"You better look closer, lady," Unger said, feeling the rage of so many years of disappointment building up inside him. "I'm not one of your local dicks."
"No," she said caustically, "you're an out-of-town dick for sure."
Nevertheless she looked more carefully at his badge, and the fact that he was a Fed seemed to make an impression. "So what do you want from me?" she asked, a little more cooperatively.
"I want to know what you know about Lipton."
"He's a client and we don't talk about our clients. Isn't that comforting?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
Up close now, Unger could see the haggard wrinkles beneath the thick coating of makeup. She was a smart-ass old whore, a lowlife, a common criminal, and she was standing in the way of the only chance he'd ever come close to at breaking a big case, at being someone people pointed at and said, "There goes James Unger."
"Let me tell you how this can work," Unger said, looking around apprehensively before he circled the desk. His heart leapt into his throat, and he seemed to be almost outside himself, but he was going to do this. With a sneer of his own, he snatched a handful of her hair, twisted the course red strands in his hand, and slammed her head down against the surface of the desk in one quick move. Then he bent down himself, putting his face inches away from hers and speaking with quiet, trembling malice. "This can work the hard way, or the easy way.
"Here's the hard way," he said. "I call in the locals and have them freeze everybody and everything in this whole fucking building. I then get a search warrant from a federal judge-which is about as hard for me as getting a pack of bubble gum-and I tear this fucking place apart from top to bottom. I arrest your ass for aiding and abetting a criminal suspect, and I call up my friends over at the IRS to lock on to you and every fucking john in your records for the rest of their lives. That's the hard way…"
Unger took a gasping breath, afraid of what he was doing, but too committed to his course to go back now.
"You getting the fucking picture?" he asked angrily. "By the way, so you know, I'm here on business.
"I tracked Lipton here," he said, as much to himself as to her, "who is the subject of an FBI investigation, so don't think you've got anything over me, lady.
"Now, the easy way," Unger said, breathing a little easier now. "You take me back into your little office and you give me everything, and I mean every fucking thing you've got on Lipton. You do that for me and I walk out of here a happy man. The next time you hear from me is when I'm giving a press conference on CNN when I nail his ass.
"That sound good?" Unger asked pleasantly. He liked his new role and the power he felt.
She nodded and he let her go. Unger stepped back and the redhead got up. She looked at him fearfully and it made Unger smile. She straightened herself briskly, then led him through a door in the wall behind the desk. They were in a small office with a beat-up metal desk, a computer, a phone, and a large glass ashtray that needed emptying. The redhead looked at her watch and said nervously, "My husband will be back in a half hour, so let's make this fast, okay? It'd be better for everyone if you got what you needed and got out of here before he gets back. I don't want any trouble."
"Fine by me, lady," Unger said imperiously. "You just give me what I want."
She sat down at the computer and brought up Lipton's credit card information.
"This card belongs to a Sarah Lipton," Unger said.
The redhead shrugged. "It works. It's worked for the past three years. As long as I get paid, I don't care whose name is on the card."
"Where's this?" he asked, pointing to the billing address. "Where's Selton?"
"Up I-35 toward Houston," she told him hesitantly. "It's a little town near the Stillhouse Hollow Reservoir. I grew up near there."
Unger allowed himself a beaming smile. This would be news to Bolinger. He'd been frantically trying to find out where Lipton had been hiding and now Unger had it. He tore off a piece of paper from a sheet on the desk and jotted the information down.
"That's all I need," he said, turning to leave.
"You don't need to talk to his girl?"
"No," Unger said dismissively. "I've got everything right here."
"You won't tell him you got it from me," she said, worriedly sucking in her lower lip.
Unger saw Dean appear in the main office looking rumpled and bewildered.
Unger turned from his friend to the whore and said, "Maybe you comp me and my friend for the night and this whole thing never happened. How does that sound?"
The old whore spit out her lip and nodded in assent.
"Good," he said sternly. He ushered his friend into the elevator, and as it went down his spirit soared.
When they hit the street, he turned to his questioning friend and said with a grin, "I can't believe I just did that."
CHAPTER 26
"Hey!"
Casey heard the shout from the corner of her dark elevator. There were footsteps running across the concrete, another shout and more footsteps, and the deafening roar of gunfire. The sound of the shots reverberated through the concrete containment. Casey bolted from the back corner of the car to the narrow wall adjacent to the open door. She pressed herself against the elevator's dead panel of buttons, hoping it gave her more protection.
Silence: A dim ghost of fluorescent light spilled into the car. Casey felt her heart thumping at a breakneck pace. Then more footsteps clacking along on concrete, moving more slowly this time, but deliberate and coming her way. Her mind spun. Should she scramble from her hiding place? Whoever had cut the power must know she was there. But there had been a distraction, someone running, someone being shot at. Was it the security guard or Tony? Either way, it might have given her time to flee from her small, dark prison. The steps continued to echo toward her.
She would wait, wait until he came to her, then spring on him with all the fight she had. Casey crouched, trembling, acutely aware of her overwhelming sensation of having to use the bathroom. The footsteps were twenty feet away… now ten. They stopped, and Casey thought she would scream. The faint sound of a man's heavy breathing froze her soul. She thought of all the things she had done and all the things she still wanted to do. She was too young to die. She had to wait. If she sprang now, she'd lose her only chance, the only opportunity at surprise, no matter how slight.
"Casey?"
The man's voice was low and rough, but quiet.
"Casey, I know you're there."
Trembling, ready to explode, Casey crouched even lower to the floor.
"Casey it's me Don Sales," came the voice "He's gone. Lipton's gone. He ran. You're safe. Come out, Casey"
Casey felt her limbs go limp. She slumped down to the elevator floor, shaking.
"Casey?"
"I'm here," she said softly.
Donald Sales knelt beside her, pulling her head to his chest. She felt his hand, big and strong, moving in slow, comforting circles on her back.
"It's all right," he told her. "He's gone."
After a minute, Casey regained her composure and rose to her feet, gently separating herself from him. She sniffed and brushed the hair back from her face.
"I'm fine," she said, somewhat embarrassed.
"You have to stay with me," he told her. "He'll get you if you don't. You've got to help me, Casey. I can stop him, but you've got to tell me everything you know."
"I will," she said. She could see that now, too. As crazy as it might sound, as crazy as it might be, she needed him. Things were out of control, and he seemed to be the only thing solid right now that she could grab on to. "How did you know I was here?"