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DISCOVERY NIGHT
Penn O’Hara    2004

Jake can’t come to terms with Frank Donovan, the leader and Frank Donovan, the man.  Thus, he goes investigating on his own time.

Time:  Immediately after the fanfic, Karaoke Night.

Usual UC:Undercover fanfic disclaimers apply.

Rated:  PG

Thanks again to VRT, who I think is not being as critical as she could be!  Stop laughing, girlfriend, and get serious!  Fanfic is serious business!

Thanks again to Nicky and Dawn for reviewing.

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"Here ya go, Cody."

Jake set a full coffee cup down in front of Cody and then pulled up a chair beside him.  "Coffee.  Just the way you like it."  He ignored the look of suspicion from the younger man, knowing what prompted it.  Monica and Alex were giving him amused looks too, but he ignored them as well.  Jake never bothered making Cody cups of coffee before, and so they had to think there was a good reason for him to start now. 

There was.  Jake wanted information.

"So... thanks,"  said Cody slowly,  "what do you want?" 

"Nothin’, nothin’.  Well..."  Jake moved in a little closer.  "I just wondered... if you knew more about this Marguerite of Donovan's."

"Nooo... should I?"

Jake spread out his hand.  "Well, you and him went out that night.  On your own.  I thought maybe..."

Cody took a sip of the coffee and grimaced.  Jake suddenly remembered he didn't know how Cody liked his coffee.  He had just made one the way he  liked it.  Too bad.  It was the thought that counted.

"Wrong.  If you're wondering if Marguerite turned up that night, she didn't.  Tina did.  Tina then, Marguerite last night.  I wonder who it will be next time."

Jake smiled.  Cody was a little peeved, because he hadn't scored last night.  None of them had.  Except Frank.

Jake looked at the others.  "Does anyone know anything about her?"

Monica shrugged.  "Why do you want to know?"

"Why do I... You mean, you're not curious!?"

Monica shrugged again.  "I guess so.  Well, I figure she's a professional singer and had no business being in a karaoke bar.  And that hair?  I think she was wearing a wig.  A good one.   And she knew what she wanted.  And got it.  Other than that..."

"Alex?"  Jake looked at his partner.  "You and Frank were chatting for a while there.  Did you find out anything?"

"Nope.  And we weren't chatting.  I was trying, unsuccessfully as you know, to persuade him to sing for us."

"Then where the hell did she come from?  And what was she doing there?"

"I thought that was rather obvious,"  said Monica.  "The way she was all over Donovan, I wouldn't have thought I'd have to spell it out for you."

"You know what I mean."  Jake pushed back his chair and started to pace the platform where they held their briefings.  It was his way of sorting through things.  He didn't even know why it bothered him so much, but he realised he preferred his boss as the 'iceman' they'd previously thought.  It made more sense given the way Donovan handled each assignment.  Hell, handled Jake himself!  An ordinary man couldn't have called Wilkes' bluff in the standoff that had Wilkes' girlfriend at the mercy of Frank and Jake at the mercy of the bank thief.  And no ordinary man had worked out precisely how far to push Jake to get what he wanted.  Donovan had the uncanny knack and knew how to use it.    

"Go and ask Donovan yourself,"  said Monica.

"You don't ask him things like that.  That's what I mean!  Last night was totally out of character."

"Only the kissing part,"  smiled Alex.

"Kissing!  They weren't kissing.  They were eating each other!"

"Jake, I don't see your problem,"  said Monica.

Jake grabbed his chair again and pulled it alongside Monica.  "Figure it,"  he said.  "Donovan's the steel that holds this place together.  If he goes soft on us, what'll happen to the rest of the team?"

"Bit melodramatic, don't you think?"  asked Cody, still trying to drink the too-sweet coffee.

"Hey..."  Jake stabbed the air with this finger.  "He got me out of my funk when Keller went down, didn't he?  Not many could have done that."

"The man only got a little carried away after a woman sang to him,"  said Alex.  "It's not like he's having a nervous breakdown."

Monica held up her hand.  "I think what Jake's trying to say is that he needs his leader to be steadfast where his job is ever-changing; predictable where Jake's perps are psychotic.  An anchor, immovable."

Jake was impressed.  He wasn't sure what Monica meant, but it sounded right.  He needed an anchor.  And one without cracks.  He wasn't sure that was fair on Donovan, but that was his problem.

He heard the sound of soft footfalls on the stair above him and looked up to see Donovan heading down to their level.

"Jake, Alex.  We're on the move.  I'll explain on the way.  Cody, patch into the head mikes.  Monica, find out everything you need to know about ADA Nazario Ferrero."

****

"Hey, Frank,"  said Jake, once they had pulled into the main street traffic with Donovan at the wheel.  "Gonna see Marguerite again?"

Donovan glanced across at him before watching the road again.  "Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, no particular reason.  Just thought she was... you know, a bit of an all right."

"Cody."  Frank buzzed through on his head mike, then switched on the intercom in the car. 

Yeah boss?

"Get me to Cook County Court."

On it.

"So,"  said Jake,  "are you seeing her again?"

"Maybe."

O-kay... head towards Roosevelt and Michigan.  Two blocks south and you'll hit Fourteenth Avenue.  That's where you'll find your courthouse.

"Thanks.  Monica?"

I'm here.

"The ADA.  How many cases has he lost?"

In the last twelve months since he's been appointed?  Only the big ones.  Petty crime, assault -- no problem.  But financial fraud or any case involving clients with the big bucks?  They slip right through his fingers.

"Thanks Cody, Monica.  Talk to you later."

Sure thing.

"So, Frank..."

"Jake, forget Marguerite."

Jake looked out the car window, feeling like he'd been put in his place.  And good.   Get over it,  he thought.  

"We'll be walking through the Court,”  said Donovan. “Have a good look while you're there and use the mikes to report what you see to Cody.  Layouts, exits, security protocol.   Next time you're in there, you'll be lawyer and client."

"We're after Ferrero?"  asked Alex.

"No, we're after his judge."

****

The trouble was, Jake couldn't forget about Marguerite.  He felt it was somehow important that he knew who she was and at least found her again.  It was a feeling he couldn't shake, even though he had no idea whether his instinct told him it was a good thing if he found her, or a bad thing.

The second thing he did when he got home that night, was make a phone call.

"Danny, yo man, how're ya doin?"

"Jake?  Is that you man?"  said the voice on the other end of the connection.

"Yeah.  It's me.  I've been busy."

"You're always busy.  Or AWOL.  How they been hanging?"

Jake grinned.  "Hanging just fine, Danny.  I've got a job for you."

"Hey, no offense, man, but that's the only reason why you call me lately.  What can I do for you?"

"Yeah.  I know, I'm a slack friend.  So sue me."

"No point doin' that.  Last time I checked, you were broke.  Your records show your pay packet goin' out as fast as it comes in."

"Danny, do you mind?  I pay you to check up on other people, not myself."

"Just bein' thorough, man.  What's the job?"

Jake didn't know where to begin.  How could even the best PI find someone with so little to go on?  "It's not an easy one."

"They never are.  That's why you pay me the little bucks."

Jake gripped the phone-piece.  It was do or die.  "I want you to find a needle in a haystack, Danny."

****

Four days later, Danny rang back.

"Jake?  Danny here."

"Have you found her?"  Jake couldn't believe it.  He thought it was an impossible task, but maybe his friend had come through for him.

"Let me get this straight,"  said Danny.  "You want me to find a tall woman, who calls herself 'Marguerite' but it's probably an alias.  She's beautiful in that certain kinda way, she can sing real nice and she's not averse to picking up strange men in bars.  Oh, and she's probably wearing a wig."

Jake's heart sank.  Danny hadn't found her.  "You came up empty."

"Did I say that?"

"What?!"

"I think I've found her."

"Thanks man."  His day just got a whole lot better.  After spending five hours in the courthouse posing as Alex's client, his boredom threshold had been at zero.  Now things were looking up.  He didn't know what he was going to do with Danny's information, but he sure was going to do something.

"What can you tell me about her?"

"Well, I didn't get any info on her.  I just said I found her.  It's up to you to go digging once I've given you the co-ordinates.  Okay?"

"Sure.  Fire away."

"Check out an address on South Clark Street.  Got a pen?"

"Hang on.  Yeah, shoot.  Oh, Danny?"

"Yep?"

"How'd you find her?  I didn't think you would."

"Hey, man, I never reveal my contacts.  You wouldn't need me then, would you?  1369 South Clark.  That's all you'll need.  Go check it out."

"Okay, thanks Danny.  I owe you."

"As always.  Next time."

Jake hung up the phone and stared at the address on his notepad.  He could go alone but he didn't want to.  It wouldn't hurt to take a witness, a back-up.  That was her job after all.  Surely, she'd help him out after-hours.

He picked up the phone again.

****

"So this is where you're gonna find Marguerite?"  asked Alex.

Jake peered out of his car window at the building opposite.  It was like every other building in the neighbourhood.  Only the number of storeys and thickness of dirt on the indeterminate colour schemes varied.  A concrete box with small windows on each storey and a serviceable door at the top of a short flight of slightly less serviceable stairs.  At least this one had a little less trash around its perimeter.

He turned back to Alex who was peering past his shoulder at the building.  She looked like she wasn't prepared to leave the car, Marguerite or no.  "According to Danny, and he's never wrong.  Coming?"

He watched her hesitate.  It had been hard enough talking her into coming with him, but now he wondered if he was going to have to drag her out of his car.

"I don't know, Jake.  I feel like we're poking our noses where they don't belong."

"Like we don't do this every other day?"

"That's different.  That's the job.  This... this is an invasion of privacy.  And it could be we're messing into Donovan's private life too, which he's not going to thank us for."

"Alex, you're here now.  Let's just do this."

He appealed to her with everything he had.  Cute brown eyes, quivering lip, even tried for the earnest puppy-dog look.  It usually worked on her.

"Oh, okay."  She pushed herself out of the car door and slammed it behind her.

"Yesss! "  Worked every time.  He opened his side of the car and got out, locking it automatically.  There were a lot of people about and they had to dodge the traffic as they made their way across the road. 

Walking up the stairs to the door, Jake reached back for Alex's hand.  "What'll we do?  Be the couple whose car has broken down and needs a phone?"

"In this day and age of cell phones?  I don't think so.  How about interested house-buyers?  We were out on a night on the town, and we happened to walk past this quaint little building and it’s just what we're looking for.  Maybe she knows of someone on a floor interested in selling?"  Alex stopped, tugging back on his hand.  "What floor's she on anyway?"

"Danny didn't say.  We'll just have to check the mailboxes."

He tested the handle on the front door and it turned easily, but instead of opening onto a stairwell and foyer lined with mail slots, Jake found himself in a richly-appointed reception room: small, but very comfortable-looking with several sofas, low tables topped with magazines and books, and large potted plants arranged in every available corner.  The lighting was good, not bright, not dull, just enough to see well without hurting the eyes.  The decor was complete with a small reception desk and a young attractive woman behind it.

"Good evening,"  she said, standing to greet them and indicating one of the sofas.  "Please take a seat."  When they didn't move, she picked up a pen and what looked like a large leather-bound diary and walked over to the nearest sofa.

Sitting down, she looked at Alex and then at Jake.  "I'm Alison.  How can I help you?  Which one of you is interested in our establishment?"

That's fine, thought Jake, if he knew what the establishment was.  He looked around the walls hoping for a sign, a mission statement, an advertisement -- anything -- to shed some light on exactly where they were.  There was only one sign and it didn't help much.  It was high on the wall opposite the reception desk and adjacent to where they sat. It was a classy affair with gold embossed letters denoting the wall where it was fixed, as the 'Wall of Fame'.  Underneath it were photos of men, about twenty to thirty of them -- large photos, head and shoulder shots, head and torso shots, full-length portraits and there wasn't one alike.  The men were all good-looking and were either dressed well or semi-clad.  

Where the hell were they?  Jake was going to throttle Danny when he got his hands on him next.  His friend had to know where he sent him, but hadn't bothered to fill him in, letting him assume it was the private residence of Marguerite.  It was obviously something commercial and he wondered what part Marguerite had in its industry.

What the hell.  Jake's job involved working on his toes.  That's how he stayed alive.  This was no different.  "I am,"  he said, and dazzled a smile at Alison.

"Excellent!"  she said.   "We're always looking for new recruits and I'm sure Marguerite will love you."  She opened the diary on her lap, her pen poised.

"Wait!  Marguerite?  Is she here?"  Jake sat down on the sofa beside Alison.  Was it going to be that easy?

"I'm sorry, no, not at the moment.  She's only here by day.  She has a family to go home to at night."

Jake turned around to Alex, who had taken a seat beside him and was staring at the photos.  A family?  What was she doing hunting Donovan?  He looked back at Alison.  "Can we contact her?" 

"Jake."  Alex put her hand on his knee and squeezed.  He ignored her.  He was too close to learning more about Donovan's mystery woman.

"I'm sorry,"  said Alison.  "Marguerite won't need to see you until I've got more details and referrals.  You do have referrals?"

"Jake!"  Alex squeezed harder on his knee.  "Jake!"

"What?!"  He snapped back at her but she wasn't looking at him.  She was still looking at the 'Wall of Fame'.   "What, Alex?"

"Look at that photo.  The one in the third row, second from the right."

Jake looked.  So?  It was a head and shoulders shot of a young man with dark wavy hair falling past his shoulders.  His face was what they called 'aquiline' -- perfect features, arched brows above dark eyes, slim straight nose and not too long, a full mouth framed by a generous moustache and thin-line cropped beard.  He looked like a movie star.  In fact, he looked familiar and Jake wondered if he'd seen him in a movie or two. 

"Alex, not now!"

"But Jake!  Have a good look at him."

Alison sighed.  "Ah yes, you have excellent taste.  He was one of Marguerite's favourites.  He pulled in all the rich ladies.  They had to be rich to afford him.  He was very lucrative in his day."

"Was?"  asked Alex, turning to Alison, her eyes wide.

"Unfortunately, for Marguerite, he retired.  He worked out of our L.A. Branch, but then he suddenly changed careers and changed states and we lost him.   And lost a big portion of our clientele.  They were devastated.  Some of them even tried to find him again, but I don't think they were successful.  They eventually came back and accepted what they called, 'second-best'.

"And his occupation was...?"  Alex asked.

Alison smiled at Jake.  He knew what was coming next, even if Alex hadn't worked it out yet.  Jake hadn't missed the 'afford him' comment.  "Escort, of course.  There's a cruder term, but we don't use it."  She smiled at Jake again.

"Gigolo,"  breathed Alex, looking back at the photo.

"So about Marguerite,"  said Jake, turning back to Alison and hoping Alex was satisfied now.

"Jake!  Forget Marguerite!"  Alex was nearly shouting at him, and he remembered Donovan using those same words.  "Don't you see who that is!?"

He squinted back at the photo.  "Hell, I don't know.  I picked him for some B-movie star.  Do you know him?"

"Know him?!"  The question came out as a very uncharacteristic squeak.  What had got into her?  "Look again!  Cut the hair super-short, add a little grey at the temples, and take the moustache and beard back to a light goatee.  Who've you got?"

Jake looked harder.  And let his imagination follow Alex's instructions.

"Son...of...a…!"

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Discovery Night – Part 2