St Kilda Consulting 02 - Innocent as Sin

cheap room perfume that made her nose itch.
    Arizona, last bastion of smokers and gunmen, she thought with a grimace.
    She glanced around the room. Empty. It had been turned over, with fresh sheets and towels and a quick vacuum, but it was still a tired, threadbare motel room that had been inhabited by years of smokers.
    “Joe?” she called out.
    No one answered.
    Lane was in the second room, nose deep in a textbook. She closed the door behind her, crossed the room, and headed for yet another interior door. When she opened it on her side, she came face-to-face with Faroe. He put his hand around her neck and kissed her thoroughly.
    “I hope you aren’t planning an assignation,” she said, leaning her stomach against him, “because cheap motels and oily bureaucrats don’t put me in the mood.”
    Lane snickered. “La la la, I’m not listening, la la la, I’m not—”
    “No luck on the lockdown warrant?” Faroe asked.
    “I didn’t realize a judge’s birthday was a sacred holiday,” she said curtly.
    “Only to oily bureaucrats.” He rubbed her stomach, felt the baby doing backflips, and said, “C’mon. Rand and Kayla just got here.”
    “Lunch?” Lane asked without looking up.
    “I gave you my last candy bar,” Faroe said.
    “I ate it.”
    “Then you’ll survive for a few more minutes.”
    Faroe led Grace out of the second motel room and through the unlocked companionway door to a third room. Drawn drapes contributed to the gloom. Officially, this room hadn’t been rented. The desk monkey had a fifty-dollar bill and a promise of two more if it stayed that way.
    Nobody spoke until Faroe closed and locked the door. “Did the feds tail you?” he asked Rand.
    “If they did, I didn’t spot them.”
    “Then they probably didn’t follow you.”
    “Good.” Grace went to a chair, lowered herself into it, and sighed. “We left the camera crew at the compound to keep most of the surveillance teams anchored.” She stretched her legs out on the cigarette-scarred coffee table. “Explain to me again why we need three rooms?”
    “It’s a cheap way of confusing the guys with the eyeballs,” Faroe said. He slipped off her shoes, sat on the floor, and began rubbing her feet. “They saw you come in two-oh-three, so they’ll probably camp all day on two-oh-three, waiting to ID whoever you meet there. Meanwhile, we’ll come and go from two-oh-seven all day long, and they’ll never figure it out. I hope.”
    “Hope is good.” Grace yawned. “It’s all that’s keeping me from grabbing someone and squeezing his balls until his eyes cross.”
    “Oily bureaucrats don’t have balls,” Faroe said.
    “Quiet, you’re ruining my fantasy.” She looked at Rand. “Joe has already filled me in on your meeting with Foley. Anything to add?”
    “Bottom line hasn’t changed,” Rand said. “Bertone is trying like a dirty beggar to move that money, but so long as the account is protected by Kayla’s password, that money is as secure as it would be under a temporary restraining order.”
    Kayla touched the back of Rand’s hand and said, “Not quite. It’s secure from the remote access program, but if Steve Foley goes back to the office, he could override my password with his own. If he thinks of it.”
    “Will he?” Grace asked sharply.
    “He’s a doofus on the computer, but he’s under a lot of pressure right now.” Kayla turned her hands palms-up. “He could figure it out, or he could get some computer-literate underling to talk him through it.”
    “Not good,” Faroe said.
    “No shit,” Rand muttered.
    Grace started to push herself to her feet. “I’m going to start chewing a personal underling’s ass. We’ve got to get that warrant now. ”
    Faroe gave her a hand. He knew as well as she did that the chance of getting the warrant in time was melting away like ice on a hot griddle.
    “Would St. Kilda get all upset if I moved the money in Bertone’s account to one of mine?” Kayla asked.
    “Forget it,” Rand said instantly. “It’s called theft, and you’d do hard time when it’s discovered.”
    She looked at Faroe, then at Grace. “Is that St. Kilda Consulting’s official answer?”
    “Officially, St. Kilda hasn’t heard a word of this,” Faroe said. He looked at his wife. “Right?”
    “Heard what?” Grace said automatically, but she was frowning as she settled back into the furniture. “Just for the sake of having a Plan B, no matter how unlikely it is to be