Elite Operatives: Demons Are Forever Part 13

"Then drive already," Chase said through gritted teeth, eager to stop the conversation.

"Keep up that att.i.tude and I will fire you." Jack pulled away from the curb.

* 107 *

"Or maybe you can have your people whack me."

"And let someone else have all the fun?" Twenty minutes later, they parked in a lot a couple of blocks from the Greenwich Village address. Jack called Heather's home number before they left the rental to make sure no one was there.

Opening the doors to her building and apartment didn't take more than a couple of minutes. Chase jimmied both while Jack stayed on the lookout.

The apartment was small, but typical for New York, and cozy. Only two doors led off the main room, a combination living room and kitchen. Chase was pleased to find the place clean and uncluttered, the few pieces of furniture tasteful and functional.

"I'll take this room." Jack started toward Heather's computer.

"I'll start with the bedroom," Chase said.

"Shocker."

Chase walked slowly through the room, taking everything in.

The bed was made nearly as neatly as her own. Framed photos of Heather and people who had to be her parents and brother decorated the dresser. Chase bent over to get a better look. Some pictures were from her childhood. Heather and her brother resembled their father.

Same hair color, eyes, and smile. Their mother, blond with blue eyes, looked almost like a stranger amongst them. Funny how she never thought about the call girls she hired as someone's daughter or sister.

The rest of the pictures showed a middle-cla.s.s family either in a middle-cla.s.s house or on a middle-cla.s.s vacation. Disneyland.

The Grand Canyon. Nothing spectacular or outstanding, except for Heather, who seemed remarkably beautiful from the moment she could walk.

The more recent pictures were exclusively of Heather with her not-very-healthy-looking brother, who, according to Reno, was her last close relative. Chase had never belonged to a family or had siblings, but she could well understand the loneliness that accompanied the loss of someone you loved and trusted. She supposed the initial reaction was the same, regardless of why or how they were gone. Anger and sorrow.

* 108 *

"Find anything?" Jack called from the other room.

"Not yet." Chase opened the top dresser drawer. Scarves and belts. She felt around, trying not to disturb the contents. Nothing.

Moving on to the next, she discovered an impressive collection of lacy panties and bras and stared down at them, momentarily forgetting her search. Unable to resist the temptation, she picked up one bra, then another. Victoria's Secret, Marlies Dekkers, and other expensive brands. She held up a particularly sheer red bra and tried to picture how Heather looked in it. Christ, if she didn't stop soon- "Really, Coolidge?" Jack said. Chase turned to find her in the doorway. "Do you think her bra holds the answers?"

"I refuse to feel embarra.s.sed. I'm too old for that particular sentiment."

"Sure you are. I bet you wouldn't be if the call girl caught you."

"Do you have anything?" Chase snapped.

"Nothing."

"Then why are you interrupting me with useless banter?"

"Are you going to look for something helpful or sniff her panties next?" Jack left the room. "Maybe then you can track her down by scent, La.s.sie," she added in a loud voice.

Chase placed the garment back in the drawer and moved to the closets. s.e.xy dresses filled half of it. The rest was cla.s.sic business apparel. When she didn't find anything useful there, she moved to the nightstands on either side of the bed.

The first one she tried contained Heather's junk drawer, stuffed with the usual jumble of everyday items-tape, jackknife, batteries, scissors, ruler, hair clips, deck of cards, screwdriver, nail clipper, pens, measuring tape-and one unexpected treasure at the bottom that made Chase gasp aloud.

A rare 1972 "Make a Face" PEZ dispenser, pristine on card, with all seventeen pieces. The Mr. Potato Head-type issue, pulled from shelves not long after its release because of its choking hazard to small children, was her Holy Grail. She stared down at the long-elusive collectible, fighting an urge to stick it under her jacket. Did Heather have any idea of its value? Probably in the neighborhood of five grand by now- if you could find one.

* 109 *

She forced herself to close the drawer and moved to the other nightstand, where she found a day planner. The oversized calendar was mostly full of fas.h.i.+on sketches, probably Heather's, judging by the art pencils also in the drawer. The designs were roughly drawn, but unique and interesting.

Do you keep your escort appointments in her e ? And if you do, will they be obvious? She flipped to the date of the money transaction.

The hours between seven and nine p.m. were marked with a D. D as in dinner? I think not. D for Dario. If that's his real name.

She found several previous D entries, an average of one or two a week, during the same early evening hours. They had to be the watcher Priscilla mentioned. Flipping forward, she saw no D's indicating future appointments, so Heather apparently marked them only after they had taken place, or the guy made appointments shortly before they happened. Surveilling her would be difficult.

"Any luck?" Chase found Jack seated at Heather's desk by the window, typing furiously on her computer.

"It wasn't even pa.s.sword-protected."

"Maybe because she has nothing to hide."

"And maybe we can all live peacefully in a meadow full of daisies."

"This mystery guy Dario keeps showing up throughout her day planner as D. He was penciled in during the exact hour of the transaction."

"So?"

"She was entertaining Dario by s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g some guy and making a money transfer at the same time?"

"You think they're both in on it?"

Chase sighed. "I don't know, perhaps."

"Her PC isn't helping much. All pretty much mundane. I'll send a copy of the hard drive to Reno."

"Let's get her phone tapped and move on to her day job."

"What do you expect to find there?" Jack asked.

"Get a look at her routine. See if she meets anyone for lunch." They installed a listening device in Heather's phone and surveillance cameras in the main room and bedroom and were * 110 *

headed back to the rental when Reno called Chase's cell. He told them the surveillance van was waiting in a lot just around the corner, and as Chase headed that way, Jack uploaded the contents of Heather's hard drive for him and updated him on what they knew.

They left the rental in the lot and took the van to the Garment District. The corner building that housed Cesare Ch.e.l.line Fas.h.i.+ons had several entrances. The main entry facing West 37th Street led into a posh reception area, where well-heeled clients could order custom designs. The building also had a back and a side entrance, so they'd have to split up to ensure they picked up Heather leaving.

Chase covered the front from a window seat at the restaurant across the street, while Jack took up a position on the rear corner, where she could see the other two entrances.

At five after five, Chase's cell rang.

"Got her coming out the side," Jack reported. "She's headed toward the subway."

"Roger that." Chase threw a couple of bills on the table. "You stay with her. I'll get the van."

Heather went straight home, Jack shadowing her and keeping Chase apprised of their destination. Chase arrived a half hour later, after wrestling with rush-hour traffic, and picked up Jack down the block. When Jack spotted her, she tossed the cigarette she'd been smoking. So far, she'd heeded Chase's warning not to smoke anywhere around her, but Chase would bet good money Jack had more than a couple during her waits outside Heather's office and home.

"We're not going to find a parking spot anywhere within range," Jack said. "Every meter on this block has enough time on it to make it to six, when they stop enforcement."

"We'll have to open one up ourselves, then." Chase cruised slowly past the cars on Heather's block, looking for an older model that wouldn't have an alarm. "There. The Taurus." The sun had set and the street wasn't well illuminated, so they had that much on their side, but at the moment too many pedestrians were still coming home from work to risk hot-wiring the car.

"Drop me and keep circling," Jack said. "I'll text you when I move in."

* 111 *

Ten minutes later, the street cleared enough for the exchange.

Chase kept going around the block until she got Jack's SMS, and Jack waited until she spotted the van to pull the Taurus away from the curb. She ditched the stolen car in an alley a few blocks away and was back not long after Chase had all the equipment up and running.

Heather was lying on her couch watching the evening news.

She'd changed into sweats and a short T-s.h.i.+rt and was eating some kind of noodle dish.

Chase's stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her they hadn't eaten in several hours. "I saw a Chinese place around the corner.

Vegetables and noodles for me, in a garlic sauce. No MSG. And a large Diet c.o.ke."

"Do I look like a waitress?" Jack asked. "Get your own food."

"I know you have to be hungry, too, and I called it first."

"How old are you, ten?"

"Are we going to argue about this, too?"

"I'll go, but only because I need some...fresh air."

"Use a mint when you're done."

While Jack went to get their dinner, Chase watched Heather wash dishes and go through her mail. As they ate, she tidied up the apartment. At nine, she stretched out on the couch with popcorn and a movie, and at ten forty-five, she retired to her bedroom with a book, just like thousands of other New Yorkers. Nothing unusual.

No visitors. No phone calls.

After Heather switched off her light, they walked back to the rental and drove to the hotel to check out and pick up their things.

Jack had booked reservations at a new place just a couple of blocks from Heather's that had s.p.a.ce for their car. The parking issue in New York made staying within walking distance a prime consideration, especially since they would have to keep the van parked where it was until their surveillance of Heather yielded something useful.

* 112 *

ChaPter twelve.

Beijing, China Next day, November 19 Zhang Anshun, a Grand Justice of the Second Rank in the Supreme People's Court, smiled when the caller ID on his private cell told him the Broker was on the line. For him these phone calls always meant a big payoff for minimum effort. Plus the Broker was the only person who could challenge him in greed. "How can I help you?" he asked, as he poured himself a warm cup of mijiu, a clear rice wine.

"You mean, how can we help each other. You are not in the habit of complimentary a.s.sistance."

"True." He laughed. "But I always give you priority."

"Your favoritism toward my money moves me." Zhang laughed again. "I hear you want an express delivery."

"Correct."

"Xia Jia called me."

"Obviously," the Broker said. "I need you to clear the way."

"There will be an extra charge for this as you-"

"Five hundred thousand."

The amount was very pleasing indeed. Happy he didn't have to haggle with yet another friend asking for a favor, he took a sip of his wine. "You can expect your delivery on time."

"Should that be the case, I would like to make this an ongoing arrangement for at least six months."

* 113 *

Executions would have to be expedited, and that was difficult in light of recent regulations. He'd have to have prisoner records altered to make it appear as though they'd been incarcerated for a long time and had already had their sentences reviewed by the High Court. Fortunately he had the right people in his pocket and had to pay them only a tiny fraction of his share.

At least he didn't have to worry about a shortage of available organs. Death sentences were handed down for sixty-eight different crimes, including fraud and tax evasion, so a virtually limitless supply was available. And family members of the doomed were of no concern. Relatives were not allowed to visit, and most knew if they asked too many questions they would only find themselves under closer government scrutiny and possible arrest.

Whatever it took, Zhang would d.a.m.n well make it possible for this kind of money. "I will be happy to a.s.sist."

"Someone will make that financial agreement in person in a few days."

"I look forward to it," he said, but the Broker had hung up.

New York Chase and Jack walked from their new hotel to the surveillance van long before dawn, sipping coffee they'd ordered from room service. Chase couldn't miss the dark circles under Jack's eyes, prominent under the streetlights' glare. She'd obviously had a rough night. "You look haggard. Did you get any sleep?"

"Some."