Sedakis shook his head. “She's making me quit.”
Donovan shrugged as he saw Maria nod happily. “Suit yourself.”
As he stood on the terrace at the back of the house, smoking, he heard the door opening. It was Naomh. “You mind if I have a few puffs?” Donovan shook his head and offered her his cigar. She breathed in a large amount of smoke and then suddenly kissed him, breathing the smoke back to him. “Share and share alike, eh,” she said as she broke away from him, running her hands over his cheeks. He looked distracted. “What are you thinking?” she demanded seriously.
“Eva Lang,” he said, staring into the New York woodlands; it was a beautiful part of the state and so close to the city. “She's got to be somewhere, and she's got to be connected to this. But how? And where is she?”
Naomh shrugged. “Well, she's not an A-lister here, or I would have known about it.”
“Suppose you're right,” Donovan said.
When the cigar was finished, they went back in, only to find that Gregoris Sedakis had already taken his wife to bed.
“I do feel a bit sorry for her,” Donovan remarked. “Laboring under that big fat belly.”
Naomh laughed. “Yeah, can't be easy.”
Donovan shrugged. “Ah well, I suppose it's time to head home anyway. “ He began to walk toward the door, but found himself staggering. He swore. The ouzo was obviously having more of an effect than he originally thought it would. But he was not going to let anyone notice that. He turned around and looked at Naomh. “You want a ride?”
Naomh shook her head and walked over to him, grabbing him by the arm. “You're not going anywhere,” she said as she pulled him toward the stairs. “You've had far too much ouzo to drive your flashy Bugatti.”
“Damn you,” Donovan grumbled at her.
Chapter Eight
Donovan woke up the next morning in a lavish bedroom in Sedakis' 18th century colonial home. He was thankful that he was not hungover. He looked around and noticed his clothes were folded on top of a chair in the corner. His boxers were the topmost and as soon as he saw them, he realized he was naked. He looked to the other side of the bed and saw Naomh Walsh there. He lifted the sheets and saw she was naked too, her smooth skin beckoned him to touch her. He surmised something must have happened, but he could not remember anything past cursing her as she forbade him from driving himself home.
Slowly he got out of bed and began to get dressed. Naomh stirred. Softly he walked out of the room, holding his shoes in his hands, not wishing to make any unneeded noise that might wake her up.
Five minutes later, he stepped into his Bugatti and was rushing back toward the center of Manhattan and his office. He charged down Bronx River Parkway toward the skyscrapers of the city that he loved to hate. But as he drove down FDR Drive and took the 63rd street exit that led him to his Midtown offices, he changed his mind. He took a right and turned into a side street that would lead him back onto the highway and continued straight in the direction of Chinatown. He took the City Hall exit and headed toward the financial district.
When the traffic cleared enough, he floored the Bugatti and accelerated as fast as he could. It did not take him long to reach City Hall. But he did not turn into Park Row; instead he drove past it, to a charcoal brown office building between Chinatown and City Hall. The building with the unassuming architecture on the corner of Chambers and Broadway where his old offices were; the Federal Plaza, the New York State headquarters for the office of the FBI.
He parked the Bugatti in the front of the building and ran in. He checked his watch and knew Albert would only just be heading in. He knew his old partner's habits by heart and he was not wrong. Within a minute, Albert came in with a cup of coffee.
“Albert!” he greeted his old partner, who looked a bit stunned.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Helping you out.” Donovan said as happily as he could, knowing how much it would annoy Albert.
“Thought you had to be in court or something? Stupid Lavoie kid? Yesterday, in fact.”
Donovan shook his head. “It was postponed to today. Got another two hours before that.”
Albert nodded, looking bored and annoyed. “So what are you doing here? Not sure you're supposed to be here. You couldn't just call, could you?”
“You've probably got some link with the NSA anyway, so you can tap my phone. Not sure I want one of your spies or database analysts overhearing what I need to tell you. Bit sensitive.”
It took Albert a moment to realize what he meant. “You spoke to her then?”
Donovan nodded. “She said I should look at the Lang's siblings.”
“Yeah, I did that already. That sister, Mary?”
“Mara.” Donovan corrected him.
“Right, her. Well, she died under your wheels right?” Albert shrugged. “Maybe they blame you for that too, but Quinn has gone to ground, Denny is dead and Mara is dead. Unless we can find Quinn, that's a dead end.”
“I was with Sedakis last night.”
“Ugh, that horrible man.” Albert interrupted.
“Shut up, he's a nice guy.” Donovan threw in. “He's just gotten married to this teenage chick. She claims she went to boarding school with Mara Lang and her younger sister.”
Albert shrugged. Then his eyes opened wide. His brain was still slow in the morning. The coffee had not yet taken effect. “Her younger sister?”
“Yes. Kid disappeared from the Québec boarding school when she was fourteen. Nobody has heard or seen of her since.”
“Interesting...” Albert smiled and patted Donovan on the shoulder. He turned away and walked past the desk into the office. “Haven't completely lost your touch have you, Boyo?”
The Court Administration was a hive of activity when Donovan got there. Naomh Walsh was already waiting in the lobby area as he walked through the main entrance doors. He came to stand next to her and took her hand, fingering the ring on her finger. “Did you cheat on your husband last night?” he asked her quietly. She just stared straight ahead, not giving anything away. “Honestly, I don't know,” she said in low tones. “Wanted to, but I'm not sure I did. Damned ouzo.”
Donovan grinned. “Yeah, well... dinner tonight?”
She looked at him then. “Husband is flying back tonight. Sorry.”
Donovan nodded. He tried to make out he was not bothered, but secretly he was. He had enjoyed spending time with Ms. Walsh, much more than with any of his other recent conquests. But, he figured, you win some, you lose some. Que sera, sera and all that jazz.
A large, black limousine drove up to the curb and the door opened. First out of the car was a big Eastern European-looking man with muscles the size of boulders. He was dressed in some shiny, silk harem pants and nothing more. He held two small dogs, both of them barking like mad. Behind him, a woman in latex pants and bra got out. A huge purple strap-on dangled from her waist as she stood there on her high heels, waiting for the last person to exit the car. That last person was a petite blonde woman. The blonde woman was really still a girl. A girl who made both Donovan and Naomh look down in despair.
Justine Lavoie, it seemed, had not even bothered to dress. She had simply thrown on a jeans skirt that was so short it looked almost like a belt. She wore no top, just a short fur coat that she had not even closed. Her small breasts were almost fully exposed, as were her private parts as she stepped out of the car. She wore obscenely high shoes again and her makeup was that of a porn star, again.
When she stood and rose out of the limo, she smiled to the large gathering of paparazzi that seemed to have become a part of her entourage. She pulled the two people that accompanied her close in. She kissed the woman and stroked the strap-on in her hand. She pushed her bottom into the crotch of the topless man and began grinding against him, all the while looking straight at the cameras.