Chapter 13 #2
“No cops. That’s good.” He walked toward Dane, flanked by Mr. Tall and Mr. Short, the outdoor security guards from the night before. The one with the bandaged head blazed mean intentions in Dane’s direction. For the moment, Dane ignored him.
“So you’re the crazy bastard. Dora and my men here told me about you. I hear there’s a price on your head down at Liverpool street. Maybe I should call them. They want Shana George. Real bad.”
“Not yet. Have a seat. If you want Shana, you’ll listen to my terms.”
Chancy laughed. “I don’t trust you. You’ll not turn in Shana, she’s your woman. I know how this works.” He paused, looking like he had the upper hand, because in his experience he probably did most of the time. “You’ll never get out of the country. You’re on the hook but good.”
In spite of his words, Chancy took the seat opposite Dane and then snapped his fingers at Reba, who hovered by the counter. “Get me a large black coffee. Thatta girl.”
“You should know about being on the hook.”
Chancy glared. His men stood behind him, blocking Dane’s path to the front door, but not the rear exit. Joe blocked Chancy’s path to the front door.
“I don’t know how your Shana knows, but it don’t matter. I’m bringing her in. She’s as good as dead.”
“How would you know. You’re nothing but a pawn. Hah.” Dane scoffed at him as if he were pathetic, not much of an act on his part.
The man sat still, smug and silent. Chancy Peterson was good at this, good at keeping his cool under pressure, befitting a man of his stature in the underworld.
It was time for Dane to play his ace in the hole.
The best way he knew to shake up a guy was to tell him the secret he thought he was keeping.
“Admit it. You were set up to take the fall—how many years in jail? —by the mastermind of this whole pension fraud scheme. And you and I both know it wasn’t Shana.”
“Says you.”
“I know and you know and the man who is behind it all knows.” Dane paused for drama, to lead Chancy down the comfortable road, to let Chancy think Dane didn’t know the mastermind’s identity, to let Chancy think Dane needed to be told who it was.
To let Chancy continue to think he had the upper hand until the very last second.
And then to rip the rug from under him and let him fall on his ass.
After a pause, Chancy took the bait. “Who is it then, smart ass? Who’s the big mastermind?”
Dane sat back and spoke with confidence and finality in a low voice.
“It’s Wade Grisk.”
“You have quite an imagination.” To give him due credit, Dane admired that Chancy didn’t pause a beat, didn’t look shocked or surprised or taken aback.
But he did have a tiny little tic of tension in his jaw and along his neck, a line of tightening around his mouth.
Dane knew what to look for, knew what people looked for on his own face.
For the moment, Dane knew he looked relaxed and confident, like he had the upper hand.
Because he did. He held Chancy’s gaze for several beats without speaking, which spoke volumes, he knew.
“You said it yourself, Shana’s my girl and I know she’s not the inside man. I know it’s Wade Grisk and so does she. It’s only a matter of time before the whole thing unravels and then you lose everything. All the money will be confiscated. Unless you’re on the right side.”
That hint at an alternative alliance got Chancy’s attention.
“What’s the right side?”
“Mine. And Kevin Ivory’s.”
“Ivory? You’re in league with Ivory? Grisk said Ivory’s been a pain in his backside. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to stay on the side with the money. I’m sticking with Grisk, and you and your lady will be taking the fall.”
Bingo. He had his confession—or as close to one as he was likely to get. Maybe.
Chancy started to rise.
“I’m leaving. And I’m taking you with me.
” He turned to his two men and motioned for them to take Dane.
Dane had been expecting it. In spite of being beaten up yesterday he still had plenty of fight left.
Neither of them had weapons, at least not visible ones.
Mistake on their part. One he knew they’d make.
They’d assumed Dane had no weapons. They’d needed to bring him in on the up and up to the police. Dane calculated correctly.
Dane pushed the table forward as Chancy started to stand. Chancy stumbled and Dane grabbed him, holding him like a shield between him and the big man who lunged for him. Shoving Chancy forward into his own man, they both fell crashing over a chair and table and onto the floor.
Before Dane could make his next move, he found himself facing the smaller security guard.
“This is for last night.” The man’s mistake was in wasting time talking. As he swung his fist, Dane easily ducked and took no time to kick him in the knees and then in the head.
He looked up and saw Joe chasing Chancy to the front door.
When Joe caught Chancy and pulled him around, the man pulled out a gun and aimed.
He was about to shoot Joe point blank. Dane pulled his gun from the back of his pants and aimed.
He shot first, knocking Chancy’s gun from his hand and possibly taking a piece of a finger with it judging by the blood that appeared.
Lunging forward, as the big man rose again behind Dane, Joe punched the goon in the face hard enough for him to fall and keep him down.
“Get them out of here,” Dane said.
Joe waved at Lenny and Reba to leave. Taking Billy by the arm, he pulled him to the back room to retrieve the computer with the digital recording of the video.
Chancy sat on the floor holding his bloody hand. Dane aimed his gun at the man’s head and asked, “Who is it, Chancy? Who’s the brains behind the fraud?”
“You’re not going to shoot me again.” Chancy was overly confident. He shouldn’t be.
“You’re right.” Dane flicked a glance at the camera and then smashed his left hand into Chancy’s nose at the exact spot to create the maximum amount of blood spurting. Chancy collapsed forward and held his good hand to his nose, swearing a blue streak.
“Grisk’ll have you killed for this—you and Shana are both dead.”
“How do you figure?”
“He knows I’m here. Grisk’ll come after you. You and your bitch’ll take the fall for everything. Unfortunately, you won’t live to talk about it—won’t have a chance to defend yourselves or be able to tell anyone where the money is.”
“I see—so the money stays disappeared and you and Grisk get to spend it.”
“We’ll retire somewhere no one will find us. We’ll have all the money we need.” He swiped a hand at the blood still trickling from his nose. Several red blotches covered the front of his formerly impeccable white linen jacket.
Billy came in behind him from the back room and gave him the thumbs-up. Sirens sounded, closer than Dane liked.
Holding a gun on the two men on the floor, Joe said, “Time to go. Lenny and Reba are long gone.”
Dane waved at him and Billy to go and they ran out the back door.
“Guess we can’t stay for the finale you planned.”
“You’ll never get out of this—”
“That’s my line, Chancy. You’ll never get away with this because you’re the one who’s guilty, remember?”
Dane knew he should leave, but he wasn’t sure the evidence would be enough, wasn’t sure the media would get the message out.
Billy had slipped him a flash drive before he left with all the controls to the surveillance system and everything shut down.
Dane could buy them some time, stall the search for Shana until the clips went live.
But the only damning information they had was the confession recorded on his phone just now.
And he had to get it to Kevin Ivory.
Dane stayed put as he saw the lights of police cars flashing to a stop outside and officers jumping out of the vehicles.
He was betting Ivory would be the commanding officer to arrive and take charge.
Not usually a praying man, Dane said a little prayer this time as he stayed put, holding his gun aimed at Chancy Peterson’s head.
Dane’s phone buzzed and he put it to his ear with his other hand.
“Where are you?” It was the first time Dane had ever heard any sign of urgency in Joe’s voice.
“It’ll be better, safer if they bring me in.” He ended the call and turned off his phone as two police officers came crashing through the front door. He needed to stay and make sure Chancy got arrested, make sure he didn’t slide through the cracks and disappear.
For all Peterson’s earlier bravado, Dane could see it dawn on him that he might be expendable to Wade Grisk and he might be the next one to go.
“I wouldn’t resist arrest if I were you,” Dane said.
The first cop in the door knew Chancy Peterson on sight and, from behind him, demanded that Dane put the gun on the floor and raise his hands.
“I’m glad you got here,” Chancy said as the officer and his partner lifted him from the floor and proceeded to slap him in cuffs. “He was going to shoot me. He’s blaming me for his girlfriend’s crimes.”
“That right? We’ll see what the chief has to say about it.”
“Chief Ivory?” Dane asked with his hands on his head as the officer patted him down.
“Yes. You know him.”
The bell above the door jangled again and they all turned to see Chief Ivory walk inside. If Dane wasn’t in the process of being restrained, he’d have hugged the man, or at least clapped him on the back and given him a hearty handshake.
“Dane Blaise. Fancy meeting you here. Tell me what happened.”
“Glad to. How about if we take the cuffs off and have a conversation?”
Ivory smiled. “You’re under arrest, Blaise. We’ll have our conversation at Liverpool Street if you like.”
The chief waved his hand to take Chancy away.
“What am I under arrest for?” Chancy’s protest went unanswered.
Dane nodded toward the camera. “I got it all on video, Chancy. You’re a star in a movie of your own confession.”
The officers dragged him from the establishment, but not before he got in a last threatening stare at Dane.