One of them came forward now, palm out, and politely asked Mai to retreat.
The Japanese girl smiled quickly. “Claude sent us to see…” She paused as if pondering.
“Pilipo?” The other bruiser quickly filled in. “I can see why, but who’s the guy?”
“Bodyguard.”
The two big men eyed Drake like cats that had cornered the mouse. Drake gave them a big smile. He didn’t speak, just in case his English accent aroused suspicion. Alicia held no such misgivings.
“So, this Pilipo. What’s he like? We in for a good time, or what?”
“Oh, he’s the best,” the first bouncer said with a wry smile. “The perfect gentleman.”
The second bouncer was eyeing their clothing. “You’re not exactly — dressed — for the occasion. You sure Claude sent you?”
Mai’s voice carried no trace of derision when she said, “Quite sure.”
Drake was using the exchange to assess the hidden alcoves. A short flight of stairs led to a raised dais where a large table took precedence. Around the table sat about a dozen people, most of whom looked rapturous enough to have recently snorted some serious powder. The others just looked scared and sad, young women and a couple of guys, clearly not members of the party group.
“Hey, Pilipo!” the second bouncer shouted. “Fresh meat for you!”
Drake followed the girls up the short stairway. It was much quieter up here. So far he’d counted twelve unmistakable bad guys, all of who were probably carrying arms. But when he weighed the twelve local enforcers against Mai, Alicia and himself he wasn’t worried.
He stayed behind them, keeping as low a profile as possible. Pilipo was the target, and now they were within a few feet of him. This nightclub was about to really start rocking.
Pilipo stared at the girls. The sound of his throat clicking drily registered his interest. Drake vaguely saw his hand lunge toward a drink and tip it back.
“Claude sent you?”
Pilipo was a short, thin man. His wide, expressive eyes betrayed to Drake immediately that this man wasn’t a friend of Claude’s. Wasn’t even an acquaintance. He was more a puppet, a figurehead for the club. An expendable asset.
“Not really.” Mai had figured it out too and switched from passive female to kick-ass killer in the blink of an eye. Stiffened fingers jabbed into two of the nearest men’s throats and a deep front-kick sent a third falling off his chair into oblivion. Alicia leapt onto the table at her side, landed on her ass, feet up high and slapped a man with flowing neck-tattoos hard across the face with her heel. He crashed into the bruiser next to him, taking them both down. Alicia leapt onto a third.
Drake was slow by comparison, but much more devastating. An oriental with long hair stood up to him first and drove forward with a jab, front-kick combination. Drake sidestepped, caught the leg and twisted with immense, sudden power until the man screamed and dropped into a blubbering ball.
The next man drew a knife. Drake grinned. The blade shot forward. Drake caught the wrist, snapped it and buried the weapon deep into its owner’s stomach.
Drake moved on.
The unfortunate hangers-on were fleeing from the table. It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t know anything about Claude. The one man who might was predictably huddled as far into his plush leather chair as humanly possible, eyes wide with fear, lips working soundlessly.
“Pilipo.” Mai sidled in next to him and put a hand on his thigh. “First you want our company. Now you don’t. It’s rude. What’s it take to be my friend?”
“I… I have men.” Pilipo was gesturing wildly, his fingers shaking like a man on the verge of alcohol addiction. “Everywhere.”
Drake faced the two bouncers who had almost made it to the top of the stairs. Alicia was mopping up the stragglers to his right. The heavy dance music blasted from below. Bodies threw themselves in various stages of intoxication all around the dance floor. The DJ mixed and grunted to a captive audience.
“Claude didn’t send you,” the second bouncer gasped, clearly amazed. Drake used the staircase’s newel posts to swing forward and plant both feet into the man’s chest, sending him toppling backward into the noisy pit.
The other man leapt up the last step and came at Drake, arms swinging. The Englishman took a blow in the ribs that would have felled a lesser man. It hurt. His adversary paused, waiting for effect.
But Drake just sighed and delivered a close uppercut, swinging from the very soles of his feet. The bouncer was lifted off his toes, instantly unconscious. The noise as he hit the ground made Pilipo visibly jump.
“You were saying?” Mai traced a perfectly manicured finger nail across the Hawaiian’s stubbly cheek. “About your men?”
“Are you crazy? Do you even know who this club belongs to?”
Mai smiled. Alicia paced up to them both, unruffled after taking out four bodyguards. “Funny you should say that.” She planted a foot over Pilipo’s heart and pressed hard. “This guy, Claude. Where is he?”
Pilipo’s eyes darted like captive fireflies. “I… I don’t know. He never comes here. I run the place but I… I don’t know Claude.”
“Regrettable.” Alicia slammed her foot against Pilipo’s heart. “For you.”
Drake took a moment to scan their perimeter. All seemed secure. He bent down until he was nose-to-nose with the club owner.
“We get it. You’re a lowly minion. I’ll even accept that you don’t know Claude. But you sure as hell know someone who knows him. A man who visits from time to time. A man who ensures you keep yourself in check. Now—” Drake grabbed Pilipo by the throat, his rage barely concealed. “You tell me that man’s name. Or I’ll twist your fuckin’ head off.”
Pilipo’s whisper went unheard even up here, where the pounding beats were subdued by the heavy acoustic walling. Drake shook his head like a tiger shakes the head of a felled gazelle.
“What?”
“Buchanan. The man’s name is Buchanan.”
Drake squeezed harder as the rage began to take over. “Tell me how you contact him.” Images of Kennedy filled his vision. He barely felt Mai and Alicia pulling him off the dying club owner.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Hawaiian night was still young. It was barely after midnight when Drake, Mai and Alicia slipped out of the club and hailed a parked taxi. Alicia had covered their way out by gleefully striding up to the DJ, grabbing his mic, and doing her best rock-star impression. “Hey, Honolulu! How the fuck are ya? So glad to be here tonight. You guys are fucking beautiful!” Then she’d sashayed off, leaving a thousand speculations on a thousand lips behind her.
Now they talked freely around the cab driver. “How long you think before Pilipo warns Buchanan?” Alicia asked.
“With good fortune they might not discover him for a while. He’s well trussed. But if they do—”
“He won’t talk,” Drake said. “He’s a coward. He won’t draw attention to the fact that he ratted out Claude’s man. I’d put my mortgage on it.”
“The bouncers might talk.” Mai said quietly.
“Most of ‘em are unconscious.” Alicia laughed, then said more seriously. “But the sprite’s right. When they can walk and talk again, they’re gonna squeal like pigs.”
Drake clicked his tongue. “Damn, you’re both right. So we have to do this quick then. Tonight. There’s no other choice.”
“North Kukui Street,” Mai told the cab driver. “You can drop us off near the mortuary.”
The cab driver flicked a glance at her. “For real?”