Massive Attack (A Guy Niava Thriller Book 1) by Dana Arama (e reader for manga .txt) 📗

“Murat,” The smile wiped clean off her face. “You need to speak with Murat Lenika, but he is not in at the moment. He was here and then left.”

“And when will he be back?”

“If you come back in a few hours there is a chance you’ll find him here.”

“And you are sure he is the person I need to talk to?”

“I am almost sure that he is the last person you would want to talk to.” Then she added in a whisper in my ear, “But if you have enough money, he’ll get you anything you want.”

“I don’t need it for myself,” I said with a serious face, “I represent...mmm… a certain character that likes his privacy. Are there gambling rooms where he can combine his pleasure in gambling and pleasure in women together?”

She smiled and pointed with her head towards the stairs, closed off with a golden rope, and said, “There, they have exactly what he is looking for.”

“Could you give me a tour?”

Fear mixed with doubt crossed her face and she looked around her. No one was nearby. Her gaze returned to me and she scrutinized me again. I didn’t fit the part, wearing my heavy leather jacket. I asked, “Did you expect to see a lawyer in a tailored suit?” I smiled. “The heavy gambler I represent is the antithesis of ties and suits. He doesn’t like anything too flashy, but he likes the good life. There is no way I can bring him here without checking out the place first.”

She stood frozen, without the ability to make a decision. I felt she needed an incentive, so I smiled again. “I will make sure he will ask for your services tonight. The tip will be in the three digits.”

The smile that spread over her face showed that there was more chance that actions would receive praise rather than punishment. She opted for the praise. In a voice filled with renewed boldness she announced, “Just let me put my tray down and I will get back to you shortly.”

She walked away and I prepared myself for scoping out the casino. To successfully tour in a place I wasn’t really supposed to be, I needed to gather intelligence, just as Jonathan had done the day before. The gathering of information was necessary for me to blend into the place. Often, doing less is actually doing more. More efficiently, more invisible to the eye, more part of the general scene. The idea is to go about it with certainty, to seemingly know what I am looking for as if I have done it numerous times before.

I started by looking at the security men to see who I would have to contend with if the tour didn’t go well.

The VIP guest rooms were full, but not with what I was hoping to find. They had drinks of the best kind in the world, Cuban cigars not allowed in the States, laptops for client use, and a variety of gadgets suited for the upper class. The rooms were painted a pearly color and the furniture seemed as if it was covered in gold. I thought that is how a jewelry room should look. After the tour, which revealed nothing, I left. I hoped to reach my brother’s home before the FBI agency took over the investigation and their house began to fill up with strangers. On my way back, I managed to talk with my boss again.

***

The way back to Philadelphia was filled with traffic jams because of two car accidents, and I only made it to my brother’s place around four p.m. There was total chaos. The investigators swarmed all over the place, a surveilling team had the phones tapped, Jonathan’s phone and computer were taken away for cyber experts to explore and my brother and Michelle, his wife were sitting on the couch, in total shock, in the middle of the living room. They suddenly looked so small and helpless that it broke my heart. After a short while men in suits came in and after a quick discussion in the kitchen, took over the investigation.

About ten minutes later, Laura Ashton entered.

I estimated that she was in her mid-thirties and looked as if she modeled for the International Intelligence Agency fashion magazine. She was a tall woman, with long legs, and her hair tied back. Dressed in a short skirt suit that fell a bit above the knees, a white ironed shirt and high heels. A pair of sunglasses, Matrix style, completed her outfit. When she removed them, I saw they hid under them a pair of magnificent blue eyes, which only further accentuated her lush red lips.

She made her way directly to me, held out her hand and introduced herself. “Laura Ashton, from the Strategic Coordination office, the DNI.”

I shook her hand, “I understand that you are aware of the kidnapping and of the list.”

She nodded. “And I understand you are looking for Zorro.”

***

I didn’t have time to notify them that I was going out and for how long or where. I was already striding behind Laura. She drove skillfully and in a short while we found ourselves on a side street in the center of the city, opposite an Irish pub that was open twenty-four hours a day. The air held the smell of cigarettes. It hung over the room from the night before, or from many nights before that too. The two men sitting at the counter looked like regulars. Immediately after us, a rough-looking customer walked in. He looked like he was a regular in many other pubs as well. We sat in the darkest corner we could find.

“What is your relationship to the kidnapped boy?” she asked, as soon as we sat down.

I knew that she was only testing me as the information was most likely already in her file. The information was all there and maybe much more, like