“Hot damn!” The Copper Queen was just the kind of place Angie would go, thinking she’d blend into the woodwork. What did that stupid bitch know about life in small towns?
Vargas had to drive on up the one-way street before he, too, was able to find a parking place. Once parked, he didn’t approach the hotel directly. Instead, using a roundabout route, he made his way down to a small city park. From there he tried to reconnoiter. The hotel seemed to be three or four stories high with the entrance and lobby situated between a dining room on one side and a bar on the other. At ten o’clock there were only one or two late diners left in the dining room, but the bar seemed to be serving a modest crowd.
The bar offered the best opportunity of getting inside the hotel without anyone noticing him, so Vargas gravitated in that direction. He had no way of knowing for sure if Joanna Brady was actually inside the hotel, and there was only a remote chance that Angie was there as well. The trick now was to find out for sure.
After years of leading a charmed existence, Tony felt his life unraveling. He had meant to use that damn book as his own ace in the hole if he and his employers ever came to an unexpected and disagreeable parting of the ways. Now though, by its very existence, the book had blown up in his face. If he didn’t get it back before it fell into the wrong hands, then Tony’s very survival would be in question. The cartel had plenty of other high-priced, hired killers, ones who were every bit as thorough as he was.
Tony sauntered easily up the steps and peered in the windows. Three or four men were stationed at the bar. Several of the candlelit tables were occupied, but he saw no one who resembled either Angie or what he had glimpsed of Joanna Brady.
Opening the door, he walked the length of the L-shaped bar and took the corner stool at the far end. To avoid calling any unwanted attention to himself, he ordered a draft beer and paid when the bartender brought it. He was busy taking inventory of the people at the bar, when his heart almost stopped.
Tony Vargas prided himself on knowing all about his opposition. As far as he was concerned, the best way to play the game was for him to know exactly who he was up against, without the other team knowing Tony Vargas existed. So he was aware of Adam York’s name and knew what he looked like as well.
What’s York doing here, Tony wondered. I f Angie was going to sell the book to the highest bidder, Adam York of the DEA was a most likely prospect, one who would be prepared to pay absolutely top dollar.
Clammy fear gripped his gut. There wasn’t a moment to lose. Taking one more sip from his beer but leaving the half-full glass there on the bar to save his place, Tony headed for the restroom which was down a long hallway oft the lobby.
There were several doors along the way. Unobtrusively, he tried each of them as he went. The third one opened on a small janitor’s closet. Inside he found everything he needed, including a selection of oily rags and wrapped packages of paper towels. Pulling the paper towels out of their packages and wadding them into a loose pile on the floor, he stacked the oily rags on top and set fire to the mess with his cigarette lighter. Then, careful to wipe the doorknob clean of prints on his way out, he closed the door behind him and walked away.
Casually unhurried, he returned to the bar and finished his beer. Then, waving at the bartender, he wandered outside to wait. It wouldn’t take long for the smoke alarms to go off. When they did, everyone in the Copper Queen Hotel would be evacuated.
If Angie Kellogg was in there, she’d turn on up the street sooner or later. Then, all he’d have to do was track her down and take her out.
NINETEEN
Empty-handed, Angie Kellogg came racing back to the room in a blind panic. “He’s here!”
“Who’s here?” Joanna asked.
“Tony. I saw him. As I was coming down the stairs, he was going into the bar. How did he get here? What am I going to do?”
There was no mistaking Angie’s despair or her terror. She rushed to the window and looked out. Afraid she might climb out or jump, Joanna moved to restrain her. “Are you sure?” she asked. “How would he know to follow you here? You must have left some kind of trail, some due.”
“No, I didn’t, I swear. But where can I go now? If he found me once, he’ll find me again. You don’t know what he’s like.” The words poured out in a blithering torrent.
“Calm down,” Joanna said. “Let’s think this thing through.”
She tried to sound composed even though her own mind was churning. There was a certain ominous symmetry in having both Vargas and York turn up in the Copper Queen at the same time. Were they both there looking for someone else-Angie, for instance? Or were they there to meet each other? As soon as that ugly thought occurred to her, Joanna felt physically sick.
She turned to Angie. “Did Tony ever mention Adam York’s name to you?”
“The DEA agent?” Joanna nodded. “No, not that I remember. Why?”
“Did you read through Tony’s book by any chance? See what was in it?”
Angie shrugged. “I glanced at it is all. Names, telephone numbers, dates, that kind of thing
“Do you remember any of the names?”
“No. There wasn’t enough time. I was too worried about getting away to pay that much attention. Why? What are you thinking?”
“Supposing Adam York’s name is one of the ones listed in that book,” Joanna suggested. Supposing he’s been working with Tony and the others all along. If that’s the case, you and that book aren’t just Tony’s problem any more. If the drug dealers have a well-placed accomplice working in the DEA, they’re going to move heaven and earth to keep him there. Not only that, if they realize you and I have made contact…”
A jangling fire alarm clanged noisily in the hallway outside the room, cutting Joanna off in mid-sentence. Angie jumped like a startled deer. Reflexively, she grabbed for her beach bag and started for the door.
“Wait,” Joanna cautioned. “What if it’s a trick?”
“A trick?”
“Maybe it’s a false alarm. Maybe they’re waiting for us downstairs.”
“Oh, my God.”
Joanna went to the door and opened it a crack. The alarm was directly across the hall and the shrill clanging was almost deafening. The man from room 412, still pulling on his pants, was scurrying barefoot toward the stairs. No one else was visible in the hallway, but with the door open, Joanna could smell the unmistakable odor of smoke. She turned back to Angie.
“It is a fire! Come on.”
But Angie had retreated to the far corner of the room where she stood, clutching the beach bag and frozen with fear. “No,” she whimpered. “You’re right. It’s a trap. He’ll get me as soon as I step outside.”
Joanna slammed the door shut and came back into the room. A blue United Van Lines windbreaker lay on the bed. Joanna plucked it off the bed, walked over to Angie, and handed it to her. “Put this on,” she ordered. We’ve got to get out of here!”
Still Angie didn’t budge. Gripping both the jacket and the beach bag, she stood as if transfixed, unable to move. Joanna fought to appear calm. She spoke soothingly to Angie, persuading and cajoling, as she might have done with a terrified child.
“I won’t let them get you, Angie. I swear. We can get out the back way, but we’ve got to hurry.”
Through the open window came the confused sounds of an approaching fire truck mixed with what seemed to be a dozen garbled voices raised in excited shouts. Joanna darted into the tiny bathroom and wet two bath towels, then she raced back out to find Angie still hadn’t moved.
“Put on the jacket, Angie,” she ordered. “Now!”
Woodenly, Angie complied. Joanna passed her one of the towels. “No telling what it’ll be like when we open the door. Hold this up to your face and hang onto my arm. Whatever you do, don’t let go.”