She took off jogging again and behind me I heard, “What in the world is going on in here? Nobody even watched my performance. Where is everybody?”
Shit.Jennifer.
I said, “Hey, we have a little high adventure going on. While you were playing the floozy, a couple of thugs took our prop laptop from the hotel room.”
“Someone stole our property? From an Embassy Suites in downtown Charleston?”
She was giving me her disapproving teacher look, convinced I’d set up a wrench in the exercise I hadn’t told anyone about. I said, “No BS, that’s what happened. They were dressed as a maintenance crew, swiped into our room, and ripped through everything we’d planted, stealing our computer. They may have been hitting other rooms too, or they may have targeted ours because they know nobody’s going in and out. I don’t know, but it’s real.”
“So that’s where everyone is? Coordinating with the police to get it back?”
I nodded, saying, “Yeah, sort of like that, without the police part.”
She came forward and put in an ear bud, saying “Where’s Knuckles and Veep?”
“They’re on target. We’re about to use the Grail on the laptop, then follow it to a bed-down.”
“So you got one of the tech guys with Knuckles and Veep? How did you do that? Break up Amena’s meet?”
“Well...” Before I could finish, Amena was back in smart-ass mode, saying in what she thought was a commando tone, “Pike, Pike, this is Blackcat. Mission accomplished. Moving to rendezvous with Knuckles.”
I felt relief at the tone, knowing she was out of danger and we had jackpot. Unfortunately,Iwasn’t out of danger.
Jennifer leaned into my monitor and saw that Amena was crossing King Street, Knuckles and Veep in clear view across the road. She turned to me and said, “Tell me you didn’t just use Amena on a live operation with a NOC newbie as her security. Tell me that Knuckles and Veep were doing the real work.”
“Honey, it wasn’t like that! It happened fast. Knuckles and Veep were their security. Amena had the Grail.”
“Are you serious?”
Creed saved me, saying, “Slave worked. We’re tracking the computer in real time.”
I turned from Jennifer as if I needed to coordinate something, but really just trying to get out of her blast radius, and said, “Knuckles, use the Grail for a loose follow. Find the bed-down site and box it. We’re coming to you.”
“What if an opportunity presents itself for a unilateral hit? Want me to end this?”
“Yeah, sure. If you two get the chance, thump them in the head and get our computer back. If not, find me a location we can hit tonight.”
Jennifer came on, saying, “Amena, you get your butt back to Marion Square. I’ll pick you up there and take you home.”
Amena said, “You got it. I told Pike this was a bad idea.”
Traitor.
Jennifer glared at me and said on the net, “I don’t buy that for a minute. You’re two peas in a pod.”
She snatched the car key fob off the table and left the VFW. Knuckles came on, saying, “I told you she’d have your ass.”
I said, “Okay, okay, just find me that bed-down location.”
Chapter 7
Shane Tuscadero checked his watch, growing bored, the cool high-desert air starting to seep into the van. He said, “It’s closing in on midnight. If he was going to come this way, he’d have done so by now.”
The man in the passenger seat said, “Chill out, Pinky. If he’d left the station, we would have known.”
Shane bristled at the nickname, given because of the character Pinky Tuscadero in the oldHappy Daysshow. He preferred Tusk, but somehow couldn’t make that name take root in the club. If any other member had uttered Pinky, he might have swung a fist, but he couldn’t with Flynn.
As the founder and current president of the Nomad Motorcycle Club, Flynn looked the part, with a temper to match. Bald-headed with cauliflower ears, his knuckles were scarred from a lifetime of fighting. He’d earned the title of president the hard way, coming from California as a patched member of the Hells Angels. Shane had no idea how he’d ended up in Utah, but Flynn had been the one to create the Nomads for the express purpose of turning the club into a full-blooded Hells Angels chapter.
