Pursuing Pandora

by Maggie Brown

  “I’ll be out of sight directing it. Most of the guests will only have to give a statement, but anyone suspected of involvement, will be in for a grilling.”

  Pandora felt a stab of remorse for the friends she’d made there. Not only would they be hauled in for questioning, Kurt, Frankie and the rest of them would be out of a job when the smoke settled. “What about the staff?”

  “They will be held and questioned. The Russians and Yuri will be charged immediately—we have enough proof for that. We’re hoping to find something in Yuri’s files that will uncover the financial expert behind the laundering.”

  “So…do you think I can stay?” she asked anxiously.

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “It should work. The trick will be to convince the Russians that the leak came from down south, not a whistleblower in the club. The officer interrogating the Melbourne thugs could insinuate that—we know enough people on their payroll to name drop. I’ll have a word with Detective Anderson when we have them in the lock-up.”

  “What will happen after I’m released, Captain?”

  “Do you mean do we break all ties with you?”

  “I guess I do.”

  Milton gave a soft chuckle. “You’re not the first ‘spy who wanted to come in from the cold,’ Agent Collins. And you won’t be the last. There usually comes a time when undercover gets too stressful, and the agent wants out. You’ve given us ten years…I guess it’s time you had a background role.”

  “Does that mean I’ve still have a job?”

  “Of course, Colly. We’re an organization who look after their own. Give me a ring in four months’ time and we’ll talk. I suspect Adriana is reaching her cut-off point as well. She’ll miss you.”

  “I know. She’ll be pissed off that I’m staying here.”

  He glanced at her over the top of his reading glasses. “Do you want me to tell her?”

  “Would you?” she asked, pleased he had offered. Adriana was going to blow her top.

  “I will after the raid. She will be staying for a few more weeks, so you may see her before she goes. But you’re to have no more contact with the rest of us for four months once you leave this room. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Captain. Thank you.”

  “Good. Then off you go. And Colly,” he added as she turned to go. “Keep your head down and keep out of trouble. We’re going to miss you. You did well. When all this settles down, we’ll have a quiet get-together somewhere off the radar.”

  * * *

  The glare of the sun through the window forced Winter awake. After taking a moment to collect her wits, she felt the sheet behind her. It was cool. Pandora had been gone for a while, she guessed for a dip in the pool. Exercise was her way of facing problems.

  And it was after all, D-day.

  She dragged herself out of bed straight to the shower. The night with Pandora had left her mind fuzzy and clouded with hormones. Once the hot spray had cleared her head, she pulled on a pair of shorts and T-shirt and walked onto the balcony. But in the cold light of day, her predicament returned with relentless pressure.

  She felt drained, the emotional highs and lows exhausting. She’d be a jittery mess by this afternoon. Maybe it would be better to get it over with, rip Pandora from her life quickly like plaster off a wound. Say goodbye immediately after breakfast. Then she could go to the office and lose herself in work. At the sound of a car in the driveway, she hurried downstairs. When Pandora walked in, all thoughts of work vanished.

  “Hi, babe. I picked up coffee and bagels from the bakery,” she said, pecking her on the cheek. Though she wore her usual grin, Winter thought she looked more relaxed than last night. When they’d arrived home from dinner, she had an air of quiet desperation and her lovemaking showed it.

  “Thanks. I just got up. Let’s sit on the verandah in the sun and eat,” Winter said, “I’ll put the bagels in the microwave.”

  Since it was such a barmy morning, they ate in silence, enjoying the peace and quiet. Then Winter asked the question the answer to which she was dreading, “When are you leaving?”

  “About twelve. I’ve some things to organize and have to run over the program with Kurt.”

  “You’re singing tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re going Saturday then? I thought you intended to go today: Friday,” she whispered. Then forced out a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know you couldn’t tell me…I just presumed. It doesn’t matter. I know you’ve made it plain I won’t see you after today.” She threw aside the last of her bagel. “For Christ sake, why am I torturing myself?”

  “I’ve decided not to go,” Pandora said softly. “I’m not leaving.”

  Winter shot upright. “What! Really?”

  “Yes, really. I want to give us a go. You and me…see where it takes us. I’ve had to walk away from a lot of things in my life, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to walk away from you.”

  Winter eyed her, totally confused. “But you said you had to go, and now you make it sound like you have a choice. Not that I don’t want you to stay,” she added hastily.

  Pandora leaned over and took her hand. “It’s complicated. Please, babe. I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”

  “You’re not mixed up with anything illegal, are you?” Winter asked, tightening her grip on her hand.

  “Trust me, I’m not,” Pandora said soothingly. “Singing at the Fox is my second job. I have another one, or should say had. I’ve resigned this morning. The firm is quite respectable, but for security reasons I can’t divulge what it is.”

  Winter rose, feeling jubilant but mostly overwhelmed. “You…you actually gave up your job for me?” And then she was in Pandora’s arms, laughing and hugging her. “You’re wonderful,” she cried, and kissed her full on the mouth.

  Pandora slid her hands into her hair, loosening the twist until the stands fell free. “I love playing with your hair…and,” she murmured, “other parts of your anatomy.”

  “Let’s go back upstairs.”

  “You bet.”

  At the door of the bedroom, Winter twisted her round to face her. “Sweetheart. Promise me you’ll be careful if Boris comes back to the club.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll avoid him like the plague.”

  Winter fondly tucked a strand of hair away from her forehead. “Make sure you do. I couldn’t bear anything to happen to you.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Pandora stepped in front of the microphone, fighting her nerves as she gazed around the club. As was usual on a Saturday night, the Silver Fox was full. Though she recognized some of the old regulars, Lawrence Partridge included, the crowd was mostly young professionals. Already rowdy, they were clearly out for a good time. When she shifted her attention to the alcove at the back, a sinking feeling hit the pit of her stomach. Boris was sitting there with the same bastards from Melbourne.

  Frankie gave her a wave as she scooted past with a tray of drinks. Her romance was going well with Dana, and Pandora was happy for them. They made a nice couple, two honest hardworking down-to-earth people. Dana often came to pick Frankie up after work but had never frequented the club again as a patron. Nor did Jessie. Winter had never really told her what had transpired when she had her talk with her, but judging by her strained expression, it hadn’t gone well. After all this was over, she’d have a conversation with the doctor herself. Their friendship meant too much to Winter, and probably for Jessie as well, for Pandora to come between them.

  With a guilty start, she realized her daydreaming had nearly made her miss her cue. She caught the first note and launched into the song. By interval, her nerves were jangling. She went to the bar for a mineral water, though longed for something stronger to calm her down. She nearly ordered a brandy sour but bit her tongue in time. A fatal mistake to get careless at the last moment.

  She smelt his cloying aftershave before she heard his voice. “I want to see you after the show, Pandora.”

  Willin
g herself not to flinch, she didn’t turn but continued to sip her water.

  His fingers dug into the tender flesh on her hipbone as he growled out, “You can ignore me all you like, but you will join me tonight.”

  With an effort, she prised off his hand and turned to face him. “Listen to me, Boris. I will not be harassed, and I won’t be joining you tonight or any time in the future. I hope I’ve made myself perfectly clear. Now if you don’t mind, get out of my way so I can get back to work,” she ground out in a low voice.

  Boris’s eyes went cold. “You’ll do what—”

  “Shall we go over the next songs, Pandora,” Kurt interrupted, sliding in between them. She nearly kissed him in gratitude.

  “Let’s go.” She jostled quickly through the crowd waiting to be served. She didn’t glance back at the Russian left at the bar.

  When they stepped onto the stage, she squeezed in beside Kurt on the piano stool. “Thanks. Man, that guy is a fucking creep.”

  “I know,” he said, then added in a low voice, “I’ll help you skip out as soon as you finish.”

  “You’re a good friend, Kurt.”

  “No worries. Yuri has tunnel vision when it comes to his brother,” he replied with a frown.

  With tight shoulders, she left his side to walk to the microphone. She let the applause wash over her, then began to sing. She was halfway through the lyrics, when a commotion erupted at the front door. Aware of what was coming, she continued to croon out the words until the SWAT team appeared in full riot gear. They quickly took up positions along the perimeters of the room, while others fanned out to the hallway leading to the back rooms.

  Someone yelled out, “Cops,” but the crowd stood fidgeting nervously, watching the assault rifles held at the ready.

  A large man with a foghorn-like voice shouted orders. “POLICE! Everyone sit down with your hands on your head. No one is to touch a phone.” He sliced a hand signal toward the annex. “Cuff those six men, then search ’em.”

  Though Boris threw him a murderous look and although the mobsters hissed out a stream of violent oaths in Russian, they didn’t resist. Pandora dropped onto the stool on the stage with her hands on her head. She watched the proceedings with interest. The squad was very professional. The raid went like clockwork.

  Once everyone was sitting either on a seat or on the floor, a tall striking woman in plain clothes and a tactical vest, swept into the room. There was no doubt she was in charge. She looked around impatiently, and when her eyes rested on the men in the annex, she regarded them with narrowed eyes. “Take them out now. Put them in the special cells.”

  One of the Russians spat on the floor. “Suka.”

  She curled her lip. “Use force if you have to.”

  Immediately, they were bustled protesting out the door.

  The policewoman watched them depart before she turned back to address the room. “I’m the officer in charge of this operation. Detective Rachel Anderson. If you cooperate, this will be quick and painless. You will be treated with respect. All customers will be searched and asked to give a statement before you are allowed to leave. It will be an offence to use your phones before you leave this building. Do so and you will be charged.” She swept her eyes round the room with a hard glare.

  She gestured to five uniformed officers, two men and three women, waiting at the door. “Set up tables over in the right corner. Start with the younger partygoers and get them through as quickly as possible. Regulars need to be questioned. I’ve organized for one of the bartenders to point them out.” She handed over a piece of paper to each officer. “Also those on this list. They will be taken to the station on one of the buses.”

  She waved to one of the riot squad. “Gather the staff together, Dennis.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Pandora glanced around for Kurt. He had disappeared. There was no time to look for him as she joined the line shuffling to the designated area at the left of the bar. Yuri wasn’t amongst them. She guessed he was being held somewhere secure while his office was being searched.

  Everyone crowded together, eyeing the detective warily.

  Anderson looked them over, resting her gaze a moment on Pandora. “All staff members will be taken to the city watch house where you will be questioned,” she ordered in a flat decisive voice. “You will be kept overnight. An officer will be collecting your phones before you leave. You will be allowed one phone call at the station to notify your families you won’t be coming home until sometime tomorrow. Any questions?”

  “I have to get my little girl from the babysitter,” called out a teary waitress.

  “Ring her now to say you’ll be late. You can be questioned first as soon as we get back to the watch house and then you may go home.” She tapped the side of her leg irritably. “Anyone else has to get home?”

  No one else spoke. Pandora didn’t blame them. The cop looked like she had a temper. Then two more plainclothes detectives, a bear of a man in a boxy jacket, and an athletic well-built woman with brown hair cut in a bob, appeared from the back.

  “Find much, Martin?” asked Rachel.

  “A good haul,” he replied, a grin splitting his face. “The boys have taken everything back to the station.”

  “Good, then go with Kerry to the watch house with these people. I’ll stay here.”

  Pandora followed the others in line as they obediently filed through the front door. The pavement fronting the club was in chaos. In the glare of the police spotlights, she could see numerous police cars and two buses parked nearby. In between the vehicles, a pack of reporters were snapping photos and screaming questions.

  Detective Anderson, her face like thunder, was trying to maintain order. Down the side of the building, the partygoers that had already been processed had started dribbling out of the club and were being escorted down the street to a taxi rank.

  “Some wanker must have texted the press despite my warning,” Kerry said testily behind her. “Okay, listen up all of you. All staff are to board that first bus as quickly as possible. No one is to speak to the press.”

  Easier said than done, thought Pandora. They were hedged in by the press hounds, who were baying for a story. Then out of the blue, a microphone was shoved into her face. Christine Dumont appeared in front of her, dressed in a snazzy two-piece silver cocktail dress as if she’d rushed over from a fancy do. Her cameraman had his lens trained on them.

  Crap! She was on live TV.

  Christine flashed a practised smile at the camera. “I’m here tonight at the Silver Fox nightclub, where a police raid is in progress. With me is their lounge singer. Pandora, can you tell us what prompted this action by the police?”

  “No comment,” Pandora replied, attempting to weave her way past.

  “I have it on good authority you are very closely associated to one of the family.”

  Pandora bristled. “Closely associated? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You aren’t romantically involved with the owner of the club, Yuri Anasenko?”

  Bitch! “I’m employed as an entertainer. I sing. That’s it.”

  Christine’s eye sharpened into a calculating stare. “That’s not the information I’ve received.”

  Aware it was the cardinal sin in her profession to talk to the press, something short-circuited in Pandora’s brain. This woman needed to be taken down a peg big-time. “It’s a pity you didn’t bother to check the so-called information. Any good reporter doing her job would have.”

  Christine’s eyes glinted shards of ice. “Really? What would a person like you know about integrity?”

  She thrust the mike a foot from Pandora’s nose for her reply. At that moment, someone behind pushed hard against Pandora’s back. She cannoned forward into Christine, who teetered precariously on her stiletto heels. In an effort to save herself, she frantically clutched Pandora’s arm. With a reflex action as the nails dug in, Pandora slapped the hand away.

  Bedlam followed.

&n
bsp; Dumont’s offsider, a fit young man in his twenties, lunged at Pandora. When he caught her roughly by the shoulders, instinctively she went into combat mode. With a quick movement, she ducked her head and kneed him in the groin. He went down in a heap. But not before his flailing arm caught Christine in the jaw. She screamed and collapsed backward. Pandora made a grab at the front of her skirt to save her fall. The material ripped down to her knees.

  The next thing she knew, Pandora was flat on the ground with two burly cops on top of her and cuffed. She groaned as her face bit into the concrete. So much for keeping a low profile.

  A female voice echoed above her. “Put her in the back of my car. I’ll take her in with me later.”

  They heaved her to her feet. Anderson stood in front of her with hands on hips, livid. Pandora avoided her eye, instead snuck a look around. Christine was leaning against the Seven Network van, glaring at her, looking unusually dishevelled. Her perfectly styled hair hung in clumps, her makeup was streaked, and for modesty an old grey blanket was wound around her waist.

  Her offsider was still hunched over, and the cameraman had his camera rolling. As did the rest of the press. Pandora chuckled to herself. One consolation out of all of this: Christine was going to be on primetime news looking very unglamorous. The witch was going to hate it. She hoped someone got a good shot of the torn dress.

  But then she had no more time to think. She was grasped firmly by the arm, pushed into the back of an unmarked car and the door slammed shut. She lay back, trying to get comfortable with her hands cuffed behind her. After wriggling over on one side against the door, she shut her eyes. An hour later the press were gone and the SWAT team were nowhere in sight. The few uniformed police still there, were moving off to their cars.

  Yellow tape cordoned off the area.

  Then the door opened and Rachel slid into the driver’s seat. “Are you all right back there?”

  Pandora winced as sharp pain shot through her wrists when she straightened in the seat. “Yeah, everything’s dandy.”

  * * *

  Pandora woke with an ache in her back and head. The top bunk had been hard as a rock, and the waitress and the assistant chef who shared the cell, had kept her awake moaning and griping half the night. After a very early, very basic breakfast, two cops appeared at the door.