Chapter 26
Vinny was impatient and called just as Jake hung up with Courtney. His persistence aggravated Jake. Without clearing it with his supervisors first, he couldn’t confirm a dinner with the Cabacolli family. Jake couldn’t simply waltz into the restaurant without backup. Striving to conceal his irritation, he accepted the call.
“I got your message, Vinny, but I can’t commit yet. I might have plans tonight. You know the kind I mean.”
Vinny should get the implication. He always thought with his dick.
Vinny snickered into the phone. “You finally gonna tap that chick? What’s her name? Kenna?”
Christ, the man was a pig. Instead of responding, Jake faked a laugh.
“Well you waited this long, delay that piece for another night. My old man is hot to meet you. He saw you in your bracelets on TV. Let’s just say he’s interested in you working for us. The evening will be worth your time if for no other reason than it’s a free meal and his wine is the finest. And you won’t have to worry about getting laid. Misty will be there. She hasn’t forgiven you yet for disappearing on her. Where’d you go, anyway?”
A headache started behind Jake’s eyes. He didn’t have time to play Vinny’s games. He needed to find Mackenna. But this was a chance to meet the mob boss and he couldn’t blow it.
“My head was pounding, man. I think that piece of shit deputy gave me a concussion when he hit me. I wasn’t about to puke my guts out in your guest bedroom.”
“Well, I’m sure Misty will let you make it up to her. I’ll send a car at seven that way we can drink as much as we like.” His laugh sent chills up Jake’s spine. Send a car where? He’d never shared his address with Vinny, never so much as mentioned his living arrangements. How did Vinny know where he lived? Jake stared at the words ‘Call ended’ when the connection went dead.
Jake’s boss was ecstatic about the dinner invitation but uncomfortable about the immediacy of it. They’d have to hustle to lock the safeguards in place to protect Jake. But everyone knew when a mob boss agrees to a meeting, you don’t say no.
“We can place a utility van outside and send a couple of agents inside to have drinks at the bar,” the boss said. “At this late date, they likely won’t get a table. Cabacolli’s right about one thing. His stepfather’s restaurant is quite popular. There’s always a waiting list for reservations. But a handful of agents inside and out is not enough shadowing, not with these people.”
Jake wasn’t as concerned. “It’s just dinner, boss. I won’t leave the restaurant. If it makes you happy, I’ll wear the GPS watch too.”
“It would make me happier if you wore your bullet-proof vest.”
Jake laughed. “That might prove awkward since Vinny is fond of hugging me when he sees me.” The Agent in Charge shook his head.
“C’mon, boss. There’s no indication he thinks I’m anything more than a small-time bagman. He could have my address from the news reports. Or if we’re right about a mole, some cop on his payroll might have provided it. I hope it was that little shit deputy at City Hall. I owe him one. But you’re over-thinking this. Vinny isn’t going to shoot me in the middle of his restaurant. Front for the family rackets or not, it’s too high profile.”
“Make sure you wire up,” the boss ordered before issuing the green light for the meet. He’d wear a wire so all conversations were recorded to use later as evidence. But the excitement of breaking into the Cabacolli underworld was dulled by Mackenna’s evaporation. That’s essentially what it was because she’d disappeared without a trace. The search of The Hole yielded nothing, as Jake knew it would. But its emptiness lent credence to the theory that she was on the run. And that made her look guilty.
Agents didn’t find anything suspicious or out of the ordinary at her home bank. But no one had seen or heard from her. She’d vanished without a trace, as if aliens had beamed her off the planet.
Quite smart for the average bank teller, Demond had mused out loud after filling Jake in on the outcome of both searches.
Still, in his heart, Jake knew it couldn’t be.
~ ~ ~
Something wasn’t right. Vinny’s black BMW waited outside Jake’s apartment complex sixty minutes before their scheduled arrival. Jake eyed the car from his third-floor window and then listening to his gut, he walked down the fire exit steps and peeked out the back door of the building. An identical black car was parked outside. The tinted windows prevented Jake from seeing if it was occupied but his instinct told him it was. Vinny’s goons were surveilling him. But why?
Jake checked his watch. Likely his backup agents were making their way to Cabacolli’s Casaria right about now but wouldn’t arrive for at least another thirty minutes. He eyed the tiny recorder disguised as a thin cigarette lighter that he’d slip into his pants pocket so the entire evening was on the record. Vinny smoked and knowing the mob’s fondness for cigars, Jake started carrying the lighter so he could offer a light as a sign of respect, even though he didn’t smoke. But having it on him, with the recording device hidden inside, was easier than concealing the microphone in his clothes or his phone.
Protocol dictated he wear the wire for any undercover meeting and he had. Faithfully. But tonight, doubt gripped Jake’s insides. The vibes for this family dinner were off. The Cabacolli family dinners were usually an all-day event on Sundays. Today was Thursday. Why dinner tonight? So suddenly?
He had no intentions of parting with his pants for Misty or anyone else who wanted the opportunity to search his pockets. But he’d learned to rely on his gut feelings and tonight they screamed at him. Something was wrong. Was it his concern for Mackenna screwing with his thoughts or a matter more immediate? He couldn’t sort it out.
Ignoring the recording device, he buttoned his shirt. He’d leave it behind tonight and file a written account of the evening tomorrow. That was acceptable in an emergency and every nerve ending in his body told him tonight qualified. What was one more reprimand?
Once he was dressed, Jake dialed Demond, deliberately delaying his exit to the waiting car. Demond confirmed what Jake already feared. Mackenna’s disappearance was flawless, which cemented Demond’s suspicions. He apologized while telling Jake that he now considered her a fugitive and had taken appropriate action. The local TV stations received press releases identifying her for the bank robberies as a primary suspect, likely making her the lead story on every newscast complete with a photo and physical description. Every police agency had the same information.
Jake cursed when, once again, his call to her cell phone went unanswered.
Finally, dressed in the suit he wore to testify in court, Jake emerged from his building thirty minutes late, mumbling a half-hearted apology when one of Vinny’s goons jumped out of the passenger’s seat and opened the rear door. The back seat was empty. The hairs on Jake’s neck edged up.
“Yo, buddy,” he said as the passenger door slammed shut. “I expected Vinny to be here. Or at least Misty.”
Looking straight ahead as the car rolled away from the curb, the goon said, “Something came up last minute for the boss. He’s meetin’ ya there.”
Jake shrugged and tightened the clasp on his watch. “No problem.”