Marco regarded Jake. “What are you doing here?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m asking. You’re not stepping through that door without my approval. Already got an ass chewing from last time.”
“My buddy here is on his way out of town,” Jake said, slapping Bear hard on the back. “Thought I’d get him a lap dance before he went home.”
“I’m married,” Bear said.
“How long?”
“Almost seventeen years.”
“In a dry spell?” Marco asked.
“Just for the last sixteen.”
Marco squinted at Jake. “You gonna fuck up my club again?”
“You won’t have to move off your street perch here, Marco,” Jake said, holding out a folded twenty-dollar bill. “Trust me.”
Marco’s eyebrows drew in close. The twenty disappeared in his paw, and he moved out of the way. Jake followed Bear through the open door. They were half-way up the stairs when Marco yelled after them.
“You better not make me climb those stairs. I was being gentle last time.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Agent Snell rolled along Grand Avenue, muscles tense from the guilt and angst coursing through her lean frame. She’d dialed the first few digits of Jake’s cell a half-dozen times to warn him what was coming, afraid of the repercussions if she was found out, and trapped between doing the right thing and protecting that which she most cherished.
Dreams drew up on her left, and she passed it without slowing. Was that Jake entering the building? To her right, she noticed the same black Escalade from her last visit sitting across the street. The two men inside focused on the front door to the club, the same two men Jake said worked for Senator Young.
She traveled another block, out of their line of sight, and spun an illegal U-turn. A minute later, she approached Dreams from the opposite direction and turned into the alley leading to the parking lot. Her Fusion bounced over the broken asphalt before it opened to a lot packed with cars, Jake’s truck one of them.
Another slim alley ran behind the building feeding 12th Street, the cross-traffic flashing by. The drive was empty save for a dumpster and a rusted fire escape spilling from a second story door. She parked the Fusion behind Jake’s truck facing 12th Street. She jumped out and trotted half-way down the alley, noting the door on the second floor was labeled Dreams in stenciled, yellow spray paint.
She traversed the alley and tried the locked lower door. Climbing the fire escape stairs, she found the upper door locked as well. Her cell phone burned in her hand as she gnawed on her lower lip. She knew she should warn him, but the potential price was something she wouldn’t be able to live with. As tires hummed and cars honked from the nearby streets, she willed her phone to tell her what to do.
* * *
Jake and Bear reached the entrance to the club. The music thumped, strobes flashed, and bright multi-colored spotlights swung. A dozen patrons salivated over naked women twirling around poles and crawling across wooden platforms.
“Is it everything you dreamed it would be?” Jake asked.
“Not bad,” Bear said, eying the talent dancing around him. “Definitely the B team, though.”
“We could come back tonight if it would make you feel any better.”
“Nah, this’ll do. Just give me a minute to etch the scene to memory.”
Jake tugged on his arm. “Minute’s over. Come on.”
Bear followed Jake inside the club. The crusty bartender from yesterday must’ve had the day off. A girl with dirty blonde hair and more tattoos than clear skin worked behind the bar, her fake breasts popping out of a lacey bra, a full cup size too small. She served red drinks to a couple of thugs who wore leather coats and permanent scowls at the south end. The girl bounced over when Bear and Jake approached.
“Hey, cuties,” she said, placing a couple bar napkins in front of them. Her voice was high, a southern twang resonating. “Can I get y’all something to drink?”
“Well, aren’t you just adorable,” Bear said, leaning his beefy arms on the polished mahogany. “Love the tats.”
“Aren’t you a sweetheart,” she cooed. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Will it now?”
She traced her fingers across the tops of her breasts. “Well, almost everywhere. I’m Tandy. What can I get you?”
“A white Russian,” Jake said.
Tandy’s face froze, and Jake could hear the hamster wheel speeding up as she worked to decipher his request. “I don’t think I know how to make that.”
“Not the drink,” Jake said. “We’re looking for a white guy, six feet tall. A Russian. Probably in the back room. I met him back there yesterday.”
Over Tandy’s shoulder in the bar mirror, the two thugs at the end seemed more interested in Jake and Bear than the naked girls dancing around them. A dancer sauntered up to one of them and the bigger of the two men shooed her away with a wave of a thick hand.
“Alexander? Yeah, he’s back there with Tawny.”
“Tawny? Who’s that?”
“My sister. She’s kind of his girlfriend.”
“Your parents named you Tandy and Tawny?” Bear asked.
“Stage names, silly,” she said. “We thought they sounded sexy. What do you think?” She bit her lower lip trying to look seductive. It made her look like a child. She glanced to the end of the bar before batting her eyes at Bear. “Be right back.”
Tandy danced to the other end of the bar and talked to the two thugs.
“I think she likes you,” Jake said.
Bear slipped on a sly grin. “What’s not to like?”
In the mirror, Jake noticed Senator Young’s crew walking through the entrance. They searched around before settling their gaze toward Jake and Bear.
“It’s getting crowded in here. Two guys just came in,” Jake said, speaking as low to Bear as he could through the booming music.
“I know. Black suits, probably carrying pieces the way the jackets fit.”
“They work for Senator Young. They’ve been tailing Snell.”
“No shit? Why?”
“Young is mixed up with Blue Heron and Ares based on what we found out from Riesenberg in Iowa. My guess is he’s looking for Ares like everyone else in the free world and thinks Snell can track it.”
“What about the two Neanderthals at the end of the bar?” Bear asked.
“Not sure. If they were after the case and Voleski, they wouldn’t be sitting there having a drink. They’d follow him into the back room and take it.”
“Protection?”
“Maybe,” Jake said. “Let’s head toward the back room and find out.”
They stepped back from the bar. The suited guys who just came in edged their way through, jerky movements from the flashing strobe lights. The guys at the end of the bar stiffened at Jake and Bear’s movement. A flurry of options flew through Jake’s mind—all involved actions that would bring Marco on a run and another trip to the KCMO police department. His cell phone vibrated. Snell.
“It’s a trap,” she said. “You’re in deep shit.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“What do you mean a trap?” Jake asked. Bear snapped his gaze from the bartender’s ass to Jake’s face.
“I don’t have time to tell you. Just get the hell out of there. There’s men coming through the front door. Young’s men.”
“I saw them. Who else?”
“That’s it,” she said. “I’m in the back alley. There’s a door leading from the back of the bar coming off the second floor. If you open it, I’ll come help.”
The thugs hovered at the end of the bar, tensed and ready to pounce. Jake leaned back against the bar to get the gorillas to relax. Bear followed suit. Young’s men tried to be inconspicuous, pressing against a brass rail watching a dancer peel off her G-string and swing around the stage pole with skill that would make a gymnast jealous. One was the guy from the diner whose ass he’d already kicked a
nd the other matched the picture Ogio sent him on his phone.
“There’s only four guys,” Jake said to Snell. “I don’t need any help. I could whip their ass without breaking a sweat. With Bear here I could do it without waking up from a coma. You’re in the alley?”
“Behind the bar.”
“Why don’t you just come in the front door?”
She cleared her throat. “It’s complicated. Is Voleski there?”
“Supposed to be. We haven’t gotten past the bar. I’ll have Bear unlock the back door when we get there. If you hear shots, come running. If you don’t, stay in the alley. That uncomplicate things for you?”
Jake shoved the phone in his pocket without waiting for a reply. He was fed up with her mysterious involvement. Picking up a matchbook from the bar, Jake handed it to Bear who pocketed it after a cursory glance. Jake motioned for Bear to follow, and they strode to the end of the bar where the two thugs waited. A third guy emerged from behind the stage and hung in the shadows by the curtains leading to the Diamond Club and Voleski.
“What do you want?” the first guy asked, another dense Russian accent and a broad, lined forehead. A crisscross of scars surrounded a nose broken enough times that it now lay like a deflated balloon on his round face.
“Who are you?” Jake asked.
“Petrov.”
“I need to see Voleski,” Jake said.
“You Caldwell?”
Jake nodded. Petrov looked to his partner who gestured for Jake to raise his arms. He wanted to frisk him. Less than optimal as Jake had his Glock tucked into his waistband holster. Jake held him back with a hard stare.
“What’s his name?” Jake asked.
“Aleksi,” Petrov said.
“He understand English?”
“About five words.”
“Well, you tell Aleksi if he touches me, he’s going to draw back a stump.”
“We must search you for weapons.”
“No,” Jake said. “You don’t. I have a Glock tucked into my waistband. My partner here has a Sig Sauer in his. That’s where they are going to stay when we go meet Voleski. You try and take them, and you’ll spend the rest of your days drinking your dinner through a straw. Voleski asked for this meeting. You want to come in with us, that’s fine. Or you can stay out here and jerk each other off.”
Petrov’s face went crimson, his meaty hands clenching open and shut. He looked to Aleksi who nodded toward the Diamond Club. Jake and Bear followed, with Petrov bringing up the rear. Jake glanced in the bar room mirror one last time, Young’s men creeping toward them. As they approached the curtained opening, Jake told Bear about the back door and what to do with the matchbook. They parted the curtains and the third guy fell in behind Petrov.
Voleski was on the couch, the briefcase on the table in front of him, a semi-automatic on top. An attractive girl melded to him, a spitting image of the girl behind the bar except with fire-red hair. An obvious dye job, but she still looked good. She stroked the back of Voleski’s peppered hair. Jake scanned the room while Bear headed behind the couch toward the hallway. Petrov and Aleksi reached into their jackets, eyes darting between Bear and Voleski, unsure what to do.
“Where is he going?” Voleski asked, scooting to the edge of the couch and placing his hand on the gun on top of the briefcase. He was wiry, and Jake already knew from experience he was fast.
“Relax, Alexander,” Jake said. “He’s checking to make sure we’re alone.”
Bear opened the back door, glanced out and held it as it closed, slipping the matchbook between the door and the latch. Bear lumbered back down the hallway and stood to the side of the couch. Voleski motioned for Jake to sit in a chair opposite the table. Jake didn’t like having men at his back he couldn’t see. A third man without a name stood with his hands crossed in the corner of the room opposite Bear.
“We need all these bodies in here?” Jake asked. “Are you that paranoid?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. I have been running for my life for a week.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to…facilitate a transfer for me.”
“The briefcase for money.”
Voleski touched the tip of his finger to his nose. “You are smarter than you look.”
“Being a dick isn’t helping your case. A transfer between you and who?”
“Some lovely gentlemen from the Middle East.”
“Dangerous people?” Jake asked.
“You have no idea.”
“Then why mess with them? Why not sell the case back to Keats?”
Voleski shook his head. “That would be, how do you say, unethical.”
“You stole the case from him. You already cheated him.”
“To be truthful, I tried already,” Voleski said. “The Middle East people will pay far more. Enough for me to disappear from the clutches of the big, bad Jason Keats.”
“So, do it. You don’t need me.”
Voleski waved a long finger. “I don’t need, I have. I have your friend Logan, and now I have you.”
“Why me?”
“They tell me you are a man who knows how to fix things.”
“Who is they?”
“My contacts,” Voleski offered.
“You have a lot of contacts for a man on the run.”
“That is why I am still alive. You help me with this, and I will not kill your friend Logan and will reward you most generously.”
Jake scanned the players in the room, calculating potential moves. He and Bear were too close together. He caught Bear’s attention and flicked his eyes toward the corner. Bear gave the slightest tick of his head.
“Keats offered me a hundred and fifty thousand for the case and your head on a stick.”
“That’s all?” Voleski scoffed. “He is trying to screw you, too. You help me, and I will double it.”
Jake scratched the back of his head. “When is this meeting?”
“Midnight tonight.”
“Where?”
“The stockyards.”
Bear started edging away from the couch, a step every few seconds.
“Big area,” Jake said. “Where exactly?”
“When you agree to help, I will tell you.”
Jake sank back in the chair. He hated smug people, and Voleski dripped with it. He would like nothing better than to reach across the table and knock the smirk off his face with a right hook. However, even with Bear edging to the corner of the room, they were still at a tactical disadvantage. He needed to improve the odds if a move was to be made, and he didn’t want the girl being caught in the crossfire or used as a hostage. How much secret shit would Voleski allow her to hear?
“Tell me about Ares,” Jake said.
“These are details you do not need to know.”
Jake tipped forward, his lip curling. “Bullshit. People are dying for the contents of that case, and now you want me to help you move it. I want to know what it is.”
Voleski tilted over and whispered something in the red-head’s ear. She pursed her lips like a disappointed duck and rose from the couch. Voleski gave her a playful smack on the ass. He said something in Russian, and Petrov and Aleksi followed her out the room. Now it was two on two with Snell outside the back door. Much better odds.
“You feel better?” Voleski asked.
“Much. Who is the guy in the corner?”
“My cousin Dominic,” Voleski said. “He stays here. What do you want to know?”
“Ares is in the case?” Jake asked. “What in the hell does it do?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Ares is a fast acting, highly potent and lethal poison,” Voleski said, running his hand along the top of the case, caressing the metal. “Think of Sarin gas on steroids. The toxin can be transmitted in aerosol form. One quick spray into the eyes or face, and the subject will be dead inside of sixty seconds. I have all the vials in this case.”
“How many are there?”
“Fi
fteen.”
“How’d you get them?” Bear asked, brow furrowed, his tone sharp.
Voleski didn’t acknowledge Bear. “As you know, I worked for Keats. He heard about this Ares and sent me to steal them so he could sell them on the black market. I worked as a security guard at the company that makes them.”
“Blue Heron,” Jake said.
Voleski jerked, and a knowing smile crept across his thin face. “You know more than I thought. I am impressed. There is a lab in the basement of the facility accessible by a keycard through a door near the security office. An acquaintance there conveniently lost his keycard and made another one. Of course, the lost card was in my pocket. He goes to the bathroom. I disable the lab security cameras, run to the lab, and pack the vials in this briefcase. I have Ares in my car before he even comes out of the toilet. In fact, I still have the card. A souvenir.”
“But you stole the vials for Keats. You worked for him. Why double cross him?”
Voleski’s thick eyebrows crunched together. “What does this mean…double cross?”
“You screwed him over. Didn’t turn over the case. Why?”
“Ah, yes,” Voleski said. “Dominic also works for Keats and heard how much he was going to sell Ares for. What Keats was going to pay me for these was a crumb compared to what he was getting. So, I decide to cut him out and sell it myself. Double cross him, as you say.”
“A dangerous man to cross.”
“Obviously. One does not do so without the proper incentive.”
Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He wanted to see inside the case. Bear slid further back against the wall and over two feet, bringing Dominic in a better line of sight. He and Jake were on the same wavelength—both could sense the end of the story approached and they wanted to be ready.
“Who from the Middle East?” Jake asked.
“Someone rich.”
“They’re all fucking rich over there. Where exactly are they from?”
“Does it matter?” Voleski asked.
Jake Caldwell Thrillers Page 40
