“So our communication lines are gone.”
“For the time being.”
“So I hope your friends are really good.”
“Oh, they really are.”
CHAPTER 6
Before Stone had to hide his phone, Annabelle and Caleb were walking around the garage area under the building. She spotted it first — a fenced-in area that housed a parking lot only accessible by key card.
Caleb stared through the chain-link fence and then read the sign hanging on the access gate. “They’re for the private residences, Annabelle.”
She nodded. “This must be the blank on the plans you found online.”
“I guess they didn’t want to publicize this aspect of the place. I’m sure the folks who own these apartments want their privacy. People with money usually do, unless you’re the Kardashians.”
Annabelle’s phone buzzed.
“It’s Oliver.”
She listened and said, “Understood and on it. Oliver, how is it going in there?”
She listened again, nodded, and said, “Watch your back.” She clicked off and stared at the concrete looking anxious.
Caleb edged closer to her and asked nervously, “Is he okay?”
“You know Oliver. He could be in front of a firing squad and he’d say he was just fine.”
“But what did he say?”
She glanced up. “Ironically, he wants us to check out the private residences. He thinks the target might lie there.”
Caleb gazed through the fence again. “So these people might be going through the bank to get to the residences? Why?”
“Residence,” she corrected. “I doubt it’s more than one. There wouldn’t be enough time.”
“Okay, but which one? There are a lot of parking spaces. And they’re all filled with Mercedeses and Jags and BMWs. And there’s a Bentley over there. These people definitely have money.”
“Well, whichever one it is we need to narrow down quickly. I doubt these guys will take too long to get to wherever they’re going.”
She punched in a number.
“Harry, I just got a call from Oliver. He thinks the private residences on the top floors of the building might be the target, we just don’t know which one. Can you check around up there and see if anything hits you? We’re on our way too.”
She clicked off and said, “Let’s go, Caleb.”
Before Annabelle called, Harry and Reuben had together been scoping out the jewelry store and furrier. The jewelry store was closed but they could see employees inside, no doubt going through their closing procedure before leaving. As both men watched, the jewelry cases sank down into the floor, and then the top of the floor, which they could see was lined with steel, closed on top of them.
Harry said, “I don’t see anyone breaking into that too quickly. Plus, the entrance doors are glass. No cover.”
Reuben nodded. “And I don’t think you can steal enough furs to make killing a security guard worth it.”
Then Harry’s phone buzzed and he spoke with Annabelle. When he clicked off he conveyed to Reuben what she had told him.
“So private residences, huh?” said the big man.
“Appears so. At least Oliver seems to think it’s a possibility.”
“So a robbery of the rich or something else?”
“No clue,” said Harry. “But let’s see if we can find one.”
They hurried through the interior of the mall until they reached the entrance to a private bank of elevators that led up to the residences. A sign on the entry wall said that only residents and their confirmed guests were allowed past this point.
“Looks like something is going on,” observed Reuben.
There was a table set up near the entrance to the elevator bank. People in business attire were lined up in front of a reception table being checked in. Then they passed through a security checkpoint where men in suits were standing. The men looked in the women’s purses and then allowed them through to the waiting elevator.
“There’s a magnetometer everyone has to pass through,” observed Reuben.
Harry nodded. “And guys in suits, shades, with earwigs and shoulder holsters.”
“Must be the Secret Service. I’d say that whoever they’re guarding might be a target. They don’t get called up for the small-fry.”
“But who?” asked Harry. “The Secret Service protects lots of different types, including foreign dignitaries. I don’t remember reading about any kings or queens visiting here.”
“Might be one of ours,” replied Reuben. Politicians all over this town. President. Supreme Court justices. Agency heads. Military types. List goes on and on.”
“Well, they’re definitely Secret Service. I see their lapel pins. So that narrows it down a bit.”
“But not enough. And then there’s the problem of letting them know there might be a threat without causing some kind of panic.”
Annabelle and Caleb joined them a minute later and Harry filled her in on what they had found.
Annabelle gazed over at the people waiting to be cleared into the event.
“But what kind of event is it?” asked Caleb. “That might tell us more about who the target might be.”
Annabelle said, “I’ll find out.” She walked over to one of the men standing in line and gave him a warm, coy smile.
“Okay, this is going to sound really stupid, but aren’t you on Breaking Bad? The brother-in-law of the meth dealer, Walter White? Right? The DEA guy? Oh, what was his name again?”
“I wish,” said the man. He was about fifty, portly and balding. He was dressed in a suit and tie.
She looked over his shoulder. “Oh come on, you have to be. Are you attending some sort of entertainment function? Is Bryan Cranston here? I’m a huge fan. Please tell me I’m right.”
“I’m afraid it’s just a very dull but necessary political fund-raiser for a friend of mine. Congressional race.”
Annabelle tried not to look disappointed.
“Oh,” she said. “Politicians.”
He smiled and handed her a card. “I know. Not as much juice as Bryan Cranston. But it’s a necessary evil. Maybe more evil than necessary in these days of paralyzed, do-nothing government. Anyway, here’s my card. Give me a call if you ever want to run for office.” He appreciatively eyed her long, slender figure. “Or if you just want to have a drink, for that matter.”
She looked down at the card. When she looked up, Annabelle caught a breath. Heading into the elevator from what appeared to be a private entryway was Alex Ford. He was there along with the rest of the protection detail. She tried to catch his eye, but he was gone before he could see her.
And when Annabelle saw the person they were guarding, she knew who the target was.
She looked down at the card again and read off the name. When she looked up she had put on her most enticing, flirty smile.
“Okay, I feel really bad, I mean really stupid, Bob.” She eyed him shyly. “I’ve never been to a political fund-raiser. I bet it’s not as boring as you say it is.”
Bob looked amused. “I could lie and say you’re right, but I’m too nice to do that to a beautiful lady like yourself. What’s your name?”
“Annabelle.”
“Annabelle? Wow, don’t hear that name much anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I like it,” he added when her face formed a pouty look.
He eyed the reception desk. “Well, I was supposed to come with a guest and she couldn’t make it, which leaves me one body short. You want to sub in? My treat.”
The pout turned to a smile. “That would be so cool.”
He looked at her tight black slacks. “Not packing heat, are you? The Secret Service frowns on that.”