“It’s like this place is full of clones,” Hawk said.
“The bartender will know her. Let’s not waste our time.”
He nodded at Alex, signaling permission for her to charge ahead while he hung back.
Watching from across the room, he smiled as Alex went to work. She sauntered up to the bar, ordered a drink, and then casually said something to the bartender. He slid her a shot glass and then nodded toward a table in the corner. She said something, slapped some cash on the bar, and spun around to walk away. The bartender wore a big grin as he gawked at Alex.
Take a picture. It’ll last longer.
Hawk admired how smooth Alex was. Her wizardry on the computer often left him in awe but not as much as when he saw her in action with people. Extracting information was her true specialty—and she could do it just as well from a file as from a person.
“That’s her over there,” Alex said as she rejoined Hawk.
“The one in the red dress?” he asked.
“You got it. The bartender told me that she likes Manhattans.”
“Then why don’t we bring her one to loosen her up?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
Alex returned to the bar and ordered the drink. When she came back, they both strolled over to Ivana’s table.
“Mind if we join you?” Alex asked, holding out the drink.
“Is that a Manhattan?” Ivana asked.
Alex nodded.
Ivana took the glass and then gestured for them to have a seat. “I guess you can sit for a minute.”
She took a sip and then glanced over at the bartender.
“Boris is always looking out for me. I swear everyone in this place must know what I drink by now. Even complete strangers learn my drink of choice. But I suppose you didn’t just come here to buy me a drink, did you?”
Alex shook her head. “We’re looking into the death of your boyfriend, Thaxton Thurman, and are hoping you can possibly shed some light on who might have wanted to kill him.”
Ivana rolled her eyes. “Who are you? FBI? CIA? I already told the police everything.”
“We’re independent investigators,” Alex said. “We’re doing this as a special favor to Thaxton’s father.”
“The senator put you up to this?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot help you. The senator is a despicable man.”
“Did you meet him?” Alex asked.
“On several occasions—and I don’t think there is a more vile human being on the planet. And when I say that, I do so having met plenty of mobsters.”
“But you can’t tell us about any of Thaxton’s enemies?”
Ivana sighed. “Look, if you want to speak with someone who really knows about Thaxton and might be willing to talk, I suggest you talk to Dmitry Krasnoff.”
Alex nodded. “He’s also on our list of people to interview.”
“Well, you’re in luck because he’s right over there.”
Ivana pointed out Krasnoff, who was seated at a table with three other women, one of whom was sitting in his lap.
“Good luck, and be very careful. Dmitry isn’t the friendly type.”
Alex and Hawk stood and backed away from Ivana’s table.
“You want to do this right now?” Hawk asked.
“Why not? This is as good of a time as any to confront him.”
“Fine. Why don’t you take the lead? Based on my observation, you might be able to get him to talk more easily than I could.”
“I’m not even wearing a low-cut blouse,” she said.
“That hasn’t stopped any of the men from ogling you from the moment you walked in, especially the bartender.”
She flashed a soft smile. “Aww, you’re looking out for me, aren’t you?”
Hawk shrugged. “I’m just doing what I always do when I walk into a room. Get the temperature of what’s happening, search for all possible exits, identify potential troublemakers.”
“Don’t try to get all macho on me. I think it’s sweet—as long as you don’t start a fight with anyone over me. You’ve already won.”
Hawk shook his head and grinned. “Just go work your magic on Mr. Krasnoff. I’ll be nearby in case you need me.”
He found a table against the wall and settled into a chair to watch. Alex approached Krasnoff, who only seemed interested in one thing. He nudged the woman off his lap and gestured for Alex to replace her. Alex shook her head, which apparently wasn’t the response Krasnoff was hoping for her. He glared at her and shook his fist. Unsuccessful in her attempt to engage him in a meaningful conversation, she retreated to Hawk’s table.
“That went well,” Alex said sarcastically.
“He looked pretty upset.”
“Well, he’s drunk, and he didn’t like me turning down his offer to sit in his lap.”
“The nerve,” Hawk said, clenching his fists.
“Easy now. We still need to get him to talk, which he won’t do if you rearrange his face.”
Hawk grunted. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“It’s written all over your face.”
“Look,” Hawk said, nodding toward Krasnoff. “He’s getting up to get a drink. I’ll see if I can coerce him to join us out back for a little chat.”
“Just don’t make a scene,” Alex said.
Hawk strode across the room and eased right next to Krasnoff at the bar.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Hawk asked.
Krasnoff looked Hawk up and down. “Sorry, but you’re not my type.”
“No, no, no. That’s not what I meant. I just wanted to—”
“Save it. I’m not interested.”
The bartender handed Krasnoff two drinks, and he spun back toward his table.
Hawk slipped up behind him and jammed a gun into Krasnoff’s back. “I just want to talk. Let’s not make a scene.”
Krasnoff nodded subtly and acquiesced, setting down the drinks and walking toward the back exit. Alex was already awaiting them in the alley behind the club.
“Oh, so that’s what this was?” Krasnoff said. “A little good cop, bad cop routine? You Americans are so pathetic. Perhaps you’re unaware that I have diplomatic immunity.”
“We’re not cops,”
