by Seeley James
“Who?”
“The guys who shot up St. Muriel’s? They’re made men in the LaRocca crime family.”
“What?”
“Jacob, don’t play dumb with me. We have to work together whether you like it or not. So tell me, how did you get mixed up with the Pittsburgh mob?”
“Back up, what do you mean ‘assigned’?”
“The Director and Alan Sabel are old pals, but his little girl pissed off the president. So, President Hunter tells the Director: no more special treatment for Sabel Security. But Directors don’t turn away old friends, so he assigned me as the special liaison.”
Nice. They assigned a guy who graduated Quantico last summer as my guardian angel.
“Meet me at Sabel Gardens,” I said. “I’ll bring you up to speed.”
He choked. “You mean, um, the place where, like, the Sabels live? Like, the mansion?”
“What’s the matter, Verges? Billionaires make you nervous? Bring your balls.”
I hung up, but he called back.
“Bro, what’s the dress code out there?” he asked.
“What’s the LaRocca crime family?”
“Pittsburgh Mafia, dating back to Prohibition. They own western Pennsylvania but they’ve never made a move east of Harrisburg before.”
“Good to know. Thanks.” I clicked off.
He called back.
“I’m serious, Jacob. Help me out here. Casual or what? I can’t make the Bureau look bad my first time out.”
Tempting as it was to remind him about his balls, I took pity on him. “Nine times out of ten, she’s wearing Lululemon. Her household staff dresses casual but pricey stuff like Hugo Boss, Kate Spade, that kind of thing. Alan sleeps in ten-thousand-dollar PJs.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Jeans and a t-shirt.” I hung up and put him on ignore.
I glanced at my wardrobe. The jeans looked expensive because I’d had them for a decade; the faded and shredded parts were real. The t-shirt had an American flag circled by the words, Back-to-Back World War Champs. Not the best attire for the occasion. I glanced around the car for some options. A t-shirt covered the back seat, left over from when I took the pup to the vet. It read, US ARMY / UNDEFEATED FOR 238 YEARS. Below that in small print: Fuck Vietnam.
I stuck with what I had on.
My brain spent the rest of the drive spinning through different ways to break the news about Kaya and the pit to Ms. Sabel.
My other old Army buddy, Agent Carmen, greeted me in the entry hall and walked me down a highway of marble. She’d been in motor maintenance but joined in every house-to-house mission she could sneak into. No braver woman ever served her country.
She opened the door to a room lined with books floor to ceiling, a couple fireplaces, overstuffed leather chairs grouped in nooks, reading tables with lamps, and a globe the size of a car. “Don’t touch anything, Jacob. We count spoons, you know.”
My mood wasn’t in sync with her humor. She gave me a shrug and left.
Tania walked in as if she owned the place. “What you got that’s so damned important?”
I showed her the picture on my phone.
Tania fell into a wingback chair, tried to speak but only mouthed random words.
CHAPTER 10
Ms. Sabel came in a second later wearing a dripping-wet one-piece swimsuit. She toweled her hair while looking at us curiously. Everything I’d planned to say evaporated.
She said, “What’s wrong?”
I held the picture out and let it speak.
Ms. Sabel inhaled her sobs, trying to keep her composure. We were silent for a long time.
“What ties them together?” Ms. Sabel said after we regained our collective senses. “China, Borneo, Pittsburgh?”
“What were they doing?” Tania said. “Science experiments? Chemical spill?”
I closed the laptop on the desk. “Only thing I can find are a bunch of tattoo-nuts who dye their sclera blue.”
Both women curled a lip at that idea.
Carmen stuck her face around the door. “FBI guy is here. He asked for Jacob.”
“Put him in the library,” Ms. Sabel said.
“Verges had something on the guys from Pittsburgh,” I said.
“You talk to him.” She tapped my phone’s screen. “But first, where did you get this picture?”
“Emily from the Post. She’s been assigned as the Sabel Security reporter.”
“You’re OK with Emily?” Ms. Sabel eyeballed me.
“It was just a revenge article,” I said. “I’m over it.”
“Got what you deserved,” Tania said.
Ms. Sabel scowled at Tania then faced me. “And Louisa?”
“She said the black community will accept a black man dating a white woman but not the other way around.”
“Sounds like an excuse.”
“Real,” Tania said. “Except if it’s the right guy, we don’t give a shit.”
Ms. Sabel looked to me. I shrugged. Even though she was only a quarter African American, Tania was right—Louisa had grown tired of me anyway.
“If you can deal with her,” Ms. Sabel said, “bring Emily in on this. She knows more than we do.”
Ms. Sabel gave me directions to the library, and after a long stroll, I found Verges.
“Nice suit,” I said. He looked younger than the last time I saw him, if that was possible.
“Thought you were setting me up.” He studied me and frowned. “You really are dressed like a farmer.”
“You don’t worry about the dress code when you’ve killed people to save your boss’s life. But don’t worry, someday you’ll stop peeing your pants at the first sign of danger and you’ll have a chance to be a hero too.”
I let him search for that snappy comeback he would find a day too late while I slipped behind the bar. The shelves were empty. “Tell me about the LaRocca family and the guys I subdued.”
“Zebo Amato and Sonny Pecora are suspects in several killings.” Verges pointed at a hidden mini-fridge. “The Pittsburgh office has them under surveillance.”
“And your guys let them come after me?” I opened the mini-fridge and found pints of Murphy’s Stout in cans.
“We didn’t know they left Pittsburgh.” Verges licked his lips.
“Verges, if I ever get in trouble with the FBI, can I get the same surveillance team?”
“We need to know what you were discussing before the shooting. We couldn’t hear anything on the school’s security video.”
I handed him a Murphy’s and recounted the conversation as best I remembered.
Verges sucked down half the can in a single go. “What did you steal from them?”
“I’ve never even been to Pittsburgh.”
“Could it be related to this?” Verges brought out a big phone and spun it on the bar with a flourish.
“Old news, Verges. The body on the left is a girl named Kaya.” I recounted the highlights of Borneo except for stealing the vials. “Now tell me how the Pittsburgh mob is connected to Borneo.”
He shook his head and emptied his Murphy’s. “The only ties we know about are the Sinaloa Cartel and a financial crime syndicate out of Italy. Borneo’s a new one. Say, that was good beer. Could you toss me another?”
“Aren’t you on duty?”
“I left the office at six.” He licked his lips like a salivating dog staring at a bone.
I handed him a fresh one. “I want to chat with Amato and Pecora. Can you get me in?”
“These guys are lifelong mobsters. You’ll never get anything out of them.”
“Is that your way of saying they’re not in FBI custody?”
“Montgomery County, but made men won’t talk to you.”
“I got an Al Qaeda operative talking.” I’d accidentally blown the poor hajji’s toe off while mishandling my side arm. The guy thought I was interrogating the hard way and started talking. I was smart enough to listen. But there was no need to explai
n all that to the FBI’s greenest kid.
“I can’t do anything to help you.”
“Liaison, huh? That means you keep your ear open to what Sabel Security’s doing and give us nothing.”
“Something like that.”
Carmen stepped in, followed by Tania and Ms. Sabel, who’d found a cover-up that didn’t cover up much. Carmen did a quick room check and left.
Ms. Sabel strode up to Verges with Tania a step behind her and introduced herself. “How can you help us?”
He opened his mouth and I cut him off. “President Hunter won’t let him help us. But he’s off duty, so he’s offered to call the Montgomery County Sheriff to get us an interview with the bad guys.” Verges started to shake his head, punting the idea. “Because he lives in mortal fear of pissing off Alan Sabel and having Alan call Director Shikowitz.”
Ms. Sabel extended a hand. “Thank you so much, Agent Verges. It was a pleasure to meet you. Now if you’ll excuse us.”
Agent Verges took a moment before he got the hint. He left his empty can on the bar.
Then there were three of us. Ms. Sabel positioned herself in front of Tania and me.
“The shock of the picture pushed some unfinished business to the side. But I have to address it tonight. Both of you, have a seat.” Ms. Sabel paced with an uncharacteristic nervousness while Tania and I sat on the edge of a nearby love seat.
Ms. Sabel said, “You know Marty’s moving to marketing. And that means I’ll need someone to manage security for Dad and me—Sabel Gardens, the jets, the special missions, charity events, the staff, that kind of thing. The Major drew up a list of candidates but I picked you two instead. I know co-captains are rarely a good idea, but Lewis and Clark pulled it off, so I’m sure you can work out your differences.”
She turned and walked out of the room while Tania and I took a moment to recover from the shock.
“What did she mean, ‘picked you two instead?” I said.
“What did you do?” Tania smacked my shoulder. “I had this thing wrapped up and you go sticking your goddamn nose in it. This is my career, dickhead. You go after her and tell her you refuse.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. If you screw me out of this job, I’ll never speak to you again.”
“You aren’t speaking to me now. Tormenting maybe, but not speaking.”
She slapped me faster than a frog catches a fly and waited for my reaction, hand poised for a second strike.
I flashed back to a better time. Tania and I woke up late. We took the Metro to the Tidal Basin and strolled through the cherry blossoms hand-in-hand. One of the best days of my life. It was a happier thought than a slap and I decided to hold on to it. I got up and walked out.
Ten steps down the hallway, I stopped and looked around. Artwork covered the walls. There were doors and intersecting hallways as far as the eye could see. I had no idea where I was in the sprawling mansion.
And I was in charge of security.
CHAPTER 11
Carmen came around a corner with Tania behind her and waved to me. “There you are. Everyone’s waiting for you in the dining room.”
We followed in line, Tania a step behind me. The crowd milling about the mahogany paneled room didn’t notice us at first, but Alan Sabel’s vigilant eye found us through the sea of people. He clinked his cocktail glass with a fountain pen.
“Hey everyone, I want you to meet Tania and Jacob.” His voice boomed through the room with contagious enthusiasm. “Jacob’s the hero who saved Pia’s life last summer and Tania is the heroine who saved Pia’s life in May. They’ve just agreed to take over the Special Missions Group of Sabel Security.”
The crowd broke into cheers and applause. Politicians, generals, businessmen, and minor celebrities surrounded us and started pumping our hands and pounding our backs. Several faces were familiar from the news. The adoration lasted a minute, then everyone turned back to their conversations.
Mercury said, Oh dawg, these are my peeps. You get me in with these psychopaths and we can find a demi-god role with your name on it.
I said, We’re not going to social-climb this crowd. I don’t care about being a demi-anything. And show some respect, they’re governors and CEOs.
Mercury said, Like I said, psychopaths. Don’t knock the social climbing thing. All you need are fingernails.
A gong rang and a serious voice announced dinner. Like a school of fish in slow motion, the crowd swiveled, walked through an arch, and took their seats at a table so big you could park a bus on it. Tania and I glanced at each other and turned for the exit, assuming our services were no longer needed among the rich and powerful.
“Over here,” Ms. Sabel waved to us from the head of the table. Somewhere she’d found a simple cocktail dress in black with sparkly things sewn into it forming an abstract river that swirled from shoulder to thigh. Her father sat at the other end, surrounded by all the faces I’d seen on TV.
Tania snatched the chair on Ms. Sabel’s right before I even saw it. I took the chair opposite.
Before I could take a stab at dinner conversation, Tania gazed up at the last man to arrive. Judging by the way she swooned, he must’ve been a perfect ten. The leather on his shoes glowed as if they had been polished for a hundred years. His sport coat flowed like water. His smile twinkled in the candlelight as he charmed the ladies with his greetings. He even had a cravat.
Who wears a cravat?
“Jaz Jenkins,” he said.
Jaz-and-his-cravat extended a hand across the table to me.
We could only manage a weak finger-shake across the expanse of oak between us, but it was enough to dislike him instantly. Maybe it was the way Tania kept staring at him with big upturned eyes while he and I sized each other up in the male custom. One thing I could tell at first glance: whatever Ivy League had given him a head-start on Wall Street hadn’t taught him how to kill people.
We took our seats and a man flapped a napkin in my lap.
“Jaz is the son of Bobby Jenkins, Jenkins Pharmaceuticals,” Ms. Sabel said. “He just started working for his dad this morning.”
I smiled and tried to think of something witty but all that came to mind was, I say old sport, thank god for nepotism, eh? But I said nothing and ended up looking like a grinning fool. I turned to Ms. Sabel. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was a formal dinner or I would’ve dressed—”
“Don’t worry about the glitz. Dad has a business dinner every night. I usually eat in the kitchen with Cousin Elmer. I just dreamed this up a few minutes ago when I heard Jaz was back in town.”
“Back?” I turned to Jaz. “You’ve been away?”
“I was five when Mom got divorced and left Maryland, so you can’t say I’m back, really. But I’ve visited Dad a few times over the years and I just adore Angel.” He smiled at Ms. Sabel.
I wanted to knock his perfectly polished teeth into Tania’s lap for using such a disrespectful familiarity.
He shared a glance with Tania that raised my territorial instincts to DEFCON 1. “Where do you live?”
“I’m from Omaha,” he said as if it were a good thing.
He grew up two hundred miles west of my family farm, so we talked about corn country. Normally farming conversations bore women to death, but Tania was just as doe-eyed at the end as at the outset.
Jaz turned to Ms. Sabel. “Say, Angel, how would you like to join me for a football game on Sunday?”
She winced when he said ‘Angel’.
“DC United’s away this weekend.” She frowned. “Oh, do you mean that game where the center grabs the ball with his hands and hikes it into the hands of the quarterback who either hands it off to the running back or throws it with his hands into the hands of the wide receiver?” She paused. “Why do they call that football?”
Tania stared at Ms. Sabel with big, wide eyes.
Jaz drooped.
As a member of the brotherhood of men, I felt sorry for him. And his cravat.
Ms
. Sabel’s voice dropped a notch. “Um. Sorry. I get carried away. Sometimes. You know 96 out of 100 people around the world think of football as, uh. Oh boy. Sure. I’d love to see the game. That would be nice.”
My phone buzzed in the awkward silence that followed. I glanced at it.
“Verges came through,” I said. “They’re expecting us in twenty minutes.”
“You mean the LaRocca guys?” Ms. Sabel asked. “What’s your plan?”
“Wish we had more time to prepare.” I thought up a quick one. “I’ll need to borrow a lawyer for an hour. Sorry, I—”
“Kevin,” Ms. Sabel called to someone halfway down the table.
A well-dressed, middle-aged man looked up. She nodded at the exit. He excused himself from the table.
A servant put a bowl of soup in front of me. It was an exquisite bowl of soup. I’d cooked up the same dish just before we left for Borneo. Butternut squash with pears and pecans, an award-winning recipe that was all the rage in cooking circles. I savored the scent of simmered onions with delicate hints of ginger and nutmeg as Ms. Sabel and Tania left the room. With deep regret, I pushed out of my chair, shrugged at Jaz-and-his-cravat, and chased after them.
They slowed in a gleaming, bustling kitchen where Ms. Sabel pulled a black duster over her dress and tossed back her ponytail.
Carmen came around a corner and stopped me. “Are you leaving? My shift just ended. Let’s find Miguel and get a drink.”
I didn’t have time to explain our urgency. “Miguel’s at my place with Emily. I whipped up a dinner but had to run.”
“Emily’s at your place?” She noticed my irritation. “OK with you if I join them?”
“Wine’s in the cabinet.” I gave her a smile and punched her shoulder.
I caught up with the women and the attorney Kevin halfway to the car barns. A door rose, spilling a square of light on the brick plaza. A Maserati Quattroporte GTS backed out, stopped, and Cousin Elmer hopped out. He held the driver’s door for Ms. Sabel. Tania took shotgun with the same combative glare she’d used at dinner. Kevin and I struggled for legroom in the back.
