The Finishing School (20 page)

“So how do you know where Screen is?” he asked Linda.

“A friend of mine deejays for Expo sometimes, and he gets me in. Tonight they’re set up in this abandoned subway station a few blocks from here. They bribed some guys from the MTA. You get on a certain train, and if you’re on the list, they let you stay on when they go out of service. When they turn around at the end of the line, they open the doors for you—and presto, you’re in Screen.”

“It must be the old City Hall station,” Dan said, nodding. “It was the jewel of the IRT before they shut it. The tile work on the arches is some of the most beautiful you’re ever gonna see.”

“Have you been in there?” Melanie asked.

“Yeah. Buddy of mine in the transit police took me on a tour once.” He leaned closer to Melanie. “I know you think I’m about as sharp as a marble, but I’m really interested in stuff like that. I’ll even go to an arty movie now and then.”

“I don’t think that,” Melanie said, looking up into his crystal blue eyes.

“You don’t?”

“No.” She shook her head.

“So listen,” Linda shouted. “My buddy Fabulous Deon can get a few of us in, but I’m not sure how many. And everybody has to look the part.” She studied Dan, frowning.

“I don’t fit the bill, huh?” he asked.

“To me you’re a little too big and clean-looking. Honestly, you look like a cop,” Linda replied.

Dan looked handsome and respectable in khaki pants and a navy V-necked sweater with a T-shirt under it. Melanie felt offended on his behalf.

“I don’t know what you’re
talking
about,” she protested to Linda. “He looks like every one of these traders in here. I bet they could get into Screen, so why can’t he?”

“I’m just saying—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dan said. “No need to have family strife over this. I know the layout. I’ll figure out how to get myself in on the tracks. But those two over there”—he nodded toward Bridget and Trevor— “should go in the front door to make it believable.”

“And me,” Melanie said.

“Who said
you
were going in?” Dan asked.

“Bernadette. She wants me to vet the ops plans, make sure nothing gets screwed up. It’s sensitive stuff, and she doesn’t trust Bridget or Trevor.”

Dan took her by the elbow and pulled her aside, out of Linda’s earshot.

“You got to be fucking kidding me,” he said. “Even if the Bureau let prosecutors review our ops plans, which we don’t, and even if we let prosecutors ride along on buys, which we
totally
don’t,
I
wouldn’t let
you
put yourself in harm’s way.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate your concern. But this is not your call. Bernadette wants it done this way. This is an ENTF case, not a Bureau case, and Albano’s in agreement with her. So you’re outvoted.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Craziest thing I ever heard. And don’t pretend you don’t agree.”

“Hey, what’s the big deal? I’ll keep out of the way. With you there I’m not so worried about things going wrong, but still, I’m the one who looked Trevor in the eye and promised he’d be safe. Remember what happened to Rosario Sangrador,” Melanie said, and at the very mention of Rosario’s name, her eyes welled up. She’d never forgive herself for that.

Dan’s face softened. “It means that much to you?”

“Of course it does.”

“Okay, I’ll go along with you, but listen up, sweetheart. You step out of line and get crazy on me, I’m pulling the plug on the drug buy. We clear on that?”

“Dan—”

“Just say yes. That’s the only answer I’ll accept.”

“I’m not
planning
to do anything risky. I promise.”

He looked at her quizzically, then broke into a grin. “Don’t think you’re getting over on me here. I see what you’re doing. Jeez, you lawyers, always with the sneaky language.”

“If you’re done scolding me, can we go over the plan?”

“What do you want to know?”

“First off, is Trevor wired?” she whispered, glancing around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. With the noise level in here, not much danger of that.

“Not until we get the lay of the land,” Dan said. “Who knows, they could be doing pat-downs at the door. Besides, with the club underground in the subway tunnel, it’d be tough to pick up a signal anyway.”

“Has Trevor been searched?”

“Yes, ma’am. I go by the book, every time.”

Before making a controlled buy, a careful agent searched the cooperating witness to prevent him from sneaking in his own drugs and claiming he’d bought them from the target. For the price of a few Baggies and a little perjured testimony, many a drug dealer had bought himself a nice sentencing reduction without doing the heavy lifting of actually infiltrating the target’s organization. Dan was too thorough to let an informant scam him like that.

“What’s the ops plan once everybody’s inside?” Melanie asked.

“Bridget sticks with Trevor every step of the way. He makes the contact with Expo’s people, but she does the hand-to-hand. She tries to buy dime bags. We recorded the serial numbers on the buy money in advance ’cause that’s procedure, but prob’ly we let the money walk this time. Don’t make any arrests, try to build to something bigger. Ideally get a cell number or something, see if we can work up a wiretap.”

Melanie had been listening with great attentiveness. Now she looked over at Bridget and Trevor, who were laughing together conspiratorially. Bridget was wearing tight jeans, a black T-shirt, and boots, and she’d made up her eyes. She actually looked cute in a butch sort of way, but very young.

“You really think she’s up to this?” Melanie asked.

“Only one way to find out.”

“Seriously, Dan.”

“Look, she was on the mark with that text message before. I think we’re underestimating her. Weren’t you the one who said to give her the benefit of the doubt?”

Melanie sighed. If something got screwed up here…man, she couldn’t even stand to think about it. Still, there wasn’t much more she could do. In fairness to Dan, ops were really his baby.

“Okay,” she said, nodding.

He signaled to the rest of their group. “We ready?”

Linda looked at her watch. “Yeah. Fab D should be at the station by now.”

“Let’s go,” Melanie said.

FABULOUS DEON KNEW how to command a room. Resplendent in a calf-length mink coat, orange trousers, and patent-leather spats, he sported short, bleached-blond braids that stuck up all over his head like horns. His brown face was plump and sweetly feminine, his eyes sparkling with silver glitter eye shadow, so that the wispy little soul patch on his chin came as a surprise. His dubious gender and wild attire drew amused looks from some passersby in the subway station, while most others simply ignored him. This was New York, after all. Still, Melanie thought, they weren’t sneaking in under the radar with
this
dude as their escort.

Deon waved excitedly to Linda, who rushed up to him.

“Hello, gorgeous!” Deon cried, double-air-kissing Linda while looking past her at Melanie. “Don’t
tell
me this is your gorgeous sister! So much fabulousness in one family is just too much to
bear
!”

“Don’t worry, D,” Linda said. “She’s not really fabulous. I just dressed her up tonight.”

“She
has
to make a comment,” Melanie said, smiling broadly. This guy was a trip. No wonder Linda liked him.

“Really,
mee
-ow. Don’t listen to her, sweet sister! You’re absolutely bey
ond
. The problem won’t be getting you into Screen, it’ll be fighting them
off
.”

“Thank you! This is my new best friend,” she said to Linda, as Fabulous Deon air-kissed her, too.

“Those are her buds over there. What do you think?” Linda asked Deon, pointing to where Bridget and Trevor stood, beside a grimy pillar, going over some last-minute instructions.

“Rest easy,” Deon said. “The pierced boy with dreadlocks will fit right in. Blondie’s no problem either. If she were a bit scrawnier, she’d even look heroin
chic
.”

Heroin— he doesn’t know how right he is
, Melanie thought. “So, Deon, did Linda fill you in on what I do? I want you to have your eyes open. Because there’s some risk—”

“Oh, pshaw! I bring people to clubs all the time without the teensiest clue who they are. That is par for the course. Nobody would ever dream of holding it against me if somebody turns out to be a narc.”

“Still, a drug bust in Expo’s club would reflect badly on him, and he’s no pussycat.”

“Funny you should mention that. The fact is, I have a bone to pick with Jay Esposito. The man owes me over three thousand dollars for work I’ve done for him and never been paid for. And when I tried to collect, he blackballed me at several other clubs. You have no idea how helpless I felt until La Linda called me up tonight. You’re doing me a big favor by putting me in a position to exact some payback.”

“If you’re sure,” Melanie said.

“I’m sure.”

“Oh, and it’s okay to use Linda’s real name. They’ll probably recognize her from TV anyway. But you and Linda only just met me and these others guys at a club earlier tonight, okay, and you don’t know us very well.”

Deon nodded. “Smart idea, precious. Do you have a favorite
alias
?”

They worked out fake names for everybody on Melanie’s team.

“Ah, here’s our train, my chickens!” Deon exclaimed, as a southbound six rumbled into the station.

They all got on.

“Come, children. We have to go to the first car,” said Fabulous Deon.

They’d gotten on about five cars from the front, so they slowly made their way forward through the moving train. Heavy sliding metal doors at both ends of the cars opened onto narrow platforms. Melanie stepped carefully across the couplings as the train bucked ahead, wary of tripping in the borrowed stiletto heels, holding her breath against the acrid fumes and ricocheting sparks in the open tunnels. When they reached the first car, it was relatively empty, and they all found seats on a bench across from the conductor’s booth. Within minutes the train pulled into the Brooklyn Bridge station, opening its doors and turning off its lights to indicate it was going out of service. An announcement came on, telling everybody to exit.

“Stay here,” Deon said, and went to knock on the conductor’s booth.

The door slid open. Deon conversed briefly with the heavyset man inside, who consulted a list and nodded. Cash changed hands. Deon returned to his seat and flashed them an “okay” sign. A few minutes later, its lights still off, the train lurched forward. Looking out the window, Melanie saw blackness. A moment later the tracks curved, the train reached its southernmost point and just began to turn sharply uptown. A tumultuous scene came into view. Spotlights bounced off the soaring, tiled arches of a dimly lit, turn-of-the-previous-century subway station. The platform was mobbed with hundreds of writhing bodies dancing to earsplitting techno-pop music.

Melanie leaned forward and made eye contact with Bridget. “Are you all set?” she asked in a low tone, so Linda and Deon wouldn’t hear.

Bridget took a deep breath. “No prob. If Esposito sells it, we’ll find it.”

The subway stopped; its doors opened.

“This is us,” Fabulous Deon said, standing up.

They followed him off the train into the hot press of the crowd. Within minutes Bridget and Trevor had disappeared. Melanie would just have to trust the young detective to do her job properly and keep a watchful eye on Trevor. In the meantime she’d do some snooping around herself.

“What’s the plan?” Melanie shouted into Fabulous Deon’s ear.

“Let’s hit the bar. This way.”

Melanie and Linda followed as Fabulous Deon snaked his way through the densely packed crowd. The revelers were all young and gorgeous, the cream of New York City’s clubgoers in all their finery. Pants were tight, tops revealing, and heels high, yet everybody managed to look sleek and sophisticated rather than cheesy. Melanie felt relieved Linda had dressed her up; she wouldn’t have had a clue what to wear otherwise, and she would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb. Although the place was so jammed that most likely nobody would’ve noticed. The noise level hovered at a roar, swelling to a deafening clamor every few minutes as a train screeched into the station to discharge new revelers.

After waiting in line to check their coats, Melanie, Linda, and Fabulous Deon fought their way up to a mahogany bar set against a wall under an elaborate tile mosaic that spelled out “City Hall.” The three curvaceous blond bartenders wore identical low-slung jeans and tiny halter tops that revealed pierced navels. After several attempts Linda got a bartender’s attention and ordered them apple martinis. When the drinks came, Melanie took a sip of hers and gasped.

“Powerful,” she choked out, eyes tearing up.

“They have a heavy hand here,” Linda said. “It’s one of the reasons Expo does well. He doesn’t stint on the liquor. Speak of the devil—that’s
him
. Told you he always puts in an appearance.”

Linda nudged her and gestured toward a tall, muscular guy with a shaved head who stood between two lithe models at the far end of the bar. Jay Esposito looked every inch the mobbed-up nightclub mogul. He was maybe forty, with handsome, Mediterranean features and dark eyebrows. In the middle of a New York winter, his attire was pure South Beach—a white linen suit and a black silk T-shirt setting off a deep tan, an enormous diamond stud glittering in one ear. As she watched, he threw his head back and guffawed, revealing a flash of white teeth. Melanie could see why a messed-up wild child like Whitney Seward would be attracted to this guy. He gave off criminal charisma like musk.

The target was right there in front of her.
Down, girl, down
. She should stay where she was. Sit back and allow events to take their course without injecting herself. Let the agents do their job. She scanned the jam-packed club, looking for Bridget and Trevor. Wherever they were, they weren’t anywhere near Expo. Still, it wasn’t her place. Even if this opportunity slipped through their fingers, surely somehow another would come along. She’d find Carmen Reyes anyway. Right?