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I hung up after we said our goodbyes then made my way across the street again. To my surprise the doorman gave me a very nice, “Good evening, ma’am,” as he opened the door for me, and didn’t bat an eyelash at my bedraggled appearance. Made me wonder what the hell would earn an eyelash-bat.
Yet, as I entered, I caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure leaning against a building about half a block down the street. Kyle, who’d obviously seen my complete lack-of-common-sense park visit and had stuck around to be sure I remained in one piece. I smiled and continued inside while Kyle pushed off and headed the other way.
Naomi was in the process of hanging her jacket in the closet when I came in. Her eyes swept over me and widened in shock. “What the hell happened?” she demanded. “I thought everything went down as planned. Jane came out, and then we got the signal to return to base.”
I trudged toward the bathroom. “Well, the good news is that I found Brian,” I said, peeling off the fucked up dress as I went, noticing barely in time that Philip was in the room as well.
“What?” Naomi hurried me into the bathroom then helped me with the zipper. “Did you take him out?”
I explained what happened as I stripped down and scowled at the various scrapes on my forearms and knees. “And now I need to get cleaned up so I can go talk to Jane even though it’s late as hell.” I grimaced. “Sorry about the dress. And, I lost the shoes when I was making a run for it.”
She peered at the ruin of the gown. The rip at the knee could maybe be dealt with by making the dress a lot shorter, but the stain on the front was such a combo of street-grime that I doubted there was any way to get it out. “Yeah, you sure did a number on it.” Then she smiled and shrugged. “No worries. You’re in one piece, and that’s way more important.”
She gave me a quick hug, then went out to get a change of clothes and a slice of brains for me. About the time I finished cleaning up, Kyle returned with a brown paper bag containing a big jar of loose algae and two bottles each of algae capsules and Vitamin C.
After taking a whiff of the loose stuff, I opted for the six capsules. It wasn’t that it smelled bad, but props to Kyle for having the foresight to get pills. I choked down the algae and three C’s with a full bottle of water, and in ten minutes the spongy rot on my face faded to a patch of odd discoloration that I could cover with makeup—or at least make it less OMG what the hell is that on your face? I checked the places on my side, arm and thigh as well and was enormously relieved to find all of them significantly less icky. Meanwhile, Philip had mixed the loose algae with water to create something resembling industrial sludge and slammed it down. Hardcore.
“You can barely see it,” Naomi reassured me after I peered in the mirror for the umpteenth time.
“Not fair,” I said, glancing past her to Philip and the matching blemish on his jaw. “It makes him look tougher.”
“No, it makes him look like he missed a patch shaving,” Naomi corrected with a grin.
“As long as he looks equally silly,” I said.
Philip gave a long-suffering sigh. “Are we done destroying the last shreds of my self-esteem?”
“For now.” I punched him lightly on the upper arm. “C’mon, let’s go see Jane.”
Chapter 21
Jane was staying at the Langston Arms Hotel which, I was told, was as nice as The Fairbourne but smaller and more low key, and apparently better for security purposes.
The lobby was fully carpeted in patterned royal blue, and along with cream colored walls and off-white cushy chairs, had a light, cool feel. The desk clerk didn’t bat an eye when I told him I was there to see the congresswoman, and obligingly called up to the room. I had little doubt my reception would’ve been far different—probably involving burly security guards—if I hadn’t phoned Jane to let her know I was on the way over for a midnight rendezvous.
“Someone will be down momentarily to escort you to her room,” he informed me, then gestured toward a bank of elevators.
Philip and I moved that way, and a few minutes later Jane’s bodyguard, Victor, stepped out of the elevator. He held the door while he looked beyond us and around, then beckoned us in with two fingers.
I hurried to get in but Philip simply glanced at Victor and stayed where he was. “I’ll keep watch down here, ZeeEm.”
I hesitated, then nodded. Better to keep it as simple and nonthreatening as possible. Once the doors closed Victor slid a key card into a slot, then put in a code on a keypad. He remained silent, gaze steady upon me as the elevator rose, and when the doors opened he led the way down the hall to a set of double doors. Once again he used a key card and a code for entry, then proceeded into a suite about the same size as the one at The Fairbourne, but with tons of dark wood, antique-looking furniture rather than the modern style of ours.
Jane stood beside the sofa wearing rich blue velour pants and a top that looked comfortable and elegant at the same time. She turned as we entered. “Angel! I tried several times to call the number you gave me but it kept going to voicemail.” She looked worried and stressed and off-center—not at all her usual self. “What on earth is going on?”
“A lot of shit,” I said with a grimace. “I’m sorry. I lost my phone.”
She sat down but didn’t relax. “Where is Pietro?” she asked, tone firm. She wasn’t going to put up with evasions any longer. “He doesn’t answer his phone, and his assistant will only tell me that he’s away on business. But why is Brian here if Pietro is in trouble?”
I glanced at Victor and then back to Jane. “Um, any chance we could talk in private?”
Jane looked to the grim-faced bodyguard. “It’s all right, Victor. Could you step into the bedroom please?” He opened his mouth to speak, and she lifted a hand. “Yes, you may leave the door open.”
Victor gave me a dark look, then stalked into the bedroom, positioning himself on the far end of it, but still with a line of sight that allowed him to glare at me. I couldn’t really blame him, but it bugged me that he might still be able hear our conversation.
I sat on the sofa beside Jane and lowered my voice. “Can you trust him not to repeat stuff he hears? Even if it’s kind of weird?”
“I trust him completely,” Jane said, matching my low volume. “But what do you mean by weird?”
