Jake had the window down, allowing the breeze to cool his face. His mind was spinning, as he planned how to navigate his next move. He knew Park and the kidnappers were both adversaries. And his own FBI would become an obstacle in another five hours. If he disclosed his plan, especially his intention to safely recover Jenny and Gracie, Hafner and the Bureau hierarchy would balk.
Logistically it was a nightmare. Legally it was questionable. No matter how you sliced it the chances of any rescue were slim. But attempting to convince Park to seek law enforcement assistance was futile and a SWAT entry made no sense; the deaths of Jenny and Gracie would be almost guaranteed.
Jake put his cell phone on speaker and played back the call Park placed to the kidnappers. Otis Redding was singing in the background and the voice was a distinct Middle Eastern accent; a strange combination. “The girls will not be hurt if you comply. Bring three million dollars to the Shanghai Hotel, room 212, at eight p.m. Do not be stupid. And whoever you send with the money, make sure he comes alone; otherwise your daughter and granddaughter die.”
When Park demanded to speak to Jenny, she managed to say only a couple of words before the phone was yanked from her mouth. She begged for help, tears in her voice.
Jake replayed the recording, seeking more answers before calling Trey.
“Check indices and tell me everything we’ve got on the Shanghai Hotel,” said Jake.
“The what?”
Jake repeated himself, then added, “If it’s the same place I’m thinking, it’s a whorehouse.”
“Were you a patron or was this part of an official investigation?” asked Trey, not expecting an answer as he accessed the computer on his desk to search FBI records. “Got it. Yeah, it’s on Olympic near Hoover in the Mid-Wilshire District.”
“That’s the one.”
“You frequent the place?”
“No, but I did a dope deal there three years ago. It’s a three-story building with girls running in and out all day. It’s perfect for what I want to do.”
“Do I want to know?”
“You are part of the plan . . . idiots!”
“Are you calling me an idiot?”
“No, them. I love it when their IQs are double digits below mine. Now we just have to play all the interests.”