with her martini, months ago during our inaugural case. The memory of her shock and anger filled me with pride at the success of my first real solo mission. “The eastern European one? With the high cheekbones?”
Sloan smiled. “Your cheekbones will do just fine. And your dark wig definitely lends itself. But think you can pull off her accent for a little bit?”
I chuckled quietly at the thought and shrugged, resigned to the adventure. “All I can do is try. If we’re just observing, we’ll probably be at a distance anyway, right? So it doesn’t have to be too good?”
“Exactly. It’ll just help disguise our voices while we’re in the background.” She checked out the window as we came to a stop, then returned to face me with an excited smile. “No time for practice, unfortunately. They’ll be here any minute.”
***
I had to work to suppress my grin as we waited at the hi-top table, anxiously awaiting the arrival of our guests. I was just so impressed at our cunning. Thanks to our maneuvering, we could actually have a chance.
In addition to tracking Christopher’s movements, which had told us he would arrive momentarily, we would soon be able to listen in on his conversation with no extra effort required. Sloan simply had to turn on the mic in his phone, which was sure to be in his pocket. I was amazed at the destruction of limitations possible when you had a tech genius like Leo on your side. And no qualms about the legal or moral ramifications.
My conscience was clear as we watched slimy Christopher stroll in and sidle up to a dark haired, heavy-set middle-aged man already planted at the bar. The accountant was still slicked up in his dark suit that was practically a clone of his companion’s. A hairy wrist reached out to meet his in a brief shake.
“Here we go,” Sloan said quietly, punching several times on the screen of her phone. The din of the room suddenly amplified in our ears as the signal kicked in. With each of us wearing one of my hearing aids, paired with her phone, we would both have an ear tuned in to the coming conversation at the bar. Completely undetectably.
Our eyes met with excitement, ready for the intel that would break open the case. The insiders would lead us straight to Grant’s holding place. And we could stage a dramatic rescue, leaving the dirty mobsters stunned and without their needed funds. I could finally right my world again.
But it wasn’t long before our faces fell, confused and disappointed. While we had a direct line into their conversation, it probably wasn’t going to help our cause. Not if we couldn’t understand a single word that was said.
“Don’t suppose you know Italian in zat big brrrain of yours,” Sloan said slowly, affecting a perfect Russian accent.
“Apologize,” I said, timidly making my first attempt at a lesser version. “Was not one of zee electives, no.”
We listened quietly a moment, trying to pick up on anything useful. But their conversation was low and rapid, and I knew not a lick of Italian.
I sighed. “I geeve up. But I have learned lesson, yes?” I tapped at my hearing aid-bearing ear. “I vill borrow even more advanced, next time. Vit right devices, we can understand no matter what ze language.”
Sloan raised an eyebrow, an impressed smile creeping in. “Look forward to it.”
My own words sank in and I blushed with realization. “I mean, if I still have job.” I averted my eyes. “And if we ever do zis again. Which I don’t promise.”
Sloan didn’t respond, only nodded sagely. I knew it was sarcastic.
We kept one eye on the unintelligible pair. Suddenly Christopher paused the conversation to check his phone. He mumbled a few more words in Italian and hopped from his stool, slapping some cash on the bar top despite having never ordered anything. The two men clapped each other on the shoulder and Christopher began to move quickly away, out the door with his fingers working rapidly on his phone.
I sighed and looked back at Sloan, expecting to see utter devastation. Our plan had failed miserably, and the whole scene was over with nothing to show for it. But instead she gazed back, bright-eyed and energetic. She held her phone screen low across the table toward me.
“He got an urgent text, calling him in,” she said quietly, hopping from her own stool. “I need to find out what for.”
I began a move to follow, but she threw out a hand to stop me. She leaned in to whisper. “We need to double our resources. I’ll follow Christopher, and hopefully get some use out of our ability to listen in. You stay with this guy and see if you can get anything. Even just his name could be helpful.”
“You want me to talk to him?” I stared at her, incredulous.
She shrugged. “Worth a try. Use your accent. And that outfit. See what you can get with it.”
“I don’t even know if he speaks English,” I retorted.
“I think that was just for privacy. I’ve got a feeling he’ll understand you just fine.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “When I say what?”
“Just do what you can.” She grinned mischievously. “I trust you.”
With that, Sloan breezed out the door, leaving me gawking in her wake. She was trusting me to . . . what, exactly?
***
After several minutes of twirling my drink and keeping an eye on the bar up front, trying to delay, I finally took a deep breath and slid from my tall stool. I smoothed down my dress and made my way to a seat at the bar, empty wine glass in hand. One empty spot sat between me and the hairy wrists that were just beginning on a heaping plate of fries and a steak sandwich.
I made sure to put him on my right side, where I still had a hearing aid. Sloan had run off with my left, leaving me at a disadvantage. I would need to hear every word. I wasn’t going anywhere until I had something. Anything that could help.
I signaled to the bartender with my empty glass, then sat back, wondering how men did it. I was never one to blindly approach the opposite sex, attempting to start a conversation from nothing. Pull charm out of nowhere. It always seemed very contrived and forced when they tried.
And now, on the other side, it felt no less awkward. I was at a total loss. So I retrieved my fresh glass and sipped some more moscato, buying time. What did she expect me to say? I had to think.
***
Most of a steak sandwich later, I was still getting nowhere.
Certain that the accent would not fare well up close, I had hesitated, unable to speak. Not a single word had been exchanged. I had hoped that his few surreptitious glances my way would lead to him making a move, saying something to get us started. But alas, he was pretty focused on his dinner.
The man finished his sandwich and picked up his cloth napkin, giving me another silent once-over as he wiped the grease from his fingers, less inconspicuous this time. It was an opening. Say something.
My mind raced, trying to channel that high-end Eastern European escort in my memory for inspiration. She didn’t just sit there, waiting to be talked to like the coward I was. She got in there.
And suddenly that gave me an idea. A fairly ridiculous one, but it was the only one I had. And it had worked for her, after all.
Slowly, carefully, I snaked my arm across the bar toward the man’s half-empty platter. Just as I neared it, my hand shot out and snatched a long french fry from the plate in a quick swoop. I yanked the loot back toward me and took a quick bite of the end, glancing at the man flirtatiously.
Instead of the return surprised smile I expected, I was shocked to see the man’s face flash with anger. Suddenly his arms lashed out protectively across his food. The full force of his hand slammed into his extra-large glass of red wine, which crashed onto his plate. Bordeaux began pouring across the surface of the bar and into the man’s lap.
I gaped in surprise as the man hopped from his seat, his face now crimson with rage.
“You steal from me?” he bellowed, accent present but his English clear. He grabbed up his napkin and began to stab at the soaked material of his crotch. Meanwhile more wine poured from the edge, now down his pant leg and onto his dress shoes.
He felt the stream and jumped back, knocking over his stool. I grabbed a stack of cocktail napkins and reached forward as an offer of help, my face repentant. The man waved me away with disgust.
“Keep your germs to yourself, woman,” he spat. He threw his napkin to the floor and stomped away, mumbling angrily in Italian as he headed for the men’s room.
I sat back a moment, blinking. Nearby onlookers slowly returned their focus to their own tables as the action died down. I surveyed the wet scene, wondering where to begin. And what had gone wrong. Should I just run out of here?
And then my eyes alighted on something amidst the rubble of the man’s dinner. Realization hit me just as it lit up. And my mind began to churn with excitement.
No, that trick definitely hadn’t gone as planned. But it had somehow brought a similar result. I was in. Channels of communication were now open.
He just didn’t know it yet.
TWENTY-SIX
Five minutes later the SUV pulled in to retrieve me from the nearby coffee shop where I had taken refuge. I climbed in with fresh caffeine for each of us and found Sloan in the back, already buzzing with energy. She clearly had something to share as well.
I played it cool, wanting to keep the intel to myself for a change. I gave her a hopeful smile. “Follow Christopher straight to their hostage hiding place?”
She scoffed. “Almost didn’t follow him at all.” She raised her voice, directed toward the front. “Since our driver refused to go anywhere without you at first.”
Dark annoyed eyes appeared in the rearview. “Just following orders,” he called back. His voice lowered to a mumble. “Or trying to, anyway.”
“I know, I know,” Sloan muttered. “I don’t make it easy.” She returned her attention to me. “Luckily he came around, and agreed we wouldn’t mention our little splitting up to you-know-who. Not that any of it seems worth it, anyway.”
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