Top Secret Twenty-One (26 page)

“They have a room next door, and Hal’s on the couch. If you’re
really
happy, I could get rid of Hal.”

“I’m not that happy. I’m wondering why I felt compelled to do this. It’s not like I have something to contribute.”

“The day isn’t over. And none of us have been especially effective with the exception of Tank, who spotted Vlatko twice.” Ranger rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom, and I was sorry the room was dark and I couldn’t see him better. I heard the shower running, and I went back to sleep. I opened my eyes an hour later and dragged myself into the shower. When I came out of the bathroom there was a bag from the bimbo store on the bed. A new shirt and some lingerie. The shirt was red, with rhinestones that spelled out
ATLANTIC CITY
. The lingerie was black and lacy.

“Thanks,” I said when I came out of the bedroom. “It’s great to have clean clothes. I’m surprised the store is open this early.”

“Only for you,” Ranger said. “Rafael did the shopping.”

Rafael was obviously the slim guy at the computer. He looked up and smiled wide. “I know what the ladies like,” he said.

Hal was at a second computer. He grinned and shook his head.

Ranger was dressed in Rangeman black fatigues. Ready for action. He was leaning against the breakfront with a coffee cup in his hand. He was armed.

“You look like you expect something to happen today,” I said to him.

“Intel has picked up chatter that there’ll be an event involving Semov. Mac has two extra men on him. One with Semov, and one checking Semov’s environment. Semov is scheduled to remain in his suite until eleven forty-five, at which time he and his entourage will make their way to the ballroom, where he’ll give the keynote address. He’s vulnerable when he’s moving. He could get swept along in the crowd, and Vlatko would only need to come in contact with him for a few seconds to deliver the polonium. Personally, I don’t care if Semov lives or dies, but I don’t want to miss the opportunity to take Vlatko down.

“I need to put you on the mezzanine level this morning. It’s going to be a mob scene when everyone leaves the convention center and moves into the ballroom for lunch. Find a place where your back is to the wall and you can watch the people entering the ballroom. Vlatko has probably changed his appearance. Colored his hair, ditched the patch, added a beard, whatever, so you need to look for other things, like suspicious behavior and the tattoo. You have an advantage because you’ve actually seen him.”

“How soon do you want me out there?”

“I’d like you in place by ten o’clock.”

A buffet had been set out on the dining table. Croissants, bagels, smoked salmon, cream cheese, little jars of jam, pots of coffee, a large platter of fresh fruit. A container of orange juice. No waffles drenched in syrup. No donuts. No eggs Benedict.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and selected a croissant.

“Have there been any more Vlatko sightings?” I asked.

“No,” Ranger said. “I have someone watching the ladder running up the side of the building, but Vlatko hasn’t used it.”

“Maybe he’s already infected his target and he’s on his way back to Russia.”

“That’s possible,” Ranger said. “That’s why the polonium is so useful. You can eliminate someone and no one necessarily knows for days, maybe weeks or months.”

I took a call from Connie. “I can’t find anyone to bond out Forest,” she said. “He’s homeless, and he stole food to feed his dog pack, so I don’t think he’s looking at a lot of time. I expect he’ll get a week in the workhouse at the most. Problem is, he won’t come to trial for weeks. Are you good with his dogs until then?”

“I’ve got Briggs babysitting. He seems to be doing okay. I asked Lula to look in on him.”

“I haven’t seen Lula. Maybe she went to your apartment before coming here. How’s it going? Where are you, anyway?”

“Atlantic City.”

“The hardship assignment.”

“Yeah, I’m here with Ranger, drinking coffee and eating croissants.”

“I hate you. Did you sleep with him?”

“That’s a complicated question.”

“You did!”

“No.”

“Okay, I don’t want to know any more, but I expect details when you get back.”

I hung up and called Lula.

“Where are you?” I asked. “Did you check in with Briggs?”

“Yeah, I’m in your parking lot. He’s turned into one of those dog nuts. And I tell you I can’t blame him. Those critters are cute as anything. And they aren’t even demons. I mean, they don’t have rotating heads or glowing eyes or nothing. One of them tried to nip at me, but Briggs says that dog has trust issues, so I didn’t take it personal. The rest were all dancing around and looking happy. And I’m even getting used to the way they vibrate. I mean, I like things that vibrate anyway, you see what I’m saying?”

Oh yeah.

“I’m stuck here in Atlantic City,” I said. “I’m hoping to get home later today or tomorrow, but maybe in the meantime you could make sure Briggs has enough food. He’s stuck there without a car.”

“He said he had a job interview today. I don’t know how he’s getting there. Taxi, maybe. He didn’t ask for help.”

I hung up and called my mom.

“Just checking in,” I said. “I’m out of town on a job with Ranger. Is everything going okay there?”

“Your father is out with the cab. And your grandmother is on one of those senior trips for the day, so it’s nice and quiet here.”

“Where’s Grandma going?”

“Atlantic City. She said she felt lucky.”

Crap! Double crap!!

“When did Grandma leave?”

“About a half hour ago. Your father took her to the senior center. They have a good deal. She gets the bus trip, a roll of tokens for the slots, and a ticket for the all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“Do you know what casino she’s going to?”

“No. The seniors get a bunch of deals. They don’t always go to the same casino.”

I hung up and called Grandma. No answer.

Okay, what are the chances it would be this casino? Slim. It was a crummy casino. And it was filled with booze salesmen. There were lots of other casinos in Atlantic City. So I shouldn’t worry, right?

Ranger gave me an earbud a little before ten o’clock. “I have this set so you can communicate with me and with Tank. He’ll be watching the video feeds.”

I took the elevator to the mezzanine and found a place in the hall where I could see the doors to the ballroom and also the mechanical room door at the far end of the hall. The doors
to the ballroom were closed, and the hallway was empty. I recognized a Rangeman guy standing by the bridge that led to the conference center.

I was in the hall for about fifteen minutes when Grandma called.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I’m still in Atlantic City. Where are you?”

“I’m in some traffic on the road to Atlantic City. I’m with Lula.”

“Mom said you were going on a seniors bus.”

“It broke down before we even loaded onto it, so I called Lula to see if she felt lucky today, and here we are on the road. We’re trying to decide on a casino. I like the new one with the jungle theme, but Lula says she’s partial to Caesars. What casino are you at? We could come visit you.”

“No visits! I have to work. And I’m not at a great casino anyway. Go to Caesars, and I’ll call you later.”

After an hour I was blind with boredom. I paced the hall. I counted the overhead lights. I tried a door to the ballroom. Locked. Guess they were worried some boozehound vodka dealer would steal the silverware or sit in an unassigned seat.

“This is boring,” I said.

“Boring is good,” Ranger said into my earbud.

People began drifting in from the convention center at 11:30. A few here. A few there. They gathered in clumps. They conducted business on their smartphones. They looked at their watches and looked at the closed ballroom doors. Hungry.

I watched a man come up the escalator. He didn’t nod
or wave, but he exchanged a silent communication with the Rangeman guy. He was wearing a blue button-down shirt, tan slacks, scuffed brown shoes. FBI, I thought. He looked pleasant. I could see a slight gun bulge under his sport coat, and an earbud attached by a curly wire to a battery pack. Not high-tech like mine. FBI. He’d be jealous of my earbud.

“Hello,” I said. “Anybody home?”

“Babe?” Ranger said.

“Where are you?”

“I’m waiting at the service elevator for Semov.”

“On my floor?”

“Yes. And then I’ll stay with Semov.”

“Okay. Over and out.”

The man in the blue shirt ambled past me. He went to the end of the hall and used a key to open the door to the mechanical room.

“A guy in a blue shirt just went into the mechanical room,” I said.

“I’ve got him,” Tank said. “He’s FBI going in to check on the air handler.”

“Just saying.”

“Hang tight,” Tank told me.

People poured out of the convention center and filled the corridor. The noise level rose. Men pushed against the ballroom doors and tested the doorknobs. Everyone looked happy. Lots of laughing. I figured there was vodka tasting going on this morning in the convention center. Probably they had a vodka fountain at the breakfast buffet.

“Moving out,” Ranger said into my earbud.

The door to the service pantry opened and Semov’s six aides strode out, followed by Semov, followed by Ranger, followed by two men with the old-school earbuds who I figured were FBI. They cut a path through the crowd, a door opened at the far end of the ballroom, and they disappeared inside.

Moments later the remaining doors to the ballroom opened and everyone stampeded in. I looked down the hall at the mechanical room.

“Did the FBI guy come out of the mechanical room?” I asked Tank.

“I didn’t see him come out. He might have been told to stay there until the banquet is over. I can’t talk to him. He’s not on my frequency.”

I walked down the hall and knocked on the door. “Hello,” I said. “Are you okay in there?”

The door opened, an arm reached out and grabbed me, and I was yanked inside.

“Oh shit!”
Tank said into my earbud.

I CAUGHT A
glimpse of someone in a ball cap, and I was hit in the face and knocked off my feet. It was Vlatko. He looked down at me. His hair was dark brown under the ball cap, and he had sunglasses stuck over the brim. His injured eye was horrible, stitched together in a ragged, bunched-up scar that sliced through his eyebrow and ran into his cheek. He was wearing a lightweight gray hoodie and jeans. I could see the odd tattoo on his neck.

I tasted blood, and I didn’t know if it was from my nose or my mouth. I was on my hands and knees, still fuzzy from being hit.

“What?” I said.

The earbud was on the floor. Vlatko picked it up and smiled. “Are you listening?” he said into the earbud. “I have your girlfriend, and she’s going to be my ticket out. If anyone comes
near me, I’ll gut her. You know I can. She’s already bleeding. It wouldn’t take much to finish her off.”

Vlatko dropped the earbud onto the floor and crushed it under his heel. He grabbed me and dragged me to my feet. I looked past him and saw the FBI guy on the floor in a pool of blood. His neck had been slashed so that his head was almost completely severed from his neck.

“That could easily be you,” Vlatko said.

“You killed him.”

“He came in at the wrong time. I was placing the polonium.”

I looked over at the air handler. “You’re going to poison everyone in the ballroom?”

“Clever, don’t you think? An act of terrorism. A political statement rather than a planned assassination of a single political figure. I admit it hasn’t gone as smooth as I’d hoped, but the job is done. And I have you. You’ll get me out of here, and then I’ll skin you alive and leave you for, what’s his name now, Ranger?”

The dead agent, the blood, the skinning alive, were mind-numbingly terrifying. I was telling myself to focus, to be alert, not to be overwhelmed by the fear and the horror. When the opportunity came, I had to be ready to run. Yeah, right. My legs were shaky, and my heart was beating so hard my vision was blurred. Running wasn’t currently an option.

“It won’t work,” I said. “They know we’re in here. Someone will burst in any second and stop you.”

“It’s too late. The polonium’s in the system. In fifteen minutes it will reach the ballroom.”

“All those people …”

“Dead,” Vlatko said.

Acting more from instinct than coherent thought I staggered back, flung my arm out, and pulled the fire alarm that hung on the wall. Vlatko yanked me away, but the alarm was already wailing, red ceiling lights flashing in the mechanical room. He put his knife to my neck and shoved me into the storage cabinet in the corner, and I realized how he’d managed to get into the room undetected. There was a hole punched into the wall between the mechanical room and the service pantry.

I went through the hole, into the storeroom, and attempted to scramble away, but he was too fast. He half dragged me, half shoved me into the stairwell. There were footsteps on the stairs below us. Men running.

“Up,” he said, the knife to my throat again.