Chapter 9 #2
“Surveillance cameras.” Dane and Joe swept past her.
She followed as the two men surged forward like characters in an action hero movie through the marble entry hall to a substantial wood carved door to the right where they all went in.
She recognized the room as the governor’s study—the one where he met with people to conduct business rather than a working study.
David Young rose from his chair, side-stepped Dane and Joe, and came straight to Shana.
She gave him a hug in greeting and her smile was automatic. David was that kind of guy. Everyone’s favorite. Elegant in manner and soul. Of course, his exterior charm covered the rock hard toughness of a man who’d been in a few fights and seen a few slaughters—and dished a few out.
“You look perfect as always,” David said and then turned to Dane. “More than can be said for you.”
Dane rubbed his jaw. “At least I’m still conscious.”
“I found these two on the run from a scrappy group of Russian club bouncers,” Joe said.
“Don’t worry—I’m sure the bouncers retreated back to their club by now and reported to their boss that we had a get-away car waiting. They won’t want to take the fall for our escape.”
“Why were they after you—or should I ask?” Governor Douglas asked with a friendly smirk and turned to Shana for the answer.
She said, “Dane hurt the ring leader—not sure how bad—but he went down in a heap and then all hell broke loose.”
“Description of the guy?”
“Same one as Sister Anne took a hit from—same tattoo, same stature, same accent,” Dane said.
David said, “I should be getting something on that soon—via email. We can check it on the computer here.”
Shana smiled at him. David wasn’t exactly tech savvy, but his urbane cool always made her feel like he could handle anything with little trouble—even a mysterious technical gadget.
Madeline Grace walked into the room from a back door and all the men turned to greet her with deference and maybe even a little awe. She gave Shana a hug and said, “Why don’t we sit.”
The men had all been standing around and Shana realized she needed a rest.
“Tell me what you found out,” Governor Douglas said to Dane and her once they were all situated on the couches and chairs, with Joe perched on the arm of one chair rather than sitting as if he might need to run at a moment’s notice.
“We ran into some kind of Russian mob type operation. Hard to say exactly what they were into and hard to say what kind of trouble Lara is in, except that she is definitely in trouble,” Dane said.
“I have some intel on this Russian mob you ran into at the Garage Club,” David said.
“They’ve added a new entrepreneurial twist to the time-honored business of baby selling—they grow the babies.
The club is referred to as ‘the baby farm’ according to the latest from the FBI—who, incidentally, is very interested in this operation and who is very concerned about your interference. ”
“Baby farm?” The excruciating pain in her gut was mostly her uterus, with assistance from every other organ she had, revolting at the sinister sound and meaning of the words. She forced herself to listen to the explanation without covering her ears or screaming bloody murder.
“I thought there was some kind of surveillance going on,” Dane said. “It was the feds then? And they already called you?”
Shana looked at him—he’d ignored the entire reference and horrible implication of the notion of a baby farm.
David nodded and looked between them, at her and at Dane. He addressed Dane.
“They employ a stable of women who seduce men, get pregnant and then turn over their babies—after the babies are old enough to be determined healthy, they are sold. It cuts out the need for kidnapping.”
“Except for Baby Paulette,” Shana said.
“So you think Lara and Paulette are mixed up in this baby farm operation?” the governor asked her.
“Yes, based on what I heard from one of the women when I asked about Lara. Lara must have changed her mind about selling. Now they’re trying to kidnap Paulette.
Maybe they already have a buyer.” Shana knew it in her gut as it churned and writhed in protest. The anger boiled up and the horror and disgust turned into rock-solid, angry, vengeful determination and calmed her insides.
She looked at Dane. He had his blank shark look on but she knew it was masking a world of hurt underneath. Then he spoke with the deadly calm, quiet, and casual voice she knew well—and tried like hell to avoid.
“You’re not suggesting we drop the case—give it to the feds,” he said to the governor. It should have been a question, but it wasn’t.
“Hell no,” the governor said. Madeline, who had been looking distraught, wrapped her arms around the governor.
“We’re going to—let’s say—help the FBI in the pursuit of their prey,” David said.
“Whether they like it or not,” Dane said.
“Precisely. The FBI is notoriously, shall we say, patient about closing their cases. Paulette could be a teenager before they find her mother if we don’t help out.
But of course we can’t use our men or be officially involved—that would constitute interference,” David said and the governor nodded approval.
Shana breathed in relief and would have told them she was pleased with the plan, but Dane spoke up.
“I think we should let the FBI have their case. We should back off.” His words were calm, but he looked far from casual.
The governor and David looked at each other wordlessly, without expression.
Shana’s heartbeat went wild like a marching band on speed. She fisted her hands, mostly to stop herself from taking Dane by the shoulders and shaking sense into him, but partly in preparation to punch his stony face.
“You can’t be—”
He looked at her. “The FBI has better resources to protect her than we do.”
“You’re quitting? You’re actually backing down?” Shana knew her eyes were wide and she gave away every thought or feeling she had and laid herself excruciatingly bare and vulnerable to Dane’s crushing blow.
“I’m being smart,” Dane said. He looked at the men and then back at her. His previous words ran through her head to the beat of her heart. Nothing good ever comes of a baby case.
“But she’s ours. She’s in our care. Father Donahue—”
“All bets are off with goddamned Father Donahue.” Dane gave his harshness full play.
“Maybe Dane is right,” Governor Douglas said. “David, why don’t you have a talk with the Special Agent in Charge and see where they are in wrapping up their case and see what their plans would be for the baby.” He turned to Madeline. “I’ll deal with Father Donahue.”
Madeline Grace didn’t say a word. This was not her area of expertise and Shana knew from past experience that Mrs. Governor never interfered in her husband’s missions, trusting him completely.
She envied their relationship. Maybe that’s what was wrong with her and Dane.
They had the same area of expertise. There was no division of power—there was a constant competition for power.
“Good plan,” Dane said. “We should get back to the island. We’ll make arrangements to deliver the baby to the SAC once you give us the word. Until then, we’ll hold tight and keep her secure.”
“Keep her—she’s not a briefcase full of money—she’s a baby for Christmas’s sake, Dane. I don’t care about your past hist—”
“That’s enough, Shana.” Dane went rigid and his face turned from blandly stony to something considerably more dangerous. Shana looked around at all of them and when she got to Madeline the woman reached out a hand.
“Let’s take a walk. Come with me,” she said in a comforting voice that had an automatic soothing effect.
Shana went with her because she needed to escape from Dane’s oppressiveness.
She needed to calm down. At the very back of her mind she knew there was some truth in what he said in spite of his personal issues with baby cases.
Whatever horror motivated him, what he suggested made sense on some level that her wild hormones wouldn’t let her understand at this moment.
Of course Madeline Grace probably knew all this—the woman was a world-renowned psychologist. Shana relaxed her shoulders, but kept her chin up as she left the room with Madeline holding her arm and leading the way.
One look back over her shoulder as they went through the door of the study and Shana sent the message to Dane.
He would tell her the story about his horrible baby mission—every last detail—before this case was over—before they gave up Paulette to the goddamn FBI and whatever godforsaken system they might deposit her in.