Countdown to Mecca by Michael Savage Page A

‘someone else’ I overheard Kevin Dangerfield refer to.”
    Jack put down his fork, went over, and kissed Dover full on the mouth.
    â€œYou know something?” he asked when they broke.
    â€œWhat?” she smiled.
    He smiled back. “That’s the best-tasting gnocchi I’ve ever had.”
    While they were locked together in the primal entanglement Jack sought to stare straight in her eyes. He didn’t look away. Dover was different. Slim to the point of skinny, her slender muscularity turned on neurons he didn’t know still existed in him. With her like this it wasn’t solely the sexual contact and release that kept him hooked. It was her being itself that drew him in. As their writhing entanglement reached its point of frenzy Jack’s brain heard Horace Silver’s horn reaching for the impossible note. Just as Silver had maxed his lungs in “The Natives Are Restless Tonight,” seeking that impossible note Jack felt something almost snap as he sought the perfect bond with Dover. She pulled at him with her athletic strength “Jack, Jack…” and a small tear. Jack thought, It doesn’t matter if you hit that note. All that matters is reaching with all your talents .

 
    12
    â€œCaptain?”
    Dan Jeffreys looked up from his computer screen to see Officer Victoria Burnett in her “work” clothes: a low-cut, skintight minidress, visible garter belts, black stockings showing off a swash of thigh flesh, and black high heel boots. As if the visual evidence wasn’t enough to clue him in, he already knew she was working the vice squad’s latest sweep.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œGlad you’re still here,” said the brunette.
    He gave her a “where else?” look. In addition to the usual mix of crisis and red tape, there had been a shoot-out in his city that climaxed with a trolley accident. That meant attorneys and union officials, a flood of e-mails, interview requests, and jurisdictional battles with the FBI. No way he was going home until he got a better handle on all that. Besides, Burnett was obviously vamping—in her case figuratively and literally—and had probably argued with herself for some time before appearing in his office doorway. The least he could do was hear her out. And rest his eyes on something worth resting them.
    â€œWhat can I do for you, Officer Burnett?”
    â€œYou said you wanted to know about any unusual street scuttlebutt, right?”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œWord is that some Russian guys are looking for some very specific escorts.”
    That snapped his attention away from the garters. “Oh?”
    â€œAn Asian, an Indian, and some Nordic type with ‘ice eyes.’”
    He stood. “You sure these guys are Russian?”
    The officer nodded.
    â€œHow many?”
    Burnett frowned. “Not sure. The details keep changing—sunglasses, regular glasses, hoodies, hats, even different mustaches, but the template remains the same: youngish, about six feet, slimly muscled, blond.”
    â€œSo it could be one guy or a dozen.”
    She nodded.
    â€œGood work,” Jeffreys said. “Last contact?”
    â€œAbout an hour ago.”
    Jeffreys looked directly into Burnett’s brown eyes. “Is your shift over?”
    Burnett shook her head. “Just taking a quick break.”
    â€œOkay. See if you can track him down and keep in constant touch. If he’s anything like the ones who tried to deep-six ‘ice eyes’ at Levi Plaza, he should be considered armed and extremely dangerous.”
    Burnett nodded, turned.
    â€œHey,” he said. “You haven’t got room for Kevlar under that getup. Don’t be a hero: call if you think you see him.”
    She winked, back in character, before closing the door.

 
    13
    â€œThat’s him.”
    As Ana spoke, Ric looked over and Sammy looked up. Her ice eyes, however, were still locked on