It was nearly two o'clock when Doug Barnes drove up in front of the Men's Club. The parking attendant gave him a valet parking ticket and drove off. After paying the cover charge, Barnes strolled into the club and scanned the room until he spotted Hans Schultz at the bar with a dancer hovering over him. He went over and sat down beside him. The dancer got down on her knees and dangled her breasts in front of them erotically. Barnes ignored her.
"So, what's up?" Hans said. "You sounded upset over the phone."
"I am upset! What in the hell happened with Monica Sommers?"
"I don't know. Monica's a pro. I've used her before but this guy is a tough son of a bitch."
"Well she not only failed you miserably, she told them you hired her to seduce Matt," Barnes complained.
"I know. I'm going to take care of that bitch, don't worry."
"You better because if she identifies you, you'll have to disappear."
"I know. Don't worry. I've got it covered."
"I think we've seriously underestimated Mr. Coleman,” Barnes said. “He's totally out of control and we've got to put a lid on him soon. Do you have anything on him yet?"
"Yes, I've got his office manager on board."
"Good, how long will it take for him to do his job?"
"Thirty to sixty days, I would imagine."
"That's too long. This guy is moving fast. There's no telling what kind of damage he'll do in sixty days.”
“What about the FBI?"
"I got a man who's going to see them today. In a couple of weeks, we'll have his ex-wife spill the beans to the U.S. Trustee. It should be downhill from there."
"That's good, but FBI investigations take forever. It might be six months before anything happens."
"Well, I've checked his background and he's squeaky clean. His wife's clean too. I'm not sure there is anything legally we can do to stop him."
"Well you've got to stop him, whatever it takes do it," Barnes reiterated.
Hans raised his eyebrows and said, "Whatever it takes?"
"That's what I said. Whatever it takes."
He smiled. "Fine. Consider it done."
"Good."
Barnes left and Hans resumed his flirtations with the topless dancer. She sat down on the bar directly in front of him, dangling her legs on both sides of him. Then she leaned over and brushed her nipples across his cheeks. He smiled and then flashed a fifty-dollar bill in front of her. She leaned down and grabbed it with her teeth, then slid off the table and stood beside him.
"Thanks, honey," she said. "Your friend is an asshole."
"I know,” Hans replied. “He doesn't appreciate the finer things in life."
She sat down in his lap, put an arm around him and asked, "So why do you work for a jerk like that?"
"He pays me a lot of money."
"To do what?"
"You ask too many questions."
"I'm just curious."
"I'm kind of like a private investigator. I follow people around, check out what they’re doing . . . you know . . . intelligence work. Everything's highly confidential. That's why I can't discuss it with you."
"Oh."
Hans gently pushed the dancer off his lap and stood up. He smiled and said, "Gotta go. I'll see you when you get off work."
She gave him a seductive wink and said, "Bye, honey. Be careful."
Hans left the club and headed downtown. He parked in a lot next to McDonald's across from the Federal Building. A long-haired man dressed in military fatigues immediately approached him.
"Sir, I haven't eaten today. Could you spare a dollar?"
"Sure," he said as he pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to the man.