Chapter 8
Shana’s first instinct, after she shook off the instant freeze of shock, was to protest. But the determined resolve in Dane’s eyes didn’t hide the desperate pain.
Not from her. To others he looked solid as granite, but she saw past that to the shadow of whatever pain motivated him.
A knot twisted in her gut and strangled her motive to speak.
A swirl of resentment mixed with wrenching tenderness doused whatever angry spark there had been.
It wouldn’t have mattered even if she had said a word, because Dane’s demand provoked a shit-storm of barking from the FBI’s Mark Richards and Homeland Security agent Trevor Croft.
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
“You don’t make demands in this office.” Richards’s face turned red.
Shana knew he was holding back in his boss’s presence or he’d be using language well past colorful and possibly grabbing Dane by the collar of his white linen shirt.
Dane remained implacable and though he hadn’t moved a muscle, he emanated an attitude as if he’d folded his hands across his chest and smirked at them all.
The FBI SAC, Owens, intervened. He was paid to be the cool head. Maybe it was the fed’s version of good-cop-bad-cop.
“We’ll need to talk with both of you.” His calm words sent a shiver through her. He deserved the leadership role.
“She’s a person of interest in our case—same as you are, Blaise,” Croft said. “She’s not going anywhere.”
She wanted to tell Dane it was okay, to reassure him, but Dane wouldn’t look at her now. Maybe it was a setup. She couldn’t tell. She had no idea what game he was playing, but she hated that he’d placed her at the center of this tug-of-war.
What she did know was that she wouldn’t say a word unless she got the go-ahead from Dane.
Of course there was a wild card among their group and she became aware of that fact then, as did everyone, when Ryan Murphy decided to speak.
“Neither of them should be held,” Ryan said. “I’m the person you want to talk to and I don’t mind talking.”
No one said a word for a beat. They all drilled Ryan with their best menacing stares. She slid a glance at Dane and shouldn’t have been surprised to see a sneaky smile like he was posing as Mona Lisa plastered on his face. She wasn’t the only one.
“Separate them,” the SAC said.
Derek Smith, the FBI special agent whom she had last spoken with when he’d asked her to dinner, moved toward her. He surprised her when he spoke.
“I think we’re wasting our time talking to them. They’ve already told us the story. We’ll get more out of following them.”
“I don’t know who you are,” Hank Tims said, “But I’m not leaving until we’ve had a conversation with each one of them. Pronto.”
Owen Evans smiled. Then Dane spoke up.
“I’d like to talk with Special Agent in Charge Owen Evans.” He nodded at the man. Evans nodded back and gestured toward the door. The room felt like an overinflated balloon that had suddenly been popped. The tightness in Shana’s shoulders eased as she watched Dane precede the SAC out the door.
“We’ll talk to you later, Blaise,” Tims’s man said. “Right now we’ll be happy to have a chat with Shana George.”
Dane turned and flashed her a look—a twitch of one corner of his mouth and a slight raise of one brow—that told her to go.
She would entice Homeland Security while he enticed the FBI.
They would give a giant push to the turf war that had been set in motion to make sure there was as much animosity and as little cooperation as possible.
She would do her best to mimic Dane’s ability to be bold and make rash promises.
Like dangling the notion of their wedding reception.
He took a right down the hall toward the last door where he knew the SAC’s office overlooked Government Center in Boston. The man followed him, but Dane didn’t kid himself. Evans was pissed.
They both knew Shana would play Homeland Security for all they were worth. She would tell all and promise the moon—as long as they kept the FBI off their backs.
They both knew the wild card was still sitting in the interrogation room. In spite of the fact that Ryan Murphy was a practicing attorney, Dane knew the FBI and Homeland Security were arrogant enough to think they could run roughshod over him.
They were all about to find out if that was true. Ryan Murphy was about to be interrogated. Dane knew the ASAC would run him through the ringer unlike any courtroom would allow. The FBI men were counting on him to keep his promise of talking.
Dane knew better. He’d bet his left pinky none of them knew about Ryan Murphy’s West Point experience. He’d been known as Mr. Silent. He’d never been broken. As soon as he said he would be glad to talk, Dane knew that was a message meant for him. He knew that it had meant the opposite.
Ryan might have plenty to say, but none of it would be useful or telling in any way. He would tell them only things they already knew or that they could find out for themselves easily with a phone call or check of the Internet.
Dane walked inside the SAC’s large office with the large windows and took a chair in front of the man’s desk before the SAC closed the door behind them.
“You’re a piece of work, Blaise. What the hell are you trying to do?”
“Evade getting caught up in Homeland Security’s net.”
“What do they want with you? They know who you are.”
“They don’t care. They want to make me play their game in whatever operation they have going on. I’ll do it. But they can’t have Shana.”
Evans chuckled. “The governor is right about you.”
“He’s right about everything.”
“Let me guess,” the SAC said. “You expect me to run interference with HS to keep you off the hot seat.”
Dane said nothing.
“What’s in it for you?”
“I’m protecting my client.”
“Anatoly Ivanov.”
“His granddaughter Lara and her baby Paulette.” Dane knew SAC would remember them. Knew the man would have a soft spot for the baby. At the same time he had no soft spot for Anatoly.
“I’m making no promises about keeping Ivanov out of jail. I’d just as soon see him put away.”
“Not in Guantanamo.”
The SAC nodded. “You want me to work with HS and keep an eye on them. Or do you want me to interfere with them?”
“Far be it for me to tell you how to do your job.”
“Oh don’t worry—We’ll be doing what we think is in the best interest of the FBI and the citizens of the United States. And we’ll do it by the book.”
Dane held his smile. He had no doubt the SAC enjoyed the chess game. He counted on it. Dane was a master chess player and relished engaging with the rare worthy opponents.
“There is no book on this in the FBI’s library. Your chance to write the book.”
“I’ll tell you what it says. It says I wire you and Ivanov and have you run a sting.”
“That’s the Homeland Security playbook,” Dane said. “The FBI is smarter. You don’t want to put weapons out there—not even decoys. Sends the wrong message to a lot of people. What you want to do is run a different sting.”
Dane paused to make sure Evans hadn’t closed his mind. The man tapped his pen against his blotter. Then he rolled his hand, gesturing for Dane to continue.
“You want to wrap Max and Sal up airtight, catch them in the act of something bad and squeeze them for intel. Worse comes to worse you have them help set up a sting for the cell.”
“We’d need to include HS in on something like that.”
Dane shrugged. “One big happy family.”
“Where do you come in? What do you have?”
“I have Toly’s cooperation. I set up the decoy.”
“You play bait for Max and Sal.”
“They’re already following me.” Dane would dress in the damn wedding gown if he had to in order to make this work, but he didn’t suggest it out loud.
“You want Ivanov to refuse to supply arms to incite Max and Sal to make a move against him. Do they know you and Murphy are here?”
“They’re right outside now.”
“Damn it, Dane.”
“Don’t worry. Yes, they’ll shut down their operation, but then they’ll want to take revenge. Big time.”
“You damn well better be right or you’ll be blacklisted for life—not by me. HS has a lot invested in this operation and you’re blowing it wide open.”
“I understand. But there is merit in shutting down Max and Sal’s arms deal and having them under their thumb instead of following them around after they’ve bought arms.”
Evans nodded.
“I expect you to come up with a foolproof plan to make sure they make their move for revenge sooner than later—and to set it up so that they’re caught.”
Dane nodded. Tall order. He was flattered at the assignment.
Or he would be if he didn’t know that the SAC would be concocting his own plan B and that his plan would not take into account the safety of Toly—possibly not include any provisions for Dane’s safety either.
Evans would see to Shana’s safety. Dane knew that for sure because they both knew there would be hell to pay—that Dane would make him pay—if he didn’t take care of Shana.
Mr. Dinner Date Special FBI Agent escorted Shana into an interrogation room with a firm hand at the small of her back. It was not the typical treatment, in her experience. She hoped to hell no one else noticed. For his sake and hers.
If she’d hoped for an FBI interrogation she’d have been disappointed. Croft and Tims pushed their way into the room and Mark Richards rounded out the crew. Five against one.
“Who’s left to talk to Ryan Murphy?” she asked as she took a seat opposite her future dinner date.
“After all—he’s the one who said he’d be happy to talk to you all.
” She smiled pleasantly. She knew this would annoy everyone.
Except her man across the table. Derek Smith smiled back at her.
She wondered if she ought to stretch her legs forward and touch his shoe with hers.
A friendly little tap. Not exactly playing footsies, but it would be enough to encourage him.
She decided to save it for when she needed it.