"Where are the others?" Ryan asked.
"There are units farther down the alley and stationed at all entrances to the Sweet Lash.
Crenshaw's listening in to this," he waved at the two technicians who were trying doggedly to single out the men's voices from the booming music, "but he says we have to sit tight until Chirnovsky delivers."
"We're running out of time," Ryan said tensely. Frustration ,rose in his chest, feeling like burning acid. Damn. They'd worked So hard for this. Ramiro signaled for him to give him his headset.
"Did Hope and Gail leave the museum?"
"They were still there when I left," Ramiro said as he started to put on Ryan's headset. He grimaced when his cell phone rang. He i scowled at the number and turned away to answer it. "It's not really a good time."
At first Ryan hardly paid attention to Ramiro's annoyance at the inconvenient phone call but then he saw his dark brows furrow.
"Did you go and look for her?" A pause ensued. Ryan's muscles tensed. A thousand buzzing little alarms started to go off in his Drain. He leaned forward in the passenger seat of the van when he ade out the distant voice of Gail talking rapidly.
"What's wrong?" Ryan demanded.
"How long ago did she leave?"
Ryan swatted Ramiro's arm to get his attention but Ramiro just eld up his hand and nodded as Gail talked.
"Try to get a museum official to search around the museum with you. Maybe she did get lost. Before you do that, though, call the station and have dispatch put you in touch with Marty Simon . . .
Yeah, I spoke to him earlier and he's on duty tonight. Tell him I asked him to come by and help you look for her."
Ryan tried to grab at Ramiro's cell phone at that point but Ramiro leaned back, avoiding him. Marty Simon was one of their many cop friends who worked patrol. Jesus, they were talking about Hope being missing, weren't they?
"Yeah, okay. Let me know as soon as you do." Ramiro held up his hands in a "mea culpa" gesture when he disconnected the phone and Ryan glared at him. "I've got all the information. You weren't going to get any more out of Gail. Let her start looking for Hope again."
"What happened?"
"Hope went to the ladies' room forty minutes ago. They were supposed to leave as soon as she returned, but Hope never came back. Gail's been looking for her for the past fifteen or twenty minutes but came up short. Hope probably got lost or caught up in looking at the exhibits. You know how excited she was to see that museum."
What Ramiro said made sense logically. So why was his stomach churning with panic?
"Look . .. there's nothing you can do about it right now. Marty'll get there before we could, even if we weren't busy working."
"She promised me she wouldn't wander off by herself," Ryan muttered, fury, fear and frustration flavoring his tone in equal measure.
"She'll be fine. Don't—"
"Hey."
Alvarez signaled to the headset when they glanced over at him. Ramiro shoved the headset down over his ears. Ryan gave the agent a querying look.
"The target has just moved locations. He's headed toward the back of the facility.
Communications are clear. Crenshaw wants you to move in," the agent explained tersely.
Something caught Ryan's eye. He moved to the front of the van and peered out the window.
"We've got incoming traffic in the alley . . . from both directions."
Ramiro covered the mouthpiece. "Happy fucking day. Let's go," he said with barely restrained excitement.
"What?" Ryan asked as he flipped open his holster and extracted his gun. He took the headset Myerson handed him and put it on hastily.
"We've got that red-handed fuck and not just on tape, either. He's headed with Chirnovsky to the rear of the Sweet Lash at this very moment to receive a delivery of women from Mexico," Ramiro explained, grinning like a man who saw his enemy's remaining minutes waning.