23
Brandon
“Noluck,”Iannounced.“Not only are the cameras down. The entire server for the city traffic system is offline. I’ve got no way in.”
An anxious Sage handed me a bottle of water. “Is there another way to track Dante? What about a satellite?”
I massaged a knot in the back of my neck. “It would need to be in geosynchronous orbit with a camera pointed at Philly. I can check, but it’s unlikely. And to reposition one would be time-consuming and risky.”
A new alarm sounded from my computer.What now?I checked the screen with Sage watching over my shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” I said as I brought up the offending security-camera feed.
“What is it?” Sage asked.
“That”—I clicked on other tabs to bring up more camera angles—“is my facial-recognition software picking up Dante and Maxim. They’re at Vixens.”
“No way.” Sage squinted at the screen, so I zoomed in to give her a clearer view. A smile formed on her lips when she recognized her nemeses. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re really good at this.”
I leaned back in my chair and rested my hands on my jeans-clad thighs. “I’m really good at other things, too.” I hoped from the tone of my voice she realized I wasn’t talking about table tennis or Scrabble. Did she think about what might’ve happened if we hadn’t ended our kiss last night? I did. A lot. It was impossible not to when we were together twenty-four seven.
Sage’s cheeks reddened as she held my stare. “You know, you should really give modesty a try.” She pointed at the screen. “Look. They’re heading inside.”
At the rear entrance of the club, a uniformed police officer nodded toward Dante and moved aside to allow them entry. Easy as that, they were in.
“When did you start monitoring Vixens?” Sage asked.
I switched to the club’s internal security cameras so we could follow Dante and Maxim’s movements. “The first time was two years ago when Janie disappeared. I reinitiated the program when you started working there and left it operating to keep an eye on the shoot-out investigation. Never expected Dante to show up while the place was hot.”
Sage turned back to the screen. “They’re heading upstairs. What are they doing there? The place is still crawling with cops and crime scene detectives.”
“Don’t suppose he cares about that, but let’s find out.”
The club was a mess. The bodies were gone, but the place looked like a demolition site. There wasn’t a table, chair, or bottle of liquor intact, although somehow the security cameras had survived. Bullet holes peppered the walls, and reddish-brown stains covered the floors. If seeing those images upset Sage, she didn’t show it.
At the top of the stairs, a detective—judging by the badge fixed to his belt and the lack of a uniform—lifted crime scene tape, allowing Dante and the Russian access to the top floor. Dante shook hands with the cop like they were old pals. After chatting briefly, the detective headed downstairs to give Dante and Maxim privacy. With all remaining crime scene officers on the ground floor, the Mob boss had the upper level all to himself. What was he up to?
Dante and Maxim went straight to the office at the end of the hallway. The one that contained the armory. The Russian guarded the door while Dante went inside. There were only two rooms in Vixens without cameras. The boss’s office and the armory. But Dante emerged only minutes later, carrying a small black box—a hard drive.
I recalled during my last visit to the armory that there’d been a safe inside. “I doubt his tax returns or family photos are stored on there.”
“And whatever Dante just collected must be important enough that he didn’t trust anyone else to retrieve it. Not even Maxim.”
The pair didn’t stick around. They headed straight out of the building and into the waiting silver sedan. It swiftly departed, merging into busy traffic on the darkening city streets.
“Traffic cameras are still down in the city. We’ve lost them for now.” I turned to Sage. “So, what’s he got? Their second set of books? Intel that might be used against them if anyone got their hands on it?”
“Or”—she tapped a finger over her lips—“things that incriminate others?”
“You’re talking about blackmail material?”
“I think it’s possible. So far, we haven’t been able to nail any of the big players. Senators, judges, the major corporation CEOs.”
“The district attorney was a good catch.”
“She was. I’m sure Stephanie O’Hara makes decent money, but she wouldn’t be a millionaire without the Mafia’s bribes. The lure of all that cash must’ve been too hard to resist. What about those who are already filthy rich? Even a big-ass bribe wouldn’t tempt them enough to risk their precious reputations. What could Franky have offered them?”
“The graciousness of not murdering their entire families?”
“Maybe. But it seems unwise to threaten so many powerful people. That could backfire.” Sage folded her arms and drummed delicate fingers against her biceps. “Do you remember when the governor was embroiled in that scandal with the underage girl, and then it all went away?”