Dakota had called the Stealers that morning; she had told them she would meet them at nine o’clock that night. It was eight fifty-five and she was only a few blocks away. She was deep in Echo Lane now; the only sounds were the occasional roar of an engine and shouts, cries and screams. There was no laughter or light, only darkness. She could die in here she knew that. She could be kidnapped and ransomed; she could be kidnapped and never seen again. Her only consolation was that she was worth more than the money in the storage locker. If things got really dicey, she could promise them more money, any amount of money they wanted; they could have it all as far as Dakota Kane was concerned.
She turned down a dirt road. There was a hand-painted sign, dark black letters against a chipped white background. “Dead men tell no tales,” it warned her. But this was where the Stealers were, so she turned and slowly drove up the lane. About fifty meters down, she came upon a chain that stretched across the road. She stopped before it, unsure what to do. And then her heart stopped as two men emerged from an abandoned-looking building and strolled over to her car.
She was dressed as normal as she could manage: jeans that weren't too tight and a baggy black shirt, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She had no idea what would make the members of Soul Stealers angry, so she needed to be as nondescript as possible. She rolled her window down all the way and watched as the men walked towards her. They were both over six feet tall and heavy, both with shotguns in their hands.
“I’m here to see Charlie,” Dakota said, not allowing her voice to waver or shake. She looked at both men in the eye, extruding a confidence she did not feel.
“You got an appointment?” one of the men asked, leaning into Dakota’s window and peering around her empty car while the other gentleman circled the vehicle.
“Yes, I do,” she said, not giving him her name.
“Pop your trunk,” the man ordered as he shined a flashlight through her window.
Dakota did as she was told and she watched through her rearview mirror as the second man looked in her trunk. There was nothing back there but the spare tire and he was done quickly. She watched the other man join his friend at the driver’s side window.
“Looks all clean,” the second man said, staring at Dakota. “Pretty brave for a pretty girl like you to come all the way to Echo Lane.”
“I have some business to offer your club and I can’t imagine your boss would be happy with you delaying me,” Dakota said. She had no idea what she was doing. She was copying the movies she had seen with gangsters and spies, with no real idea if this was how people acted in the real world. But her confidence seemed to work as one man nodded at the other and they walked over and released the chain, allowing her to drive through.
She drove and watched them put the chain back in her rearview mirror. Her heart was pounding, but Dakota knew she had already gotten past the first part of the gauntlet. One down, but who knows how many left. As she continued down the dark road, Dakota could see lights in the distance in front of her. It was a large, but dilapidated house that someone had started to work on. Falling rafters were held up with unfinished two-by-fours, windows were boarded up, and new stairs had been put on the front. But the main building itself was musty and old, the roof covered in moss, the exterior walls covered in a chipping black paint.
And in front of it were several men, tall and strong. They sat next to a line of motorcycles. Each one had a beer in his hand and most were smoking. Dakota could smell tobacco, weed, and something else. It was a nasty chemical smell that stuck in her nose and wouldn’t leave.
Dakota wasn’t sure what to do, but she knew confidence was key. She parked her car in the lot, turned off the engine, and got out, walking towards the men outside the building with confidence. She carried nothing in her hands. As she approached the men, most of them just stared at her with a glassy-eyed expression.
“I’m here to see Charlie,” Dakota said to the group. “I have an appointment. Is he inside?” She was determined to remain in control of what happened.
“Chip, frisk her,” she heard one man say.
Without breaking, Dakota spread her legs and put her palms against the rough wood of a railing. She felt a man run his hands up and down her legs, over her butt, her stomach and her breasts. She didn’t flinch or react at all. She felt him slip the photo of the money out of her back pocket and he gave a low whistle. “You done?” Dakota asked, turning around, “because that’s for your boss. Where is he?” She took the photo out of his hand and waited for the man to respond.
“He’s inside,” he said, jerking his head towards the door.
She didn’t wait another moment. She turned and walked up the stairs, past the men who openly ogled her, one letting out a wolf whistle that made Dakota roll her eyes. She pulled at the door, hoping that outside was just a ruse to fool people, but inside the structure was much like the outside. Someone had redone the floor, but it was just rough wood. Inside it was one big open room with a few ratty couches and sinking chairs, a TV in the corner emitting nothing but fuzz.
There were fewer men inside, most of them surrounding the TV, trying to get it work. This is it, Dakota thought to herself. This was who was trying to kill her family, a group of men who couldn’t get the TV to work? It made sense that they had failed so many times. It was sad, really, these men all grouped together with nothing to do but ruin other people’s lives. It was nothing like Scarred Angels, nothing at all.
No one said anything. A woman had just infiltrated their club and no one inside seemed to notice. Dakota began to have real hope that her plan would work. The Soul Stealers were desperate and disorganized; they would want the money, if only for cable. But where was Joey? She didn’t see the battered man anywhere. There were two other doors in the long room, but she had no idea which one was hiding him.
Finally, Dakota spotted someone who looked like he knew what he was doing. He was an older man, with short, dark hair that was greying at the temples. He was standing over a desk made by a board sitting on stacked cement blocks. There was a map in front of him and sticky notes with an unreadable scrawl, tacked at various places on the map. “Charlie?” Dakota asked walking up to him.
He whipped his head up and faced her and a snarl appeared on his lips. He looked over at the men watching TV and shook his head in disgust. “You just walked in here, didn’t you?” he asked. His voice was low and gravelly, and he didn’t look like a biker. He was tall and lean, but clean-shaven, with short hair. He was wearing a business suit and it looked like he had never even seen a motorcycle, let alone ridden on one.
“Your guards on the road searched my vehicle,” Dakota offered as she threw down the picture of the money.
Charlie stared at it for a moment, a dangerous smile playing across his lips. “You didn’t bring it?” he asked.
“Do I look like an idiot?” Dakota asked. “The money is in a locker at the airport. You give me Joey and the name of the man who attacked me and I’ll give you the code to unlock it. Once we can prove you’ve given the right name for the man who's been hurting my family, I’ll give you the other million.”
“And how can I trust you, Ms. Kane?” Charlie asked. “How do I know that bag isn’t filled with fake money? How do I know the police aren’t waiting to arrest who ever opens that locker? How do I know you’ll give me the other half?”
“How do I know you’re going to keep your part of the bargain, that you won’t kill me and Joey after getting the first number? Trust needs to starts somewhere, Charlie. Send a man to the airport. I’ll wait to make sure he has the money and is on his way. Once he is, Joey and I will leave, and I give you my word you’ll get the other half if you give me the real name. And trust needs to start somewhere, but I think we should trust not each other, but our motivations. I want this to be over, and I think you want the same thing, plus money. This way, we both get what we want. There’s no need to double cross or lie. Let’s just get what we want and get out. Now let me see Joey. I need to know he’s alive.”