The Promise (The 'Burg #5)(176)

“…investigating,” the voice said. “I understand from our former clients you have copies of what they’ve uncovered and it’s their understanding it would be safer for you to pass that on to us. I’d like to ask you to go to a restaurant called Frank’s on Main Street in Brownsburg sometime today. A man named Herb will be there. You can give him the flash drives. I’ve got a man en route to Brownsburg. He’ll meet up with Herb and get the drives. We’ll take it from there.”

The voice quit talking and Ben said toward the phone, “Bud, no offense, but I do not know you. You’re a voice on the phone callin’ early on a Sunday with no warning. So I’m not givin’ anythin’ to some random guy at a restaurant.”

“I was told that you’ve been informed our services were engaged,” the voice replied.

Oh my God.

Was this the Nightingale guy?

My eyes flew to Benny and I saw his were on his phone.

“Listen,” he said. “Again, I do not know you so I’m not sayin’ dick about anything.”

“You can look us up on the Internet,” the voice replied. “Like I said, I’m Lee Nightingale. I own Nightingale Investigations. The man I’m sending is Luke Stark. He’ll be there this afternoon. We want the drives prior to his arrival so we can sort through them and set him on task without delay.”

“If you do what you do for a living and you know what’s goin’ down with this and you had your woman on the inside, would you take a phone call from a guy you don’t know and do what he tells you to do?”

There was a moment’s hesitation, then, “I see your point. Look us up on the Internet. You got an email address, give it to me. I’ll send you one and it’ll have our domain in the address.”

“Not sure that makes me feel better,” Benny stated, not knowing anything about email or that it would be quite the task to register and use a domain name just to pull one over on an unsuspecting, protective, Italian hot guy first thing on a Sunday morning.

“Then I’ll give you this to make you feel better,” Lee Nightingale returned. “We started investigating this and our clients ran out of funds. We did not like what we found so we didn’t stop investigating, even after they could no longer pay for our services. We undoubtedly have more than you, perhaps enough to lay this shit open and stop a bad drug from hittin’ the market. You got the evidence to tie that bow, we’d be obliged. More so if we could quit dickin’ around, get it, and sort it before any more hits are called. And last, do all this before Salvatore Giglia and his goons get more involved and make this mess messier and possibly take indictments off the table due to mob involvement.”

At that, I gasped quietly and Benny looked at me.

Nightingale knew about Sal.

When Ben caught my eyes, I said, “Maybe we should meet this Herb guy at Frank’s.”

“Is that Francesca Concetti?” Nightingale asked.

I looked to the phone. “Yeah.”

“You’re off assignment,” he stated instantly (and bossily). “So is everyone else. Giglia’s men took care of the hired gun on Furlock. Now you can call Giglia off. Get the drives to Herb. Tomorrow, go in. Work. We’ve got it from here.”

Excuse me?

Some random guy on the phone “has it from here?”

I leaned toward Benny’s cell and snapped, “There are a lot of people who’ve stuck their necks out for a long time who have a lot riding on this.”

“Frankie,” Ben murmured.

“They can quit stickin’ their necks out,” Nightingale returned.

“And that’s a good thing,” Benny put in.

I turned my eyes to him to see his on me and I glared.

He turned his gaze to his phone at the same time he brought it closer to his face (and further away from mine). “We’ll look you up. Send an email. In it, write something that only your clients will know. We’ll confirm that information with the clients, and if it jives, we’ll meet this Herb guy at Frank’s at one o’clock. We’re keepin’ copies of the drives. And we want direct lines to you and this Stark guy so we can stay informed about how shit is goin’, and by that, I don’t mean email.”

“Luke doesn’t do email,” Nightingale muttered, and I saw Ben give me a smug look so I rolled my eyes. “This is my personal cell,” he continued. “Text me your email address. We’ll confirm with Herb that he’s meeting you at Frank’s.”

“Right,” Ben said.

“And, heads up, Herb is…” Nightingale started, paused, and went on, “Unusual.”

I felt Ben tense as he asked, “Unusual how?”

“He’s not young. He’s not tall. He has red hair. He’s loud. He’s likely to say something inappropriate. And he’s very much from Indiana.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“That means don’t wear red because he’s from a Purdue family,” Nightingale answered.

I’d been living in Indiana less than a year, and still, I totally knew what this meant.

“Red’s out,” I murmured.

“We good?” Ben asked Nightingale.

“Yeah,” Nightingale replied. “Text the email. We’ll get you Luke’s information and you and your woman can stand down.”