Not my characters (except for the ones you don't recognize, they belong to me), they belong to Janet Evanovich, but as long as Ranger can come out and play I can live with that.
I know. I know. It's been a month. Okay, it's been a little more than a month. I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks for hanging on.
The Right To Remain Silent
by
SueB
Chapter 20
"Tell me what?" Steph repeated.
How much had she heard?
When I didn't immediately respond she spit out, "Tank! What?"
My gut resolve that she deserved to know everything suddenly warred with my long-time habit of abiding by Ranger's wishes.
Blue eyes fixed on me. Huge. Haunted. Unrelenting.
Gut won. Screw Ranger's wishes.
"You were right."
It only took a second for relief to chase understanding across her face along with what looked like a large helping of 'I-told-you-so' but, her voice splintered as she said.
"Ranger's alive."
I nodded in confirmation.
She didn't want to cry. Not in front of me. But when two deep breaths couldn't stop it, she dropped her head and covered her face. Her body shivered with quiet sobs.
Without a word, I took her in my arms. Holding her tight, the same way she'd held me after Ranger's funeral. It was all I knew to do.
She pushed away when she was ready, her back straightening with steely determination.
I almost laughed out loud when she produced a decidedly unladylike sniff, wiped her sleeve across her eyes and nose and said, "Damn him. Where the hell is he and when's he coming home?"
She looked at me like I was supposed to know.
Shit!
I was supposed to know. She expected me to know. Only I'd hung up on him, too involved in being a self-righteous horse's ass to get the pertinent information that might help save his life.
Her jaw dropped in disbelief when my silence spoke volumes.
"Oh my God! You really don't know where he is do you?" she said.
I made excuses.
"Not sure he knows. Wasn't the first thing on his mind. He didn't have much time."
Wouldn't ya know. She picked up on the 'not much time' part and jumped to her own conclusions. Her brow furrowed with concern.
"He's hurt. Seriously hurt."
"No. He says 'No'."
"You believe him?"
Smart woman. Anybody's guess. I'd once seen Ranger successfully complete a mission with a broken hand and a bullet in his shoulder. I shrugged. "Not entirely."
"Tank, how can we help him if we don't know where he is? Call him back," she pressed. "Call him back right now."
"I can't do that," I replied, knowing she wasn't going to understand.
"Sure you can," she insisted. "It's easy."
She eyed the phone in my hand, lunged for it and crashed into the wall of my chest when I raised my arm above my head.
"Hit redial," she demanded. "Just hit redial."
"It's not that simple," I told her, using my free hand to capture her when she tried to scale me like a mountain.
She struggled, saying, "Why, Tank. Why isn't it that simple.?"
Finally she stilled. Her gaze switched from the phone, effectively out of her reach, to my face and I knew why Ranger kept things from her. Why he didn't tell her everything. He never wanted to see that pain in her eyes and know he'd been the cause of it. Too bad he didn't get that not telling her resulted in damage just same. Maybe worse damage.
I tried to explain.
"Ranger's call was one of opportunity. I can't call him back because I don't know if that window is still open."
"Why does it matter? He's with the good guys now. Right?"
Again I was silent.
"Tank?" Her voice went up a notch. "He is with the good guys isn't he?"
This time I was unable to confirm. I shook my head.
"No! What do you mean, no? I don't understand."
Crap. Here it was, a full blown test of my decision to disclose.
"Steph," I said on a deep breath, "Harry Dolan's dirty."
I watched her process this latest information, afraid she might completely lose it.
Instead she demanded, "Then how come Ranger isn't dead already?"
"It's a long story," I replied.
"I have time," she responded. "Tell me. Tell me now."
#####
The cell phone lay on the table precisely where I had left it fifteen minutes before. Like it hadn't been touched. Manoso looked like he hadn't moved either. Head back. Eyes closed. One leg stretched out in front of him.
A casual observer might have thought he was relaxed, asleep even. I knew differently. He was about as relaxed as a cornered adder. The man was pure energy, sharpened by pain. Sharp was good. I wanted him sharp.
He spoke first. Knew I was there even with his eyes closed. No surprise.
"You forget something?"
I parked my butt against the table, laid a sheet of paper next to the phone and waited. When he finally looked at me I smiled, abandoning all traces of my rough-edged 'Clyde' persona.
"No."
He studied me with the famous Manoso blank face firmly in place. Considered. I was going to be hugely disappointed if he missed the change in my character.
He didn't disappoint. It wasn't long before he asked.
"What's your real name?"
No reason not to tell him. My need for cover, at least with him, was over. "Evanston Whitehall. Evan for short."
He snorted, not the first person to be amused by the dichotomy between my blue blood name and my skill at projecting a blue-collar aura.
"Bet you're smart too," he said.
"Top of my class. Columbia."
"Major in drama?"
What a kidder.
"Foreign affairs."
"Same difference," he told me, deadpan.
Given the circumstances, you had to appreciate the man's sense of humor.
I picked up the phone. "Make your call?" I inquired.
"You know I did. Why ask?"
"Maybe I need details."
His turn to smile. "Since I've been less than cooperative?"
When I lifted a non-committal shoulder, he went on.
"Before you carry out your orders."
"Orders?"
"As my executioner."
"That what you think? I'm your executioner?"
"Considered the possibility."
"Have others? Possibilities I mean." I was being an asshole. But, he wasn't giving me anything except frustration.
His eyes narrowed, black and piercing.
"How long?" he asked.
I could hold my own, but no wonder lesser men collapsed under that scrutiny.
"How long?" I repeated his question pretending I didn't understand, knowing it would piss him off but, making him spell it out anyway.
He emphasized each word.
"How long have you known Harry Dolan was working the other side?"
"Show me yours; I'll show you mine," I offered.
His voice went soft and deep. "Don't fuck with me...any more...Evan."
He didn't actually move but, I saw his body harden into a mass of deadly menace. He was good, I'd give him that. Maybe I'd pushed him far enough.
I yielded for the moment. "All right, all right. There were suspicions not long after Marcus Solokov slipped off the radar a couple of years ago."
He broke in. "Suspicions confirmed when Dolan sold me out in Chechnya."
"Correct."
"And no one thought I might need that information especially after Harry pulled me into this charade?"
He hadn't exactly been dragged in kicking and screaming. I knew about Manoso's little deal with Dolan. Freedom from his long-term contract in exchange for his help but, it wasn't knowledge that I planned to share. At least not yet.
"Consensus at the time was you might be dirty too."
Questioning his loyalty didn't sit well.
"They were going to put a bullet in my head. I was finger on the trigger away from dying."
"But you didn't."
"Only because there was a goddamn earthquake! FYI, much as I might like to have that kind of power, so far I haven't even managed a crack in the sidewalk."
"I'll pass that along. In the meantime suppose you tell me who it was took you down in the shower."
"Assuming I know, what's to keep me from leaving here in a body bag once I give you a name?"
"You must trust me some."
He raised an eyebrow. "How's that?"
"Used the phone I left you."
"It was a crap shoot. What choice did I have?"
"I've read your dossier, Manoso. You haven't stayed alive all these years by playing the long odds."
Something flickered in his eyes as he said quietly, "Lot of blood in that file." It was the only sign of uncertainty I'd seen in him throughout the week's ordeal.
It hit me. That was it. His anger about being uninformed on Dolan was nothing compared to his fear that as a result he'd acted unjustly at Dolan's command. God, a mercenary with a conscience. I could work with that. I had the knowledge to put his mind at rest. At least as much rest as a man who regularly killed for a living could expect to have. I could earn his trust.
He quickly stomped on any emotion. Shutting it down as fast as it had appeared. But, I knew he was silently cursing at how much he'd revealed. That kind of miniscule slip could fuck up a mission, get you killed. Get others killed. Maybe he should retire. But, I had orders, the brass didn't see it that way.
"Ranger."
Nothing showed on his face now but purpose and resolve.
"Your file."
No response other than a hard-eyed stare.
"Righteous kills. Every one."
His next words were hardly an acknowledgment my information had made a difference to him but, they were all I was going to get.
"You have a plan for persuading Dolan to clue us in on tomorrow's prisoner release?"
I picked up the paper I'd put on the table, handed it to him. "Thought we'd use this."
He read. Smiled at the simplicity of it.
"This just in? While Harry was out doing whatever?"
"That's right."
The paper displayed three names exactly like the one I had shown him earlier. The one Dolan had received the day before and kept to himself. There was one difference. The fax info on this one was dated today and from all appearances it had arrived not twenty minutes ago.
"So," I asked, "which one of them..."
We both heard a door closing in the reaches of the house.
Ranger smiled again. Shit!
Seamlessly, I slid back into Clyde's skin. I've had years of practice.
"Hey! Dolan!" I yelled. "Come 'er! Lookie what we got! Paydirt!"
#####
"Steph. Come on. Sit down."
She shook her head. Having none of it. Crossed her arms.
"Talk."
So I did. Told her everything I knew. When I was done, we called in Bobby, Lester, Cal, Junior and Hal and I told it all again. We planned strategy and take-down procedures. We discussed timing, weaponry and possible FUBARS. We were done. We were ready. Come this time tomorrow Marcus Solokov and Cain Jeffords would be residents in our facility. One comfortable. One, not so much.
As for Ranger, we had to assume he knew what he was doing. Could take care of himself. Wasn't like he hadn't done it before.
"Okay, guys," I said, "that's it for now. Release is scheduled for 0900. I want us geared up and in place by 0700. Questions?"
Steph sat listening through it all.
"You forgot one thing."
That didn't sound like a question to me.
"I'm coming with you."
"No, Steph. I don't think...that's not a"
"You either take me along or I show up on my own. Non-negotiable, Tank. Which would you prefer?"
Now that was a question. One I'd rather not answer.
"Jeez," Santos chimed in, "she sounds just like Ranger."
Damned if she didn't. We started over.
#####
"Christ, Ranger. Focus! Don't you recognize any of these names?"
On top of being less than overjoyed that he'd returned to find Manoso and me in possession of the release list, Harry Dolan was having trouble containing his exasperation.
He thought he was exasperated. I had been seconds away from getting the name. I was sure of it.
Manoso was playing his role to perfection.
"Harry, of course I recognize them," he said. "The first two are Shakir Wilson's boys."
"Likely candidates, right?" Dolan interrupted.
"Sure. But Shakir would want to do it himself and, trust me, he wouldn't need any incentive."
"What about Jeffords then?"
"Have you seen Jeffords, Harry?"
Dolan shook his head.
"He's about seventy years old."
"It has to be one of them!"
"I know," Manoso agreed wiping a hand across his face. Grimacing like he had the world's biggest headache. "but, I don't know which one."
And he said I was the drama major.
"Maybe, we jus show up in the mornin'," I threw out. "Ain't you the one, Manoso, always preachin' 'bout bein' aware of your surroundings. Maybe, whadda ya call it, 'physical proximity' will shake somethin' loose."
Dolan objected, "No, no. Too risky. You might be seen."
But, Manoso jumped right in, "Clyde's right. I have to be there. See each man for myself."
I manufactured a giant belch. "Ehh! Meatball sub. It's killin' me," I complained. "Ya need me I'll be in the john."
I left the two of them to wrangle over details.
The meatball sub wasn't the only thing killing me. At this point there was no way Manoso would give up a name before morning. Dolan's untimely arrival had fucked that up. No matter. There was more than one level to my assignment. I could live without getting to Solokov first.
I stepped into the bathroom. Turned on the water to mask my activity. I'd already swept for bugs anticipating an emergency. I punched a number I had memorized into the cell phone I'd retrieved from Manoso. A whiny high-pitched female voice answered.
"Trenton Police Department. How can I direct your call?"
"Detective Joseph Morelli, please."
TBC