The Spy With The Silver Lining. Wendy Rosnau

by the hand and led her mother along the wall to the secluded table. “Sit down, Mama.”

      Her mother was still wearing her dark glasses and she stumbled into the table and almost knocked it over. The noise turned heads and suddenly two dozen smiles acknowledged the arrival of the female duo.

      Casmir took a head count, then assessed the grins. Oh, goody. This was just what they needed. A room full of depraved lechers to add to their problems.

      “This is just great,” she huffed.

      “I agree.” Ruza sighed. “My shoes are killing my feet. It’s been years since I cruised the streets in heels.”

      “What?”

      “Never mind. I’m just glad to finally sit down. I think I’ve got a blister on my toe.”

      Casmir took a seat beside her mother. She kept one eye on the entrance, and one eye on a man ten feet away who hadn’t stopped grinning since they’d found the empty table. She pulled her phone from her pocket, then just as quickly stuffed it back when the man and his friend stood and started sauntering toward them.

      “Stay put, Mama, I’ll be right back.” Casmir met the men halfway. Before they got a chance to say anything, she said, “We’re meeting our fellas, boys, so don’t get excited. They’ll be here in a few minutes and my boyfriend is a real jealous badass. We just want to enjoy a drink in quiet while we wait.”

      One of the men nodded—the big burly one. But there was an asshole in every crowd, and Big Burly’s long-haired companion was it.

      “Come on, cher. I’ll show you a better time den your boyfriend. I got more experience den a dog’s got hairs on his ass.”

      “I’m sure you do, but I’m into the tall, dark, silent type. And did I mention manners? A lady values manners and…good hygiene. Not hairy assholes.”

      “Ain’t no ladies come in here, cher. None dat I knows can talk like dat.”

      While they had been in the cab, Casmir had slipped her Makarov out of the secret compartment in her purse and into her jacket pocket. She came up with it and nudged the crude dog in the ribs.

      “Sometimes it’s hard to distinguish the difference, but you’re going to have to take my word for it.” She gave him a solid poke with the barrel of her gun. “Or not. It’s your choice.”

      He glanced down, saw the gun. His eyes doubled their original size. “Hold on, lady…”

      “That’s right…lady. I thought you’d come around. Now go sit down and do your barking at the stage.”

      When they walked off, Casmir returned to her seat, her gun neatly tucked back in her pocket. Keeping her eyes out for incoming trouble, she concentrated on cooling off.

      “The air-conditioning in this place must be broken,” she said.

      “What did you say to those men, Cassie?”

      “I just told them we wanted to enjoy our drinks…alone.”

      “Drinks? That sounds absolutely wonderful. I could use a Russian Rose.”

      Her mother had removed her dark glasses. Casmir stared at Ruza’s black eye in the dim light. She was worried about her mother. She had to get her someplace safe.

      She pulled out her phone. “I don’t think a martini is a good idea right now, Mama. At the moment we need to keep our wits about us.”

      “My wits are always sharpened after a martini. Even better after two. When I get to number three—”

      “I know what happens after number three, Mama. If you need to lie down in here, you could start a riot. No martinis.”

      “But I’ve acquired quite a thirst, Cassie. We’ve seen half of the city from the backseat of a taxicab, and we haven’t been here an hour. That cabdriver must have been on speed. Did you see how many red lights he ran? And what about our luggage?”

      “I need to make a phone call.”

      “To Mr. Fourtier?”

      Never, Casmir thought. Not even if she was stranded in a snake pit with an alligator gnawing on her ankle. “I’m calling…my boss. Are you going to be all right sitting here for a few minutes?”

      “Of course. About our luggage…”

      “Later, Mama.” Casmir got up and rounded the table. There was a hall with a flashing sign above it indicating the restrooms. “Don’t move from this table. Do you hear, Mama? I want you sitting right here when I get back.”

      “I don’t think I could move if I wanted to. Don’t worry. My butt is glue.”

      Pierce walked through the front door of the Glitterbug at the same time as Lazie came through the back door. His jaw was set, but Saber—who was used to the shit hitting the fan on the hour—was wearing a wide grin. His old friend was in his element when he was knee-deep in sewage digging for treasure at the bottom.

      They met at the bar. “Good to see you, mon ami. It’s been a while. You’re lookin’ fit for a man in bed with the government. At the moment it looks like your mood could be better—” he shrugged “—but women can have that affect on a man, oui. We’ll find dem, no worries.”

      “We better or Merrick is going to send me to Greenland naked to count snowflakes. You said they took off when they saw you?”

      “Dat’s right. Say, who’s da hot cookie dat’s with your lady? I ain’t seen nothin’ dat shiny and sweet in years.”

      “That’s the mother.” Pierce ignored Lazie’s goofy grin. It was rare to see Saber in a bad mood, even when a bucket of shit was raining down on his parade. Only this time it was his parade, and Merrick wasn’t going to be happy if he learned he’d lost the bait out of the starting gate.

      He said, “You take this side of the street, and I’ll take the—”

      “Cookie!”

      “What?”

      Lazie had turned around to lean against the bar. He was looking out past the crowd of men who had come to enjoy the afternoon strip show. Pierce turned his head, and there in the far corner of the room sat an attractive woman in her early fifties.

      “Is that Balasi’s mother?”

      “It is, mon ami.” Lazie’s grin widened. “What did you say her name was?”

      “I didn’t. You sure that’s her?”

      “Dat’s da maman. And look, she’s a spirited ange, too.”

      Pierce watched as a waitress set a martini down in front of the woman.

      Lazie put his hand over his heart. “I’m in love, mon ami. Tell me mon coeur’s name?”

      “Snap out of it, Lazie. Ruza Balasi isn’t your type.”

      “Ruza-a…” Lazie let the name hang on his silver, Southern tongue. “Ma douce amie.”

      “She’s not your love.” Pierce scanned the room looking for Casmir. “She wouldn’t leave her mother,” he muttered, thinking out loud. “No luggage. On foot. Strange city. What would she do? Oui, I know. She’d make a call to Polax.”

      The music was loud and the catcalls the stripper was getting added to the noise. Pierce glanced at the hall leading to the restrooms, thought a moment.

      He grabbed Lazie by the front of his shirt. “Get your eyes back in your head and your mind off your dick. And put your hand down. It looks like your having a heart attack.”

      “Mais, yeah. It’s true. My heart has been attacked by Ruza-a…”

      “One of these days I’ll enlighten you about sweet Ruza Balasi, but right now this is what you’re going to do.”