Chapter 7 #4
Shana nodded her thanks to the receptionist with a dismissive air and stood straight to her full five feet eleven height, plus three inch heels, so that Fiona had to turn her head up to look at her.
The attending beautician stopped combing the wet tangle and looked up also.
A small smile lit Shana’s face as if the director had said “Action!” Her audience was ready and the curtain had been raised.
“Hello, dear—”
“Do I know you?”
“Sebastian sent me to have a chat with you.”
Of all the reactions Shana might have expected from Fiona Whitaker, it never occurred to her that a jealous rage would be the one. The woman’s face turned from surprise and puzzlement to indignation and she shot up from her chair apparently with every intention of slapping Shana’s face.
Of course, she never managed it. Shana caught the smaller woman’s wrist and sat her back down in her chair with enough force to meet little resistance, but not enough force to cause a scene.
At least no more of a scene than the woman’s abrupt attempt to slap her had already caused.
A few heads turned, but Shana stared them down with her ice queen smile.
“Would you rather talk in a more private room?” Shana glanced at the beautician who couldn’t hide her glee at the scene, although she gave it a valiant effort. “Where’s your dun—ladies’ room?”
The woman pointed and Shana helped Fiona back up from the chair.
“No need to manhandle me. I’d love to have a private chat with you.”
She was obviously under the misimpression that Shana was some “other” woman. Shana made a mental note to have Acer or Dane look into that when she called in. They got to the ladies’ room and went in. Shana closed and locked the door behind them.
There was no question they were in a posh salon based on the appointments of the dunny alone. There was a dainty damask chair with a mirrored table and a sink that looked more like a Baccarat crystal bowl.
“You have your nerve coming here. And I doubt my husband sent you—he’s going to find out about this and he’s not going to be happy.”
Shana decided to play along for a minute to see what this was all about.
“Oh, he’s very happy,” she said with a purposeful purr.
She could see Fiona’s temperature go up as if she had a thermometer on her forehead. Her face turned pink and her orange mouth disappeared into a thin line.
“Don’t give me that—he’s loyal to me. He needs me. I’ve got all the cards here.”
“About those cards…” Shana prompted.
The woman folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. “What about it? What do you want? Why are you here?”
“Money.” It was universal enough to be left unadorned by explanation.
“Hah. Fat chance I’m giving any money to you.”
“No need. Get it to him. A hundred thousand by tomorrow.”
Fiona’s eyes popped. “What? I just sent him—you have that bastard call me himself. He has a lot of nerve sending his harlot over here—”
“Harlot?” Shana meant to show more indignation than surprise in her voice. In fact, she was lucky she hadn’t snorted a laugh at the use of the term.
“Call a spade a spade. I know what you are. You think you can get him, take his money with the lure of sex.” Fiona waved a hand and paced in a circle then turned on her. “But that’s my money you’re playing with, not his. Not one red cent is his. You should remember that.”
“Not even the money he stole?” Shana turned her question into a smug triumph and folded her arms, leaned back and pointed a toe as if she were comfortable in the room and with her position, towering over the woman.
She actually was comfortable, especially since she had a gun in the small purse that hung from her shoulder if all else failed.
“Stole? You mean the embezzled money? There’s nothing left of that—” Fiona stopped short and turned pink again and backed up a step.
“You were saying?”
“Okay—so what if he hid some of that money—you know better than I do what happened to it.”
“I do?”
“Don’t play the dumb blonde with me. We both know for a fact the feds got it—got to him, tied it all up…. he couldn’t get access to it unless… until…” Fiona did not seem very sure of herself.
An alarm bell bigger than Big Ben went off in Shana’s head at the mention of the feds and without further thought she said, “Feds? You don’t mean Special Agent Glen Peck do you?”
“You know who I mean—what do you mean?” Fiona clamped her mouth. Shana did the same and considered her next words before speaking. She’d hit on something she hadn’t wanted to hit on, something she hadn’t considered.
Goddamn. It would explain a lot.
“So what about the hundred thousand dollars? You don’t think Sebastian is holding out on you? You think maybe he has access to the money now—through the feds?” Shana’s chest tightened in spite of the drumming heartbeat anticipating the woman’s answer.
“If he has access to the embezzled money, then what does he need anything from me for?”
“At the moment he’s being watched closely.”
“What does he care if he’s being watched if he’s in bed with the feds?”
“You know the feds were pretending they couldn’t recover all the embezzled money—claiming Sebastian hid it or spent it. He can’t start spending it now or they’ll all be under suspicion.”
“Some of the money? I thought they hid it all—didn’t recover any of it—that it was all in the wind.
He was very proud that even that guy Jeremiah Aceman couldn’t find it—the guy they hired to throw my husband in jail.
Maybe Mr. Aceman has all the money and he set up my husband to take the fall.
Maybe Mr. Aceman has a deal with the feds and my husband is the fall guy.
Figures the FBI would pick on someone just because he has a record—one lousy mistake. ”
Shana’s heart beat faster, but she kept the blue-diamond look on her face and said, “Never mind all that—you don’t know anything for certain—it’s wild speculation.
You don’t have any proof about the feds—do you?
” Shana licked her lips. “Anything we can use for leverage?” She forced herself to breathe.
The woman looked up at her. Fiona looked like she was thinking about it.
“I got my cell phone. They confiscated my husband’s cell phone, but they didn’t bother with mine.
Their mistake. My number is one digit off my husband’s, so when he used my phone, they didn’t notice the difference, I guess.
I have two calls with the fed’s number. And…
” Fiona paused, eying her with a smug look.
“What?” Shana’s voice was sharp, but she didn’t care. It was time to intimidate.
“And a voicemail message from Mr. Peck.” Fiona smiled. “Now that you mention it, maybe that is good leverage. But don’t think for a minute I’d share it with you.”
“Don’t be foolish. The minute you say a thing, they’ll confiscate your phone and quash the records. Don’t breathe a word of it. To anyone.” Shana wasn’t posturing now. This lady was in trouble if she said a word. Unless she was acting dumb.
Fiona scoffed, but it was bravado. Her nervous smile was as fake as her hair color.
“In the meantime, what about the hundred grand for Sebastian—your husband?”
“For my husband? You want me to give the money to you to give to my husband? He’s in bed with everyone except me it looks like—including you. Why should I give him money?” Fiona seemed to deflate like a blow-up doll with a steady leak as she shrunk back and plopped onto the damask chair behind her.
Shana thought the woman might burst into tears any minute so she backed off. Asking for the money was a ploy she might not need anymore since the woman had already shared more than enough.
“You know none of that is true—not the part about him being in bed with me at least. It’s strictly business with me. I’m all about the money.”
“Then why hide? Why haven’t I met you all this time? Why did he talk about you as if there were something…. else to your relationship?”
“I can’t help what he says about me. I had no idea he said anything. What did he say?”
“He always talked about how smart you were, how clever and brilliant, and how you fixed the system for him and how loyal you were and how you’d walk to the ends of the earth for him and do anything he’d ask—as if he’d asked you to do some kinky things and you did them and he was throwing it in my face and—”
Shana didn’t need to hear anymore. The woman thought she was the hacker. The dead hacker. Apparently Sebastian had not shared the identity of Harold Small with his wife and preferred to torment her with the mystery.
“Stop right there. There was nothing kinky. Not ever. He was just trying to make you jealous. It’s obvious.”
The woman looked skeptical and she still had all the energy of a slug, slouched on the chair and leaning on the table. Shana needed this discussion to be over with. She reached out a hand and when the woman didn’t reach back, she bent down and grabbed her by the arms and hauled her to her feet.
“Time to go. You go get us the money. Have it sent to this address by tomorrow.” Shana took a blank card from her bag and scribbled their P.O box address then pressed it into her hands. “Got it?”
“Then what? When is this all over? When does my husband come home and we get back to living our life?”
“You know he has unfinished business.”
“Does he?”
Fiona was back to her more energetic self now and full of doubt.
Shana needed to go while she could. She pulled the woman from the bathroom and marched them back out to the public spaces of the salon.
Resuming her polished, haughty pose, she gave the woman a last nod and strode to the chrome and glass door and pushed through to the other side.
Taking a deep breath of the early autumn air, she filled her lungs with the grit of the city and hurried to her car. Shana couldn’t wait to talk to Dane.
She clicked the key to open her door and didn’t register the car farther back down the street until it was almost on her and coming fast and close.
There wasn’t enough time to open the door and jump in.
She moved quickly, lunging onto the hood of her car as the black sedan roared by with a wash of wind as she rolled out of the way and ducked down in front of the hood.
When the car passed, she dashed back out to the street to catch the license plate and managed to see it in a flash before it swerved around the corner as cars honked. She looked back at her car and was surprised the side mirror didn’t get clipped.
An older couple and a young man with a dog rushed toward her shouting their concern, asking if she was okay and making politely disapproving comments about the driver that almost killed her.
She saw the young man punching something in on his phone and she reached for it as she reassured him that she was fine.
“Please, I appreciate your help, but I’m okay and I’m so late to catch a plane—I can’t stay. You’re all so wonderful to be so concerned.” She shut the man’s phone off and handed it back to him with a smile before he could object more than to say, “Hey.”
Sitting behind the wheel of her car, Shana let the aftershocks of adrenaline and the close-call shakiness wear off before she started.
Well aware of the several people watching her, she couldn’t afford to wait long and pulled into the traffic without calling Dane.
She’d have to talk to him when she got to the heliport.
In the meantime, she’d need to keep vigilant for anyone following her.
Running her down with a car wasn’t exactly the MO of a sniper, in her experience. So who the hell was after her?