Chapter 11

Frank dropped Jake off at his apartment, after obtaining his release from the hospital with the promise that if his almost-healed stomach wound started turning red around the stitches, he would come right back. Nobody could tell that the only part of the wound remaining was the stitches, themselves. Not even Frank knew, as he didn't know about Béla's ability to transfer her healing powers.

Afterward, Frank had driven around aimlessly, not wanting to go to the Target Club while the work crew was there. While Béla was gone, he'd decided to close the club for a couple of weeks and do some renovations. He eventually found a small diner and had something to eat, then walked the long way around the block back to his car. The walk in the brisk October evening helped clear his head a little.

By the time Frank got to the Target Club, it was dark and the workmen had all left a couple of hours earlier.

He walked around, looking at the work-in-progress. The bar was being expanded to include a frozen drinks section, as more and more customers had been asking for daiquiris and margaritas recently. Across from the bar was where the new stage was going to be, with two dancing poles, completely out of sight from the door. A foyer with a silkscreen on the front was backlit so that a dancer's shadow would be projected to tantalize the customers as she came onto the stage. Customers would see the girl's shadow first, then the live, nearly naked three-dimensional girl as she pranced or danced her way through the curtain and onto the stage. He remembered his first view of Béla was of her shadow swaying and posing against the window of a basement bar on Rush Street that advertised Shadow Dancing.

He heard the door open and turned around.

"Hello, Detective," he said, when he recognized who it was. "How's the case going?"

"You can cut the act, Mr. Tabor," Detective Mike said, his voice sounding very sober. "I'm on the inside, now."

Frank waited, silently, wondering where this odd conversation was going to go. He hoped the detective would say something different than what he knew was true about Béla.

"I brought your gun back," Mike said, holding it out by the barrel. "You should keep it loaded, in case someone tries to rob you or shoot up the place again."

"Thanks, Detective," Frank said, smiling and taking his beautiful .45 back and thinking, 'That's an odd statement for a police officer to make; most cops don't believe anyone should have guns except them.' He walked around behind the counter and laid the weapon down where he had kept it for the last several years.

"Someone is going to come after her – the Wilson girl, I mean," Mike said. "Too many people have learned what she is – and they want what she has."

"So, you know what she is, whatever that means," Frank said, "and you're here to – what? – warn me? And what am I supposed to do? Run out and lead you to her? You think I know where she is?"

"I know you know where she is," Mike said. "And I know you're not stupid enough to lead us to her. I watched the security camera tapes from the hospital. You aided her escape. The tapes don't show how you got her from the ambulance to her car, but I know you somehow managed it.

"Please believe me, Mr. Tabor," he continued, "I'm not here to trick you. I'm here to warn you; to tell you to be careful. You're going to be under surveillance, both you and her boyfriend. You mustn't go near her. Someone wants what she has very badly, and I wouldn't rule out kidnapping and torturing because I know what kind of people I'm talking about."

"It's odd that you would tell me not to help you find a missing person," Frank mentioned, keeping his voice casual.

"This isn't a missing person investigation any more," Mike warned him. "It's a witch hunt. Her paper trail gets more visible every day. We even know about the gun that was used to fake her murder back in 1928. Surprisingly, her current boyfriend owns that same gun, now. We know about the stolen mob money that she used to set up this business and others. We know about the properties that she owns under her various aliases. We're having them checked out as we find more of them.

"If you try to help her," Mike concluded, "you will simply end the witch hunt that much sooner."

"Why are you telling me this?" Frank asked him. "What's in it for you?"

"I'm just trying to even the playing field a little bit." Mike admitted. "Somebody I trusted with too much information went out and started his own covert operation. What he's doing is illegal, and he's using rogue agents, but it doesn't matter. To these people, the end justifies the means. And they will use any means to get what she has."

Detective Mike walked toward the door. At the doorway he turned around and said, as though continuing a conversation they never had, "Well, Mr. Tabor, if you hear anything, call me." He made it obvious that, from where they were standing, they could be heard by someone eavesdropping.

Frank followed him to the door. "Yes. I certainly will," he said in the same, 'louder' voice.

He watched as the detective stood on the sidewalk for a moment after he stepped outside and casually gazed down the street before returning Frank's watchful look. It was obvious that the detective was trying to make Frank aware of something outside.

As the detective walked back to his car, Frank stepped through the door and looked around for a moment, then went back inside and locked the door behind him. There had been a car parked down the block with the silhouettes of two men inside. He was already being watched. He took the gun from underneath the bar and loaded it, then took it upstairs to put it under the pillow in Béla's bedroom. If she came back, she might need it.

As he came downstairs, the phone rang. He walked behind the counter and pressed the 'TALK' button.

"Target Club," he said.

"Hi, lover-boy," a soft, sexy, familiar voice spoke out of the speaker box, "Is Béla there? Hey, it sounds pretty quiet. Are you open?"

"No. Tanya?" Frank said, wondering what to tell her. "We're closed for renovations. Béla isn't here."

"Oh, sorry," the voice in the speaker box said, "I thought she lived there."

"Well, she's, um, she's on vacation this week," Frank said.

'Jesus! Is that the best you can come up with?' he thought to himself.

"Oh, that's too bad," Tanya sighed, "I just finished four days at the Pussycat Lounge and thought since I was so close, I'd come up and spend a couple of days with you guys. I really miss you, you know."

'Is that a trick of some sort?' Frank wondered. 'She just e-mailed me yesterday that she was in Seattle!'

He and Tanya had been e-mailing each other constantly ever since her last visit. He knew her schedule and the Pussycat Club (not Lounge) wasn't on it.

'I get it, ' he realized. She was letting him know she already knew something was wrong. 'We can talk in code... '

"Well, we miss you, too," Frank said. "I wish I could tell you more, but I'm, um... tapped... out from working on that, uh, Woodpecker project." 'Jeez! How lame is that?'

"Woodpecker project?" Tanya asked, "Oh, I remember. Well, I'm glad there's nothing wrong. If there was, you know, I could be there in an hour."

"Yes, you probably could," Frank told her, "but you may as well wait until two pm tomorrow. If you come any later than that, you'll have to park your two little hooters a couple of spaces down the street."

'Her marvelous hooters are anything but little!' he thought to himself, smiling. 'But I hope she picks up that there are two government thugs down the street watching this place... '

"Gotcha back, buddy!" Tanya said, "I'll see you two-morrow! Bye!"

'Lord! Tanya's on her way. I hope she understands what she's getting into. But why is she suddenly so interested? Béla hinted the first night they met that Tanya was on a secret mission of some sort. Is she a government agent, too? Then whose side will she be on? Ours, or the men that Detective Mike warned me about?'

Frank opened a bottle of bourbon and settled down to wait. After one long, calming swallow, he went back upstairs and brought down his beautiful replica of the 'Gun That Tamed the West', now loaded. He might need it before Béla would; you never know.

An hour and a half later, he heard the clip-clop of spike heels coming up the sidewalk. It was after midnight, and, on days like today, when the club was closed, no one, especially a female in heels, ever walked anywhere at this hour in this part of town. He unlocked the door and opened it to see an incredibly bountiful head of wavy blond hair on top of a really well-stacked female body.

"Hoo, boy," Frank grinned at her, feeling his stomach tighten at the sight of her. "You look incredible!"

"You always say that," Tanya grinned as she gazed up at him. "You know, there's two little hoot owls sleeping the night away just down the street." She held up a small hypodermic needle and smiled. "It's just amazing what people will do to help a lady in dis-dress," she laughed.

Frank looked at her dress. It was skintight and almost completely transparent, hiding nothing. He hugged her, then kissed her passionately, forcing his tongue into her mouth and squashing her big boobs almost flat against his chest.

"Whew!" she sighed when he released her. "Well! I missed you, too!"

"I'm glad you got my message," he told her.

"Yeah, well, that 'woodpecker project' thing threw me for a minute," she explained, "until I put it together with 'tapped out' to mean the phone line was tapped and you've somehow got your little pecker in trouble. So, what's the problem?"

"Oh, it's really very simple," Frank said, "the government's found out what Béla has and they want it."

'The government?' Tanya thought to herself. 'It's not the government, or else I'd be the one after her! But maybe that's why they called me in... '

"Oh, God!" Tanya said, acting startled and surprised. "When I heard about the shooting, I knew this could happen. That's really why I called. Where is she? Do you know?"

"Well, I think she's up at her cabin, recovering from her wounds," he said, "but I'm not sure."

"Well, let's go find her," Tanya said, and headed out the door.

"Wait," Frank said, "We can't do anything tonight. If we leave around four in the morning, we'd get there right at dawn.

"Well, I don't think we should stay here," Tanya said anxiously. "Those two goons are gonna be pissed when they wake up..."

"You're right," Frank told her. He went behind the bar, picked up his big .45 and followed Tanya out the door, locking it behind him.

Nobody noticed the tiny red light that had been blinking on the answering machine all evening.

"We can go to a motel," he suggested as he held the car door for her and ogled her fabulous, busty body as she climbed in.

"Sounds great," she replied. "Then I can show you how much I've missed you!"