Chapter 8
He felt Shana go rigid and tighten her grip on the phone. He said, “Did it sound like a Russian accent—maybe like this?” Dane mimicked a Russian accent.
“Yes. That was it. Someone you know?” Sassy asked.
“No. Someone we want to avoid. I’m going to call Cap as soon as I hang up and have him come by. What did the man say to you?”
“Nothing. He just asked if Jane was here and then said, ‘Sorry, wrong number,’ when I told him no.”
“Okay. Good.”
“Is there a problem?” Sassy’s voice had a shaky timbre to it now. She was no fool. Dane had no intention of trying to fool her.
“Yes. We’re looking for the Russian in question. We think he’s here in Boston. But it’s not a good sign that he called the beach shack.”
“Do you think he knows Paulette is here?”
“Hard to say. We’ll be back tomorrow as soon as we can get there. In the meantime, we’ll have Cap stay with you.”
He hung up. Shana asked the question he was asking himself.
“How do you think he found out about us?”
“I can think of a few ways. None that bode well.”
“Seriously? Do you think they having listening technology and they’re using it on a priest to find a baby?”
“Looks that way, doesn’t it? The future Russian groom from last week could have planted something somewhere along the tour—in a phone, most likely.”
“Either that or they followed Father Stupid Donahue to the island and they’re there now watching the house and we’re here—”
“Don’t panic yet. They wouldn’t have waited this long to make their move if they were on the island.”
Dane called Cap while Shana paced the small room.
After they did as much background checking as they could on the club and the neighborhood, they changed into ratty T-shirts and applied some fake tattoos.
Dane did not mention to Shana that her T-shirt was at least one size too small, possibly two.
Same with her jeans. His T-shirt was baggy enough to cover a Glock stuck inside the back waist of his loose jeans.
“Where are you going to put a weapon in that get-up?” he asked.
She lifted a small handbag and waved it in front of him.
“That’s barely big enough to carry a Saturday night special.”
“That’s all I need. I have you for backup, don’t I?”
You have me for whatever you want. Always.
He had to be insane. It was the effects of a no-good, rotten, baby case haunting him. He flashed her a smile, knowing it would be lackluster, and not caring if she called him on it. She didn’t.
“We can’t wait for David to call.” He dialed David’s number, knowing it would be futile. He knew very well the man would have called if he had anything.
“Hey, Sherlock—we’re about to take off. Anything useful come up on the name and description?”
“We’re running it by the various departments including ICE, the FBI, ATF and Interpol. Internally we don’t have anything. Either the guy is well hidden and therefore very important or he’s under the radar because he’s minor or new. How heavy was the accent?”
“Not terrible. He’s probably not new. Keep us posted.”
Dane signed off and he and Shana left the hotel.
They took a taxi to the edge of the neighborhood several blocks from the destination and looked for a place to eat.
Dane knew they’d be less suspicious if they approached from somewhere else and were around the neighborhood for a while.
The bad guys would have watchers on strangers and Dane wanted to check out as harmless.
David had given him the name of an undercover op who worked the area and who they could say they were visiting if asked.
Predictably, Shana ate hardly a bite but he filled himself. He had an iron stomach that required feeding to keep his adrenaline up.
“We’re on,” he said, rising from the scarred wooden chair in the dark, half-empty dive. “You ready?”
She nodded and stood. He watched her face harden to granite and not lose an ounce of the beauty in the process. She’d have made a great queen or goddess or warrior princess in the ancient times. Now, she was formidable and her sensual aura was like a spider’s web. He needed to be careful.
He and Shana would ask for the woman by her first name, Lara, and hope it was enough. It was certain the last name she used in the church registry was made up. Bennett. Her description didn’t fit a Bennett. You’d think she would have used a more appropriate alias.
Walking along the patchy sidewalk past brick and cement facades, Dane watched without watching and spotted several candidates who might be neighborhood spies. Maybe they were all spies. He pulled Shana roughly to his side and grabbed her hair.
“What the hell, Dane?”
“We’re a rough couple, remember?”
“What’s our plan beyond that?
“We order drinks and look around, size up the patrons. We find the man most likely to be in charge and then stage a fight. You’re jealous over this girl and you start yelling her name and asking people where she is.”
“They won’t tell me if I’m threatening.”
“No—ten to one they won’t tell us no matter what we do.
But after I calm you down from your hissy fit and you go to the ladies’ room—and you need to be very careful—I talk to whoever looks most like an informant after I observe everyone’s reaction to your fit.
I’ll beg to find out where she is—I’ll also mention the man’s name.
Maybe if we’re lucky we’ll have a real name for him or at least his street name by then.
” He paused. She looked unimpressed. They both knew it was a long shot that they’d come away with a name.
“Okay. We’re sending a message, possibly setting ourselves up as targets. ”
“You mean bait. This plan is going to get us beat up.”
“They can try.”
“We’ll be separated.”
“That’s a flaw—but only for a minute—you get back out of there right away—don’t even go in if there’s anyone who seems dangerous inside. Don’t go in at all. Just stand outside a few seconds out of sight and come back. I’ll make my conversation quick and surreptitious-like.”
“Surreptitious-like?”
“I’ll pretend to be pretending I’m talking about something else.”
“If anyone makes a move?”
“We pair up and hit the panic button.”
“Call David?”
“He promised backup if we need it. He knows where we are.”
“Will they be at the club?”
“Not sure—so be prepared to exit fast. We’ll make sure we know the landscape before we start our fight.”
She nodded, then said, “What if they check us for weapons?”
He thought for a second, almost losing himself in the promise of her magical green eyes. “We abort. No way we’re going in unarmed. We can regroup and call David for close backup and a way to identify them.”
“That’ll take time and we don’t have time. We need to get back to the island.”
“Don’t worry.”
“That’s what she said just before the bed broke,” Shana deadpanned.
He laughed and pulled her in again for another rough squeeze. She didn’t seem to mind as much this time.
Dane slowed and took a careful look around at three late-model sedans of various high-end makes, all with tinted windows.
No telling if anyone was inside. That was the point.
The three cars were triangulated around the front entrance of the Garage Club in Allston on the fringe of Boston.
It looked like a converted garage tacked onto a relatively upscale restaurant called The Prism.
“How the hell did Father Donahue find this joint?” Shana whispered. He figured it was a rhetorical question.
“We’re on stage already. May as well head into the limelight inside,” Dane said.
He lowered his hand along her bottom in a possessive, obnoxious, showy move.
Shana held steady—not even a microscopic flinch.
She threw an arm around his back and slid it low to return the favor.
If they didn’t watch out they might win an Oscar for their part as a sleazy couple.
Dane steered them into a wide doorway where a few women and men and another couple stood ahead of them in line. The doorman lasered his stare at Shana within a millisecond and nodded to Dane to step forward.
“There’s a dress code. But,” he paused and looked Shana up and down.
“I might be persuaded to overlook it for you—since you’re with her.
” He raised his chin in Shana’s direction.
He didn’t smile. He spoke with a heavy accent.
His pal, the shorter and apparently wiser of the two, didn’t speak at all, but did run his beady eyes over them both.
Dane said nothing, but carefully pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket for just such an occasion.
Shana watched him hand it over and step forward.
The two men smiled and let them through the door.
The minute they stepped inside the dimly lit loud space, Shana said under her breath, into his ear so close that her breath raised goose bumps down his neck, “There’s no damn dress code here. ”
“I know. It’s code for bribe required for strangers and newcomers.”
The crowd was dressed in everything from tatters to glitz.
Most of them were younger than Dane, but that didn’t bother him nearly as much as the number of men-in-black types he figured for bouncers or security or hired henchmen or whatever they were.
He counted eight of them and they hadn’t even gone more than five steps inside.
“Shit.”
“What?”
“This is going to be trickier than I thought.”
“No it’s not. I’ve got our target straight ahead.
Follow me.” Shana sauntered toward the large circular bar in the middle of the room and a smallish, well-dressed, wiry gentleman sitting on a stool with empty seats beside him.
His clothing was imported from Italy and he wore a ring and a watch that could have bought a small condo.
He was the anomaly in the room. Dane smiled. His girl Shana knew her stuff.