Top Secret Twenty-One: A Stephanie Plum Novel

“Yeah, I’m in your parking lot. He’s turned into one of those dog nuts. And I tell you I can’t blame him. Those critters are cute as anything. And they aren’t even demons. I mean, they don’t have rotating heads or glowing eyes or nothing. One of them tried to nip at me, but Briggs says that dog has trust issues, so I didn’t take it personal. The rest were all dancing around and looking happy. And I’m even getting used to the way they vibrate. I mean, I like things that vibrate anyway, you see what I’m saying?”

 

Oh yeah.

 

“I’m stuck here in Atlantic City,” I said. “I’m hoping to get home later today or tomorrow, but maybe in the meantime you could make sure Briggs has enough food. He’s stuck there without a car.”

 

“He said he had a job interview today. I don’t know how he’s getting there. Taxi, maybe. He didn’t ask for help.”

 

I hung up and called my mom.

 

“Just checking in,” I said. “I’m out of town on a job with Ranger. Is everything going okay there?”

 

“Your father is out with the cab. And your grandmother is on one of those senior trips for the day, so it’s nice and quiet here.”

 

“Where’s Grandma going?”

 

“Atlantic City. She said she felt lucky.”

 

Crap! Double crap!!

 

“When did Grandma leave?”

 

“About a half hour ago. Your father took her to the senior center. They have a good deal. She gets the bus trip, a roll of tokens for the slots, and a ticket for the all-you-can-eat buffet.”

 

“Do you know what casino she’s going to?”

 

“No. The seniors get a bunch of deals. They don’t always go to the same casino.”

 

I hung up and called Grandma. No answer.

 

Okay, what are the chances it would be this casino? Slim. It was a crummy casino. And it was filled with booze salesmen. There were lots of other casinos in Atlantic City. So I shouldn’t worry, right?

 

 

 

Ranger gave me an earbud a little before ten o’clock. “I have this set so you can communicate with me and with Tank. He’ll be watching the video feeds.”

 

I took the elevator to the mezzanine and found a place in the hall where I could see the doors to the ballroom and also the mechanical room door at the far end of the hall. The doors to the ballroom were closed, and the hallway was empty. I recognized a Rangeman guy standing by the bridge that led to the conference center.

 

I was in the hall for about fifteen minutes when Grandma called.

 

“Where are you?” she asked.

 

“I’m still in Atlantic City. Where are you?”

 

“I’m in some traffic on the road to Atlantic City. I’m with Lula.”

 

“Mom said you were going on a seniors bus.”

 

“It broke down before we even loaded onto it, so I called Lula to see if she felt lucky today, and here we are on the road. We’re trying to decide on a casino. I like the new one with the jungle theme, but Lula says she’s partial to Caesars. What casino are you at? We could come visit you.”

 

“No visits! I have to work. And I’m not at a great casino anyway. Go to Caesars, and I’ll call you later.”

 

After an hour I was blind with boredom. I paced the hall. I counted the overhead lights. I tried a door to the ballroom. Locked. Guess they were worried some boozehound vodka dealer would steal the silverware or sit in an unassigned seat.

 

“This is boring,” I said.

 

“Boring is good,” Ranger said into my earbud.

 

People began drifting in from the convention center at 11:30. A few here. A few there. They gathered in clumps. They conducted business on their smartphones. They looked at their watches and looked at the closed ballroom doors. Hungry.

 

I watched a man come up the escalator. He didn’t nod or wave, but he exchanged a silent communication with the Rangeman guy. He was wearing a blue button-down shirt, tan slacks, scuffed brown shoes. FBI, I thought. He looked pleasant. I could see a slight gun bulge under his sport coat, and an earbud attached by a curly wire to a battery pack. Not high-tech like mine. FBI. He’d be jealous of my earbud.

 

“Hello,” I said. “Anybody home?”

 

“Babe?” Ranger said.

 

“Where are you?”

 

“I’m waiting at the service elevator for Semov.”

 

“On my floor?”

 

“Yes. And then I’ll stay with Semov.”

 

“Okay. Over and out.”

 

The man in the blue shirt ambled past me. He went to the end of the hall and used a key to open the door to the mechanical room.

 

“A guy in a blue shirt just went into the mechanical room,” I said.

 

“I’ve got him,” Tank said. “He’s FBI going in to check on the air handler.”

 

“Just saying.”

 

“Hang tight,” Tank told me.

 

People poured out of the convention center and filled the corridor. The noise level rose. Men pushed against the ballroom doors and tested the doorknobs. Everyone looked happy. Lots of laughing. I figured there was vodka tasting going on this morning in the convention center. Probably they had a vodka fountain at the breakfast buffet.

 

“Moving out,” Ranger said into my earbud.

 

The door to the service pantry opened and Semov’s six aides strode out, followed by Semov, followed by Ranger, followed by two men with the old-school earbuds who I figured were FBI. They cut a path through the crowd, a door opened at the far end of the ballroom, and they disappeared inside.

 

Moments later the remaining doors to the ballroom opened and everyone stampeded in. I looked down the hall at the mechanical room.

 

“Did the FBI guy come out of the mechanical room?” I asked Tank.

 

“I didn’t see him come out. He might have been told to stay there until the banquet is over. I can’t talk to him. He’s not on my frequency.”

 

I walked down the hall and knocked on the door. “Hello,” I said. “Are you okay in there?”

 

The door opened, an arm reached out and grabbed me, and I was yanked inside.

 

“Oh shit!” Tank said into my earbud.

 

 

 

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