The Special Agent Jana Baker Spy-Thriller Series

In the Penthouse

24

In the Penthouse

I’ve got to find his stash of roofies, Jana thought.

“My, my, Jeffrey. You certainly have decorated well.”

The sprawling penthouse was an open floor plan, decorated in young, New York style. Walls of glass spanned the entire expanse—the view of Manhattan was stunning.

“I can’t take credit for it,” Jeffrey said as he walked toward the built-in Sub-Zero refrigerator. “I cheated and hired a decorator.”

Jana watched him. Unless he took a capsule of Rohypnol to work with him this morning, he doesn’t have any on his person. Most likely place he’d keep them is in his bathroom.

***

“Six, this is mobile two. Subjects are inside the apartment.”

“Roger that, mobile two. Keep your optics trained on the suspect. If you see him dump anything into her drink or food, you call it out.”

“Roger that, six.”

***

“Can I use the ladies room?” Jana said with a little grin.

“Just down the hall on the left.”

Jana walked down the carpeted hallway but when she found the bathroom she realized it was a guest bath, not the one Jeffrey would normally use. She looked back toward the main living area to make sure he couldn’t see her, then tiptoed until she entered what was certainly Jeffrey’s master bedroom. The bed was massive and sat low to the ground, a black leather-covered comforter lay across it.

Leather? A leather comforter? What a prick, she thought. She walked further around to the left until she found his master bath, a sprawling collaboration of black marble and mirrors. She started to walk in but feared her heels would clack against the marble floor, so she removed them. She walked in and began pulling open drawers in a frantic attempt to locate Jeffrey’s supply of Rohypnol before he could use it on her. If she could locate his supply, her plan stood a good chance of working. But even when she opened the medicine cabinet, she could see nothing out of the ordinary. Just typical over-the-counter items, toilet paper, and extra towels. Where the hell is it? How am I going to find it? I’ve got to think like him. Where would he put it? Where would a raping thug put his stash of roofies? But then she saw the door to his walk-in closet and a thought struck her. His closet. What about his closet? Maybe it’s in there. She looked over her shoulder again and walked in. If he catches me in here . . .

***

“Six, this is mobile two. I’ve lost her. I don’t have eyes on her anymore.”

“Dammit!” Stone barked into the radio from his new position in the building, a stairwell on the opposite end, just two floors below the penthouse.

“I’ve got Dima in play, but she walked down a hallway. Hold on, six. Hold on . . . he’s walking down the hallway in her direction!”

“I’ve had enough of this!” Stone said. “I’m going in.”

“No, wait,” Agent Fry called across the radio. “He hasn’t had time to drug her. She’s not in danger yet. And remember, we have no evidence against him.”

“We’ve got him in communication with a known terrorist network.”

“If you go in there before we have the evidence, it’ll never stick. And, they’ll cancel whatever terror attack they’ve got planned and do it later, without our knowing. We’ve got to give her more time.”

A vein in Stone’s temple pulsed. He paused, but finally raised the radio and spoke into the mic. “I hate it when you’re right.”

***

In the middle of the closet sat a center island filled with drawers. But what astounded Jana was the number of business suits, casual slacks, and dress shirts. Each was hung on a long rack that ran the circumference of the room, separated by the exact same amount of space. The man was a perfectionist, and a real clothes hog. These must be two-thousand-dollar suits, she thought. Look at all those shoes. There’s got to be one hundred and fifty thousand dollars of clothes in here. What a jackass. She began opening drawer after drawer on the center island only to find perfectly folded socks in one, unopened dress shirts in another, and an electric shoe polisher in a third. Where the hell is it? She began to perspire as the pressure of finding the drugs before she got caught increased.

It was then she saw a single dress shirt hanging on the wall with a pair of slacks, right next to the full-length mirror. They had been separated from all the other clothing. It was as if he had set these items aside to put on later. She quickstepped to the full-length mirror and felt the pocket on the dress shirt but found it empty. When she felt a lump in the pants pocket, however, her hand darted inside it. Her fingers landed on a tiny Ziploc baggie that contained two capsules. Found them, you asshole. Upon closer examination, Jana could see that the capsules were an exact match to the ones Agent Stone had given her. Each capsule was blue and white, imprinted with the words Flunitrazepam, 1 mg, Roche.

She fished in her handbag and withdrew two identical capsules from her prescription bottle and carefully replaced them with the two from Jeffrey’s pant pocket. Jana had previously emptied the powdered contents of her Rohypnol and replaced it with confectioner’s sugar. If Jeffrey tried to drug her, nothing would happen; she would simply detect the sweet taste of sugar.

“What are you doing in here?” Jeffrey’s voice said from behind.

Jana’s pulse rate exploded.