Concierge

by Stella Barcelona

  “Yes,” Ragno said. “But we did background checks.”

  “Other than her housekeeper, who’s been in the family for years, the only regular service provider is Juliette,” Gabe said. “She passed a background check when we first were hired, but she could be working for the stalker, correct?”

  “Possibly,” Zeus acknowledged.

  “Black Raven did due diligence on Juliette, but there was no red flag. After all, Taylor was Juliette’s reference. Plus, her history with Andi had her seeming so benign this morning, there was no reason to search her when she arrived. Right, Brandon?”

  “Correct,” Brandon said. “Until right now she was not perceived as a threat in any way.”

  “Taylor’s a damn good reference,” Zeus said. “And, I’m looking at the file. When we did our due diligence, Juliette checked out to be exactly what she purported to be. Coupled with her prior uneventful contact with the client, she is the perfect plant for someone who wanted to harm Andi.”

  “Yes. Until now.” Gabe lowered his voice, slightly. “Which gets me back to an odd coincidence about Juliette being a lesbian. This info is for team leaders only. I figure the more you guys know about Andi’s past, the more we can speculate on her immediate future.” Gabe glanced around the car as he said that, then lowered his voice further. His agents were using iPads that were networked with Ragno’s cyber team, and their attention was focused on their tablets. Marvin and his son were looking straight ahead. And all of them, no doubt, were doing exactly as he did on every job he’d ever been on. Listening to the team leader talk, particularly when said leader’s voice got low.

  Gabe shrugged off all the reasons why discretion should matter. “Getting back to Sonja, here’s one thing the cyber team might take a while to figure out. Sonja is bi-sexual. Cheats on her husband. She and Andi had a thing in her pre-kidnapping days

  Line A carried a few seconds of dead silence.

  “Use that info with discretion. About Andi’s involvement with Sonja—I guessed that fact,” Gabe continued, as the procession of floats ended, and the gridlocked cars started moving. “It isn’t something Andi discusses. Brandon—she says Taylor doesn’t know about the affair. That’s how much of a secret it is. Want to know how I guessed it? The way Sonja looked at Andi the night of the gallery opening. As if she hadn’t eaten in days and Andi was a perfectly cooked steak. It wasn’t simply a look of a former lover—there were others of those at the opening. It went beyond that.”

  “Okay. I’m not sure the lesbian thing is persuasive, but you’ve got a former lover, looking at her oddly, and you don’t like her. I’m rolling with it,” Ragno said. “You’ve got enough for me to agree that we need further exploration. The Longs are well-known philanthropists. A few quick searches have indicated they’re wealthy enough to fund just about anything they want. Here’s Sonja’s address. We’ve got nothing else. At least, you need to have a chat with her.”

  “Marvin, go to…” His gaze scrolled through the text that Ragno sent. “…Saint Charles Avenue. Hell! Is that on the parade route?”

  “No. Saint Charles is on the route, but the Long residence is further down. Closer to Tulane University. On a corner lot, fronting on Saint Charles. Driveway’s on a private, gated street. Security for the neighborhood provided by…hold a second…Top Tier Security,” Ragno reported.

  Gabe knew the reputation of Black Raven’s competitor. “Which means the homeowners association does not fuck around.”

  “If you want to avoid the entry gate—”

  “I do. I want to surprise her.”

  “You’ll have to get creative. There are no side streets. Tall brick wall encases the neighborhood, except for the two houses fronting on Saint Charles. Lucky for us, the Long residence is one of those two houses. But that means you still have to go through the guard gate. There is no rear or side access and there is a wrought iron fence lining the sidewalk. Traffic indicators suggest the most direct route is congested, but nothing like the downtown area.”

  Marvin glanced over his shoulder as he waited at a traffic light. “Taking Claiborne, to Broadway, then right on Saint Charles. We can be there in fifteen.”

  One of his agents handed Gabe an iPad with satellite imagery of the address. The photos had a thirty-minute time lag. The most recent photos, though, were obscured by cloud cover. Images from two hours earlier had a clear view. He zoomed in and out on the photo of the large residence, analyzing the best way in. Glancing at the street that led away from the Saint Charles Avenue guard gate for three blocks or so and ended in a cul de sac, Gabe looked at the dozen or so homes that made up the luxury enclave. “Ragno, send all possible intel on the property. Security parameters. Photographs. Marks?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Find Stapleton. Do the same thing with him. Personally tell him that Andi is missing. Get a read on his reaction.”

  “Jacques Stapleton?” Brandon asked, concern underlying his tone.

  “Yes. Is there another Stapleton we should be worried about?”

  “Sonja and Jacques are both wealthy and powerful pillars of New Orleans society—”

  “Doesn’t mean shit in terms of potential for criminal activity,” Gabe said. “And whoever did this has a fat bankroll.”

  “I’m aware. My point is,” Brandon said, “rabbit trails are time wasters.”

  “Roger that. But if all I have are my own slim hunches, then I’m going to stampede down the rabbit trails.”

  “FYI—Stapleton doesn’t seem to be a client of Juliette’s,” Ragno said. “Maybe because males are less likely to spend that much money on spa services.”

  “You said it, Ragno. Not one of us males.”

  “Doesn’t make you guys smarter,” Ragno said.

  “Let’s all back up a second,” Zeus said. “I understand pursuing the former lover angle, but we have to have more than that to go after these people. Gabe, your personal involvement with Andi might be coloring your judgment a bit here—”

  “If you’re talking about jealousy over past history, I’m not like that.” Shifting in his seat, trying to stretch his legs out in front of him, he shook his head. As though his brother could goddamn see him. “I don’t care what Andi did in her pre-kidnapping days. That’s not who she is now.” He considered the lesbian angle, frowned, and shifted again in his seat. “Look, it’s not like I don’t have experience with women…” He searched for the right words.

  Ragno, voice as matter-of-fact as ever, prodded him. “Your point?”

  “Andi’s the rare kind of woman who could spark an obsession…” He drew a deep breath, thinking of how she responded when they made love. How she encouraged him with her body. Her focus. Her sounds. How she made his world stand still, unlike anyone else. “And I’m not saying that lightly. Fact is—personal attraction taken out—Stapleton and Sonja are both former lovers of Andi’s who had significant recent interaction with her. And there’s a doctor who was also salivating over her at the opening.”

  “Another former lover?” Zeus asked.

  What the hell? He may as well air all of Andi’s past history. If it meant they’d find Andi, he’d keep the list going for as long as it took. “Yep. Doctor John McCaskey. Since the opening, he’s called her twice and sent flowers. Ragno, start a profile on him. If anyone has better ideas for the moment on who we should be talking to, or looking at, chime in.”

  The line went silent.

  Shit shit shit.

  Something was off about all this.

  Because there was also Pic. And the other kids. Could Andi’s disappearance have anything to do with the kids who were missing? Jake. Monica. The others included in the faintest whiffs of the rumors that Richie had repeated? The rumors that Pic had heard? Would-be robbers going after Pic with a syringe?

  His gut, and Black Raven-style wisdom, told him that the timing of Andi’s disappearance and Pic’s disappearance were related. Something, someone, somewhere tied this clusterfuck together. And it was up t
o them to put a screeching halt to it.

  “Zeus. Brandon. Gabe might really be on to something.” A faint hint of excitement had crept into Ragno’s voice. “Sonja Long is a client of Juliette’s, and there is no record that she ever paid Juliette one cent.”

  “People have all kinds of reasons for paying cash,” Zeus responded.

  “Sure they do,” Ragno said. “But one big reason is to hide something. Coupled with Gabe’s feelings, who, I might add, is a master at reading subtleties, the lack of a money trail is more than enough for me.”

  “Brandon?” Gabe asked, as Marvin picked up speed on Claiborne Avenue.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you ask Taylor how it was that she and Andi started using Juliette?”

  “Give me a minute.”

  Gabe leaned back in the seat, his head pressed against the headrest. He indulged himself by thinking of Andi, her luminous eyes, and her slight smile. The essence of the lavender that she wore, the way her home smelled of her. The way she looked at him like she was always trying to figure him out. How she hung on his every word—even when she was irritated with him for trying to get a rise out of her. Holding her as they slept, the way her smaller body fit into the curve of his.

  The way he’d awoken just hours ago, with her nestled into his chest, her head resting on his arm. He’d stayed still for a few long seconds, savoring the feel of her in his arms. He’d been around long enough to know that sleeping with someone was different than sleeping with someone you loved. Until Andi, it was a distinction that had been lost upon him.

  “Talked to Taylor,” Brandon said. “Sonja referred Juliette to Taylor, shortly after Andi’s kidnapping, and suggested Juliette might also work out for Andi. According to Taylor, Sonja has always been oddly interested in Andi. That’s a quote. ‘Oddly interested’. Andi’s become a curiosity in their social circle, though, since it’s been more than two years since the kidnapping, she’s no longer a constant in most conversations, except for Sonja’s. I didn’t tell Taylor about Andi and Sonja being lovers. But I did ask Taylor if she knew Sonja had lesbian affairs. She said no. However, she reminded me the gallery opening was Sonja’s idea. So your hunch is worth pursuing. Matter of fact, I’m more than on board now.”

  I was doing it anyway, because I’m that goddamn good at reading people. And now, my gut’s screaming at me to go to Saint Charles Avenue.

  “It’s one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the city,” Marvin said. “There’s gonna be in-house help. Assume guarded. You not only want to talk to this woman, you’ll want to analyze computers and search through records, right?”

  “Yes.” I’ll do plenty of searching, if I smell a rat. “If Sonja’s there, I want my agents to do recon while I talk to her.” He glanced at the agents in the van, who nodded. “If Sonja isn’t there, I’d prefer to simply have a look around and not seriously harm someone who might resist that action. Unless I need to. What I see will dictate my actions.”

  On any job, Gabe didn’t want to disable collateral personnel unless necessary. One basic premise was unless a hunch was foolproof, collateral force was kept to a minimum. Richie and Juliette were directly involved. Not collateral. That’s why he didn’t give a shit about Richie’s broken nose, cracked ribs, and whatever other damage he’d inflicted. Juliette, ass on the floor, handcuffed to a table, also wasn’t a problem, because she was the last person to see Andi. Even more so now, given what they knew of her slush fund and her upcoming trip to Dubai, the fact that she was Black Raven’s prisoner was A-OK. But his hunch regarding Sonja wasn’t proven—yet.

  “Brandon, give me local knowledge. Team—” His gaze encompassed his two agents, along with Marvin and Billy, “We have three objectives going in. One—talk to Sonja, if she’s there. Two—see what’s inside, whether she’s there or not. Three—access computers. Objectives will evolve. Parameters—gated community, Top Tier security guards at the only entrance to the neighborhood, daylight, house with alarm system and, we have to assume, also guarded.”

  “Safe assumption about the guards, Gabe. I’ve been to social events there,” Brandon said. “The Longs are serious collectors. They’ve got a Monet. A couple of Picassos. Other paintings I wouldn’t even try to name. Sculptures. They’re not using Top Tier for their home, though. They seem to use a no-name outfit for security. To a casual observer, the guards look like the real deal. To me, they look big on brawn and firepower, small on brains.”

  “Okay,” Gabe said, mind racing through scenarios.

  “Best local knowledge in the world is sitting in the front seat of your vehicle,” Brandon continued. “Marvin, Billy, and their team of brothers, sons, sisters, cousins can get in any place in the city. They’re damn creative.”

  Gabe glanced into the front seat, as Marvin stopped at a red light on Claiborne Avenue. They both turned and gave Gabe thoughtful smiles.

  “They’ve got an in with personnel in utility companies?” Gabe asked.

  “Everywhere,” Brandon answered.

  “Yep,” Marvin nodded. “Just ’bout all of ’em.”

  Cable company? Nah—not enough of an emergency. Electric—that would get them on the perimeter, but it was hard to sell for the inside. Thanks to Big Brother, though, there was one sure way to get in. Emergency gas leak. Even if the homeowner didn’t smell it, the gas company could access the house if it was reported. Federal regulations required gas companies to respond to reports of gas leaks, measure the grade of the leak, detect the source, and enter nearby premises for inspection. “Only thing that will work here is gas.”

  Agent Stevens, who was stuck in the middle of the back seat, between Gabe and Todd, muttered, “That could work.”

  “The drawback is,” Gabe added, as the traffic light flashed green, “most people know to be wary if the gas company comes knocking. Black Raven agents wouldn’t fall for this.”

  Or maybe we would just let them in while we scratched our balls, given the ease with which Andi disappeared from a house with agents on the premises.

  “So what do your agents do if the gas company comes knocking?” Marvin asked, accelerating and shifting lanes.

  “Verify emergency with the company,” Gabe said. “Be suspicious. Keep eyes on workers. We have to assume the security at the Long residence is at least as smart as Black Raven.”

  “Vince is damn persuasive,” Marvin said. “He’s worked on Brandon’s jobs before. Worse thing that would happen is they send us away. But you might get in a side door while we’re arguing. And Vince and I can argue for one hell of a long time.”

  Gabe wondered whether it was worth it, because it sure seemed like an elaborate way to do something that was normally simple for him—get into a house.

  Gut check, in light of parameters?

  Yes. Worth the time.

  Marvin continued, “Job like this will cost Brandon about seven thousand for Vince’s cost—”

  “He’ll pay,” Gabe said. “But we need to execute ASAP. Within thirty minutes. Doable?”

  Marvin nodded, then glanced at his son. “Get Vince going. Give him the address. Ask him to confirm house is a gas recipient, then tell him parameters.” The traffic light turned green, and Marvin accelerated.

  “Two scenarios,” Gabe said. “Plan A–Vince creates a gas emergency ruse, advance team gets in, figures out if Sonja or her husband are there. If either owner is in the residence, I coincidentally knock on the front door to talk to them. Once inside, I’ll improvise as the need arises. Plan B–advance team goes in using the gas emergency ruse, we figure out homeowners are not there, advance team distracts whatever help is on the premises, and I do whatever it is I want to do in there.”

  “We can work with either scenario. This is easy for us. Like red beans on a Monday.” Marvin sounded so calm and matter-of-fact, Gabe had absolute faith the man could deliver. “It’s our thing. Your end’s the wild card.”

  “I can handle my end.”

  “Vince confirms that the home is a
gas recipient,” Billy said.

  Marvin nodded. “Figured it would be. It wouldn’t be a New Orleans mansion without Bevolo lanterns.”

  “More than gas lanterns.” With his phone firmly planted to his ear, Billy reported what Vince was telling him. “Usage is consistent with a shitload of appliances.”

  If the circumstances hadn’t been so dire, Gabe would’ve enjoyed this moment. He could feel the anticipation of the agents sitting next to him, as they sat up straight and nodded in agreement. Gabe looked at the iPad, with the satellite imagery of the house. “House fronts on Saint Charles. There’s a public sidewalk. Pedestrians. Vince can say multiple calls of gas odors. A concerned jogger. Whatever.”

  “Gabe—” Zeus broke into the phone conversation on line A. “We have Sonja’s phone number—at least the one that Taylor and Andi use. We’ll have access to phone records shortly. From there, we’ll be able to determine where she is.”

  “No. You’ll be determining where that phone is, which might not get us anywhere.” Gabe zoomed in on the driveway, the front porch, and the side door of the Long residence. Scrolled over the garden beds. Looking to see if the Longs advertised the name of their company providing security on their home. “For all we know, she has multiple phones, in other names. She might be nowhere near that line.”

  “But we’ll have a trail that will lead to her,” Zeus said. “And we’re employing facial recognition software on networked surveillance cameras all around New Orleans and outlying areas.”

  “Zeus,” Brandon said, his voice loud and clear through line A. “I’m talking to Juliette, while I wait for Serum One. She’s not giving me a goddamn thing, but she seemed downright frightened when I told her we’d soon be talking to Sonja. As the file’s originating partner, I’m fine with whatever Gabe decides is necessary.”

  “Thanks, Brandon. Zeus. Copy?”

  “Yes,” Zeus said, grudgingly.

  “Great. Zeus, Ragno—you guys in Denver keep clicking away,” Gabe said. “I’m doing this my way, until you give me something better. Team—switch to line C-1.” Next to him, Stevens and Brooks nodded as they made the communication line adjustment on their watches. “Team leaders—talk to me there if needed.”