“You won’t.”
“You can’t know that, Loup.”
She slid her arms around Pilar. “I won’t let it happen. You won’t let it happen. We have to believe, remember?”
“Sí, Santa Olivia.” Pilar gave her a teary smile. “And I do, you know I do. You’re my miracle. I just can’t help being scared.”
“That’s okay.” Loup kissed her cheek. “You be scared for both of us. Someone has to.”
“Thanks, baby.”
“You bet.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
In the morning, Donny revealed his idea.
“Mob the place with Kate fans,” he suggested. “We’ll smuggle your bloke in the middle of them, sneak him out with the entourage, yeah? Have a couple of limos waiting and Bob’s your uncle.”
“Can we do that?” Loup asked.
“Sure.” Pilar waved her Dataphone. “All we have to do is leak it to the fan feeds. Tell them Kate’s gonna be there signing autographs and giving away T-shirts to raise awareness for their new civil rights cause.”
“The timing’s tight.”
“Well, we can give them a heads-up about the Hellfire Club. Once we know where Miguel is, we can figure out the timing.”
Geordie cleared his throat. “Exactly how do you plan to get into the room where this Miguel is being held?”
“I dunno.” Loup shrugged. “Break down the door?”
He winced.
“Aw, c’mon!” Donny said. “Don’t you watch the movies? You steal a cart and pretend you’re there to deliver room service. If they say they didn’t order anything, you just say, ‘Compliments of the house, sir.’ ”
“You ever notice how in the movies, they skip over the part where they actually steal the delivery cart?” Pilar said, skeptical. “They don’t just leave those things sitting around unattended. And there’s a lot of security at this place. Cameras, guards. I’m pretty sure they’d be on us right away.”
“Chambermaid uniform,” Charlie suggested.
“They don’t leave those lying around, either,” she pointed out. “And I’m not real crazy about mugging a maid and stealing her clothes. What are we gonna do, tie her up and lock her in the bathroom?”
Geordie groaned.
“Nah.” Charlie grinned. “These casinos cater to their VIP guests, right? Call the concierge and tell him one of the members of Kate fancies some authentic Hellfire Club chambermaid togs for a bit of role-playing.”
Pilar gave him a startled look. “You know, that’s a pretty good idea.”
“Takes a pervert.”
They planted the rumor on the fan feeds and watched it spread.
“Think Kate has enough fans in Las Vegas to make a mob?” Loup asked. “I mean, it’s not a place where a lot of real people live, is it?”
“Sure it is,” Pilar said. “All those casinos, people work there. Dealers and housekeeping and waiters and stuff. Working their butts off so a handful of people like Mr. Skeevy can get rich.” She made a wry face. “Kinda like the way everyone in Outpost worked their butts off so a handful of people like Miguel Garza could get rich.”
“True.”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this for him.”
“You don’t have to,” Loup said earnestly. “You could fly directly into D.C. and we could meet you there.”
“Oh, no.” Pilar shot her a glance. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, fearless wonder. Loup, I’m not so sure flying’s gonna be a good idea after the casino. If we really do get Miguel out of there, we’re definitely not gonna be off the radar anymore.”
“Tour bus?”
“Pretty easy to spot.” She hesitated. “Much as I hate to say it, I think it would probably be for the best if you and Miguel and I made the drive alone.”
“What about Kate?”
“They can fly, they’ll be okay. After all, I don’t think Mr. Skeevy’s gonna go to the police and say I think a rock band helped steal my hostage. They’ll be there legally; they’re too famous to get conveniently disappeared, and I’m pretty sure none of them are fugitives from a military prison.” She sighed. “I don’t know, baby. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. But this guy, Harwell—”
“Who’s Harwell?”
“Mr. Skeevy. That’s his name, Terrence Harwell. We’ll be caught on camera; there’s no way to avoid it. Maybe he hasn’t sold Miguel to the bad guys yet, or maybe the bad guys don’t want him anymore, but I’m pretty sure he’s skeevy enough to sell them the intel if we pull this off. And I’m pretty sure they’ll want it.”
Loup nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”
“Believe me, I’d never suggest it if I didn’t think it was important. A long cross-country drive with Miguel fucking Garza is not my idea of a good time.”
“Mine either.”
They broke the news to the band over dinner.
“Bummer.” Randall tossed his bangs. “So we’ll meet up in D.C. after the Vegas caper, yeah?”
“That’s the plan,” Loup agreed.
“Cool.”
Loup and Pilar flew out early the following morning, the band and the rest of their entourage to follow later in the day. Pilar was anxious at check-in, but the agent only gave their passports a cursory glance before returning them. Throughout the takeoff, Pilar held Loup’s hand in a tight grip, releasing it with a shudder once they were well in the air.
“Muy macha,” Loup whispered softly in her ear.
“I’m trying.”
At the end of a long, boring flight they landed in Las Vegas.
“Holy shit!” Loup gazed out the window during the approach, amazed by the sight of the hulking casinos dwarfing their surroundings on the flat desert floor. “There’s a pyramid, and a castle, and a roller coaster, and an I-don’t-know-what. They’re crazy huge. It’s totally… what’s the word?”
Pilar took a firm grip of Loup’s arm and snuck a peek. “Surreal?”
“Yeah.” She gave her a wide-eyed look. “America, huh?”
A hard swallow. “Uh-huh.”
It felt strange to enter a country that should have been home and legally wasn’t. A hard-eyed immigration agent studied their Canadian passports and questioned them at length about their travel, their backgrounds, and their plans for the duration of the visit. Pilar, visibly nervous, launched into a long, babbling explanation of the purpose of their visit, inventing a fantasy about being a Las Vegas showgirl.
“Enjoy the show and go home,” the agent said curtly. He stamped her passport. “We don’t hire illegals here.”
“Okay. Thanks, I will.”
He stamped Loup’s passport. “Next!”
“Jesus!” Once they got through customs, Pilar wilted. “What an asshole!”
“Welcome home,” Loup said philosophically. “At least we know for sure that Guadalupe Herrera and Pilar Mendez aren’t on the radar yet. You okay?”
“Yeah.” She gathered herself. “Let’s get out of here.”
Outside, a dry heat assailed them. Waiting in the line at the taxi stand, Loup breathed deeply, smelling the acrid desert smell beneath the gas fumes. “It does remind me of home, though. The way it smells.”
“Santa Olivia.”
“Yep.”
“Father Ramon, Sister Martha,” Pilar murmured under her breath. “Anna, Mack, Jaime and Jane, C.C., Kotch, T.Y., Diego, and Maria… okay. I can do this. Miguel fucking Garza. I can do this.”
“Of course you can.”
“Shut up.”
The taxi took them to the Hellfire Club, tall and gleaming. A pair of artificial rivers flanked the impressive entrance, black water cascading into an apparent abyss. Mildly sulfurous fumes floated above the water. A doorman with horns and a forked tail poking out beneath his scarlet brocade livery coat winked at them as he ushered them through the vast automatic doors. “Good afternoon, girls. Welcome to Hell.”
They entered the casino.
“Whoa,” Loup said.
“Whoa,” Pilar agreed. Acres of tenebrous casino stretched before them. More Stygian water trickled from the rocky walls, wafting fumes. The flickering lighting mimicked oil lamps. The dealers wore scarlet vests and devil horns. “Why couldn’t Miguel get himself taken hostage at that nice place with the gondolas?”
Loup eyed a pert waitress dressed as a scantily clad scarlet imp. “I’m guessing he liked the decor.”
“Figures.”
They found the reception Grotto of Doom where a behorned and bespectacled desk clerk greeted them with nonsinister cheer. She offered to change their reservation from a single king-sized bed to a pair of doubles.
“No thanks,” Pilar said absently, signing the registration form.
“It’s no trouble.”
She gave the clerk a look edged with low-grade smolder.
“Sorry!” The clerk slid two laminated tickets across the counter. “Let me give you a couple of complimentary passes to Hades with my apologies.” She smiled brightly. “It’s our underground club. They cater to all kinds of tastes there. I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting.”
Loup glanced at the image of a bound, writhing soul in torment on the ticket. “No doubt.”
“Charlie’s gonna love it here,” Pilar murmured. “The little pervert.”
“Charlie, Charlie…” The clerk frowned and typed something into her computer. “Ohmigod! I should have seen the note. You’re Kate’s liaison!” She looked Loup up and down, her eyes widening. “That means you’re—”
“Shhh.” Loup put her finger to her lips. “A secret.”
“I know!” The desk clerk lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. “You’re Mystery Girl, aren’t you?”