Chapter 13
The door flew open and Joe walked in, gun first.
The woman who opened the door backed away but she didn’t flinch. Dane stepped around Joe into the room. There were no windows, but it was large, with thick carpeting and rich wood paneling all around. Two men in dark suits sat at a desk, one in front and one behind. They appeared unperturbed.
Neither of them the man he wanted. Shit.
“I want a meeting with Chancy Peterson,” Dane said.
“And who would you be?” the woman asked as if they were meeting at a cocktail party.
“Dane Blaise. I have a proposition he may be interested in concerning Shana George.”
“What makes you think he would be interested?”
“I thought he would want to know where the missing money is from the police pension fraud.”
She stared at him, almost as blankly as he stared at her. Joe stood like a statue, gun raised and unflinching. A few ticks of time passed. Dane let it go. Then one of the men at the desk spoke up.
“Everything all right, Dora?”
“It’s all spiffy,” Dora said over her shoulder to the men without looking. To Dane she said, “Let’s tee up an appointment.”
In his mind, Dane was doing cartwheels at how easy she was making it, but he kept a cold stare on his face.
“Tomorrow at ten a.m. Sejuiced, the juice bar at Bondi Beach. You know it?”
“Yes. No police.” She lifted a finger and indicated for him and Joe to turn and leave.
“Thank you, Dora. I’ll be sure and put in a good word.”
She squelched a smile, her red lips straining. Dane took a last look at her before turning away, wondering who the hell she was. Joe followed him back down the stairs where he stopped before opening the door to the outside where they’d left the security detail in a heap.
“I’ll go first,” Joe said, leading with his weapon again. Dane nodded. Joe pushed the door open with his boot. Nothing. He stepped outside and looked around.
“Clear,” he spoke quietly in the night.
Dane followed him out and on their way by saw one of the men stirring.
“Move fast. The big man is on the rise.”
Joe put his gun back in its holster and they jogged, circling several blocks to get back to where they’d left their cars.
“That was too easy,” Dane said, stopping at Joe’s car. The sky was black and starlit, the air moody, thick with the tropical sea scent.
Joe shrugged. “She was reasonable. A business woman.”
“But who the hell was she?”
Joe slipped his phone from his pocket and started thumbing the screen.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to Google her?”
Joe nodded and Dane’s phone vibrated.
He slipped it from his pocket, knowing it was Shana again.
“She was probably Chancy’s wife. Dora,” she said.
“It figures. The wife is always the sane one.”
“Hurry up and get home—back to me.”
The phone call ended and Dane’s pulse picked up. He was no longer in the mood to question his good fortune at having encountered Dora Peterson instead of her likely less reasonable, less-than-better-half, Chancy.
*****
Dane left Shana in bed just as the sun rose. The only thing sore on him was his jaw, which he probably owed to the miraculous healing power of a night of lovemaking. It had given him the energy to leave her sleeping and to refocus on the planned meeting.
Billy was waiting for him in the kitchen with Joe and a fresh pot of coffee.
“You’re late,” Joe said. He had a straight face, but Dane recognized the twinkle in his eye.
“Man, you’re a brave one,” Billy said. “I’d have got a smack in the head for that knock.”
“Why would I smack the man who set us up with the perfect location for our sting operation?”
“Why not?,” Billy said. “Speaking of which, he said it’s being wired as we speak, as you instructed. Sound’s been added to the video and two more cameras. I told him you’re good for the money to pay for it all.”
Dane nodded. “Does he need me to get him the money today?”
“No. He’s relying on my word. I’ll send you the bill when it’s all over.”
“You told him there might be damage?”
Billy nodded. “He was nervous and excited about it.”
“What about the media contacts?”
“That was a bit trickier. My contact isn’t high enough up to guarantee. She’ll need editorial approval. But she’ll do her best to get it on the ABC News noon report. I told her I’d email the video file to her at the Ultimo Centre, but she wants it on a flash drive delivered by courier.”
“If by courier, she means you, that’ll work,” Dane said. “What about social media?”
“Got that covered. I have a mate with over a hundred K followers on Twitter and a YouTube channel.”
“That it?”
“That should get us started. We’ll get it rolling, and then it should catch fire on its own, dontcha think?”
Dane nodded. He hoped, more than he knew, it would work.
Joe said, “We could call the governor for help with spreading the word. I’ll send him the file.”
Dane nodded. “Billy, get a few extra flash drives while you’re at it.”
“Will do. She’ll be right.”
“Then we’re set. Make sure your man closes the place by nine o’clock. Your friend will be the man behind the counter and you can be a customer. No one else.”
“We’ll need a waitress. My friend’s wife is ready to go.”
Dane frowned. Too many people. He wished like hell he could use Shana in this sting, wished he had a supporting cast he could trust like he had on Martha’s Vineyard. He missed Cap, even missed Ronnie and Sassy, his junior assistants.
“Fine. Joe you’re with me. Chances are they have you ID’d. I’d lay down the Brooklyn Bridge in a bet the room we were in had cameras.”
“Good assumption,” Joe said.
“Let’s get ready to roll.” Dane took a last swig of his black-as-mud coffee and wished he had time for another. Wished he had the time and the frivolous luxury of a lot of things on this so-called vacation. Shana appeared in the doorway of the kitchen as if he’d wished her into existence.
She said nothing except with her the flashing green fire of her eyes. She telegraphed want and frustration and determination. Then she walked into his arms, testing his resolve not to jet them away to parts unknown and stay forever away from here, or anywhere else there was trouble.
But that was just a momentary lapse before he returned to the disciplined soldier for justice that he was, knowing he couldn’t escape his life of crusading for helpless victims and causes, lost or otherwise.
In this case, though the victim standing in his arms was far from helpless—she was the most important cause of his life, his partner in crusading.
The game was on.
He kissed her on the mouth, deep and quick, then whispered in her ear, “Gotta go.”
He left her standing in the kitchen alone while Billy and Joe followed him out. They piled into the rental car, Joe in the driver’s seat, Billy in back, Dane in the passenger’s seat.
“Call the cops now, Billy.”
“What do I say?”
“Tell Kevin there’s a change in location.”
“What if he doesn’t know what I’m talking about?”
“He’ll know. Chancy Peterson will not show up without cops following him. He might have told the cops himself if he’s afraid enough of Wade Grisk.”
“Kevin is a smart man. He’s not going to believe me.”
“He can’t take a chance. He’ll send a detail to the decoy location and with any luck, cut down the presence at Sejuiced.”
“What decoy location?”
“The one you’re going to tell him about.”
Dane watched Billy, hands shaking, punch in the number. Dane snatched the phone from him.
“I’ll take the call. As long as it’s your phone, it’ll work,” Dane said. He listened to the line ring twice before Chief Ivory picked up.
“Ivory here.”
“Dane Blaise here.”
“Shit, you bastard, what the hell are you up to? I need you to—”
“I need you to listen. I know you have men on Chancy Peterson. I know you know about the meeting this morning.” Dane paused to let Ivory react, but he didn’t. Damn.
“We’re meeting at Sejuiced in Pymont. Don’t send anyone to the Bondi Beach location unless they’re seriously underdressed. Got that?”
“I hear you.”
“And do not take action. Let it play out.”
“What the hell are you—”
Dane disconnected the call. Then he smiled.
“He’ll be there.”
“What the devil?” Billy said.
Joe said, “You want him there after all. You changed your mind.”
“I decided I trust Kevin Ivory. Something Shana said to me.” He remembered what she’d told him about Kevin, that he sounded more agitated than she’d ever seen him.
That he’d needed to call someone. And something told Dane that it was not Wade Grisk.
Shana had said he’d never gotten along with Grisk.
They arrived to an empty juice bar at nine a.m. and went in the back door.
Billy introduced them to his friend Lenny and his wife Reba.
Lenny and Reba were dressed to work and were as jittery as if they’d been drinking a gallon of espresso.
Joe took up a station out front to let them know when Chancy arrived and Billy sat with a tall glass of juice at a table against the wall, out of sight of the cameras.
“This is the table with the best sight angle for all three cameras,” Lenny said, showing Dane to a booth in the center of the place. Dane took the seat facing the door.
“I’ll take a coffee. Black.” He looked at Reba, who looked back at him for a beat before realizing that was her cue to act.
“She gonna be all right?”
“Sure. I’ll talk to her.” Lenny disappeared and Dane took out his cell phone. He set it on the table next to him. He held back, barely, from calling Shana, just to hear her voice. Damn, he’d better get it together fast. She would be the death of him if she weren’t everything he was living for.
After Reba brought him a hot mug of not-half-bad coffee, he drank part of a cup before Joe gave the signal and took his place inside the door.
The bells over the door jingled as Chancy Peterson walked in accompanied by his two men. He glanced around, pausing for a beat on Billy then zeroing in on Dane.