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  “Hi. You are Francine Brooks, am I right?” When Francine nodded, Chastity introduced herself. “The manager tells me you’ve qualified for a free personal trainer session. He told me you asked about light weight training in the past. Do you want to just get that free session now?”

  “Gawd, I’m all in after that workout you just led,” Francine said, whipping her hair around and spraying water into Chastity’s face. “Maybe another day.”

  Chastity wiped the other woman’s sweat from her cheek and followed her for a few steps, “Come on,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “The manager will think I’m not pulling my weight if I don’t get you to have a session. You know how men can get. Look, I’ll buy you a latte after.” When Francine stopped, Chastity turned on the smile full force, her almond eyes crinkling.

  “Oh, all right. Just don’t work me too hard.”

  Chastity escorted Francine to a fly machine and showed her how to squeeze the padded bars together with her elbows. “This one is great for the bust,” Chastity said, setting a low weight. “Not that you need any help in that area. You’re not a member of the itty bitty titty committee, like me.”

  “Oh, yours are fine, dear,” Francine said, her voice dripping with superiority. She leaned back and pushed the bars together, lifting the weight behind her through a pulley system.

  “Nice and slow, Francine,” Chastity said. “That’s it. Do twelve reps and you’ll feel it.” Then they both stopped talking at the sound of a cell phone ringing. It was Chastity’s phone, hooked to the back of her belt. Perfect timing, she thought. She pulled out the phone and flipped it open. She knew that Gunny, at the other end, had sense enough to ignore her words.

  “Yeah. What is it now? Yes. You what? Spent HOW much? Damn it, Benny, I work too hard for you to…” Chastity cut herself off, looked guiltily at Francine and said, “Listen, I’ll call you back. You’re in someone else’s time.” Then she flipped the phone closed.

  “Trouble at home?” Francine asked, standing up.

  “Men,” Chastity said, leading Francine to the bench press machine. “Can’t live with them, can’t shoot them. All they know how to do is take advantage, you know?”

  Francine lay on the bench and began slowly raising the handles. “Take some advice, Chastity, is it? It’s all about control, girlfriend.”

  “Wish I could get some,” Chastity said absently. “They just screw you, and you can’t screw them back. I wish I could get me and my little girl out from under. But, sorry ma’am, you don’t want to hear my problems.”

  “It’s okay,” Francine said. “I know where you’re coming from. My man has me working too.”

  “You too? It’s just not right. But I feel so helpless. Nothing I can do but take it.” Chastity let her head droop, her long black tresses hanging to the side. Francine stepped closer, touching Chastity’s shoulder.

  “There are ways, girlfriend. All you need is a good lawyer, and the right shrink.”

  “Shrink?”

  “Listen, we need to talk. Do you suppose our workout could include a steam bath?”

  Chapter Five

  The weightlifter made the little office next to Irv Jerome’s room look even smaller than it was. He scratched at his shaved head and stared around the otherwise empty room one more time. He looked under the desk for the fifth time, scraped his feet across the thick carpet and stared up at the ceiling tiles in frustration. Then he moved to the doorway, which would not allow his shoulders to pass unless he turned to the side.

  “Getting bored here.”

  “Sit tight, Frankie,” the smallest of the giants called from another room. “We’re coming in there.” Frankie moved back into the room to lean against the window. His two partners joined him in the room. The one with the pointed beard sat on the desk. The third, gun still drawn, stood just inside the door.

  “Okay, so me and Psycho searched the rest of the suite pretty thoroughly,” he said, pointing with his gun. “You didn’t find anything in here?”

  “You can see it all, Doc,” Frankie said. “You see anybody?”

  Doc rubbed his broad nose. “I don’t get it. I was sure I heard something when we came in. Really thought there was somebody in here. But we’ve taken the place apart. Any ideas?”

  Frankie and Psycho shrugged their massive shoulders. Doc turned to leave the room just as a small brunette with big, dark eyes came through the door.

  “Where you been, Linda?” Doc asked.

  “What are you guys doing in here?” the woman asked in return. She wore a long conservative sundress too late in the season. “You know the lawyers are in court.”

  “I thought we’d come up a little early and get you to put a package in the safe. But instead we get here and you’ve left the place unsecured and empty.”

  “So, what?” Linda asked, getting to her desk. “You guys hang out to admire the panoramic view until I get back?”

  “Yeah, like we got nothing better to do than…” Doc’s little eyes rolled up into his head as if he was reading an idea printed there. Then he turned and motioned to Frankie. He pointed at the window, then to his right. Frankie’s brows wrinkled in confusion at first, but then he nodded. He popped the lever that held the window closed and looked out.

  Out on the ledge, Rico Steele leaned back against the wall, just a couple of feet from the window. His fingers were dug into the crevices between the bricks and his eyes watered from the stinging breeze that had been trying to rip him away from the building.

  “Hey, you!” Frankie shouted out the window. “Get your ass in here.”

  Linda stood to see around Doc at the door better. Frankie reached out the window and grabbed Steele’s tie. Psycho hopped off the desk to help. Frankie pulled Steele’s head in through the window.

  Just then, a roar announced an entire row of ceiling tiles giving way. Samuel “Stone” Mason, wrapped in a cloud of dust and powdered masonry, fell from above and drove Psycho to the floor. Steele climbed in through the window and began throwing left, right, left punches at Frankie’s head as quickly as he could.

  Stone turned just as Doc pointed his pistol’s barrel at Steele. Stone grabbed one of the larger chunks of ceiling tile and tossed it like a Frisbee. The square disc sailed across the small room to jam its edge into Doc’s eyes. Doc screeched in pain and dropped the gun to claw at his injured eyes.

  With a roar, Psycho rose from the rubble and flipped Stone off his back. Stone flew to the side, smacking into the wall behind the desk and sliding to the floor. Psycho roared again, like an injured animal, and charged forward. His shoulder slammed into Steele’s ribs and Psycho drove him forward, to crash into the wall on the other side of the office.

  Doc was still wiping his eyes, but moving toward the sound of battle. “You get him, Psycho,” Doc said.

  Stone leaped forward. His hands slapped down on the desk. His feet swung around and shot out slamming hard into Doc’s chest, sending Doc into the wall.

  “Look what you assholes made me do to my coat,” Stone said, looking down at the leather now under a white powdered camouflage. But Doc was not looking. He was unconscious beside Frankie. Then Stone turned to Psycho, who was crushing Steele’s ribs in a vicious bear hug. Stone moved up behind Psycho and slammed a hard left into his ribs. Psycho grunted, but Steele still couldn’t draw a decent breath, so Stone punched the same target again. After a third left hook Stone thought he heard a rib give way, and he heard Steele draw a long ragged breath.

  Steele threw his arms wide and slammed his palms onto Psycho’s ears. Psycho released him and took a step back. Stone, out of breath, staggered back and sat on the desk. Psycho started forward and Steele popped him on the nose with a crisp left jab.

  Linda was halfway across the room when Steele went in action. After three long strides he was out of the little room. His long legs stretched, one foot landed on the desk and launched him forward to slam the door shut with his shoulder just as Linda was about to reach it.

&nbs
p; “Sorry Miss,” Steele said as she pulled back in fear. “You’re not going anywhere, except with us.”

  Back in the small room, Stone’s arm ached from the pressure, but after a minute of struggling, Psycho gurgled and his eyes rolled up into his head. Stone held the choke for ten more seconds, then let Psycho drop to the floor.

  “Damn, we made a mess in there,” Steele said, standing at the little office door, one hand locked around Linda’s wrist.

  “Yeah, but look at my coat. We got the worse end of this deal. Still, an interesting time. Kind of reminded me of the old days.”

  “Yep, and it’s going to get a whole lot more interesting if we don’t haul ass in a hurry.”

  Chastity hit her brakes, almost stalling out her powder blue Mazda MX-5, to avoid hitting the odd looking trio. The girl seemed normal enough, but both men looked as if they’d been fighting in a talcum powder factory. The men looked kind of familiar, but she hardly gave them a thought, except that they nearly caused her to lose sight of Francine.

  In Brooklyn’s traffic, Chastity had little fear of losing the bright red Aerostar minivan, but once they’d crossed the bridge it got dicier. On broad Park Avenue, every driver thought he should be in front, and it became downright challenging to keep the car in sight without any chance of Francine thinking she was being followed.

  Nothing but raw curiosity had driven Chastity to follow Francine when she left the health club. She wondered where this evil bitch woman went when she wasn’t home taking care of her family. Chastity had memorized all the fictionalized adventures of her famous father, at least those written by his official biographer, Ian Fleming. She knew how often the break in an important case came from just watching your mark.

  She was a little surprised Francine had traveled to a Manhattan skyscraper. The housewife had spent only fifteen minutes in the psychiatrist’s office. Not enough for therapy. And when she came out, she had worn a broad smile.

  More surprising was Francine’s move cross town, then south on the Henry Hudson Parkway. Soon the road became the West Side Highway and just as the sun was starting to bother Chastity’s eyes, Francine’s minivan pulled off into city street traffic. After a couple of turns she pulled into the drive of a large auto dealership. Maybe she was smarter than Chastity thought. Maybe she wanted to get rid of that piece of shit Ford.

  The downward elevator ride had been silent and tense, Steele shushing Linda while Stone used a handkerchief to at least remove the dust from his face and hands. It wasn’t until Stone shoved Linda into the back seat of Steele’s SUV that she spoke up.

  “So, this is kidnapping, right?” she asked, the Jersey shore coming out in her voice.

  “No ma’am, this is protective custody,” Stone replied.

  “Them jamokes upstairs figure you left the door unlocked, darlin’.” Steele said as he started the vehicle. “They see you again, they’re going to do a little more than fire your pretty behind.”

  Linda’s eyes narrowed. “I figured you guys for burglars but you sound like cops. Hey, I ain’t done nothing. Maybe I can help you.”

  “It would be to your advantage to do so,” Stone said. “We know Jerome is dirty, we just need hard evidence.”

  Linda thought for a second, her pale red nails playing nervously at the collar of her dress. “Look, I’m not sure I buy this whole protective deal. I mean, you guys ain’t showed me no badges and you sure don’t fight like cops, that’s for sure. On the other hand, I do think you’re right about my boss assuming I left the door open and taking it out on me. Them guys he works for, they’re the real deal and I’ve seen what happens to people they don’t like, you know? But whether I’m with you or a prisoner, there’s a stop we got to make before I go anywhere with you. Otherwise, I start screaming my head off.”

  Chastity pulled her car in between a pair of Mustangs and cut the engine. She had a clear view of the entrance and Francine’s van. A salesman in khaki pants and an almost-matching jacket came out to greet her. He was short, a little on the heavy side, with thinning hair and a thick mustache. They chatted for a few minutes before heading into the office. The salesman held the door for her. Business was slow this afternoon, and there was no one around but Chastity to see him slap Francine’s behind as she passed him to get inside.

  Chastity pulled a black plastic dish from under the passenger seat. The dish, about a foot wide, was slightly cone shaped and had a handle protruding from its edge. Chastity slumped lower in her seat, pulled on headphones and plugged the jack into the sound amplifier. Chastity knew she was pointed at the right spot when she picked up the sound of a long, deep kiss.

  “Oh Marty, I’ve missed you so much these last couple of days. You can’t believe what that schmuck is putting me through.”

  “Just relax, sweetheart. In a couple of weeks we’ll have it all, and each other. Now, did you talk to the shrink again?”

  “Yes. Yes. Oh, Marty, do we have to talk about that now?”

  “Mmmmm. Well, there’s nobody around. And that bathroom door does have a lock on it.”

  Chastity heard footsteps now, his lumbering, hers the click of heels on tile. Next came the rustle of cloth and then the unmistakable sounds of intimacy.

  “Jeez, has he got her bent over the sink?” Chastity asked herself. “Or sitting up on it? Gawd!”

  Then, amid the smacking body sounds, the man’s voice said, “You’re sure he’ll say he’s doing her?”

  “Yes, yes, oh God yes,” Francine answered breathlessly. “He’ll swear to it. For sure. Yes! Yes! Oh my God!”

  Oh my God is right, Chastity thought, flipping one side of the headphones away from her ear and fumbling for her cell phone.

  It wasn’t a bad place, but it wasn’t real good either. As soon as the vehicle stopped, Linda opened the door. Steele was a bit faster out of his seat than Stone, and his long legs got him in front of Linda before she reached her stoop.

  “Slow down there, missy. How do you know they’re not up there waiting for you already?’

  “You’re a bonehead, you know that?” Linda said, staring up into his pale blue eyes, with her hands planted firmly on her hips. “The boss ain’t back to the office, cause he’s got a little bit on the side that he takes care of in the afternoon. So he don’t even know I’m gone yet. And the muscle boys, they don’t know where I live. Now get out of my way, so’s we can be gone before they wise up.”

  Steele swung his booted foot to the side and Linda stalked past him, up the brownstone steps and opened the door. Steele didn’t follow until Stone was beside him. Then they moved as one.

  “Girl’s got balls,” Stone said.

  “Yeah, the kind that get a smart-mouth girl killed.”

  “I was thinking the kind a lioness has, hovering over her cubs,” Stone said as they approached her door. She’d left it ajar and Steele led them in. They crossed the spotless living room, filled with an eclectic collection of furniture, and stopped at the master bedroom door. Inside, Linda crammed things into a suitcase. Beside her, a miniaturized version of her clung to his mother’s dress with one hand. The boy couldn’t have been more than five years old.

  “Where we going, Mommy?” the boy asked.

  “On a little trip, Danny,” Linda said, never slowing her movements. Steele thought she was mighty methodical for a girl, very efficient in the way she moved around the room, gathering the things she needed.

  “Is it gonna be fun?”

  “Ask them,” she said, pointing behind her.

  Steele dropped to his haunches. “Little guy, we’re going to have a yabba-dabba doo time. And if you’ll watch your head, you can ride on old Rico’s shoulders.”

  Outside, Stone scanned the street while Steele got mother and son into the back seat. With a smoothness born of years of teamwork, they visually covered the area, saw no danger, and boarded the SUV. The Santa Fe started with a satisfying roar and as soon as the automatic door locks clicked shut, Steele felt better. Then Linda reached forward to
tug on his collar.

  “Where you taking me?”

  Steele nosed out into traffic, and then stared over at Stone who sighed, closed his eyes and nodded. Horns blared around them as he pulled his cell phone from his inside jacket pocket. “I better call ahead.”

  Chapter Six

  Gorman had five files open on his desk. He moved his hands across them like the pointer on a Ouija board. He showed no outward reaction when Gunny poked his head in.

  “I’ve got Mason on line one, and Chiba’s blinking on two.”

  “Tell Mason I’ll call him back,” Gorman said, eyes settling on a particular folder’s contents. “I want to know what’s going on with Ms. Chiba. And page Ms. Sanchez for me.”

  Gorman ran his fingers through his thick hair and sipped a little coffee. It was his seventh cup of the day, which told him that the afternoon was almost past and soon he’d be able to put all this away for the weekend and spend some quality time with his Patsy. He hit the button on his phone that would put the next call on speaker and leaned back in his chair.

  “Good afternoon Ms. Chiba. What do you have to report?”

  “She’s boning a car salesman!”

  “Excuse me?” Gorman said, sitting up a little straighter. “Are you saying, in your typically crude way, that Mrs. Brooks is having an affair?”

  “No, I mean she’s doing him right now. In the bleeding bathroom, for Christ’s sake.” Gorman was still smiling at Chastity’s odd habit of mixing Britishisms with American slang at times of excitement when the audio changed. Chiba must have taken an earphone from her ear and pressed it against the receiver. From the whispered cries of the woman on the line, Mrs. Brooks either was having a religious experience or was rapidly approaching orgasm. Just as she began to cry out, “Now! Yes, now!” the sound disappeared.

  “You see?”

  “I would have taken your word for it, dear,” Gorman said.

  “I’m sure, but what fun would that have been?”

  “In any case, I’m sure you’ve recorded this little event, and that should be enough evidence to stop any proceedings she has begun against her husband. Very good work, my dear, and very quick work too.”