“I am Szilard, madam, and I thank you for your understanding,” the man said, obviously relieved that the issue was settled. He snapped his fingers and their waiter appeared. “O rundă de băuturi, pe mine.” The waiter gave a quick bow and rushed off. “I’ll hope that you will still enjoy your evening,” Szilard said.
“Thank you again,” Dan said as the host retreated. A moment later, the waiter returned with cocktails. Dan looked a little confused.
“He told the waiter to bring us a round on him, obviously to apologize for not being able to grant our wish.”
“If every time someone in Romania is unable to help, they buy me alcohol, I may end up remembering very little of our visit,” Dan joked.
Nicole silently wondered whom the man was that owned the table. In the movies, that sort of dramatic setup always involved some underworld figure. “Sorry, dame, dat’s Johnny Knuckles’ table. Nobody else sits dere.” In her real world experience, life often imitated art in that regard. There was an advantage to a person on the wrong side of the law to know they would be able to dine out and that they always had the best table in the house, for all the same reasons she favored them. She had not anticipated how quickly this would prove true.
She spotted her as soon as she stepped inside. It was impossible not to.
Nicole did a fast assessment of the woman entering the Red Angus. The face was familiar enough from the photo Viktor had shown her, and she was tall enough, towering over the host as he greeted her. She was also far more attractive than she’d appeared in the photo, but Nicole attributed that to the fact that she wasn’t currently holding a rifle in her hands, something that in her opinion did very little to heighten one’s allure. But what made the ID incontrovertible was the blue hair, though it was a little longer now than it had been when she’d been photographed holding the AK. She could not deny that the woman made a very impressive first impression.
She smiled and leaned toward Dan as if whispering something sexy to him. In fact, she said, “Our evening may have taken a turn. Don’t look, but the table we wanted is about to be taken by an associate of my mark.”
To his credit, Dan did not take his eyes off Nicole. “Are you serious? What are the odds of that?” he whispered. “And how do you know?”
“I told you I met my local guy earlier to get briefed in. He showed me surveillance and one of the pictures was of the woman chatting up the host.” Nicole had the advantage of being positioned so that she could appear to be looking at Dan but actually watch Ileana Gabor. She noticed, to her discomfort, that the host pointed furtively in their direction, and she figured he was probably bragging about not allowing them to sit at what was obviously Grigorescu’s table. The woman gave them a quick glance but seemed unconcerned with them and unimpressed with Szilard’s heroism. Eventually, she stopped talking and went to the table, taking a seat that Nicole immediately realized not only gave her a clear view of the door, but also allowed her to look over at Dan and her unhindered. Her proximity to them now was such that Nicole had to lean even closer to Dan to speak without any possibility of being overheard. “And as far as odds are concerned, I don’t pay much attention to them. Sometimes weird shit happens, sometimes it doesn’t. Tonight, it looks like it has.”
Nicole hoped that implying coincidence would satisfy Dan. She herself rarely chalked anything up to chance.
“So, what? You’re going to have to follow her?” Dan asked, realizing that their date might end up being a short one.
“I’m afraid so. This could prove to be an enormous break for me. Until she walked in, I was looking at the possibility of staking out six different locations. That she’s here doesn’t necessarily make that problem go away, but then again, it might. I could have gotten very lucky.”
“She’s not the target, though?”
“No, she’s not my main objective, though I would be willing to bet she won’t survive the exercise. But I’ll let her live at least long enough to lead me to the shit-head I came here for.”
Dan felt that increasingly familiar chill at his wife’s words but managed not to let it show. “Alright, so we’ll order our food, but if she leaves, we’ll follow.”
Now Nicole suppressed a shiver. The thought of Dan coming along as she followed Ileana was actually frightening to her. This woman was far too dangerous for her attention to be cleft even the slightest bit. “No, Danny. Not we.”
“Cole, I’m not comfortable with you going after her alone.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be. The chance of both of us being made is a lot higher than if I go alone.”
“Is it really?” he asked. “You don’t think she’d find it at all odd that the woman seated with her husband was now by herself, and in pursuit?”
Nicole paused to consider this. “You’re right that she’s seen us together now. If I were careless enough to be spotted while tailing her, it would be curious that I wasn’t with you. So I can either not get spotted or I can make a scene and storm out as if we’d had an argument.”
“Oh, Cole. Don’t do that.”
“No, I don’t think I will. But I’m dead set against you coming with when I follow this bitch.”
“She looks like she could be a little spooky, I agree,” Dan said. “But I think I could probably take her.”
Nicole couldn’t keep from laughing, though she managed to make it sound like a light-hearted giggle in response to something clever her date had said, rather than like the derision it actually was. “Danny, she would eat you alive and spit out a pair of Mini-Dans. I said she was an associate of my mark. She’s actually his head of security.”
“So?”
“She’s his bodyguard, Danny. She’s the one who makes sure no one touches her boss by killing any unfriendly that get too close.”
“Her?” he asked.
“Don’t look, Danny. She’s angled just right to know if you do.”
“Where’s the men’s room?” Dan asked in a much less subdued voice. Nicole knew that he knew it was back near the entry area. As a man in the dwindling years of his fifties, spotting the restrooms on the way in had become a necessary habit. But she also realized immediately as she pointed in their direction that he was fabricating, somewhat clumsily, an excuse to turn and get a better look at the woman. He attempted nonchalance but didn’t quite pull it off. Nicole let her eyes quickly dart to Ileana, but it seemed she was taking no notice.
“Go pee now,” she whispered. “You’ve got to go pee.”
“I don’t really,” he replied, missing her meaning.
“Yes, you do. Do you think that went unnoticed? Go to the men’s room, stay for a couple minutes, and then come back. You have to.”
Finally getting the picture, Dan stood, and in a normal voice said, “Excuse me, Cole. I’ll be right back.” As he walked away, not realizing he’d failed to use her cover name, Nicole made a snap decision. Grabbing her purse, knowing as she did the giant blue-haired bitch was watching, she made a beeline for the door and exited into the cold.
6
Keeping an Eye on Big Blue
As soon as Nicole was out of the restaurant, she did four things. First, she found a shadow in which to hide. This was not incredibly difficult. Although Strada Franceză was well lit, and a little busier than she would have preferred, the city was old and even a bright, busy street had plenty of nooks. In fact, not far from the restaurant was the Curlea Veche (literally, the Old Princely Court), a palace dating back to the mid-1400s. In front of the ruins stood a bust of Vlad Tepes, Stoker’s inspiration for the vampire Dracula, indicating that the residence was believed to have been his home. Nicole, not caring much who had lived here, ducked behind the likeness.
The second thing she did was open her purse and retrieve what looked at first glance to be a small, brown, furry animal. She gave it a shake and it resolved into a wig, which she pulled onto her head quickly but neatly, covering her natural blond hair completely. Turning her cell phone’s camera upon he
rself quickly confirmed that it was properly placed.
The third item on her checklist was to send a text to Dan. “Sorry. Too risky - had to go. Enjoy your steak. See you at hotel. REMEMBER - I’m Alicia in public!!!!” She knew that texting Dan to tell him she’d ditched him was shitty. It was better than just leaving him with no explanation, but only slightly better. The little scold about blowing cover didn’t soften the sting but, dammit, he needed to be careful.
The fourth and final task was to retrieve and recheck her handgun. She’d traded out for the one with the silencer before leaving for dinner, necessitating a wider bag. She’d brought three, ostensibly to match any outfit but actually to fit any gun. The good thing about a suppressed handgun was that it was quiet. Quieter, to be honest. There was no way to make a firearm completely quiet, despite what movies would want you to believe, but by reducing the muzzle flash (which represents the escape of the exploding gasses that propel the bullet) and by aiding in the suppression of the sonic boom caused by the bullet’s tendency to travel at faster than the speed of sound, the “silencer,” as the aforementioned films liked to call it, at least turned the telltale sound of a discharging weapon into… something less telltale. There was also subsonic ammunition available, and indeed there had been some in Viktor’s crate, but Nicole didn’t favor it. Eschewing the slower ordinance meant the silencers she used tended to be a little larger than some of the less effective but more “lady-like” models out there. And therein lay the worst part about using them. The one attached to her P30 was ten inches long and as big around as the nearly obsolete “D” sized battery. There was no way to make it look like you were not carrying a gun. Even draping some item of eveningwear over it looked ridiculous: how does one explain a shawl extending stiffly almost a foot from the end of one’s arm?
That was why the shadows were so important.
Now that Nicole had done what she could to prepare, all that was left was to wait. She didn’t know Ileana and so couldn’t precisely calculate exactly how long a wait she should expect, but she could estimate. A person in the security chief’s position didn’t tend to take lengthy meals. Even when she was being sent out for the express purpose of being seen (which was Viktor’s theory as to why she was often and easily spotted, at least until recently, and that was to give a message of status quo to any who wondered about the condition of Bogdan Grigorescu’s operations), it was not wise to be seen in one place for too long a time.
Also she knew that by leaving, she would have potentially triggered a third red flag on Ileana’s radar. Their asking about the table would have been the first, Dan’s lame attempt to disguise the fact he was checking her out by asking where the toilet was came in at number two. Booking before the steaks came and leaving a befuddled husband behind would have been the third and biggest. She didn’t walk out holding a sign saying, “I’m here to kill your boss. And probably you.” But she may as well have. Had Nicole been sitting in Ileana’s seat (both figuratively and literally), she would have sensed something was up.
Those two factors would tend to shorten the hit woman’s stay at the Red Angus. A desire to seem casual about the whole affair might cause her to hang back a bit, however. Also she may have been hungry.
There was also another possibility Nicole wanted very much to discount, but could not, and that was that she’d been made already, prior, even, to Ileana’s arrival at the Red Angus. The behavior of their hotel’s concierge had made her uneasy almost at once, though she’d focused on sex with Dan more than the possibility that Razvan knew more than he should have. Now she realized that he’d made the reservations and had ordered their cab, making it easy for someone to get a call to someone who might be interested in the Americans. Was Dan distracting her this much already? For the moment, she set the notion aside, as the consequences were a little too oppressive to consider.
Nicole did a quick scan to see if she could find a better shadow. Hopping the low fence to get behind Dracula’s bronze statue was sufficient to get her bearings, but twenty feet to the left was a pile of excavation debris that provided both a better cover and a better view of the steakhouse’s door. She settled in, not taking her eyes off the portal, even as she removed her light jacket and turned it inside out, converting it from a solid sky-blue to a rust and beige check pattern. The reversible garment was another good friend to someone hoping to not be recognized by a person who had seen them clearly only minutes before. The air was thoroughly chilled, and the jacket was a comfort as she slipped it back on. Before she had time to button it, however, Ileana Gabor emerged from the Red Angus.
The blue-haired woman turned left and began walking briskly toward Strada Şelari, which she crossed. As she began to walk north, Nicole emerged from her hiding place. To her great relief, in the few minutes she’d waited for the bodyguard to come out, the number of people on the street had thinned considerably. She still kept close to the walls of the buildings she passed, her finger on the gun’s trigger. She’d slid most of the P30 back into her purse, but it was instantly accessible if need be. When she too reached Strada Şelari and looked north, Ileana was gone. She gave a quick gulp at the possibility that the security chief had had a car waiting, but then noticed that there was a side street branching off at an 45° angle. It was well within the range of a person with Ileana’s stride-length in the amount of time it had taken her to catch up. She moved forward and saw the street sign indicating it was Strada Smărdan, and the first business on the left was a place called Club Goblin, and she arrived in time to see Ileana Gabor enter.
Okay, then, Nicole thought, a nightcap. The thought of a quick drink made Nicole’s mouth water a little bit. But she did not want to expose herself to the woman yet, so she crossed to the other side of Smărdan and found yet another niche in which to gray herself out.
“O seară minunată,” said a voice to her left, causing her to start. It was an old woman, her scarf drawn tightly around her head, shuffling by. She was right. It was a lovely evening.
“Fii în siguranță, bunica,” Nicole replied, telling the woman to be safe, and addressing her as “grandmother,” a term of respect and kindness. The old woman smiled and continued along.
Nicole looked up and down the street. She thought again about the chance that Ileana might end up in a car. The fact that she’d walked from the steakhouse to the bar didn’t yet rule out the possibility, nor did the fact that the area was largely commercial. Further on down the strada was the stately National Bank of Romania (or BNR as the locals called it), and between where she stood and that marble columned building were dozens of pubs, wine shops, and other small businesses. There didn’t appear to be any residential structures of sufficient grandeur to be one of Grigorescu’s potential residences/hiding places and, she was willing to bet her life (perhaps literally), none were likely to contain Ana Albu.
All of these facts combined to give Nicole a bad feeling that to get where she was going, Ileana would either drive or be driven. A second scan of the street showed that there were a few cabs, but all were engaged, already going somewhere else. That meant getting one quickly might not be easy.
Her analysis was interrupted by a blue blur coming out of the Goblin. At least for the moment, Ileana was staying on foot. She was walking in the direction of the bank.
Nicole waited until there was a manageable distance between them and prepared to make her way in the same direction. The number of people on Smărdan was considerable, perhaps even more than when she’d exited the Red Angus and had been uncomfortable then. After a moment’s deliberation, she opened her purse and put the gun back inside, making sure nothing interfered with accessing it easily should she need it. She stepped out of the shadow.
“There you are!” Although she immediately recognized the voice, Nicole was startled even worse than when the old woman had spoken to her. She turned to find Dan smiling at her. “I wasn’t expecting to find you.”
“How did you?” she asked, beginning to move after Ileana as sh
e did. Her focus was now honed to a point that made terseness a clinical side effect. She was hoping that she hadn’t lost her window of opportunity and that she could quickly think of a way to get rid of Dan.
“I was actually looking for Club Goblin. After you ditched me, the blue-haired girl sat for a while and I figured you might want me to keep an eye on her. But then she got up to go, and just before she left, she came over and recommended the Goblin as a good place to have a drink and hear some live music. So I thought I’d check it out before I headed back to the hotel.”
Not slowing, Nicole turned and looked at Dan. “Just like that? The woman I’m tracking gives you a bar suggestion out of the mist, and you decide to follow up on it? Am I getting this right?”
Dan paused for a moment. Clearly, he’d had a drink or two more with his meal, as she could see the gears in his head having a little trouble meshing. “Yes?” he said uncertainly. He seemed to have an epiphany. “I probably shouldn’t have, huh?”
“Probably not, Dan. Probably not.”
“I thought in public, we had to use the cover names.”
Nicole let out a puff of air that she hoped would bleed off some of the building frustration she was feeling. Dan recognized it as an expression of dissatisfaction, disappointment even. He’d seen it before. She looked ahead in time to see the blue head, enmeshed with several other bobbing heads, as the nightlife crowd continued to thicken. Ileana was further away than Nicole had planned for her to be as she continued down the street. She sped up. Dan kept pace. “There are about twenty different directions this conversation could take right now, but I really don’t have time for any of them. I need you to go back to the hotel.”
“Okay. Okay. You want to be left alone. I get it. Maybe I’ll check out the bar, then head...”
“No! You can’t ‘check out the bar,’ Dan. It’s probably a trap. You’re probably the reason she went in there first. She probably told some knuckle-dragger to watch for you. She might have even showed him your picture, in case he wasn’t good at identifying people from descriptions.”
The Beauty of Bucharest (A Clean Up Crew Thriller Book 1) Page 7
