To Die Fur (A Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Mystery) (8 page)

She hopped through the wooden slats of the railing and onto the roof itself, then made her way back to the tree. In a moment she was gone.

I heard the door open behind me, and turned to see Jaro Karst walk through it. “Oh,” he said. “I was just looking for a quiet spot to have a smoke. Is up here all right?”

“Sure,” I said. “There’s an ashtray in the corner.”

“Quite the dustup,” Karst said, lighting up a cigarillo. “All smoke and mirrors, though, don’t you think?”

“Probably. But we’re having it checked out.”

He shook his head. “I can smell a con man a mile away, and that fella reeks of it. Just trying to stampede the competition, that’s all he’s doing.”

“You could be right.”

“There any way to get a ride into town tonight? Running a little low on the old cancer sticks.”

“I can get ZZ’s driver Victor to run you in.”

“Terrific. Just give me a ring on my mobile when he’s ready, yeah?”

“Sure.”

I pulled out my phone and called Victor. He lived in an apartment over the garage, and he was used to being on call at odd hours. He said he’d pull the car around in ten minutes, and I relayed the information to Karst.

I didn’t much care for the smell of tobacco, so Whiskey and I excused ourselves and went downstairs. We made our way to the gardens, where we ran into a strolling Abazu Chukwukadibia, his hands still clasped behind his back, apparently deep in thought. When I greeted him, he looked startled, then smiled at me. “Ah! Ms. Foxtrot. Good evening. Thank you for a wonderful meal.”

“Don’t thank me, thank the chef. Ben does know how to whip up a feast, doesn’t he?”

“I will make sure to do so. It has been quite the night, eh?”

I nodded ruefully. “That it has. I apologize for Mr. Navarro’s behavior; I had no idea he would threaten anyone, and I can assure you you’re perfectly safe. Our head of security is on her way here, and she’s very good at her job.”

Abazu shook his head and waved away my assurances. “I am not worried. I grew up in a violent place; threats are commonplace and rarely carried out. It is the man who does not threaten that is truly dangerous, for he gives no warning before he strikes. There is a saying in my country:
It is better to meet a lion that roars, because the silent one is hungry.
”

“That sounds like good advice.”

“Yes. In my experience, however, it is better not to meet a lion at all.”

“But a liger is different?”

He chuckled. “Augustus certainly is. A magnificent creature, truly. It breaks my heart to see him confined.”

“Well, you made a pretty strong case. ZZ’s a big proponent of freedom herself.”

“That is good. I also sense she is not a woman who responds well to threats.”

“Not so much, no.”

He nodded. “Then what will happen, will happen.”

I heard a car coming up the driveway, just a little too fast, and said, “If you’ll excuse me? I think that’s our security chief now.”

“Certainly. It is a lovely night to take a walk; I believe I shall do so.”

Whiskey and I got back to the main entrance just in time to intercept Shondra. She walked right up to me and said, “Okay. He’s still in his room?”

“As far as I know.”

“Then let’s go talk to ZZ. I’ve got some information on Alvero Peralta, and it’s not good.”

We went inside and found ZZ in the sitting room, sipping a cup of tea. She looked up when we entered, saw the expression on Shondra’s face, and said, “Oh, dear. How bad is it?”

“Bad,” Shondra said. “Alvero Flores Peralta is a drug kingpin based out of Atlanta. He controls the meth trade there and in at least three neighboring cities. He’s known to have residences in Mexico, including one in the jungle that’s rumored to have a private zoo. It’s said he likes to feed snitches to its inhabitants.”

“That’s pretty bad,” ZZ admitted.

“It gets worse. Peralta’s biggest competitor was Augustus’s former owner, Branco Gamboa. So this isn’t just about a criminal’s arrogance; it’s a status thing. He wants the liger as a symbol of his power.”

[And a convenient way to turn informants into snack food.]

“Drug kingpins are big on symbols,” Shondra continued. “Not only would owning Augustus feed Peralta’s ego, but he could also use the animal as a weapon. Not a lot of people want to be eaten by half a ton of jungle cat.”

“Most people would prefer not to be eaten at all,” I said. “We can’t let Peralta have Augustus.”

“I’m not so sure,” said ZZ.

Shondra and I both stared at her in shock. “What?” I said.

“You’re not serious,” said Shondra. “If you’re worried about your safety—”

“I’m not worried about my safety,” said ZZ. “You do an impeccable job. Besides, you know I don’t give in to bullies. No, I was thinking along different lines entirely. Do you think we could convince Augustus to eat him?”

I blinked. Shondra grinned.

ZZ smiled. “Sorry. My attempt to lighten the mood. No, of course we can’t let an amoral gangster get his hands on Augustus. But I want to be smart about this; the longer Mr. Navarro thinks I’m giving his offer serious consideration, the more time we have to come up with a way to get Augustus to safety without interference. I propose we think long and hard about it tonight, then meet in the morning to make some decisions. I’ll talk to Mr. Navarro privately beforehand, and give him the impression I’m going to acquiesce but that I can’t do so immediately without losing face. He’ll understand that sort of thinking.”

“Misleading a killer?” said Shondra. “That’s a dangerous game to play.”

“Yes, it is, dear—but I’m going to mislead a killer’s errand boy, not a killer. Ambassadors declare war, they don’t wage it. I’m perfectly safe with Mr. Navarro; it’s not as if he can simply murder me and steal Augustus. Whatever I tell him, he’ll have to consult with his employer before doing anything.”

“True enough,” Shondra admitted. “Anyway, at this point, I’d rather have him here where I can keep an eye on him.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?” I said.

Shondra gave me a cold smile. “If by ‘closer’ you mean ‘close enough to snap his neck,’ then yes.”

Right. I needed to put up a big yellow Post-it in my office:
DO NOT TICK OFF SHONDRA.
Right next to the one that said,
DON’T FORGET TO BREATHE AIR.

I heard footsteps and looked up to see Zhen Yao in the doorway. “Hello,” she said. “I wish to speak to Zee-zee Deer, please.”

ZZ sighed. “It’s just ZZ, dea—it’s
just
ZZ. This is my head of security, Shondra Destry. Shondra, Zhen Yao.”

Zhen gave a formal nod. “Hello. I would like to address the situation with Mr. Luis Navarro. I do not feel it has been resolved to anyone’s satisfaction.”

“No, it hasn’t,” said ZZ. “I’m very sorry for how things turned out, but you should know that I don’t scare easily. All Mr. Navarro has done is disqualify himself from the competition.”

“Then why is he still present? I saw him in the hallway not five minutes ago!”

Which was when ZZ gave me the look. The one that said,
You’re on, kid. Time to earn your paycheck.
Because while ZZ is awfully good at starting fires, I’m awfully good at putting them out. It’s kinda what I do—me and every other underpaid office assistant, gofer, secretary, and full-time mom. Okay,
I’m
not underpaid, but I’m still expected to be able to handle crises, balance the books, organize the household, and keep everyone amused at the same time. Much like everybody else I just mentioned.

Rant over. Time to work.

I stepped smoothly between Zee-zee Deer and her outraged guest. “We’re taking steps right now, Ms. Yao. Your safety—and the safety of all our guests—is uppermost in our minds. If you feel threatened in any way, we would be happy to move you to a hotel, at our expense.”

“That is not appropriate. Why should I go and he stay?”

“He won’t be staying long, I assure you. Ms. Destry has already been in contact with the authorities, and we know who Mr. Navarro is working for. We could certainly ask him to leave, but that’s exactly what he wants. It makes us look afraid, while giving him an excuse to retaliate.”

I gave her a second to think about that. She wasn’t dumb, just angry; my own calmness let her calm down, too.

“Yes, I see. We cannot let him dictate the rules.”

“We’re not,” I said. “He’s on our ground, under our control. Ms. Destry is ex-military and very skilled. But if you still feel unsafe—”

“I am fine.” She hesitated, then said, “But I do have some …
personal
business to attend to. Could you provide transportation to a business hub nearby?”

“Of course,” I said. “ZZ’s driver is already occupied, but I can call you a taxi. At our expense, of course.”

She nodded. “That would be very much appreciated.”

I didn’t ask what she was going into town for. Maybe she just wanted to get away from the house for a while but didn’t want to admit it; maybe she needed a new outfit to replace the one she’d spilled her drink on. In any case, when I called the cab company I told them that the driver should take her wherever she wanted to go, to wait for her if that’s what she wanted, and to bring her back here when she was done.

When she was gone, Shondra and I discussed security with ZZ. We agreed that Navarro needed to be watched, and discussed the best way to do that. There were security cameras around the perimeter of the estate, but none at the house itself; ZZ didn’t like the feeling of constant surveillance, and I couldn’t blame her. Shondra could, but ZZ was used to that.

“I think we need security cams on the liger enclosure,” Shondra said. “It might seem unlikely, but what if they just decide to steal him? Drug barons have been known to do some crazy things.”

“How long would that take to set up?” ZZ asked.

“Not long at all. I’ve got spares on hand and I can just plug them into our existing network. I can do it in an hour.”

“Then go ahead,” ZZ said. “I think Augustus will forgive this intrusion on his privacy if it keeps him safe.”

In the end, we decided that our best defense was to stay alert but not overreact. Navarro wanted to create fear, and ZZ was determined not to give in. The man was to be treated civilly, much like an envoy from another country that was doing some aggressive saber-rattling but hadn’t actually declared war. Shondra would install her cameras and keep her law enforcement pals apprised of the situation, and ZZ would make sure Navarro was aware that the authorities were now involved.

And me? I was told to go home.

“I’m going to stay here,” Shondra said. “No arguments, ZZ. This is what you pay me to do.”

“You’re always welcome to spend the night, dear,” ZZ said diplomatically. “I’m going to sleep shortly, Foxtrot; you should go home and do the same. One of the biggest weapons in the arsenal of psychological warfare is exhaustion, and we can’t afford a sleepless night. Come back tomorrow when you’re well rested; I’m going to need you at your best.”

[Good advice. A soldier sleeps whenever he can, because he never knows how long he’s going to have to stay awake.]

Thank you, General Patton
. “I agree. I’ll see you all in the morning. Come on, Whiskey.”

*   *   *

On the drive home, Whiskey said, [I’m worried about Tango.]

“Really? Why?’

[Any animal in the grip of its reproductive system is inherently undependable.]

I sighed. “Technically, that’s just about every being on the planet. All the living ones, anyway.”

[Being a spirit does give one a certain objectivity.]

“Sure. Except you’re still a creature of instinct, right? So you’re not exactly Mr. Spock yourself.”

[I don’t understand the reference.]

“Though your ears are kinda pointy.”

[Still don’t know what you’re talking about.]

“And your current form
is
a hybrid—half dingo, half drover.”

[This is becoming tiresome.]

“And you’re telepathic! Oh, my God, you’re a Vulcan!”

[Vulcan is not a breed I am familiar with.]

“Can you show me how to grab someone’s neck and make them fall down?”

[Yes, but it takes strong jaw muscles and it’s rather messy. Now, about Tango—]

“Tango’s fine, Whiskey. She’s just got a crush.”

[If she gets too close to Augustus, she’s the one who could get crushed.]

“She’s infatuated, not brain-damaged.” I paused. “Granted, the two conditions do share some symptoms. Drooling, poor judgment, mood swings…”

[It’s her impulse control I’m worried about.]

I had to admit that Tango sometimes rushed into things without giving them enough consideration. On the other hand, she could also sit and focus on a single thing for hours. If she were human, I’d call her obsessive-compulsive with a touch of mania.

But she wasn’t. She was a cat, which meant I really had no idea what was normal for her and neither did Whiskey. “I get that you’re worried. We’ll keep an eye on her and speak up if we think she’s about to do something rash. We’re her partners; she’ll listen.”

[And if she decides to go ahead and do whatever we’ve warned her about anyway?]

I shrugged. “She’s a cat, Whiskey. She’s going to do exactly what cats always do.”

[Whatever she wants?]

“Yep. Whatever she wants…”

*   *   *

The next morning I took Whiskey for his regular walk—as an ectoplasmic being he didn’t need to eat or excrete, but the daily constitutional was about more than mere bodily functions. I called it checking his P-mail.

“So what’s going in the neighborhood?” I asked him when we’d gone around the block and sniffed at every relevant fence post, tree, and damp patch on the ground.

[The Shultzes’ dachshund has switched to a new, lower-fat dog food. The German shepherd at the corner has been drinking from the toilet again. And the Pekingese next door has worms.]

“Ew. Sorry I asked.”

We got in the car and drove. I’d already called ahead to talk to Shondra, and she reported a quiet night. All the guests who’d left had come back, none later than midnight. Most of them were at breakfast, with the notable exception of Luis Navarro. He was still in his room.