I turned to Van for guidance. “Can you trace cell phones? Did I keep him on long enough? What are we going to do?”
For my sake, Van tried to tone down his excitement. Truth be told, he had that kid-in-a-candy-store look about him. “We’re going to get Dutch back. This is the break we’ve been waiting for.” He flashed me a look meant to pump me up and into action.
And action I took. I stumbled to the bed and collapsed, all my bravado gone with the sound of Goon disconnecting. “And the call? Can you use it to find Dutch?”
“We can do a reverse cell number trace,” Van said. “But odds are he’s calling from a disposable cell phone and has already dumped it. I’ll get the boys on it.”
I could tell from his tone he was appeasing me.
“Give me your cell and call your mom back on the hotel phone,” Van instructed, further tempering his excitement. “We’re putting her in protective custody. Is your dad home yet? He’ll need to go, too.”
I shook my head, and handed him my cell. “But he’ll dash back when Mom tells him about Grandpa.”
“Advise him not to. He’s better off where he is.”
“What about Dutch?”
“With your cooperation, we’ll get him back, safe and sound.”
“You have a plan?”
“We do what Goon asked. He wants the FSC team, he gets them. Including me. He won’t be expecting the FBI.”
I tried to buck up. Dutch wouldn’t want me to mope. It was always onward and upward with him. Size up the situation and conquer.
“Nobody expects the FBI,” I said in my best Monty Python–Spanish Inquisitor voice. “Our chief weapon is surprise.”
“Surprise and ruthless efficiency.” Van shot me an encouraging look, tinged with a smile. “Our two chief weapons are surprise and ruthless efficiency.”
“And an almost fanatical devotion to the Director?” I sighed, trying to be brave.
“Among our chief weapons are surprise, ruthless efficiency, and an almost fanatical devotion to the mission and the safety of our citizens.” Van plunked down beside me and gave me a hug. “Everything will turn out fine. We have an excellent success rate.”
“Is it one hundred percent?” I leaned my head back against him.
“No.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“Call your mother. I’ll phone my special agents.”
“Are they?” I asked.
“Are they what?”
“Really special? I’ve always wondered why they’re special agents. Does the Bureau have any non-special agents?”
“We have janitors and mail room employees,” he said. “Call your mom. Just don’t tell her about the dongle.”
“You mean lie to my mother!” I put on the shocked voice.
“Pretend you’re back in junior high. Everyone lies to their parents in junior high.” He winked.
“Okay, big shot, what
do
I tell her?” My head hurt. Maybe I needed another dose of painkiller.
“Let her think Ket’s behind it.”
“And what would Ket want as ransom? Me?” I frowned at him. “That’s supposed to comfort her?”
“Snide doesn’t suit you,” Van said. “Tell her we’re sending in an agent dressed like you.”
“She watches too many
CSI, Without a Trace
–type shows to go for that.”
“Tell her we’d never let anything happen to her baby girl.” He gave me a playful nudge and picked up his phone.
Mom took the news better than I expected.
“So they’ll make absolutely certain you’re safe?” she asked.
“Positively, absolutely.” I hoped I sounded brave enough to fool her. “And Grandpa.”
“I suppose it can’t be helped,” Mom said, referring to the whole substitute-me-for-Dutch situation. “You’re a brave girl. I’m proud of you.” She sighed and I thought she sounded a little teary and sentimental. “When we get Dutch back,” Mom said, changing the subject, Mom was a dwell-on-the-positive person just like Dutch, “I’ll make a celebration dinner—bread oxen and sauerkraut casserole.”
If there was ever an inducement
not
to rescue Grandpa, sauerkraut casserole was it.
“Sounds great, Mom. The FBI guys will be there any minute to take you in. Tell Dad to be safe.”
“I will.” She paused. “Reilly?”
“Yeah?”
“Live long and prosper. I love you.”
“You, too, Mom.”
Van was on the phone to his agents until late in the night, working out
The Plan
. At one point, he went out for several hours. I fell into bed and slept like the dead. The Bobs were guarding me, what could happen?
Turns out a mild concussion is the best soporific around. Dead cold, dreamless sleep beat nightmaring by a long shot. A night of undisturbed sleep had been such a rarity for me these past few years, I decided it was almost worth the kosh on the noggin.
I woke in the wee hours of the morning with Van curled around me. I had a momentary memory lapse and caught a glimpse of what my life could be like in an alternate universe. Then I remembered the Goon-had-Grandpa thing and how I was supposed to be Reilly-to-the-Rescue. I am
not
good with heroics.
Van stirred. Playing the alternate universe game for just a second longer, I turned and kissed him lightly on the lips, brushing the hair out of his eyes and imagining what life would be like with no Ket, no dongle, no Goon.
By mutual agreement, Van and I got up and showered together. Water streaming over our bodies and faces, we kissed and nibbled and meshed and, well, made love like there was no tomorrow. Frankly, I wasn’t so sure there was going to be.
“Phenomenal,” Van murmured, shuddering to climax as he pressed my back against the steamy tiles of the tub enclosure.
I had my legs curled around his waist. I did my best python imitation and squeezed him with everything from my legs to my kegels. He shuddered again.
“Superman,” I cooed, and licked his ear.
He grinned. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, Legs of Steel. Being able to support the two of us in the steamy water after a passion-laced boink is an awesome superpower to have.”
He laughed and nuzzled my neck. “You couldn’t hold our weight?”
“Right now, I couldn’t hold mine.” I kissed him again.
All too soon the fantasy shower ended and reality returned.
“Who knew fear is such a potent aphrodisiac,” I said as we toweled off and a sudden dread of the day ahead overcame me.
“Not fear, adrenaline.” He gave me a playful slap with his towel. “Today we save the universe.”
“I’d settle for saving Dutch.” My voice shook.
“Yeah, that.” Van looked at me with concern. “You all right?”
“I guess I have to be.”
He gave me a gentle caress. “You will be.”
We finished drying, and dressed.
There was a knock on the door just as I was lacing up my combat boots. Van grabbed his gun, and holding it at the ready, got the door.
“If answering the door these days requires being armed, I’m glad I let you get that,” I murmured.
Two bodyguard Bob-clones dressed head-to-toe in black waited to come in. Van put his gun down and ushered them in.
“What happened to the Bobs?” I asked, noting that one of the clones was holding a black case.
“Even Bobs need sleep,” Bob-clone One said. “We’re their replacements. I’m Larry.” He extended his hand and we shook. “And this is—”
“Let me guess. Larry,” I said, tongue-in-cheek.
Larry grinned. “Darryl.”
“That would have been my second guess,” I said.
Van closed and locked the door. “All right, boys,” he said to Larry and Darryl. “Let’s fill her in on the operation.”
My gaze bouncing between them conveyed my confusion. “You guys are…?”
Van grinned. “Special agents.”
“And the Bobs?”
Van nodded.
“So FSC didn’t hire our protection?”
“They thought they did,” Van said. Then, as Larry, or maybe it was Darryl, opened his case of high-tech goodies, Van explained The Plan. “We spent the night with the FSC staff building a mockup of Madam Lou’s—”
“Madam Lou’s,” I interrupted. “The matchbook I found in my room was from Madam Lou’s. I thought Ket left it. Do you think it was Goon after all?” I shuddered. Neither option was reassuring.
Van gave me a sympathetic look. “When we catch them, we’ll ask them.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said.
Van nodded and continued. “Today, when we run through the kidnap scenario and rescue, we’ll be practicing for the real event.” Van took a blueprint from Larry and spread it out on the bed.
“You got a floor plan of Madam Lou’s?” I asked, impressed.
“We did.” Van’s eyes were twinkling.
Larry and Darryl nodded in agreement.
“Awesome.” I looked it over. Having zero spatial ability, blueprints aren’t really my thing. I can’t imagine them in 3-D. But I pretty much got the lay of the land. “Okay, so what do I do? Commit this to memory and then we eat it so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands?”
“She’s a melodramatic one,” Darryl said.
“You’ll get used to it,” Van said to him. “She grows on you.”
I turned my attention back to the blueprint. “Bar, light wood, not a lot of grain to it, mirror behind it bordered by decorative pillars, also light wood, and capped with fancy finials? Is that what they call them?” I tapped the blueprint to emphasize my point. “Lots of bottles of vodka and the like on display. Maybe I can get the bartender to place a bottle near me? Just in case I have to hit Goon over the head with it in self-defense.”
“I don’t think so,” Larry said.
“Hey, it works in the movies.” I returned my attention to the floor plan. “Black upholstered booths, smoky black glass tables. Red neon lighting around the glass-tiled ceiling. It’s a corner position in a corner building so they have windows on two sides, one of which is opposite the bar. Door is at the corner, near the bar for an easy escape. Restrooms in the back.
“Ten-ounce martinis are Lou’s specialty. It’s not a place for beer drinkers. Cigar smoking is allowed and even encouraged. Bring your own.
“Lou’s is known for having a great cover band perform most nights. Probably Goon picked it for the cover noise. And, I’m guessing here, he’s a man who likes his stogies. Maybe he even knows the building’s history and is hoping for a decor of naked ladies like in the old days when its namesake, Seattle’s most famous madam, owned it.” I smiled at Larry, Darryl, and Van. “Sorry to disappoint. There are a few photos of Lou and her girls hanging around. But the girls are all clothed. And there’s no more going upstairs with the ladies.”
“You got all that from the blueprint?” Van shot me a skeptical, amused look.
“What can I say? I’m good.” I grinned. “And I’ve been to Lou’s once or twice. Try the Ménage à tini. It’s the best.”
“Any other observations?” Van asked.
“Why Madam Lou’s?” I answered. “Why not Doc Maynard’s? It’s more squarely in the heart of the tourist district in Pioneer Square. Kids, families, everyone goes there. It’s the kickoff point for the Seattle Underground Tour.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to get the kiddies involved,” Darryl said.
“Old Goon is a softie?” I said. “He did mention he’s a family man.” I paused, still bothered by Goon’s choice. “For that matter, why not some quiet backstreet, deserted alley?” I looked to the men for an answer.
“One, would you be likely to meet him in an abandoned alley?” Van asked.
“Good point.”
“Two, with so many civilians around, he’s assuming any police action will have to be cautious. He doubts we’d take a chance of an innocent civilian being hurt. He’s got a ready supply of hostages.”
“Will you be taking any chances with civilians tonight?” I asked.
“About half the patrons there tonight will be undercover cops. We’ll take every precaution,” Darryl said. “Goon hasn’t given us much choice. We can’t obviously clear the place.”
“How do you think the swap will happen?” I stood and began pacing. “Will he have Dutch in a car outside waiting? Will Goon proposition me at the bar?” Frankly, I was worried about all the possibilities. And all the things that could go wrong. “I won’t hand over the dongle until I know Grandpa is fine.” My voice broke. “I won’t. And what am I going to use for a dongle?”
“This.” Van handed me another flash drive that looked suspiciously like the one I had on my key ring. “This? You can pick one of these babies up at Fry’s or Circuit City or anywhere. Why would he believe
this
is the dongle?”
“We have reason to believe he will.” Van gave me a serious stare. “Will you stop pacing? You’re making us nervous.” He laughed to take the edge off.
I paused. “What if he wants to check the dongle first to make sure it’s real before he gives Grandpa back? What then?”
“Reilly.” Van stood and grabbed me by the arms. “We’ll take Goon into custody before that happens. Our agents will be posted everywhere in a three-block radius. They’ll be looking for Goon and your grandpa, following Goon as he comes to the bar. As soon as he steps in, our agents will release Dutch.”
I nodded, but I still didn’t believe him. Not totally. “What if something goes wrong?”
“Don’t worry about that. We’ll have sharpshooters on hand waiting to take Goon out if he so much as sneezes wrong.”
I sighed. I had no choice but to trust him. “I thought you wanted Goon alive so you could question him. If he’s dead, he can’t tell you why he thinks I have the dongle. Without that info, you’re at a dead end.”
“We want him alive, all right,” Larry said for Van. “Let us worry about the details.”
We returned our attention to the floor plan and went over several likely scenarios of how Goon would approach. Then Larry returned to his black case. “We’re going to put a tracking device on you. We’ll be able to follow your every move.”
He left the “just in case” part unsaid.
“Great,” I said, not warming to the idea in the slightest. “I’ve always wondered how migrating whales, birds, and seals feel. Now I’ll know. Can I have mine in a pretty bracelet? Cayla can help us with that.”
Van shook his head. “Your tracking device is going to be practically invisible.”
“Do I get to wear a wire, too? While you’re invading my privacy, you might as well go all the way.”
“Too dangerous,” Van said as Larry slapped a tiny transponder on me.