I’D just made a deal with the Devil. I knew it, and I couldn’t do anything about it. It was the only chance I had to somehow make all of this right. I couldn’t bring Kim Cho back, but I could finish her job, exact her price.
For the girls, Minnie had said. No, for the women, young and not-so-young, everywhere. A lofty goal, even one that had me a bit in awe. And with no one to trust and two days to do it.
Talk about being all in, and all crazy.
With hands on his knees, Sinjin relaxed back. “I need a schematic of the security grid.”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“If I give it to you, you can hack in and you don’t need me anymore. You tell me when and how you need the grid to go down, and I’ll arrange that.”
“You could be making a cage.” The muscles in his cheek bunched as he clenched his jaw, the only sign of his irritation.
“Indeed. But if it’s a cage, it will catch us all.”
“And what do you want in return?”
“Romeo to be your bag man.” I ignored the wide eyes Romeo shot me.
“You want the boy to keep his eye on me?” Sinjin tried to hide his scoff.
“A small thing to ask, don’t you think? And you taking out Mr. Cho. That’s part of your plan, right? He killed your sister and enslaved your mother. Your revenge is my family’s gain. Consider your debt paid in full.”
“You said no repayment was necessary.”
“True, but I’m just helping you walk away with your head held high.”
He threw his head back and laughed. When he’d sobered, he wiped off the last vestiges of a grin. “You win, Lucky O’Toole. God help me.”
“God help all of us.” I couldn’t believe that making a pact with the Devil actually had me feeling pretty proud of myself and hopeful for the second time since I’d left home. “What are your plans for Frank Cho?”
Romeo swiveled around and gave me a look, one I recognized and didn’t like. Then he delivered the coup de grâce. “Sinjin here let Frank go.”
For the first time in a while, I became keenly aware of the cold metal of the gun pressed against the small of my back. “Why would you do that?” I asked, turning to get a good look at Sinjin. My voice had gone all strong and cold, my eyes tightening to slits.
“Whoa,” Romeo said. Smart man—he knew that look.
Sinjin seemed unaware of his imminent death. “It is best to use your enemy’s hand to catch a snake.”
“Oh, great. Now you’re going to go all Oriental on me.”
He shrugged. “Thought I’d try. But, really, the proverb is a good one. Mr. Cho is most vulnerable from within. His narcissism will never let him believe someone close to him would betray him. Not until it is too late.”
“And you think Frank is your guy?”
“I know he is.” Sinjin wiped a hand across his eyes.
“Tough gig being a pirate?”
“No, that part is easy. No rules.” He speared me with a look. “But revenge?”
“Best served cold?” We were both playing with that hot potato. With no pithy erudition of my own, I watched the scenery roll past. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home, to your hotel.”
A cold sweat popped. “I don’t have any explanation for the border guards.”
“Let me handle it.”
I had no choice, but I knew either we’d sail through or we’d all never be heard from again.
Sinjin waved at the border guards who nodded and motioned us through.
Once clear, my stomach unclenched and I relaxed back. “Man, I would kill for stroke like that.”
“Sometimes it requires that,” Sinjin said, rather nonchalantly to suit my tastes.
“Toto,” I said to Romeo.
“We’re not in Vegas anymore.” The kid finished my line.
Everyone smiled at the reference, even the driver who had maintained a stoic expression up to that point. “The expansion of Western culture will be the Communist’s downfall,” I said, then instantly regretted going all political.
“You mean greed?” Sinjin asked. “Indubitably.”
“Are you safe traveling here?”
“No one knows my face, except the two of you. There is a fairly high price on my head, in case you’re interested.” Sinjin didn’t seem concerned.
“You needn’t worry about us. But I assume Frank Cho could pick you out of a lineup?”
“If he’d wanted my head on a spit, he could’ve had it long ago. We were to be family. Even in death, Kim joins us. Frank will not stop until the men who killed Kim are dead themselves. If he fails, I will finish the job.”
“Men?”
“In China, no one acts alone. And the person responsible is never the one with the knife in his hand.” This time it was he who reached across and squeezed my arm. “We are fighting different battles, but the same war. Trust me.”
My entire world rode on the decision I made. Trust him—or not?
I thought about it for a good long while, and he left me alone with my struggles. Finally, the driver turned the big car up the drive to my hotel, stopping at the valet stand. “We have a deal. I will honor it, whatever it takes. For the girls.”
Sometimes life requires a person to put everything on the line for the things she believes in. This was my time.
“Especially for the girls.” He turned to face me more fully. “When you see Mr. Cho, and you will, spar with him a bit. Make him think you’re desperate; that you’ll give him anything to get your hotel back and get your father out of their bulls-eye.”
I bristled at his instructions. “Are you telling me how to play the game?”
“The game is played a bit differently here, half a world away from Vegas. The Asian culture is…”
“Enigmatic?”
“Arrogant, especially a man when dealing with a woman.”
I leaned away from him. “You want me to grovel?”
He actually laughed. “Impossible. But you’re a businesswoman, and a damn good one if how you’ve manhandled me is any indication. So, make a deal.”
“Technically, I don’t think you really need me.”
“Maybe not. But the watches won’t be here long, and I don’t have time to plan as fully as I would like. You are the key to success, for all of us. Besides, in another way, you make my position much stronger. There are so many things that could go wrong when stealing the pieces; our marks could get twitchy and pull out. Having insider help sweetens the pot. You will help lure your sheep to slaughter. That’s what you want, right?”
I started to object, then gave up. Yeah, Mr. Cho’s head on a platter would be perfect.
Sinjin pulled out his iPhone, and, using his thumbs, he navigated the screens. Holding the phone so I could see, he asked, “This is your number?”
It wasn’t really a question if he knew the answer, which I could see he did. I nodded anyway.
He punched in some numbers then hit send.
My phone dinged.
“Now you have my number. I know I don’t need to tell you not to identify it in any way.”
“Can you set up one of your dummy accounts? That’s what it is, isn’t it? You’re not really doing business through a real bank, just a virtual one. Am I right?”
“The virtual world is a great place to hide.” He tapped in some more numbers. “Here’s the routing number, the account number, and the style on the account.” I raised an eyebrow. “I set it up for something that hasn’t come together just yet. We can use it. It is safe. I don’t need to tell you not to breathe a word.”
“Not my first rodeo, cowboy,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “But you sell me out, I’ll shoot you myself.”
“Likewise.” He didn’t smile.
Shoulder to shoulder as we stood in front of the Tigris, Romeo and I watched him go. Neither of us had any words, at least not for a moment. As we turned toward the entrance to the hotel, Romeo recovered first, his bottled-up words tumbling out as he bounced on his feet with the energy of a puppy at dinnertime.
“That was so friggin’ cool.” Worship dripped from every word and he lunged for the door, narrowly elbowing the bellman out of the way. Holding the door wide, he bowed and made a sweeping gesture. “After you.”
I tossed a tight smile to the bellman as I swept through the door, then shot Romeo my best grown-up glare, which he studiously ignored. The lobby, teeming with people, offered us the anonymity of being two in a crowd. They’d changed the music. Electronica wasn’t my thing, but I bowed to wiser heads than mine. The crowd seemed to pulse with the music.
Romeo caught me in two strides. “Don’t you think he is so cool? A pirate!”
With a look I shushed him. “No, this is not cool; he is not cool. He’s a desperate man who will work with us as long as he needs us. Don’t be fooled.”
My warning didn’t dim Romeo’s light. “He’s a good guy. You wait.” Finally, he lowered the wattage a bit. “What are we going to do?”
“You are going to call Brandy and tell her only that everything is fine, nothing else.” I stopped, and with a hand on his arm, and pulled him around to face me. “You got that? It’s very important.”
People flowed around us, cocooning us from anyone with abnormal interest.
“Sure, sure. Everything’s fine.”
I could feel the adrenaline vibrating through him. “Then get something to eat, take a shower, and try for some shut-eye. We may not get another opportunity until this is over.”
He wilted. “But…”
“No. I need to make some plans. There’s nothing to do right now.”
“Okay.” I could see the tiredness creep over him as the adrenaline let loose its hold. “Do you trust Stokes enough to let him in on this?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then how are you going to get him involved?”
“Lie.”
“But that could get you jail time. Lying to a Fed is serious business.” Romeo acted like he’d been absent for most of the conversation with Sinjin.
I glanced around, but people were only paying us casual attention. I pulled him close. “Minor compared to everything else.” I snagged an extra key to my suite from the front desk. “Here.” I took Romeo’s hand and pressed the key into it. “There’re two bedrooms. Take the one I’m not in.” I added that unnecessarily—I wasn’t dealing with Teddie, who would need the extra clarity. “If you’re hungry, call room service and charge it to the room. But be very careful. People are not who they seem to be.” I echoed Kim Cho’s warning.
That almost snuffed the ardor of his pirate envy.
Stokes tapped his fingers on the handrail of the escalator, a distracted look on his face. He was riding down from the junket level, and I was riding up. The day was dimming—I’d taken time to clean up and find a few winks in my suite. Sleep would be at a premium from here on out.
Still below his stare into the distance, I could see him, but he hadn’t noticed me. The precious seconds gave me time to think. What to do with Stokes?
I needed answers. And, if I was going to pull off a robbery of epic proportions, I’d need his help. The local authorities couldn’t be trusted—I had no proof, just a healthy case of skepticism and no time to persuade myself I was being paranoid. The FBI was the only American agency within shouting distance and, more important, the only one who could round up Irv Gittings and drag him back home where he could buy off another judge.
That thought was a constant prod to my inner vigilante.
Funny how quickly I seemed to be going rogue.
As Stokes slid past, still looking over my head, I grabbed his hand then let go.
He jumped but recovered quickly. Turning, he looked up at me. “O’Toole, I’ve been looking for you.”
In the junket rooms? I doubted it, but played along. “You found me. Meet me at the bar in the vestibule up here, but give me five.”
Before Stokes could make the round trip and perhaps see where I was headed, I ducked around the corner and into the wire transfer room. A clerk sitting behind thick bulletproof glass with a slot cut in the bottom where the glass met the counter looked up when I burst through the door with a bit more energy than I’d intended.
He positioned a mic on a flexible stand. “May I help you?”
“I need the in-bound wiring instructions, all the routing numbers, and whatever else I need, if you please.” I shrugged.
“Will this be local or foreign?”
Hmm, hadn’t thought up that lie. “Give me both.”
He narrowed his eyes, then he snaked one hand under his desk.
“Before you call Security, I’m with corporate in Vegas.”
“Your name?”
I gave it to him. He pursed his lips. “O’Toole, I’ve heard of you. Glad you told me. I thought maybe you were the girlfriend of one of those Russians—the women are all tall and good-looking like you. The men?” He made a face. “Not so much. All that body hair.” He visibly shuddered. “They send their women down here, and I have to tell them I can’t do anything without the big man himself. Doesn’t go over too well. I’m pretty happy for the bulletproof glass, know what I mean?”
So many questions, so little time. Which was probably a good thing—I didn’t think I really wanted to know exactly how he knew about the Russians’ body hair. So I nodded and said, “Totally.” Which wasn’t a complete lie—when it came to protection from people shooting in one’s general direction, I knew exactly what he was talking about.
Tearing the top sheet of paper off a pad, he pushed it through the slot without another word. I was pretty sure he gave me a knowing wink, though, which I did my best to ignore. Some people have no appreciation for authority—I should know; I’m one of them.
I glanced at the paper. So much money coming into the hotel they had the wire instructions preprinted? I stuffed the note in my pocket, then, without a nod, I turned and left.
Stokes had scored us a table in the corner, but, considering the bar was empty, not a great feat.
“Bubbles?” he asked with a forced smile.
“No, this isn’t a social visit.” I took the chair across from him, but I didn’t lean back—this wouldn’t take long. “So, what were you doing up here?”
“Like I said, looking for you.”
“Not looking for Irv Gittings? He’s a fugitive from justice. I’m just a lowly corporate grunt on a toot in China.”
“And I’m the President of the United States.”
I shrugged. “It’s your fantasy. Who am I to quibble?” Personally, anyone who fancied him or herself in the country’s highest office was suspect in my book, but I didn’t think it helpful to say so.
I found the motorcycle rider’s ID in my purse, then slapped it on the table between us. “Well, Mr. President, want to tell me about this guy?”
As I watched him, I could see the wheels turning. A story hatching? The truth was pretty easy; only lies required a story.
“What game are you playing, Stokes?”
“It’s not that simple.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “And I’m not at liberty to say.”
I leaned across the table. With a finger, I poked at the photo of the scooter guy. “That man shot at me.” I gave him a glance at my shoulder where the blood had dried in the dark crease of the wound. “Came pretty close, too. So, no, he wasn’t trying to scare me. And, if folks around here can be trusted, he killed Jhonny Vu with a brick…on the street…in broad daylight. Then he sashayed into my hotel, right under your nose.”
A bead of sweat trickled down Stokes’ temple, catching the light.
I watched it until it disappeared into his hairline. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going down, or I’m I going to have to make a stink to get the attention of your superiors?”
A tic worked in his cheek. After a quick glance around—the guy was making me even more paranoid, if that was possible, and I was in my own hotel. He met me in the middle of the table. His nose inches from mine, he lowered his voice. “Look, I know you’re frustrated with my sitting on my thumb, as you would so delicately put it.”
“Frustrated?” My voice rose on a wave of anger and incredulity.
He shushed me.
I didn’t take it well, but I did as he asked. “People are dying and you’re doing nothing.”
“The sharks have taken the hook, and I’m letting them run with the line,” he said with a look that willed me to understand.
Idioms as a code. None of the folks who could overhear looked like English was their first language, so I got it. They’d never understand our convoluted vernacular.
“Until you know where all the cattle have wandered.” Normally, I loved a good turn of phrase. Now they just seemed silly.
“Gotta round them all up.”
“Hell of a thing.”
He looked like he agreed. “Not my call.”
With the knuckle of his forefinger, he pushed the guy’s ID back toward me. “Keep this. Memorize his face. If you see him, shoot first.”
“Everybody’s been telling me the same thing. Different context, but same advice. Besides, that photo won’t help much. He doesn’t look like that anymore.”
“How so?”
“I rearranged his nose with a two-by-two.”
He seemed to take that in stride. “Are you sure the guy you assaulted and the guy in the license photo are the same guy?”
That raised my eyebrows. “Come to think of it, I just assumed. It was dark, and I’m not my best when being shot at. Although I am getting a bit more used to it.”
Stokes deflated with a grudging grin. “God help me, O’Toole, I can’t decide whether I love you or hate you.”
“A common problem. I do tend to push either end of that spectrum, leaving not much real estate in the middle.” The agent looked a little more relaxed, which made me inclined to at least give a listen to his story.
Tired of perching on the edge of my seat, as it were, I leaned back, claiming my chair. “What do you know about the guy?”
“Muscle for hire.” He must’ve read my look—he held up his hands in a defensive position. “I’m not thinking you’re stupid, just confirming what you know.”
I pulled out the paper I’d kept from Teddie, smoothing it on the table. “I know this guy. And you do, too. He’s killed already, and he’ll kill again.”
“Unless you stop him. I know where’re you’re headed, O’Toole, and you’d best not go there.”
“I’m going there with or without your help. Your call.” I had him; I could see it in the slight slump in his shoulders. Yep, I’d shouldered his burden and he was happy to shift it. Didn’t really blame him. He was in a thankless and dangerous position—he wasn’t calling the shots, but he and his team were taking the hits. “I can help you, but you’ve got to help me. Tell me what I don’t know.”
“Last time I got close to him he was in Vegas.”
That shot my eyebrows skyward. “Where in Vegas?”
He folded up the paper as if having it would get us both shot. “Your hotel.”
I hid it back in my purse. “My hotel?” Another piece to the puzzle—I could almost see the whole picture…almost. I chewed on my lip as I thought. When I’d seen his picture in the paper Teddie showed me, the guy had looked familiar, but I’d been thinking too small. I needed to widen the aperture on my lens.
“Somebody is playing with us.” Now it was my turn to state the obvious. The stars were starting to align. Miss Minnie and Frank were running me, forcing me to do their dirty work, dangling the promise of exculpatory evidence for Teddie. What could it be? Something about the face in the photo—the brick man. “We better do something to shut this whole operation down.”
“Not possible.” Stokes looked pained.
“What do you mean, ‘Not possible’?”
“Gotta let it play out. Let them show their hand.”
“Well, Mr. Fed, your hands might be tied, but mine are not.”
Now he looked scared. “Don’t go messing in my bust.”
I really did feel a bit sorry for Stokes—the FBI Ken-doll looked a bit out of his element. Maybe he really was one of the white hats. “Is there anybody who can confirm your story, this whole bust thing you keep talking about?”
“Not to you. I’m buried so deep even Jesus wouldn’t vouch for me.”
“I figured.” I put a bit of distance between us, rolling my chair back so I could stretch my legs.
“Whoever is playing me, and you, for that matter, has his finger on the pulse around here. They were watching you, that’s for sure. And they covered their ass if you got lucky.” He didn’t smile at the pun.
I didn’t either. “I’m sorry, Stokes, but I gotta jump in the middle of this. You won’t like it, so I’m not going to tell you. Besides, you’d probably arrest me.”
Everybody had a story and an angle. Including me.
“Not on your life. Trust me, you don’t want to know…not really.”
“The last time I saw that look in your eyes, bombs started exploding. You ended up tossing one off the top of your hotel, as I recall.”
“An unforgettable moment of sheer panic and stupidity.”
“You have that same gleam about you.”
What was it about me lately that made me an open book to the males of the species? Whatever it was, I needed to shut it down.
“I’m trying to figure out things just like you, Stokes.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie. “Poke the beehive, if you will.”
“I’m intrigued.”
“I won’t compromise your position, but, if you’ll hang with my friend, Jeremy Whitlock, I think we both will get what we want.”
“Whitlock. The PI? He’s stand-up.”
“You can judge someone by the friends they keep.”
“And the enemies they make.”
Finally! Some common ground for me and the Fed to bond over.
“You’re asking me to trust you.”
“My methods might be unusual, but I’ve never given you reason to doubt my motive.”
“No, only your sanity.”
“Hell, even I doubt that.”