“Do not make any noise, kid. It's almost midnight, and people are asleep. Try for quick and fast.”
Dennis dropped to his knees, squinted, and then went to work with his picklock. “Beats me,” he whispered, “why people live in these swanky places and use the cheapest locks on the market. Guess they think their security systems will save them. Or they're counting on that doorman not to let anyone who doesn't belong into the building. Dumb. Okay, I did it. All we have to do is turn the knob and walk through the door. You want me to go first?”
Harry looked over at Dennis and shook his head. “Stealth is required right now. Do you remember the layout of the condo from the schematic we saw when we were in the stairwell? It's the same one that was in the mail room.”
Dennis nodded.
“I'm going to head straight for the bedroom. You stay here by the door but inside
. If
there is an alarm, and
if
it goes off, I'll hustle her to wherever it's located. It goes without saying she's going to try to get away, so be prepared.”
Dennis stepped to the side to allow Harry to enter the condo. He followed him into the dark of the foyer. A faint glow of a night-light shone off the living room. The foyer, where the alarm should be, showed only a picture of some kind. No alarm pad. He heaved a sigh of relief. Then he started to wonder if perhaps it was in the bedroom, but he doubted it. People wanted an alarm by the door so they could immediately either arm or disarm the system while they were either coming or going. He took a second to wonder how he knew that. Probably had read an article on alarm systems at some point, and it had stuck with him. He was, after all, a reporter, and he read constantly to keep his faculties sharp and his information base updated.
He was about to disobey Harry's orders when he heard a squeal, then a thump, then some colorful cursing. He froze in his tracks. More yelps. He ran toward the bedroom but stopped in the doorway. A small night-light was on. He couldn't be sure, but he thought Harry looked frazzled in the dimness. He looked at the bed, where it looked like a woman had been sleeping peacefully. The bedcovers told another story.
“She put up a fight,” Harry said flatly. “I had to use some extreme measures. There is no alarm. Is that right?”
“Right. Right. No alarm,” Dennis said, his eyes on the woman on the bed.
“Find her clothes, whatever she took off when she got in bed. We need to dress her.”
“But she's . . . I don't know.... I never . . . Harry, she's . . .”
“Naked. I know. That's why we have to dress her. Move, Dennis!”
Dennis moved. To the bathroom. Where he found a small pile of clothing and a pair of spike-heeled shoes studded with rhinestones. The kind of rhinestones that were on the cowgirl boots Annie loved and wore almost every day. He bent over to pick up the clothes with one eye closed. Unmentionables. A bra that was all lace. With his foot, he tried to shoo it over to the tank top that was next to a pair of spandex capri pants. He reared back when he saw something else. Strings. He bent over to peer more closely.
Oh, jeez. Oh, Lordy, Lordy.
Should he touch them? Touch what? Three strings.
Jeez, Jeez, Jeez.
“Uh, Harry!” he called out.
“C'mon, kid. Move it. We don't have all night, and Jack is pitching a fit. What's the problem?”
Dennis looked down at the pile of clothing and started to move it all with his foot toward the bedroom doorway. “Listen, Harry, I think you should wake her up and let her dress herself. I never . . . I don't even know how . . . how these three strings work. I never put a bra on a woman.”
Harry stared at Dennis for thirty long seconds. In his life, he'd never seen anyone look more miserable. Then he looked down at the pile of clothing. He decided they should take the clothes over to the bed and try to put them on. Well, this would certainly make for interesting conversation when Yoko got back. Then again, maybe not. If the kid was refusing to dress the woman, that left only him.
“Tell you what, let's . . . uh . . . just forget the underwear and go with the rest. Between the two of us, we should be able to manage it, doncha think? I don't like this any more than you do, but we have to get her dressed to take her out of here. Maggie didn't say anything about her sleeping in the nude. Who does that?” Harry asked fretfully.
“I don't know, Harry. This . . . this is all new to me. How can they call three strings underwear? I wonder how they figure out what the thread count is.”
“Shut up, Dennis. I'll take the pants, and you take the top. Just yank it over her head. Oh, crap! This is that stretchy stuff. You need to
pull and tug
.”
“Yeah, yeah, they call it spandex, and once you get it on, it fits like a second skin. I saw that on a commercial.”
Harry and Dennis tugged and pulled, then tugged some more.
“She's hippy. How the hell did she get these on all by herself?” Harry muttered as he gave the waistband another yank.
“Women dance around and jiggle to get them on. No, I don't know that firsthand. I saw it on a commercial,” Dennis babbled, his face beet red with all his exertion.
Harry closed his eyes and waited a few seconds, until his breathing returned to normal. He made a mental note to himself to check Yoko's drawers when he got home, and if there were any such items, he would dispose of them and pretend the dojo was robbed.
“We need her cell phone, all electronic devices you can find, her purse for sure. Make it snappy. I'm going to wake her up, and she's going to be ready to go another few rounds. We might have to gag her because of the security cameras in the hall. But once we get her into the stairwell, we'll be okay. Her car keys should be in her purse. We'll dump her into the trunk and hope for the best. Oh, shit. Someone is ringing the doorbell. Watch her, Dennis, while I check it out.”
Someone at the door!
“Holy Mother of Jesus,” Dennis said as he blessed himself. He looked down to see Kitty/Clare reaching up to grab him by the throat. His eyes almost popped out of his head when he realized that this woman got the drop on him. Oh, no, that wasn't going to happen, not under Harry's eye. Or his eye, either.
Dennis reached for Kitty/Clare's wrist and knocked it out of the way. “Listen to me, lady. You try that again, and I'll slice your tits off. In case you haven't noticed, we didn't put your bra on, in case it came to this!” Dennis hissed.
“I'd like to see you try that! You dressed me! You saw me naked! You pervert! Who are you? Who is that crazy Chinese guy who knocked me out? Let me go, so I can kill you. Damn perverts. This is my home, my castle. I'm supposed to be safe here.”
“None of your beeswax. Now, shut up and stand up. I meant what I said about . . . earlier, and if they aren't real, they're going to leak all over the place. I'm not going to tell you again, so get the hell up right now!”
That was when Dennis saw Harry and Snowden grinning from ear to ear and the two female operatives smiling as they took in the situation. He suddenly felt so light-headed, he almost blacked out. He'd performed to their expectations. In his eyes, it didn't get any better than that.
Woo-hoo!
“Gag her,” Snowden said.
One of the female operatives ran into the bathroom for a washcloth. She returned and shoved it into Kitty/Clare's mouth. The quasi showgirl fought like a tiger, kicking out and struggling, but to no avail.
“You got a plan, Snowden?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, more or less. We know where she's parked. We dump her in the trunk and head out to MGM, where we'll be just another drunken party returning to her room. Standard operating procedure here in Vegas. What that means is no one will pay the least bit of attention to us. So, yeah, that's the plan.”
“Guess I can live with that,” Harry mumbled. Harry eyeballed Dennis. “Did you get everything?”
Dennis held out a designer duffel bag and hefted it to show it was full. “We're good, Harry. Let's go. This place gives me the creepy-crawlies.”
“I'm proud of you, kid. You handled yourself well tonight.”
Dennis felt his chest puff out. Praise from Harry Wong just made his day. In this particular case, his night.
Chapter 22
J
ack used his clenched fist to thump on Dixson Kelly's door. He peered into the magic eye but couldn't see anything, any sign of movement. What he could see was dim light off to the side, probably from the main living area. He waited a full two minutes before he thumped his fist again. When nothing happened, he got out his mini lock-breaking kit, the same one that Dennis carried, and went to work. He heard the tumblers click in the first minute.
Cheap lock
, he thought.
Sparrow motioned for Jack to step aside. Gun in hand, he stood in the open doorway and said, “FBI, Mr. Kelly! Show yourself. Don't make me do this the hard way.”
Kelly appeared from a dim hallway, glass in hand. “Gentlemen! Welcome to Casa Kelly. You should have called first. You're calling on me with a gun in hand! Not nice. Not to mention breaking and entering. The last time I looked, that was against the law. What are you doing here?”
Jack stared at the security chief, who was dressed casually in creased khakis and a white button-down shirt, the cuffs rolled up to mid-arm. His gold Rolex glowed in the light of the lamp he'd just turned on. He had a highball glass in his hand.
“Half the world has been trying to reach you all evening, actually the better part of the day. Bert, Pete Justice, Charles, Maggie, me. You didn't get back to any of us, so we all got worried. We'd like you to come with us,” Jack said.
Kelly eyed both men over the rim of the highball glass. “Is that an order or a request? Just for the record, this is my day off. On my day off, I do not do anything I don't want to do. Occasionally, I will stop by the casino to check on things, but I really didn't feel like doing that today. I'm asking you again, why are you here, what do you want, and why do you need a gun? Oh, and let's not forget your little breaking-and-entering caper. I would really like an explanation, gentlemen.”
Cool as a waterfall. Urbane. Slick. The guy must have nerves of steel
, Jack thought to himself. “Let's cut this civility bullshit and get on with it. Just in case you don't know, all those luscious ladies you had relationships with, the members of the Dixson Kelly Alumnae Club, they're being held at the local FBI field office. I'm sure you know, being ex-CIA and all, that they can be held for seventy-two hours without benefit of counsel. They were rounded up about two hours ago by my partner here, Director Sparrow. Your half sister, Clare Andreas, aka Kitty Passion, was just picked up about fifteen minutes ago. What that means to you is, you lose, and we win. You won't be robbing the Babylon armored car anytime soon. We have all the e-mails that your half sister sent to a hacking guru, a bundle of others she sent to the members of the Dixson Kelly Alumnae Club, and dozens more to you, apprising you of the progress in regard to the heist. How's that for starters?”
Dixson Kelly laughed. To Jack, it sounded forced. “I understand from Bert that you're a lawyer. If that's true, what are you charging me with, seeing as how you're asking me to accompany you out of here? For receiving and sending e-mails? For having relationships that didn't work out? Research for a work of fiction featuring a heist? Research, gentlemen, for a book I'm working on. Check my computer. All eleven chapters are on it. Happens every day of the week, gentlemen. Where is the crime? Who did what?”
Jack's stomach curled itself into a tight knot. He must really be slipping. The guy was writing a book or was pretending to. He should have figured on something like that. Perfect cover. Kelly was right. To a point. There was no crime. Yet. He opted for silence and let Sparrow have the floor.
“Mr. Emery isn't charging you with anything at the moment. I am, however, going to take you into FBI custody for questioning. Since you already know the drill, then you know I can hold you for seventy-two hours. Hold out your hands, Mr. Kelly.” Sparrow whipped a pair of flexicuffs from the pocket of his Windbreaker and tossed them to Jack, who fastened them securely, giving them an extra tug for security.
His eyes narrowed to slits, Kelly eyed Jack. If looks could kill, Jack knew he'd keel over any minute.
“I want it on record that I have said nothing. I want a lawyer. My lawyer's name is Cosmo Cricket. Law firm is Cricket & Fox. Where is my sister?”
“In our custody. And she's talking. Don't worry. You'll see her soon enough,” Sparrow said.
“Well, that's a lie, if I ever heard one. If you had my sister, then you would know she won't say one word without a lawyer present, so let's cut the bullshit right now.”
“Jack, see if you can find a jacket and drape it over his shoulders. We don't need any questions from late-night looky-loos. The man might want to come back here someday, so no sense ruining his reputation at this point in time.”
Jack took his time in Kelly's bedroom as he tried to see everything there was to see, which to his mind was nothing. He found a tweed jacket and marveled at the softness.
Cashmere
, he thought.
Pricey. Designer quality.
Jacket in hand, he walked over to a desk that was perched in a small alcove, which was probably supposed to be a dressing area. He scooped up the laptop and the letter lying on the desk. Kelly's resignation letter, with today's date on it. He carried both out to the living room, laid them on the end table, and asked Kelly where his cell phone was. Kelly clamped his lips shut.
“Oh, well, we have all your other burner phones.” As Jack said this, he made a lightning move and yanked the phone out of Kelly's pocket just as Kelly raised his leg to kick out at him. Jack nimbly sidestepped the kick and waved the cell phone and the resignation letter in the air. “Going somewhere, Kelly?”
“I want a lawyer. From here on in, you can ask him anything you want to know. I also want it on record that I did not give you permission to take my belongings. The letter you have in your hand, my phone, and that laptop belong to me. And that I cooperated and explained about my novel and research.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jack said as he draped the designer jacket over Kelly's shoulders, once again marveling at its softness.
Sparrow opened the door to see three attractive women standing there, looking at him. Jack caught the wink Kelly bestowed on the women. “We good?” he asked.
“We're good,” one of the females said as she returned Kelly's wink.
“Avery . . . uh . . .
borrowed
a van. It's double-parked outside the main door,” Jack said.
Kelly stiffened and refused to move. “You aren't taking me to the field office. Where are you taking me?” he demanded.
“You'll find out when you get there,” Jack snapped. “You give us any trouble, and it's lights out for you. Walk slowly and look straight ahead.”
“Screw you!” Kelly bellowed.
One of Snowden's operatives, who could have doubled for a young Christie Brinkley, leaned forward and locked her lips with those of Kelly, who suddenly went limp.
“Good kisser,” the operative said with a giggle in her voice. “So, a fireman's carry, or do we do the drunk thing?”
“We do the drunk thing. He's too heavy to carry,” Jack said before running down the hall to catch the elevator.
“Gotcha. We left the engine running in the van, and the door is open. We slipped the doorman a hundred bucks to keep his eye on it. And we also told him to dismiss the cab he had waiting for the two of you, and gave him another fifty for the cabdriver. Once we get out of the elevator, it's a short haul across the lobby and out the door to the van. Anyone seeing us will just think we partied a little too hearty,” the blonde said. “We'll just repeat the process once we get to MGM's parking garage.”
“He's coming around,” Sparrow hissed.
Luscious lips moved and again locked her lips with Kelly's. Jack rubbed his hands over the back of Kelly's neck, and Kelly went limp all over again.
Somehow, they managed to get Kelly across the lobby and out the door and into the van. Luscious Lips handed the doorman another folded bill before she scrambled into the van.
“Burn rubber!” she commanded the driver, who did just that. The occupants slipped and slid across the van, then back again, as the driver tore down the road to take a corner on two wheels.
“Where in the hell did you learn to drive?” Sparrow bellowed as he tried to right himself, only to fall back against a lovely redhead with an exquisite smile.
“Daytona!” the driver bellowed in return. “It's a requisite to work for Mr. Snowden.”
Twenty minutes later, the driver of the
borrowed
van took the ramp leading to the MGM parking garage at forty miles an hour. She raced down the length of the floor; then, her tires screaming, she tore up another ramp at the same speed. When she finally slowed enough to pull into a parking space, the occupants of the van all slid forward. That included Dixson Kelly, who was once again awake and who swore viciously. Jack clipped him alongside the head and told him to shut up. Kelly did his best to head butt Jack, but Jack moved quickly enough to avoid what would have been a punishing blow, what with all of Kelly's weight behind it.
“Stuff something in this guy's mouth,” Sparrow ordered as he dragged him out of the van. Jack took off his necktie and jammed it in Kelly's mouth.
Two of Snowden's operatives, Jack, and Sparrow formed a cordon around Kelly as they led him to the elevator. They all heard the squeal of the van's tires as the third operative prepared to return the
borrowed
van to its rightful parking space. Before she climbed out, she placed a folded hundred-dollar bill under a clip attached to the visor.
Maggie was standing in the open doorway of her comped room, motioning for them to hurry. Kelly did his best to drag his feet, until Jack socked him in his midsection. He doubled over, making it easier to drag him down the hall. When they reached the door, Sparrow gave Kelly such a hard shove, he literally flew across the room, to land almost at his sister's feet. She scowled at him, then started to rant, until she saw Dennis approach her, his face full of menace.
Jack looked over at Harry, who whispered, “I'll tell you later, but even then, you won't believe that kid. Now what?”
“I say we dillydally a little till the two of them get comfortable with the knowledge that they are not going anywhere but here and that we hold their fate in our hands. I'll have Maggie order us some room service, coffee, pizza, sandwiches, whatever. It's all on the house when the room is comped.” Jack motioned for Maggie to come closer and asked her to order the food, which she promptly did.
“Someone should call Charles and the others and tell them to come up here now,” Jack said as he stared straight at Dixson Kelly, who stared right back at him. “I'm going to call Bert and tell him what's going on.”
Snowden volunteered to make the call to Charles and Jack said he would call Bert later.
Jack looked over at Kelly and said, “Anything you want me to pass on to your boss other than to tell him you're resigning effective today? Actually, yesterday, since that's the date on the resignation letter I have here.”
“I want a lawyer,” Kelly said.
“I also want my lawyer,” Kitty/Clare said.
“Well of course you do. I would want my lawyer, too, if I were in your position. Here's the thing, Mr. Kelly, that is not going to happen. So just settle in and remain quiet.”
Jack stepped out into the hall to make his call to Bert. He stopped the call when he heard the elevator ping, and the boys stepped out. Cyrus literally flew down the hall, to skid to a stop. He put his paws on Jack's shoulders and stared at him. Then he growled.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You didn't get to bite some badass's ass, right? Well, we still have time for that, and your chances of making that happen are better right now than when you left here. Go inside and
guard
.”
Cyrus raced off, but not before he let loose with a few joyful yips of pure pleasure.
The boys looked at Jack expectantly.
“Well?” Charles said.
“We got them both. We're taking a break. Maggie ordered some sandwiches, coffee, and pizza. Those two need to sweat a little. The only word the two of them seem to know is
lawyer
. I just stepped out here to call Bert. Go inside, and I'll be inside in a minute.”
The phone call to Bert was short and to the point, with Jack doing all the talking. All Bert could manage to get into the conversation was a few ripe curses that he'd been so wrong about one of his hires.
Jack ignored him and said, “Look, I gotta go. I'll update you later, when . . . we're on our way to the airport.” He broke off just as Bert started to rant on. Jack sighed. Life was never easy.
Jack stood at the door to Maggie's comped suite. He took several deep breaths to calm himself. For some reason, his thoughts went to Abner. He felt so depressed, he took another deep, calming breath. Abner was one of the good guys. When he explained everything, he hoped the computer whiz would forgive him and the others. If he had to grovel, he would grovel. If he had to kiss his feet, then he would kiss his feet. Whatever it took, he would do it.
Jack squared his shoulders and opened the door just as the elevator pinged to allow a group of tipsy revelers fresh from a win at the craps table to make their way down the hall. He wondered how much they had won, not that he cared. It was just something to think about to get Abner out of his mind.
The suite, while nice and comfortable, could not compare to the suites they'd had at Babylon. It was crowded. It looked to Jack like either they were waiting for him to start whatever it was that was about to go down or they were waiting for him to give the go-ahead. He looked over at Charles for direction. Charles shrugged, as much to say, “This is your gig. Run with it.”