Middle Of Nowhere

   Special Ops gained access to leading-edge technology far in advance of any other unit, the way the FBI always had the cool toys ahead of any city law enforcement. Mulwright passed out digital cellular phones with walkie-talkie capability to each of the operatives involved, although the method of their distribution—having an undercover "street person" drunkenly wander the area surrounding the motel pushing a grocery cart (in which were hidden the communications devices)— took an inordinate amount of time. The digital devices could not be scanned, nor the conversations overheard, meaning that all parties surrounding the motel could monitor and communicate via the same walkie-talkie channel without concern that Flek would hear them. At the same time, the secure police frequencies remained available for communication back and forth between the field and headquarters at Public Safety.

   Mulwright brought with him long-distance video and audio surveillance, high-powered binoculars and monoculars, which included night vision capability if needed, and four Emergency Response Team officers prepared to put their lives on the line and kick Flek's room if and when required to do so.

   The slightly chaotic and scattered attempt to keep Samway under surveillance quickly streamlined and took on the feel of a well-run operation. Mulwright swallowed his dislike of Boldt, not allowing it to interfere with operations.

   The police net was carefully structured in concentric circles. Well out of sight, positioned at key intersections several blocks away in every direction, four police cruisers—radio cars—occupied the four corner posts of a "contained perimeter." Included within this perimeter were Boldt and the Ford, with the wild card, Danny Lincoln, still pedaling, but now with a police vest hidden beneath his Nike windbreaker. Everyone involved kept a weather eye on the sidewalks, in case Flek approached on foot. The good money had Flek already inside.

   Mulwright and his Special Ops Command Center personnel occupied an Ore-Ida panel truck, its painted sides and roller door advertising a NEW! thick-slice potato chip with thirty percent less fat. It was parked on the curb immediately in front of the motel, offering the ERT team quick access to the motel, if needed. A lone police sniper, under Mulwright's authority, was positioned on a rooftop west of the motel, covering the building's back side. Seventy minutes after Samway headed inside, operation "Baywatch" was in place—so named by Mulwright because the motel's small indoor pool happened to be peopled to overflowing with bikini-clad women who, according to a welcome marquee, were attending a press-on nail and cosmetics conference. Judging by the pool, not many were attending the seminars.

   When Courtney Samway was spotted inside the pool area, slipping into the hot pool in the recently purchased lime green thong and matching top, it was Boldt, not Mulwright, who formulated a plan to discover which room she was in, and thereby concentrate Special Ops' considerable assets.

   "You feel like a swim?" he asked Bobbie Gaynes.

   Although Boldt and Gaynes had both been at the stripper club the night they had brought Samway in for questioning, Gaynes and the girl had not met face to face. Gaynes had gone backstage to the dressing rooms, but Samway had come out into the club offstage, leaving Boldt to detain her and get her into one of the cruisers. He needed someone in that pool area, and he wanted it not only a woman, but a woman he trusted.

   "In front of all these guys? With twenty-power mon

oculars?" she returned. "My thighs? Forget it. Try Jilly. She'll knock their socks off."

   Boldt disagreed. "We used Jilly out front of Wong's store, and again in the coffee shop. She's used up. I could probably pull a woman from one of the radio cars, but the inexperience could burn us."

   "L.T.!" she objected. "Use a guy. Use Milner. I've got a feeling he has a great bod under there."

   "There must be a dozen women in there, Bobbie. No men. I send a guy in and nobody—nobody—is going to miss it. Another woman wanders in, nobody may notice."

   "I'm supposed to buy a suit in the gift shop, I suppose."

   "If they sell them," Boldt said. "Over at the mall, if they don't."

   "I'm sure they do," she sighed. "And real beauties at that. I don't want to do this, L.T."

   "If she came down for a dip, she brought a room key with her, and it's probably lying on a towel."

   "And if it's one of those electronic card keys?" she asked.

   "Then you follow her to her floor and do a little police work."

   "In a gift shop bathing suit," she groaned.

   "In a gift shop bathing suit," he confirmed.

   "And you're going to order me to do this," she tested.

   "We can go to the front desk and ask about Flek, flash badges and mug shots. But if he's bought off the front desk clerk, then we lose. Lose big-time, if that seven-rounds-a-second bullet hose comes into play."

   "And I gotta do this now because she won't stay long."

   "Might not. That's true."

   "And then we got nothing."

   "Nothing."