Tonight, instead of the American team going first, the Italians did. They wanted to get in before it got too crowded.
Harvath, though, wasn’t worried. After the money he had dropped last night, the fire marshal could be outside turning people away and the staff still would have found a way to get him inside.
It was just after eleven o’clock and the club was packed. The lights were lower and the music louder than the night before. Both of those developments were going to work in their favor.
After tipping the bouncers, they were shown to the crowded VIP section. There, Harvath tipped the man behind the velvet rope and they were led to their seating area. The man removed the Riservato sign from their table and said the waitress would be right over.
As they sat down, Harvath noticed there was only one seating cluster left. It too had a Riservato sign on the table. He hoped that it had been reserved for La Formícula.
Because Vottari accessed all of his social media accounts through his phone, Nicholas had been able to hack into his “find my phone” feature. Harvath was getting regular updates on his progress.
Looking down at the latest, he saw that the Mafioso was less than twenty minutes away. He could also see who he had been messaging with. There appeared to be five or six friends of his already in the club.
Pulling up their avatars, he did screen shots and sent them in a group text to the rest of the team. It would be important to know who Vottari’s friends were.
The one thing Harvath didn’t have was a drone overhead. Before La Formícula even left his estate, it would have been helpful to know how many men he was traveling with and how many vehicles they were bringing.
Argento guaranteed him that they had the next best thing, Roberto — the ROS operator who had cooked breakfast that morning. He would be outside when La Formícula arrived and then would relay all the information, including whether any drivers were remaining with vehicles.
Another of Argento’s men, Naldo, would be parked down the road with the engine running, ready to move as soon as Harvath gave the command.
The rest of the Italians were inside the club. Already, Harvath had been able to pick out a couple of them. The club was so dark and so crowded, though, that almost the moment he saw them, they were gone.
The pretty waitress with limited English skills brought over a tray of glasses and was followed by the busboy carrying the ice bucket and champagne.
Opening the bottle, the waitress poured glasses for everyone and, having drained it, asked, “More?”
Harvath smiled, handed her a tip, and responded the same way he had last time, “Later. Grazie.”
She thanked him for the tip and walked over to another table.
This time it was Staelin who gave the toast. “May our sons have rich fathers and beautiful mothers!”
“I’ll definitely drink to that,” said Lovett, who had turned every single head when she had walked in.
They clinked glasses and all took a drink of champagne.
Harvath then instructed, “Time to make some new friends.”
He wanted it to look as if they were here to have a good time. The more fun they were having, the less threatening they’d appear.
Besides, Harvath knew his team all too well. They were Alpha dogs. If there weren’t any pretty girls for them to mix it up with, they’d end up shooting death stares at Vottari and his men. That would only end badly.
With their pockets full of cash, Morrison and Barton headed toward the main bar. Staelin, though, didn’t budge. Instead he just sat there, texting on his phone.
“Tick tock,” Harvath said, urging him to get going.
The Delta Force operative ignored him.
Harvath looked at Lovett, but she didn’t have a clue what he was doing.
Finally, Staelin locked his screen and put his phone back in his pocket.
“Are you done?” asked Harvath. “Ready to go to work now?”
The Delta Force operative smiled, but it wasn’t at Harvath. He was smiling past him.
Raising his hand, he gestured to the man at the velvet rope.
Harvath turned just as the man unclipped the rope and allowed two very pretty women into the VIP section. As they came closer, he noticed one of them was one of the women Vottari had been messaging with.
“What the hell?” Harvath asked.
Staelin tapped the phone in his pocket as he stood to greet the approaching ladies. “Tinder,” he said, leaning over so Harvath could hear him. “Never leave home without it.”
A hookup app? He had to hand it to him. While Morrison and Barton were trying to buy drinks and get women to dance with them, Staelin hadn’t even gotten off the couch.
As the women arrived at the table, Staelin introduced himself, kissed them each on both cheeks, and then introduced Harvath and Lovett.
As they all sat down, the waitress materialized and asked what they wanted to drink. They ordered vodka Red Bulls and as soon as she was gone, began to flirt and pepper Staelin with questions. Their English was pretty good.
They wanted to know who he was, where he was from, and what he did. Having come up with a cover story the night before, he was ready with answers.
The team had decided that if anyone asked, they would say they were scouting locations for an extreme fitness competition similar to the Iron Man race. The key was to keep it simple.
When the drinks came, the ladies managed only a quick sip before Staelin dragged them both out onto the dance floor.
“He’s one hell of an operator,” Lovett remarked, as she watched the trio leave.
Harvath was about to agree when his phone illuminated. Picking it up, he read the message.
“Vottari just pulled up,” he said. “Two vehicles. Four men in total with him. It looks like they’re all coming in together.”
As Lovett discreetly adjusted her dress, Harvath sent out a group text, notifying the team of the details.
It was time to heat the place up.
CHAPTER 76
La Formícula walked into the club dressed all in white — white linen trousers, a white linen shirt, and white shoes. His black hair was slicked back and on his small right wrist was an enormous Rolex in rose gold.
The entourage was admitted right into the VIP section and, sure enough, was guided to the last remaining seating area. The man’s cologne was so strong, Harvath could smell it from where he sat.
Vottari took a spot on one of the white couches, while his bodyguards took up strategic positions nearby.
As the Mafioso’s eyes swept the room, Harvath pretended to be absorbed in his phone. He wanted La Formícula to stare as long and as hard as he pleased at Lovett.
Soon enough, a pair of Vottari’s friends arrived and he stood up to greet them.
“Did he get a good look?” Harvath asked, still interacting with his phone.
“And then some,” said Lovett. “I don’t think I had a stitch of clothing left by the time he got done. I feel like I need a shower.”
Harvath smiled. “I get it. Women look at me like that all the time. It’s degrading.”
Lovett rubbed her thigh with her middle finger. Harvath laughed.
Over in Vottari’s seating area, a few more friends had arrived, as had the waitress with glasses and two busboys toting ice buckets and champagne.
Soon enough, corks were flying and everyone was having a good time.
Morrison and Barton had met up with a pair of sisters. After drinks and some dancing they brought them back to the VIP section and made introductions. Harvath ordered another bottle of champagne.