Inside Outt

on the right, and had a feeling there would be another in back.
    He moved inside, keeping the island bar to his left, avoiding the bold eyes of the hookers. He spotted Paula at the end of the bar and walked over.
    “You come here often?” he asked, raising his voice over the music, his eyes sweeping the area behind her.
    “Yes, it’s my favorite place. Give me clothes now, okay? I think we’re more likely to get some cooperation from Taibbi if I look like the Bureau than if I look like a Jacó streetwalker.”
    “No problem. Just step in close first and slide the barrel of the Glock into the back of my pants, okay?”
    “I’ll hang on to the gun, thanks.”
    “I don’t want to argue about this,” he said, suppressing a little surge of irritation. “I’m sure you’re a good shot, but you probably expend as much ammunition in a year on the range as I do on an average day. And I won’t even ask how many gunfights you’ve been in. You’re trained for law enforcement, Paula, not combat shooting. So do me a favor. For both our sakes. Give me the gun. And I’ll give you your clothes.”
    She glared at him, and he was suddenly unsure whether having her stick a gun in his pants was such a hot idea. But then she was stepping in close, standing on her toes, her breath warm against his ear, one hand under his shirt on his abdomen, the cold gun metal on the skin of his back, and she slid her front hand around and eased his pants back and he felt the barrel of the gun slide into his waistband.
    “You’re lucky I don’t shoot your ass off,” she said. She took the bag with her clothes and moved off to find the bathroom.
    Ben watched her go. He adjusted the Glock, then did another circuit of the bar. He counted a total of six security guys, including the one with the portable metal detector out front, all in Bottle Bar tee shirts. Three of them were behind the island bar, working alongside an equal number of petite Ticas, and didn’t look like much, though probably they could be mobilized if there were a problem that required a show of force. And probably the number of security personnel, like the number of bartenders, would increase as the hour grew later and the bar more raucous.
    He walked. Rear emergency exit—check. Next to it, a black curtain with a sign next to it that said
Privado.
Presumably Taibbi’s office. And if there had been any doubt, the muscleman in dreadlocks and the black Bottle Bar tee shirt sitting on a stool next to the curtain would be an important clue. Okay. He stood a little ways off and watched the scene in the bar and waited. He thought of the last bar he’d been in, the one in Manila. But it was different now. He was operational. If violence was called for, he’d use it purposefully.
    Or at least for the right purpose.
    After a few minutes, Paula appeared. She was back in her regular clothes.
    “I think I’m going to miss that outfit,” Ben said.
    “I’m sure you will.”
    “I should have taken a picture.”
    “Yeah, you should have. Because that’s the last you’ll be seeing of it.”
    “You ready?”
    “Let’s go.”
    They strolled over to Dreadlocks. The guy watched their approach and didn’t get up. Ben wasn’t impressed. If he’d been Dreadlocks and seen himself walking over, he’d damn sure be on his feet before the threat had closed the distance.
    Paula said, “Hello there. Do you speak English? ¿
Habla mejor Español?”
    Dreadlocks looked at her and said in American-accented English, “What do you want?”
    “Oh, thank you. My Spanish is so rusty. We’re here to see Mr. Taibbi.”
    “Is he expecting you?”
    “I don’t believe so, no. But I’m sure he’ll want to talk to us anyway. We have some information about Harry McGlade.”
    Dreadlocks looked at her for a moment longer, shifted his eyes to Ben, then shrugged. He got up, parted the curtain, and disappeared behind it. Ben heard a door open and close.
    A minute later, Dreadlocks appeared from behind the curtain. He stood closer to Ben and Paula than he needed to, crossed his massive arms across his chest, and said, “He’s not here.”
    Ben looked at him. “You had to go back there to figure that out?”
    “Guess I did.”
    “When’s he coming back?”
    “Don’t know. Maybe never. Main thing is, he’s not here. Now you need to not be here, too. You understand?”
    “Of course we do,” Paula started to say. “It’s just—”
    Ben cut her off. “Actually, I don’t. I can be a