“I’ve got to be the first to talk to him.”
Staley was at the gas station below the hotel. The agent with him was parked farther up the slope, keeping watch from a dirt lot, where drivers staying at the hotel left their big rigs parked for the night. We sat in Staley’s SUV and looked upslope at the hotel’s dimly lit backside while we talked. The two upper floors had decks on this side. The bottom level had the same sliding doors but concrete patios and white plastic chairs. A rental car was parked just this side of the patio of the unit Mondari and the woman were in. We needed to watch both sides. Hardly a big deal, but really, I didn’t want to lose him.
José Chou, the other agent, stayed on this side, and Staley and I went around to the front and knocked on room 113. The shades were drawn. I heard bedsprings rocking slow and steady inside, not loud but familiar. Staley’s hard smile said he heard it, too, and that he carried disdain for Mondari. Many in our office viewed the CI, the confidential informant, Denny Mondari, as a mathematically gifted pathogen.
I rapped on the door again and it quieted. A few seconds later, a gruff Mondari yelled, “Wrong room.”
“FBI. Paul Grale. Open up, Denny.”
No response, then whispers and footsteps, and I heard the worn-out sliding door to the patio dragged open. Staley was on the phone with José, and Chou pulled up to the patio of the unit with his brights on.
“Patio door just shut again,” Staley said.
As far as I knew, Mondari didn’t own a weapon or know how to fire a gun, but we stood to the side as the lock snicked open and closed several times before the door opened a crack.
“FBI,” I said, and held my creds up.
“Pleased to meet you,” and the door opened wide enough to show a young naked woman. She was long-legged and well built. Behind her, Mondari tripped pulling on his underwear. I saw a mole that looked like a tarantula on his lower back.
She asked, “Can’t it wait five minutes?”
“Not this time. We’ve been looking for your friend here.”
“Wouldn’t you rather look at me?”
“Anyone would, but I’ve got to talk with Denny. I’m sorry, but the party is over.” Then to Mondari, “I’ve been leaving messages for you.”
The young woman swung the door wide open and walked over to the lone chair in the room and picked up her clothes. She pointed a finger at Mondari and said, “Get your wallet out,” before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.
“I’ll wait for you outside, Mondi,” I said. “Make it fast.”
I left the door ajar. Mondari was a bright guy. Buy him a mixed drink, a Manhattan is his preference, and he’ll tell you how high his IQ is. Not that you asked, but as a reward for buying him a drink. We know he’s into cybercrime, and if we looked hard we’d find something, but for a decade he’s fed us tips on his competitors. It’s not a healthy relationship, but he’s delivered other information as well. His mother died violently, and any casino rumor of a hit man or killer in Vegas he’ll pass on. At least two of his tips netted arrests. One was a hit man we’d been after for years.
He refuses to be paid for tips. The Bureau pays little anyway, so we go for drinks with him. We take him to dinner. I ran him for a number of years before Jane Stone took over. Basically, we quit fighting the tape. Mondari likes women more than men. He once told me they’re more sophisticated. That might be true. It was Jane who nicknamed him “Mondi,” for no other reason than she liked the sound of it. She put a droll spin on it. Jane had had a wicked sense of humor.
Staley tapped me on the shoulder.
“Once he’s in your car, are you good? We’ll follow if you want.”
“No need. I’ve got to take him somewhere to talk. I’ll Uber him back here when we’re done.”
The young woman left first. She looked me in the eye as she walked past. Mondari came out talking.
“Sorry Jane got killed. I should send flowers.” He mulled that over in less than half a second. “I gave her bad information. I would have followed up otherwise. The casino-extortion plot turned out to be bullshit. There was no bomb maker. I got taken for a ride on that one, and you just fucked up my night, Grale. Donna, the girl I was just with, would eat you alive. You wouldn’t even know what to do with her.”