Chapter 11
The glass walls of the ground floor cafeteria of the government office building allowed Dane to watch Floyd approach. When he’d pushed through the revolving door, Dane took off his wide-brim hat and waved him over.
Floyd covered his surprise at seeing Dane by acting angry as a wild hog. And looked like one. Some of the anger was real—Floyd had to be upset with his men for not getting the job done—for not eliminating Dane.
Floyd had gone downhill. He’d never been so fat and had never been a drinker back in the day—not that he was ever a healthy man.
But this made Dane think about what other vices and bad habits Floyd had picked up over the years.
Dane had seen what a relaxation of self-discipline could do to a man on the job.
And even though Floyd wasn’t in the field, strictly speaking, he was operating in a remote office further afield than Dane had ever seen him.
Maybe they’d changed Floyd’s position to field operations, or maybe they’d given him more slack to handle Oscar, or maybe—and this was Dane’s top guess at the moment—maybe Floyd was off the reservation and someone was covering for him. Or he was somehow covering himself with the office.
No matter how he cut it, Dane had to watch out for Floyd Parker every second.
He had to assume the man was their enemy.
Possibly he was Dane’s enemy and everyone else was collateral.
That thought weighed on him, both for its ring of truth and for the implication that Dane was endangering his friends.
Damn. He wished he could get rid of them all, send them back to the States. But he knew that for them to go, two things had to happen. They needed to find Oscar, and Dane had to go with them. They’d never let him stay to fight Floyd on his own.
That wasn’t even counting the fight with the Tavares organization. He needed more intel on them. He hoped David had some.
“You left the location—you goddamned idiot. You could have got everyone killed.”
“The place was bugged,” Dane said. He didn’t bother getting up. He held onto his Glock under his jacket with one hand.
Floyd stood, looked around the cafeteria, and decided not to draw any more attention. He pulled out a plastic chair from the table and sat.
“Where is Oscar?” Dane asked.
“You missed the kidnapper’s call. They’re pissed now. I don’t know—”
“You’re full of shit. They don’t have Oscar.”
Dane noted the flicker of surprise in the slight dilation of Floyd’s pupils, otherwise there was no reaction. The man was cool. Dane would give him that. But Dane could out-cool him. No question about it.
“I’ve set up another call,” Floyd said. “Where are you staying?”
“We’ll do the call at a neutral location. Like right here.”
Floyd nodded, not taking his eyes off Dane, giving him one of those intense I’m looking right through to your filthy soul stares.
“Right now,” Dane said. Floyd laughed. Half Dane’s back muscles released from the knot they’d been bunched into. The rest of the tension in his muscles, he knew, would last forever—or for as long as he was with Shana George.
“You want a call like that we need privacy. Let’s go to your new place.”
“Oh that place. Can’t go there now. It got all shot up. Funny, you’re the only one who had the address.”
Floyd laughed. Dane saw a tic in his eyelid. The man was slipping.
“What are you babbling about? Someone took a shot at you? Again?”
“Yes. The men you sent.”
“You’re as paranoid as the rest of us, you know that? I’m not your enemy but you have plenty of those here.”
“None that knew where to find me.”
“You’re kidding, right? They followed you. You and that damn girl of yours stand out like trees in a lake.”
Dane shook his head. “I think we both know I wasn’t followed. I’m good at not getting followed. One of the best, when I put my mind to it. You sent—”
Floyd stood abruptly then and tipped the table on top of Dane—or tried to.
Dane was still quick enough to see it coming and stopped it from knocking him over.
He jumped up and Floyd turned to run, pulling a gun from under his shirt.
He was at the door when Dane caught up to him.
People yelled. They stared. Dane’s gun was out too.
He flashed a silver badge-like object in the direction of the on-lookers.
Something he’d borrowed from David along the way.
It might have been David’s Scotland Yard creds, but David wouldn’t mind under the circumstances.
Dane pushed out the door and spotted Floyd running for a cab. He gave chase and caught up with him again before the cab pulled away, yanked the door open and shoved the gun in Floyd’s face. Floyd, not to be outdone, shoved his gun in Dane’s gut.
“Looks like we have a Brazilliann standoff,” Floyd said.