Elite Operatives: Demons Are Forever Part 19

"Vague statements make bad business deals. Could it be because he hasn't made the appropriate offerings to the right power?"

"Will you help us or not?" the cardinal asked, his self-control ready to snap.

The Broker smiled. "He will receive a heart. But only because you asked the right G.o.d and...all I require is cash."

New York Next day, November 21 The schedule that Jack retrieved from Heather's laptop indicated she would be meeting with Dario that night, so Chase and * 147 *

Jack were up early to make sure their surveillance went as smoothly as possible. To ensure the van was well positioned outside the brownstone, they were outside Heather's building before most of New York was awake.

They put the rental car in front of Heather's apartment to keep the spot they'd freed up there, and Chase headed over to the brownstone in the van to try to nab a prime location as nearby residents got up and headed to work. Jack stayed behind to tail Heather. Though they expected her to go to work as usual and return home to change, they didn't know her call-girl routine and didn't want any surprises.

Chase spent more than two hours circling the block before a spot opened up close enough for their surveillance equipment to reach. She had to cut off another car to get to it, but given the mood she was in she almost wouldn't have minded if the other driver had been confrontational.

Sleep had been elusive when she returned to the hotel last night. She didn't want to believe Heather was involved with Rozsa; it was bad enough to imagine her seeing clients to earn the money to pay her brother's bills. Chase worried she was losing her ever-reliable objectivity about her mission and becoming too personally involved, as she had with the Stellari case.

With hours to kill until Heather arrived at the brownstone, Chase took a long walk to clear her head and dispel some of her restlessness.

After a bite to eat, she worked some on her novel, marveling once again at Heather's resemblance to her Emily. Jack kept her apprised of Heather's status in a series of text messages beginning shortly after five p.m.: She's headed home. Changed clothes and caught a cab. Following her into a bar not far from you.

Jack called Landis as she claimed a table in the corner of the bar, so she could keep her discreetly updated on developments via her Bluetooth earpiece. Her position allowed a good vantage point to watch Heather-who was perched on a stool at the bar-but was remote enough that Heather wouldn't notice her. She ordered a Scotch and sipped it slowly as she surveyed the room. The upscale watering hole catered to affluent locals and to tourists and businessmen staying at the five-star hotel next door, so she felt a * 148 *

little conspicuous in her jeans, black T-s.h.i.+rt, and bomber jacket. But on the plus side, since she was the only female in sight not dressed to the nines, no one should bother her. Or so she thought.

"Are you here alone or are you waiting for someone?" a man in his late thirties asked.

"Say what?"

"I'd like to buy you a drink."

Jack glared at him. "And I'd like to put a bullet in the guy who took my girl. What's your point?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Wrong tree, Romeo. Not interested."

The man walked away with a puzzled expression. Landis laughed on the other end. "Smooth, Harding."

"I thought so, too," Jack replied, as she resumed her focus on Heather.

The call girl was having no trouble attracting the attention of several of the men in the bar. Within the first ten minutes, three guys approached her in an effort to strike up a conversation or buy her a drink, but she politely sent them on their way. They were all well dressed and seemingly affluent, but two of them were over fifty, and the third had gotten a rotten deal in the looks department. Several other men who seemed more likely prospects hovered nearby, apparently working up their nerve.

"Looks like she's here to pick up a john," she told Landis. "You positioned?"

"I'm in the van," Landis replied. "Her mystery lover hasn't shown yet."

"Shouldn't be long. Dario's appointment is in thirty minutes."

"Is she still alone?"

"Yup. At the bar, and she has everyone's undivided attention. If you thought she looked good last night, wait till you see her now. I think every guy in the place has a b.o.n.e.r."

"Thanks for the colorful visual. Just stick to what's relevant." Jack watched as Heather lifted her gla.s.s to thank a guy across the bar for her drink. "Ironic how beauty is often a wolf in sheep's clothing."

* 149 *

"I needed a plat.i.tude to ground me. I told you, I'm not interested," Landis said. "Black sedan just drove into the private parking area at the back. I'll send Reno the license-plate number." The guy who'd bought Heather a drink, a balding nerd in an ill-fitting suit, tried to parlay his gesture into something more, but he, too, was rejected. Then a new contender appeared, who seemed a more likely prospect. As soon as the guy-a thirtyish stud with a movie-star smile-claimed a seat a couple of stools away from Heather, she swiveled in his direction so he could get a good look at her.

"I think she's chosen her prey," Jack told Landis. "Let's see, he's looking at her, all antic.i.p.ation. He just turned to the barman and did a whatever-the-lady-is-having. Eye contact has been made."

"What is she having?" Landis asked.

"White wine. And how is that relevant?"

"She doesn't drink." Landis sounded disappointed.

"Would explain why her gla.s.s is planted there like decoration."

"Good."

"Wait. She lifted her wine, smiled, and the guy's mouth dropped. He got up and he's smiling as he approaches her. She ever so slowly does the hair wave. He has the smile of someone who's just won a million o.r.g.a.s.ms, and she has the look of a woman who can make that happen in an hour. You'd never believe this is the same woman you were with last night."

"Yes, I would," Landis said sharply. "I've been with plenty of Ambers. I know the routine quite well."

"He just whispered something in her ear."

"And she grabbed his shoulder, threw her head back, and laughed seductively."

Jack laughed. "Scary. Okay, what color am I thinking of right now?""Sadly, he thinks he's actually funny. He knows he's paying, but somewhere in his deluded mind he's hoping he'll be the best she's ever had."

"Is that what you're hoping when you go with these women?" Landis didn't reply for several seconds. "I'm not concerned with what pleases them," she finally said.

* 150 *

"You know, for someone who takes so much pleasure in judging my choices, you really should take a d.a.m.n good look at yourself.

What happened to you? I remember you pounding me for making fun of you for being a pathetic romantic, with all your drawings and stories of damsels in distress. Now it's like your only pa.s.sion is yourself."

"Dreams are the first casualty of adulthood."

"I know what you mean. I've put in plenty of selfish years myself, but it didn't get me anywhere."

"I wouldn't say that. You earned yourself quite a reputation." Jack stiffened. She was getting fed up with these mind games.

Landis clearly knew something about her past-which was bad enough-but why did she have to be so mysterious about it? "Are you going to tell me what you know?"

"Again, not the right question. But suffice it to say, had it not been you, I would have killed you."

The last thing Jack needed right now was yet another cryptic clue she couldn't decipher. "Will you just tell me what the f.u.c.k you're talking about?" she asked, and took another sip of whisky.

"I'm not in a hurry."

Jack threw a couple of bills on the table when she saw Heather reach for her coat. "Her customer just paid the bill. Fire up the cams.

They're about to come your way. I'll be there in ten."

"I can't wait."

Jack wasn't sure if the sarcasm was meant for her or because of what Landis was about to see.

* 151 *

* 152 *

ChaPter siXteen.

Heather would be there soon. Chase had to quickly figure out what the problem was with the camera she'd placed where Dario was about to plant his a.s.s. "Why is the d.a.m.n picture so dark?" she complained aloud. The four-way split screen showed the two entrance camera views clearly, as well as the bedroom, but the adjoining watcher's room was black. She adjusted the brightness settings on the monitor, but that didn't help, so she slapped it on the side. "What is wrong with this piece of-" As she reached behind the monitor to check the connections, she knocked over her coffee, then jumped as the scalding liquid landed in her lap.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it," she said between gritted teeth as she dabbed at the wet spot with napkins left from lunch. The effort did nothing to stop the pain or reduce the now-impressive wet spot highlighting her groin. "Screw it." She flung the napkins across the van and turned back to the monitor as a cab pulled into the brownstone's driveway.

The taxi was the fourth vehicle to park in the private lot at the back within the last half hour. She'd given all the previous license plate numbers to Reno, along with pics of the guys she'd captured on the rear-entrance camera. Any of them could be their man. Tracing the taxi would probably be useless in IDing its pa.s.senger, so she focused closely on the camera view to get whatever she could on this john. When she saw him emerge, she relaxed. This guy was probably not worth tracking, anyway. He was in a wheelchair, pushed by a male escort. As they came up the back ramp, she tried to * 153 *

at least get a picture, but the angle of the cam wasn't set low enough to see the invalid's face.

A couple of minutes later, Chase caught more movement on the rear-entrance cam. The image was dark, but clear enough for her to recognize Heather with her client. She subconsciously moved closer to the monitor. The john had his arm around Heather's waist and seemed clueless that Heather's smile was forced. "Oblivious fool," Chase said. They were just going in when Jack knocked on the side of the van. Chase opened the door without looking, her gaze still fixed on the monitor. "She's in," she said, and sat back down.

She felt Jack's stare and turned. Though it was dark in the van, enough light spilled from the monitor that she could clearly see the huge wet spot on her crotch.

Jack grinned. "Knew a dog once that reacted the same way whenever she saw me."

"Coffee."

"I bet it's driving you crazy you can't change." Chase realized, for the first time since the incident, that she hadn't even given her pants a second thought. "I'm coping."

"I bet you're struggling against all sorts of h.e.l.l to stay calm."

"I only do that where you're involved."

"I think it's precious how I can make you feel such intense emotions."

"Four clients arrived. One of them is our man." Chase drummed her fingers impatiently on the console.

"Do you mind?"

"What?"

"The tapping."

Chase looked at her hand and with effort stopped her drumming.

"I'm done." She reached for the headsets and put them on.

"Can you stop the mind games and tell me what you know about me?" Jack asked.

"I'm not in the mood to talk about you." Chase focused on the monitor windows showing the watcher's room and adjoining bedroom.

* 154 *

Jack leaned closer to the screen. "What's wrong with the cam in the private room?"

"I just heard the door open and close, but he apparently doesn't want the lights."

"d.a.m.n." Jack put on her headset.

"We'll get his face on the way out," Chase said. "He has to go to his car."

Heather's voice interrupted them and they turned to the monitor.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Heather asked her client as he helped her with her coat.

The lighting in the bedroom was tastefully subdued, but bright enough for Chase to get her first clear look at Heather in her call-girl persona. She was dressed in a spaghetti-strap black dress with a plunging neckline, made of a s.h.i.+mmery fabric that clung to every curve. Four-inch spike heels and the high hem of the dress commanded adoration of her long legs. Her makeup was different, and she exuded a very powerful yet provocative aura.

"Like I said, you wouldn't recognize her," Jack remarked.

Heather was the s.e.xiest woman Chase had ever seen.

"I'll have some Scotch if you have any," the john said as he placed some bills on the bedside table.

Heather walked to the minibar and poured him a double.

"Am I drinking alone? he asked.

Heather handed him his gla.s.s. "I never really developed a taste for whisky."

"How can anyone not like Scotch?" Jack asked.

"I don't," Chase replied.

"That's just wrong."