best.
“You listen to me,” I said. “I’m going in. They don’t know me from Eve. They won’t expect a woman. Oh, and if that’s not good enough for you, I’m the primary investigator. And to answer your first question, Yes, obviously I’m nuts.”
Chapter 49
IT TOOK ABOUT A MINUTE AND A HALF for DEA agent Thaddeus Price to attach a tiny wireless Typhoon mike under the button of my suit jacket. I kind of wanted to tell him I wasn’t in that big a hurry, but I kept that particular news flash to myself.
“Okay, here’s the set,” he said. “This place is a shit hole, but believe it or not, on Friday mornings they get a slumming, hard-partying Manhattan crowd. Go up, knock on the door, and tell the bouncer you’re looking for your boyfriend, DJ Lewis. Don’t worry, he’s not there. But the bouncer will probably let you in.”
“Why’s that?” I said.
Thaddeus’s tooth glittered again as he smiled at me.
“Look in the mirror, Detective. Pretty white girls like you don’t need to be on the list.”
“You see either of our buddies, Mark or Victor,” Trahan advised, “I want you to call out, ‘Code red,’ and find the nearest corner. Same goes if there’s trouble, if you feel you’re in any danger at all. We’ll be there before you can draw another breath, okay?”
“Code red,” I said. “Got it.” Hell, I’d been in code red for the past twenty-four hours.
“All right, what else?” Trahan said. “Oh, yeah. Cough up your weapon and badge. The bouncer might want to search you.”
The walls of the cramped van suddenly seemed to shrink in on me, until I felt like I was lying in a coffin. My own coffin.
Dear Holy Christ!
I could hand over my Glock and badge without any problem whatsoever.
But Scott’s gun, the one that Paul had used to murder him, was in my handbag. That might raise a few eyebrows in the van. What the hell was I going to do now?
I reached into my purse and handed Trahan my Glock. Then I gave him my gold badge.
But I left Scott’s murder weapon right where it was, under my wallet and a box of Altoids. “Wish me luck,” I said.
“Code red,” Trahan repeated. “Don’t be a hero in there, Lauren.”
“Trust me, I’m no hero.”
The door of the van suddenly slid open, and I stepped out, blinking, onto the cracked and stained sidewalk. I looked around. I didn’t know which was bleaker, the inner-city horizon or my dwindling chances of pulling this crazy charade off alive.
“Don’t worry, partner,” Mike said. “We’ll be watching you every step of the way.”
Yeah, I thought, hefting my bag as the door slammed shut.
That was precisely the problem.
I stared at the establishment in question, the so-called club. The steel shutters. The lightless doorway between them like a vertical open grave.
What in the name of everything holy could happen to me next?
Code red was the least of my problems.
Chapter 50
IN THE SMALL ALCOVE just inside the crummy front door was a crimson velvet rope and behind it, an ink-black stairwell leading down.
The bouncer standing next to it was wearing champagne-colored sunglasses and a three-piece suit that could have been made of red Mylar. I silently debated what made me more uneasy as I approached him, the fact that he was six and a half feet tall or the fact that he was morbidly obese.
A steady thumping rose from the raw concrete stairwell at his side, as if blasting were going on in the depths of the earth.
“Lewis spinning tonight?” I asked.
The bouncer shook his huge head almost imperceptibly.
Did he understand English? Did he automatically know I was a cop? I felt suddenly very glad Mike and the other guys were just a yell away.
“Is it a private party, or can I get in?” I said.
Private party, I prayed, glancing down into the black of the stairwell. I had no problem with going back to the van a failure. We could figure something else out. I was leaning toward a nap at that point. Or maybe a three-week
“You listen to me,” I said. “I’m going in. They don’t know me from Eve. They won’t expect a woman. Oh, and if that’s not good enough for you, I’m the primary investigator. And to answer your first question, Yes, obviously I’m nuts.”
Chapter 49
IT TOOK ABOUT A MINUTE AND A HALF for DEA agent Thaddeus Price to attach a tiny wireless Typhoon mike under the button of my suit jacket. I kind of wanted to tell him I wasn’t in that big a hurry, but I kept that particular news flash to myself.
“Okay, here’s the set,” he said. “This place is a shit hole, but believe it or not, on Friday mornings they get a slumming, hard-partying Manhattan crowd. Go up, knock on the door, and tell the bouncer you’re looking for your boyfriend, DJ Lewis. Don’t worry, he’s not there. But the bouncer will probably let you in.”
“Why’s that?” I said.
Thaddeus’s tooth glittered again as he smiled at me.
“Look in the mirror, Detective. Pretty white girls like you don’t need to be on the list.”
“You see either of our buddies, Mark or Victor,” Trahan advised, “I want you to call out, ‘Code red,’ and find the nearest corner. Same goes if there’s trouble, if you feel you’re in any danger at all. We’ll be there before you can draw another breath, okay?”
“Code red,” I said. “Got it.” Hell, I’d been in code red for the past twenty-four hours.
“All right, what else?” Trahan said. “Oh, yeah. Cough up your weapon and badge. The bouncer might want to search you.”
The walls of the cramped van suddenly seemed to shrink in on me, until I felt like I was lying in a coffin. My own coffin.
Dear Holy Christ!
I could hand over my Glock and badge without any problem whatsoever.
But Scott’s gun, the one that Paul had used to murder him, was in my handbag. That might raise a few eyebrows in the van. What the hell was I going to do now?
I reached into my purse and handed Trahan my Glock. Then I gave him my gold badge.
But I left Scott’s murder weapon right where it was, under my wallet and a box of Altoids. “Wish me luck,” I said.
“Code red,” Trahan repeated. “Don’t be a hero in there, Lauren.”
“Trust me, I’m no hero.”
The door of the van suddenly slid open, and I stepped out, blinking, onto the cracked and stained sidewalk. I looked around. I didn’t know which was bleaker, the inner-city horizon or my dwindling chances of pulling this crazy charade off alive.
“Don’t worry, partner,” Mike said. “We’ll be watching you every step of the way.”
Yeah, I thought, hefting my bag as the door slammed shut.
That was precisely the problem.
I stared at the establishment in question, the so-called club. The steel shutters. The lightless doorway between them like a vertical open grave.
What in the name of everything holy could happen to me next?
Code red was the least of my problems.
Chapter 50
IN THE SMALL ALCOVE just inside the crummy front door was a crimson velvet rope and behind it, an ink-black stairwell leading down.
The bouncer standing next to it was wearing champagne-colored sunglasses and a three-piece suit that could have been made of red Mylar. I silently debated what made me more uneasy as I approached him, the fact that he was six and a half feet tall or the fact that he was morbidly obese.
A steady thumping rose from the raw concrete stairwell at his side, as if blasting were going on in the depths of the earth.
“Lewis spinning tonight?” I asked.
The bouncer shook his huge head almost imperceptibly.
Did he understand English? Did he automatically know I was a cop? I felt suddenly very glad Mike and the other guys were just a yell away.
“Is it a private party, or can I get in?” I said.
Private party, I prayed, glancing down into the black of the stairwell. I had no problem with going back to the van a failure. We could figure something else out. I was leaning toward a nap at that point. Or maybe a three-week
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