He sat back. That narrowed gaze wandered out over the dance floor and the scores of people who paid well to get into his club. Then Captain Jack angled a look over at him.
“An oversight perhaps on the part of the gallery owner. He will need protection for his business interests.”
And a percentage off twenty million US, to start off, would go a long way toward building a lucrative business relationship.
“I appreciate the information. Now,” Captain Jack leaned back in his chair, his gaze meeting James' once again.
“How may I help you?”
“The name of the gallery owner.”
Captain Jack sat back at his chair. Several moments passed. It was possible his gamble had failed. People like the captain certainly weren't bound by any code of honor. He might just as well tell him to fuck off. He finally relaxed, and smiled. It was all in the body language.
“He goes by the name of Faridani. Adnan Faridani.” There was an edge in the way he said it.
“He is not French. He holds Belgium citizenship, and there is a woman who has been seen several times at the gallery.”
No name for the woman. It was obvious that was all the information they were going to get. But it was enough for someone with a particular expertise, like Innis.
Captain Jack rose from the table. “It has been most interesting, meeting you, Captain Morgan.” He held out his hand.
Shake hands with the devil, James thought. It wasn't the first time.
“You should also know that there is a truck full of weapons in his warehouse, enough to set the city of fire.”
That dark gaze hardened. “I don't like it when someone hurts my city.”
James nodded. They understood each other. Meeting over.
“Please stay,” the captain told them. “Enjoy yourselves, as my guests. The night is just getting started.
James shook his head. He'd been in too many places, seen and done too many things not to understand that being a guest could be dangerous.
They had what they'd come for, a name, and more—the fact that Captain Jack hadn't known about the weapons or the amount of money being laundered through the gallery, and that the gallery was a front for a smuggling operation.
It was after two in the morning. The club scene had amped up for the night. Every table was full and the dance floor was jammed with bodies as they were escorted to the front of the club. His knife was returned to him as they reached the exit.
The street scene they found above ground was different than the one they'd left earlier. Sirens filled the night air across the city, and a military helicopter swooped low overhead.
Anthony stopped two men on their way into the club. The exchange was in French, but their expressions were guarded, their body language nervous. They headed down those stairs to the club below.
Anthony's expression was grim.
“There's been another attack in the City.”
That was bad for business.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
It was a diversion, something to keep her mind occupied.
In college, it had been an amusement, one of her roommates into spirituality, the cards, crystals, that sort of thing. Luna looked at her across the table.
“All right.” Kris finally gave in and sat down. “What do the cards say?”
Luna shuffled and then did a full spread.
