Compact with the Devil: A Novel (23 page)

“What’s the matter, Astriz?” asked Nikki, leaning down to talk through the window. “This car doesn’t match your self-image?”

Astriz’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “It’s all that was available on short notice, but it does not produce good speed,” said Astriz stiffly. “It is not adequate.”

“But it gets good gas mileage,” said Nikki, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t care!” snapped Astriz. “The car is ugly!”

Nikki turned an impending laugh into a cough as she was getting into the cracked vinyl passenger seat and patted Astriz on the shoulder.

“It’s OK. No one will ever believe that Serbo-Croatian engineering is really your thing. You’ll be back in a Mercedes soon.”

“
Danke,”
said Astriz with a small sniff.

“What’s the plan?” asked Nikki.

“We have an informant who says that Cano is meeting a supplier tonight at Club Jupiter. I thought we would run the same plan as last time. Wait for him to meet his supplier, seize him on the way out, and then call the cops on the supplier.”

“And hope that Camille doesn’t interrupt this time?” asked Nikki.

“At least now we know to expect her,” said Astriz. “Perhaps this time we can stop her before she ruins our trap.”

“What are we packing?” asked Nikki, eyeballing the black duffel bag in the back.

“I remembered what you said about snipers,” said Astriz. “But I didn’t think you would want to ask for one from the Paris branch.”

“Mm,” said Nikki in nonverbal agreement. Svenka had seemed helpful, but she was worried about her comment about Camille
and the Paris director being friends; keeping demands on them to a minimum might be preferable. People talked with annoyance about good ol’ boys’ clubs and their glass ceilings, but very few understood the ice-age type of freeze that could be instituted by a well-organized sorority of hatred.

Astriz continued. “So I just got some basics. Two MP5s and two Kimbers.”

“And silencers,” Nikki said approvingly, opening the bag to take a peek.

“
Ja,”
said Astriz. “Camille is too loud for my tastes. I thought we should stick to something quieter.”

“Camille is not the target,” Nikki said, reminding her.

“But if she happens to take a bullet in the toe, then accidents happen. She killed my car,” said Astriz bitterly, and Nikki laughed.

“Ricochets happen,” said Nikki in agreement. “But remember, our primary target is Cano. If you get a clean shot, take it. I’d love to tie him up neatly and leave him for the police, but let’s face facts. The man’s a killer, and he’s not going to stop.”

“We’re authorized?” asked Astriz, glancing at her.

“I’m authorizing,” said Nikki.

“I didn’t know you could authorize,” she said, and Nikki couldn’t tell if she was impressed or annoyed.

“I have case-dependent kill authorization. In this case I’ve been authorized.”

“Huh,” said Astriz. “Well, I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks.” Nikki snorted at that.

Fifteen minutes later Astriz pulled up in an alley and turned off the car. Nikki passed out the handguns, tucking hers into her waistband and pocketing the silencer. The guns were Kimber Raptors with three-inch barrels on aluminum frames—easy for
concealment. Nikki preferred the old standard 1911, but Kimber produced solid guns with reliable performance; she had no complaints.

“I think someone should wait here with the car, as backup,” said Astriz, and Nikki sighed. “Someone” was a linguistic substitute to make a request more socially acceptable. “Someone” never meant the speaker; “someone” invariably meant the person being spoken to.

“I think you should go out front,” said Nikki directly; she didn’t have time to worry about offending anyone. “I will cover the rear exit from the inside, while you cover the front from outside.”

“Why you?” demanded Astriz.

“Cano doesn’t know me.”

“He doesn’t know me, either,” Astriz said in protest.

“Three days following him around and you think he hasn’t got a clue what you look like?” asked Nikki. “If he’s half as good as Camille says he is, then I find that unlikely.”

Astriz made a grunt that wanted to be disagreement but didn’t quite make it.

“I’ll have you on speed dial,” said Nikki. “If I buzz you, don’t bother to pick up, just come running.”

“
Ja,”
said Astriz, nodding. “I will approach from this end of the block; there’s a café I can watch from.”

“I’ll circle around and approach from the opposite side,” said Nikki.

The rain was turning into tiny, stinging snowflakes as she approached Club Jupiter. Nikki could see that it was not much of a club, at least not in the sense of dancing and flashing lights. It seemed more of a low-key drinking establishment designed to draw an older crowd. The bouncer was sitting just inside the door. He looked big enough, but he was sipping wine and nibbling from
a plate at his elbow; he barely looked up as she entered. It was hard to look tough with a cheese platter.

She skirted the edge of the room, scanning the tables for Cano. It was a dimly lit place with candles in jars on the handful of tables and seating at the bar. No one looked suspicious, and she settled into a seat at the bar with her back to the wall.

The bartender returned from delivering drinks to a table and took her order for the house red. Nikki checked her watch and then the door; it was only half an act. Women alone in bars were not especially common in any culture. She needed to look as though she were waiting for someone. Minutes ticked by, and then she checked her watch for real. She hated stakeouts. Another ten minutes stretched into infinity and Nikki checked her watch again. The door opened and Nikki tensed as Svenka entered with the brusque, businesslike look of someone who was there for a purpose. Nikki frowned, her eyes narrowing. She had noticed, in her short tenure with the company, that Carrie Mae women tended to look as though they were always there for a purpose. It was a look she tried to coach out of her team; it made them too easy to spot in a crowd. Nikki relaxed against the wall, letting herself merge with the shadows from an overhanging shelf.

She had two choices: approach Svenka or wait to be approached. It was not a big bar; eventually she would be spotted. Before she could decide, Svenka had seen her and was marching across the room to plant herself defiantly in front of Nikki.

“You’re blocking my sight lines,” said Nikki. Svenka’s defiant pose wilted slightly, but she forged ahead.

“You must come with me,” she said.

“Sorry, honey, working,” said Nikki. “No time.” “Honey” was a word that implied that Nikki had higher status and power, and Nikki used it intentionally.

“But you must,” said the girl. “I am supposed to insist. The Paris director requires you,” said the girl, beginning to look frustrated. “I will use force.” She pulled aside her coat and displayed a Taser. Nikki sighed.

Nikki thought about ways to disable Svenka. She thought briefly about shooting her in the foot and shook her head at that bad thought. All her options involved fighting or doing what she was told. Neither was appealing or would advance her goals.

“Svenka, sweetie”—Nikki used the diminutive like a weapon—“you transferred to Paris because you wanted to be posted somewhere urban and classy, didn’t you?” Svenka nodded. “But the Paris girls just use you for muscle, don’t they?”

“They make cow sounds when I eat lunch,” Svenka said quietly, her shoulders dropping dejectedly. “It’s because I’m big.”

“No, it’s because they’re lazy bitches who don’t want to break a nail. Carrie Mae is about women being able to stand up for themselves. If they want to be Carrie Mae they should stop hiding behind you, and you need to tell them.”

“I can’t!” exclaimed Svenka, widening her eyes in shock but nodding in spite of herself.

“Sure you can.” Nikki scooted the bar stool next to her closer to Svenka. “Pull up a chair,” she said. “You can help me on my stakeout.”

“That’s not what we’re supposed to do,” said Svenka, leaning toward the seat.

“Whatever,” said Nikki, and waved to the bartender. “Who’s ‘we’ anyway?”

“Suzette,” said Svenka, sitting down. “She’s waiting for us.”

“So why’d she send you in?”

“Because I had met you already; they thought you might come
with me. But Suzette’s in charge. Maybe we should go out. She is going to be angry,” Svenka said fretfully.

“It’ll be character-building,” answered Nikki callously. She was too busy wondering how to communicate her predicament to Astriz to worry about Suzette’s feelings. Nikki’s phone rang and she picked up immediately.

“Yeah—Svenka, I know. She’s here with me at the bar.”

There was a long pause.

“Nikki, this is Jane.”

“Jane, where have you been? I called you a couple of times.”

“I flew to Germany.”

“What? Why?”

“I like the beer?” said Jane, but there was a crack in her voice.

“Very funny. Want to tell me what’s really going on?”

“Remember how you told me about that guy Voges—the fixer who helped Cano?”

“I remember Voges,” said Nikki dryly. “What’s the connection?”

“Well, you said the Germans couldn’t go up against him because they didn’t have a team and he was too dangerous. And I thought that you didn’t really need an assault team, you needed someone with a computer.”

“Oh God,” said Nikki, seeing where Jane was headed.

“Well, it is my vacation,” sniffed Jane defensively. “And I thought I really owed you after Colombia.”

“I told you to forget about it!” exclaimed Nikki.

“How am I supposed to forget about it!” wailed Jane. “I had to do something!”

“So you decided to spend your vacation cracking the computer system of a German arms supplier?” asked Nikki sarcastically.

“Well, yes. Only …”

“Only what?” demanded Nikki.

“Well, he’s got some pretty severe systems and a couple of isolated drives that I had to have a land connection to. And, well, I guess I’m not a very good field agent …”

“Jane! You got caught?”

“No, at least not yet. They have my hotel staked out. I haven’t left the hotel all day and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out on German room service. The food is terrible!”

Nikki paused, pondering her next move.

“Nikki?” asked Jane nervously when the silence had gone on too long. “I was joking about the room service. The guys outside are scary. I was just trying to help.”

“I know, Jane, and if you actually got something out of Voges’s computer, then all is forgiven.”

“I did! I got all of it!” said Jane. “I’m going through it now. I can call you the second I know something.”

“Good. Meanwhile, I’m going to put you on with Svenka while I make a few plans. Svenka, talk to Jane for a minute,” said Nikki, handing over the phone. “And lend me your phone.”

“No, I’m supposed to take you out to Suzette,” said Svenka, but she was already handing Nikki her phone.

“We’ll go see Suzette in a minute,” said Nikki. Svenka’s problem was that she was too obedient. Of course, had she been any different on her first assignment?

Astriz answered Nikki’s call cautiously. “This is Astriz.”

“It’s Nikki. We’ve got a problem.”

“
Ja.”
said Astriz. “Looks like a Paris field agent just parked in front of the club and Svenka went inside. Cano will never come inside with them parked there. I was going to go in after you. I thought calling would either be pointless or draw attention to you.”

“Don’t bother,” said Nikki. “I have something else I need you to do.” Briefly she filled Astriz in on Jane’s situation.

“Voges is a nasty piece of work,” said Astriz. “Your Jane sounds …”

“Foolhardy?” suggested Nikki.

“I was thinking ambitious,” said Astriz. “So you want me to go to retrieve your Jane?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind.”

“It is no bother, but what about you?”

“I’m going to go have a chat with Suzette out in the car there and see if I can get a face-to-face with Camille, since she’s got to be the one behind this.”

“I suggest that you kick her in the knee. Possibly also some eye gouging.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” said Nikki, laughing. “Good luck!”

“Ciao,”
said Astriz, sounding not in the least Italian.

Nikki hung up; Svenka was now laughing at something Jane had said. She signaled the bartender for the tab and charged it to her Carrie Mae account. They owed her on this one. Svenka finally noticed Nikki was off the phone and handed her cell back as Nikki was signing the receipt.

“Those Paris girls don’t sound very nice,” said Jane.

“Not very,” said Nikki.

“I’m adding Svenka to my friend list.”

“Just what you need—another e-mail correspondent.”

“Whatever,” said Jane, sounding more like her usual self. “Just because you think e-mail is a government conspiracy to help your mother keep tabs on you doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t enjoy it.”

“Damn that Al Gore; he never should have invented that Intraweb.” Jane giggled as Nikki had hoped she would. “I’ve sent
Astriz to help you out. She should be there in about five to seven hours, depending on whether or not she ditches the Yugo. Can you hold out that long?”

“No prob,” said Jane firmly. “I have Astriz’s number from before, so maybe she can translate the menu and help me order something that isn’t sausages.”

“We can only hope,” said Nikki. “Catch ya later.”

“See ya!” replied Jane cheerfully.

“OK,” said Nikki, turning back to Svenka. “Let’s go find Suzette.”

“She’s going to be mad,” said Svenka glumly.

“I am already angry,” said a sharp Parisian voice. Suzette stepped through the back entrance, dressed in a fur coat and hat and black leather gloves. She also wore a bracelet and gold ring on the outside of the gloves; the outfit seemed slightly over the top to Nikki.

“We were going to come out,” said Svenka guiltily, getting out of her seat.

“No, you were having a glass of wine,” said Suzette. Nikki was about to speak when Suzette reached out and slapped her on the back. Too late, Nikki realized that the ring was not simply fashion; it was the knockout-injection ring from last season’s line of specialty items. Nikki felt the world go foggy, and she started to slide from the chair. She was only dimly aware of Svenka catching her. It was a good thing that Svenka was big.