Bad Guys Don't Win (Janet Maple Series Book 4) (6 page)

Once out in the hallway, Janet saw that
Dennis’s office was still empty. He was probably gone for the day. She checked
her watch—it was a quarter to five. If she hurried, she might still catch the
receptionist.

Janet was relieved to see the gray cloud
of Anne’s hair as she approached the receptionist’s desk. “Anne, I was
wondering if I could have a word?”

“What’s that dear?” Anne clasped her
purse, which had already been planted on her desk in preparation to storm out
of the office the moment the clock hit five p.m.

“A word?” Janet repeated. “It will only
take a minute.”

“Yes, of course. How can I be of
assistance?” Anne’s bleary eyes stared at Janet through a set of thick lenses.
It was hard to say exactly how old Anne was, which could be anywhere between
sixty and eighty, and Janet never mustered up the guts to ask. According to
Ham, Anne came with excellent references, had a wealth of experience, and was
the pinnacle of discretion. Janet certainly agreed with the latter—Anne could
barely remember to take a message, let alone divulge any of the agency’s
private matters. And she was probably happy to work for far less than her
younger counterparts, which was probably the true reason Ham had hired her.

“Anne, I was wondering if you might
remember a phone call that came in this morning?” Janet asked in vain hopes.

Anne stuck a pencil into her hair and
scratched it vigorously. “This morning? Could you be a bit more specific,
dearie? We get so many phone calls here.”

“This morning when Dennis was in my
office and you buzzed him through the intercom?”

Anne reached for the message pad, licked
her crooked index finger, and flipped through the pages. “Let me see. “This
morning . . .”

Janet shifted on her feet, thinking the
whole thing was a waste of time. She was about to thank Anne and walk away when
Anne surprised her.

“Oh, I remember. It was a woman, a young
woman. She had a very faint accent and she sounded real nervous. She said she
needed to speak with Dennis Walker and wouldn’t leave her name when I asked her
for it.”

“She wouldn’t leave her name?”

“No dearie, she wouldn’t. I always ask,
you know, but sometimes they just won’t tell you.”

“Of course.” Janet blushed—apparently
Anne wasn’t as forgetful as she’d thought.

“Well, I’ll be going now.” Anne heaved
herself up from her chair. “If you need me, I’ll be here tomorrow morning, nine
o’clock sharp.”

“Good night, Anne.”

Janet went back into her office,
debating what to do next. There had to be a reason for Dennis not telling her
who the mysterious caller was, and the fact that it was a woman—a young woman
with an exotic accent—made it that much more alarming. Janet patted her
chin—all in all, there were two options. The first option was to ask Dennis
point blank who the caller was and if she had anything to do with his suddenly
busy evening. The other, less desirable option, was to break into his computer
and see the appointments on his calendar. Typically, they synchronized their
business cell phones with the backup software on their work computers to make
sure the data wasn’t lost—it made it easier to keep track of meetings and
assignments for case billings and things like that. This would enable Janet to
see Dennis’s schedule. All she had to do was log on to his computer.

Janet took a deep breath—breaking into
Dennis’s computer felt wrong, and yet, she had to admit she was tempted.
Besides, he could be in danger and he might need her help—these were
justifiable reasons.

Her mind set, Janet crept across the
hallway. Feeling like a thief, she quickly logged into Dennis’s computer. She
was ashamed to admit she had memorized the password while watching him log in
before. At the time, she’d rationalized it by thinking the information might
come in handy in case she needed to back Dennis up at work, but now she
wondered if the action had been deliberate—if deep down she knew she couldn’t
really trust him, but refused to admit it to herself.

Moments later, Dennis’s calendar was up
on the computer screen. At the five thirty p.m. slot there was a meeting at a
bar in Downtown, Manhattan. The address was the only detail the appointment
contained, but that was all Janet needed. With any luck, she could still make
it there in time. Janet raced back to her office, grabbed her jacket and purse,
and was out the door.

Feeling like a sleuth in a cheap
detective novel, Janet slunk across the street to the bar where Dennis was
having his mysterious rendezvous. It was ten to six and she hoped that he’d
still be there with his secret date, whoever she was.

When she reached the door, Janet froze
in her tracks, suddenly aware that she didn’t really have a plan. In her anger
at Dennis, she’d neglected to think things through. She needed a place to
hide—a place from which she could observe, but remain unobserved. Even though
it was relatively early, the bar was bustling with people coming in and out. A
happy hour sign, promising five dollar drinks until six p.m., had to be the
explanation for the busy traffic since the bar didn’t look particularly hip or
trendy; in fact, it was a bit shabby.
Here goes nothing
, Janet thought,
raising the collar of her jacket and walking inside. With any luck, the busy
crowd would become her cover.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust
to the dim lighting inside. She understood instantly why Dennis had picked this
place for his meeting—it was crowded and noisy inside, which made it virtually
impossible to be overheard or seen unless you wanted to be. Janet moved towards
the back of the bar and scanned the crowd. Within moments she spotted Dennis
sitting at the far end of the bar. Next to him was a brunette in a leather
jacket—her face was turned the other way, but Janet could tell the woman was
young and with a very attractive figure. Instantly, she felt a pang of
jealousy—what the hell was Dennis doing cavorting with some sleazy brunette
when they had a wedding to plan? Reason told her this could still be a
legitimate meeting—the woman could be a witness or an informant, but her mind
refused to believe it. Janet squinted, trying to get a glimpse of the woman’s
face, but the woman continued to look the other way. Even with her back turned,
something in the woman’s posture and body language made her seem familiar, but
Janet couldn’t put her finger on it. She moved back deeper into the crowd and
found a comfortable spot in a corner. Judging by how absorbed Dennis looked
listening to his companion, she doubted he would notice her. Just then the
brunette turned around and Janet’s jaw dropped—it was Mila Brabec—key witness
in the Kovars case.

With a tremendous effort of will, Janet
forced herself to remain where she was. She wasn’t sure what upset her more—the
knowledge that Dennis was sneaking behind her back, that he was putting his job
in danger by blatantly disobeying his boss’s orders, or that he blew off their
wedding appointment for a meeting with Mila Brabec. Janet’s eyes narrowed as
she watched Mila flip her hair and toss back a drink. Any compassion Janet
might have felt for Mila in the past had instantly evaporated. The woman was a
born flirt—she oozed sexuality, like a trail of cheap perfume, and now this
trail of cheap perfume was being sprayed all over Dennis. This woman had a shady
past and could not be trusted—for all they knew she could be back to her old
ways, back in bed with the Kovars and luring Dennis into a trap. Janet bit her
lip—how could Dennis lie to her about meeting with Mila? Not to mention that he
ditched their wedding appointment to see her.

Damn, the wedding appointment! Janet
suddenly realized she’d forgotten to call the wedding planner to cancel. As if
on cue, her cell phone rang and Janet nearly dropped her purse. Luckily, it was
way too noisy for anyone to hear anything. “Hello?” she whispered into the
phone.

“Janet, it’s Irene. What’s going on? I’m
here with Francois. He has all kinds of marvelous creations lined up for you to
see and you’re not here.”

“Irene, I’m so sorry,” Janet muttered.
“Something came up at work and I forgot to call you.” Janet desperately glanced
at her watch. “I could still make it—any way you could wait for me? I could be
there in twenty minutes.”

“I’m sorry, but Francois’s schedule is
packed. He has a big party tonight and this was the only opening he had for the
entire month.”

Janet bit her lip in vexation—their
wedding plans were falling to pieces.

“Janet, are you there? Tell you what
I’ll do. I’ll get the samples to go for you and then we can let Francois know
which one you like most.”

“Irene, you’re a miracle worker.” Janet
exhaled with relief. “I’ll meet you by Francois’s in twenty.”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

Janet hung up the phone and shoved it
into her purse. Without another look at Dennis and Mila, she headed for the
door. She was done—if Dennis wanted to waste his time cavorting around with the
likes of Mila, that was his choice. She had more important things to do, like
picking up their wedding cake samples.

Twenty minutes later, Janet was
approaching the storefront of Francois Bissette’s pastry shop and café. The
intricate creations displayed in the window made her mouth water—she could sure
use a sugar boost right now. As they had agreed, Irene was waiting for her.

“Hey there, stranger,” Irene greeted her
with a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi. I’m so sorry I’m late. I really
wanted to meet Francois,” Janet said guiltily.

“I know. But guess what, you get to do
something that’s almost just as good—meet his creations.” She handed Janet an
ornate paper bag. “Just remember to sample only and not eat all of them.
Francois was very generous with the portions,” she added.

“I won’t,” Janet promised, although the
thought of drowning out her worries in a sugar rush seemed very tempting at the
moment.

“Hey, are you all right?” Irene eyed her
with concern. Years of being a wedding planner had prepared her for all sorts
of calamities.

“I’m fine.” Janet smiled brightly. “It’s
just very busy at work and I’m feeling a little overwhelmed trying to balance
it all.”

Irene squeezed her arm. “That’s what I’m
here for. And don’t you worry about missing the meeting with Francois—he told
me that it’ll be his pleasure to make your wedding cake.”

“You’re amazing!”

“Just doing my job.” Irene smiled. “Are
you sure you’re okay? Do you want to get a cup of coffee or a drink?”

“Thanks, but really, I’m fine. I think
I’m just going to head home and have an early night.”

“Okay then. Oh, I almost forgot.” Irene
pulled a folder out of her large satchel bag and handed it to Janet. “Your
wedding invitations—let me know which one you like most and we’ll start sending
them out.”

“Thanks.” Janet put the folder into her
tote bag. “I’ll have Dennis take a look at them and I’ll let you know. He’s
been a little distracted lately.”

“Men.” Irene flashed another one of her
reassuring smiles. “Distracted is their middle name.”

“You got that one right,” Janet tried to
sound more cheerful than she really was. The problem was that Dennis wasn’t
really distracted at all—at least not when it came to things that interested
him. Unfortunately, their wedding didn’t seem to make the list of important
things, while sneaking around with Mila Brabec did.

***

Mila Brabec adjusted her sunglasses,
raised the collar of her jacket, and tightened the silk scarf covering her head
as she entered the bar where she was to meet Dennis Walker. She spotted him
right away sitting at the far end of the bar stand and made her way towards
him.

“A Bloody Mary, please,” she asked the
bartender as she took a seat next to Dennis.

“That’s my kind of drink.” Dennis raised
his glass in a greeting.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said
gruffly—she wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. She needed to tell Dennis about
the Kovars and she needed to know what the hell she was supposed to do next.
“Don’t you think it’s a little noisy in here?” she asked, annoyed with Dennis’s
choice of a meeting spot—it didn’t have any privacy to speak of.

“Relax.” His voice was calm, but steely
as he squeezed her arm in a firm grip. “This place is perfect—it’s dark and
noisy—no one could hear us even if they tried. And take that silly scarf and
those shades off—you look like a spy from a sixties movie.”

Mila took off her shades and slid the
scarf off her head—she never claimed to be an expert on camouflage. “So?” she
asked, referring to their earlier conversation over the phone when she told
Dennis about the note left underneath her door.

“I think the Kovars are out. I think the
accident was a cover-up for their escape.” Dennis clinked his glass against
Mila’s. “To old friendships.”

“I’d hardly call them that,” she
muttered and took a long swallow. She hadn’t eaten anything all day for fear of
throwing up and now she felt the alcohol hitting her stomach. She bit into an
olive—getting drunk with Dennis Walker was a mistake she couldn’t afford to
make.

“You need to find a different place to
stay,” Dennis said. “Somewhere Anton won’t find you. Going to the FBI is too
risky right now—the Kovars might have someone on the inside—we wouldn’t want
them to get tipped off.”

“How’s that possible?” Mila asked,
instantly aware of her naiveté—the possibility of corruption had never entered
her mind.

Dennis shrugged. “You never know where
you’ll find a rotten apple. The Kovars obviously have someone helping them in
law enforcement—someone who organized their escape. It’s too risky to go to the
authorities until we know more.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Sit around
and wait for Anton to show up on my doorstep?”

“Do you have family or friends you could
stay with? Someone Anton doesn’t know?”

Mila thought about her cousin Ania, but
instantly rejected the idea. She and Ania weren’t exactly close. Mila was
pretty sure that given the choice, Ania would rather have her swanky Upper East
Side apartment infested with termites than let Mila stay there. She could stay
with Amy, but Anton knew about her and she didn’t want to subject Amy to
danger. And then there was Philip, but involving him was out of the question.
Mila shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

“No one?” Dennis asked in disbelief.

“I like to keep to myself. Don’t worry.
I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can, but I don’t want to
take any chances. You can stay at my place until we figure things out.”

“No thanks. I’ll take my chances with
the Kovars.”

Dennis looked squarely at her. “Really?
Are you sure about that? Need I remind you you’re the one who came to me for
help, not the other way around?”

Mila hung her head. “I guess not.”

“That’s what I thought. Come on, it’s
not that bad. I promise a change of sheets and even fresh towels,” Dennis
quipped.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Mila wondered how
on earth she was going to explain her new address to Philip.

“We’ll go to your place right now to get
your things—pack only the essentials. After that, we’ll go to my apartment and
get you settled in.”

Mila sighed. The prospect of sharing
living quarters with Dennis Walker—the man responsible for her testifying
against the Kovars wasn’t exactly appealing to her—but then it wasn’t like she
had many options to choose from.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be staying with my
fiancée, Janet,” Dennis continued, as if reading Mila’s thoughts. “You remember
her? She worked the Kovars case before.”

“I remember.” Mila nodded. “She
befriended me under a false identity and tricked me into spilling my guts to
her. Then she used this information against me. How could I forget?”

Dennis shook his head. “Taking up with
Anton Kovar wasn’t anyone’s fault but yours, Mila. You made the bargain with
the FBI, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. And I also remember I
was promised complete anonymity and protection. And look where that’s gotten me?”

“I promise you that I’ll protect you.
Janet and I will not stop until we figure this out. I’ll be checking in with
you daily and you can reach me on my cell at all times. I’ll give you Janet’s
number also.”

Mila rolled her eyes. “Anything else?”

“I’ll need a list of your close friends
and any men you’re seeing—”

“Men?” Mila exclaimed indignantly. “You
think I’m the kind of girl who sleeps around, don’t you?”

“Not at all. I only meant if you don’t
have a steady boyfriend, I’d need a list of men you might’ve dated recently—”

“I do have a boyfriend, thank you very
much,” Mila spat back, realizing her mistake only too late.

“Excellent. I will need his name and
phone number.”

“Why on earth would you need that? My
personal life is none of your business.”

“It is now that you’ve come to me for
help. And I will need your boyfriend’s name in case something should happen to
you. Also, it goes without saying that you should go outside as little as
possible until we figure out where the Kovars are.”

“What? That’s out of the question! I
have a life. I have a business to run—”

“Last time I checked, your bar burned
down to the ground. Do you really think it’s smart to take chances right now?”