“You may be right,” Adam conceded, in a voice that suggested he thought I was dead wrong, “but we still have to operate under the assumption that this is a trap.”
If he thought I needed convincing that this was a dangerous situation, he was dead wrong. “Don’t worry, I’m clear on that. Of course, you are the Director of Special Forces, and you have proof that a crime has been committed there. Can’t you just, you know, storm the building or something?”
“That would be a very bad idea.”
“Why?”
Adam and Dominic shared a look I didn’t understand. Then Adam turned his attention back to me. It looked like he was picking his words very, very carefully.
“The owner of The Seven Deadlies is the demon version of a snitch.”
“Huh?”
If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn Adam was uncomfortable. His eyes slid away from mine to focus on his cup of coffee.
“She’s an illegal,” he said, the corners of his mouth tight. “And the club caters to demons. All demons.”
My wits weren’t at their sharpest this morning, so I decided to test my understanding. “So you’re telling me that not only is the owner an illegal demon, but the club is crawling with them?”
He shrugged. “ Crawling with them would be overstating it, but, yes, I’m sure there are others who spend time there.”
I didn’t get this at all. “So basically you’re just pretending to be a demon hunter. In reality, you don’t give a shit about how many demons are out there preying on helpless, unwilling human hosts.” My level of outrage was rising steadily, as was my voice.
“Not true!” he answered, and I could almost see his defenses going up. “ Shae is an excellent informant, and thanks to her I’ve captured demons I’d never have found any other way. It’s just that she won’t give me all of them.”
“Basically,” Dominic interjected, “she gives him the ones she doesn’t like. Luckily, it’s easy to get on her bad side.”
“And you don’t haul her in because…?”
Adam gave me the kind of condescending look you’d give a preschool child. “Because then my number-one informant wouldn’t be on the street anymore. Letting her continue to operate is a necessary evil.” He gave me a look somewhere between a grin and a sneer. “Besides, you should be damn grateful I don’t haul in every illegal demon I meet, or I’d have arrested you the first night I knew you were possessed, and you’d be ashes by now.”
I wanted to debate this some more, but managed to reel myself back in. I had more important things to think about right now than the morality of allowing police snitches to roam free. “Why does any of this mean we can’t storm the club? And please don’t tell me it’s just because you don’t want to offend your snitch.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just that she has other contacts within the police department. Contacts who will warn her if we try to orchestrate a raid on her club.”
“And this necessary evil of yours would tell the people who have Brian and they’d, what, kill him? And she wouldn’t have a problem with that?” My voice was rising again, along with my blood pressure. I reminded myself for the millionth time that I needed Adam’s help and that yelling at him wasn’t the best way to get it.
“ Shae is a mercenary, through and through,” Adam said. A tick in his jaw suggested I was getting on his nerves, but so far he seemed better in control of his temper than I was of mine. “Pay her enough, and she’ll be happy to overlook just about anything. But believe me, she’s a lot less malevolent than most illegals. And we’re not debating this. The situation is what it is. If we try to mount an assault, she’ll hear about it, and she’ll take whatever precautions she feels are necessary, up to and including allowing Raphael’s people to kill your dearly beloved. So no police support. What’s your next idea?”
I thought it was a sign of my newfound maturity that I managed to let the subject drop. Not that it was easy when righteous indignation threatened to overwhelm me. But I had to keep focused, had to get Brian out of there. I could complain about the snitch thing later.
“If the frontal assault is out,” I said, and only a hint of my anger showed in my voice, “then I guess we’re just going to have to be sneaky.”
“And you have a plan for this sneaky rescue?” Adam asked, giving me his best bland look.
“No. But I bet someone as intimately familiar with the place as you are can come up with one.” My smile at that point was no doubt sickeningly sweet.
Unfortunately, Adam smiled back. His smile, however, was not sweet. “Oh, I think I can come up with a suggestion.”
Why did I think I wasn’t going to like this suggestion of his? “All right,” I said, accepting the inevitable, “lay it on me.”
CHAPTER 22
My suspicion that I wouldn’t like Adam’s plan was spot-on. Go figure. However, since I couldn’t come up with a better one…
That afternoon, I had the unique pleasure of going shopping with a police escort. Adam, of course. Hoping that none of the bad guys would see us together, he drove me to New Jersey for this little expedition instead of taking me to any of the Philadelphia spots. He stole glances out of the rearview mirror every five seconds while we drove, but he said he didn’t see any signs of pursuit.
Our first stop was at a dive of a salon, where I let a gum-cracking teenager with hair like roadkill bleach my hair a very white blond. She did the same to my eyebrows, then moussed my hair into sticky spikes. I looked wretched, but I also hardly looked like myself, which was the idea.
Next, we went to a dive of a clothing shop that specialized in biker-slut couture. Adam browbeat me into buying a black vinyl miniskirt, a black leather bustier that laced up the front and didn’t close all the way, and black vinyl thigh-high boots with stiletto heels. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
When I emerged from the dressing room to purchase my costume-I refused to think of these as clothes-I saw that Adam had added a pair of black leather wrist cuffs dotted with silver studs and a black leather dog collar with similar decoration.
I started shaking my head violently, but he tore the clothes out of my hands, piled them on the counter, and handed the amused salesclerk his credit card.
“If we’re going to do this, love, we’re going to do it right.”
I imagined wearing that outfit out in public and considered the possibility that I might just prefer to die.
Our last stop was a shop that specialized in theater makeup, where we bought pancake makeup, obnoxious black lipstick, and obnoxious black eyeliner.
Well, okay, the eyeliner wasn’t that obnoxious. It was just that I knew how much of it he was going to make me wear.
Late in the afternoon, Dominic called Adam’s cell to let him know the expected videotape had arrived at my office. Delivered by messenger service, of course, so we couldn’t track it to its source. I asked what was on the tape, but all Adam would tell me was that Dom said it was “what you’d expect.” Maybe I was better off not knowing.
I called Andrew from a pay phone, seething with hatred. We began negotiations for Brian’s release, discussing where we would do the trade, but my temper got the better of me again and he hung up on me. It was just as well-we needed to stall a bit anyway, because I wasn’t about to turn myself in.
We met Dominic for dinner at what I would swear was a Family-owned Italian restaurant, then we rented a cheesy motel room. Adam didn’t want any chance that the bad guys would see me within three feet of him with my new do, and he wanted to make sure we weren’t followed when we showed up at the club.
On the theory that it would be easier to disappear into the crowd if the club was as crowded as possible, we decided to show up around midnight. At ten-thirty, we started getting me into costume.