Page 118 of Hard Rain

Davis opened the folder.

“Our informant believes Charleston is meeting someone there. We don’t know who. We don’t know when during the evening. And we don’t know why.”

“What we do know,” Boone said, “is this is the first time we’ve had advance notice of one of Charleston’s meetings.”

“So, what’s the play?” Axel asked.

Davis looked around the table.

“We’re not making an arrest.”

Nobody spoke.

“We watch.”

He slid several photographs across the table.

“Every person Charleston speaks to gets photographed. Every interaction gets documented. We want names, faces, times—everything. If he leaves with someone, surveillance follows. Nobody burns the operation unless we have probable cause.”

Boone folded his arms.

“Whip. Axel. You’ll attend the gala.”

Whip blinked.

“In tuxedos,” Boone added.

“I didn’t bring a suit,” Whip said.

“Beth has already solved that problem,” Boone replied. “The Tuxedo Club. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’ll be all.”

Boone gave a nod to Davis, and together, the two men left the room.

Silence fell when the door closed.

Whip looked at Axel.

“Guess we’re going to a party.”

“Guess so.”

“You guys are lucky,” Knox grumbled. “I want to go to a party.”

“You can crash it after they get their pictures,” Alvarez soothed.

“Fine,” Knox muttered.

Whip slanted a glance at Axel only to find the man watching him.

“So…” Whip rubbed his hands together. “We’ve still got a few hours until dark.”

“Oh!” Alvarez said. “We could hit Radiator Whiskey.”

“Count me out, guys. I gotta get home to the kids,” Wallace said.