Take Down (The Men of the Sisterhood) by Fern Michaels

tell us exactly where to look for the checkbook in case it isn’t where he originally told you it would be.”
    “Jamie said that if it is not in the bottom desk drawer, then it would be on the third shelf in the closet, under the cushion of the chair she usually sits in to read the trashy novels she thinks no one knows about, or in the drawer of the table that the ficus plant sits on.” At Jack’s strange look, Dennis said, “Hey, I’m just repeating what he said to me.”
    Jack looked around. It was a very nice suite of offices, tastefully decorated. Everything was exactly as depicted in the drawing Jamie had faxed to them yesterday. There was the ficus tree Jamie had mentioned, several lush ferns, and two inviting and comfortable-looking chairs off to the side of the main office space. Good lighting , he thought. Good carpet, too. A magnificent teakwood desk held very little other than a phone console and a computer. He liked the feel of the carpet under his shoes. He eyed the liquor bar, the bar sink, the minifridge, the Bose sound system, and the enormous—he guessed ninety-inch—TV mounted on the wall. Nice, expensive digs. He saw the copy of Fifty Shades of Grey on the table between the two comfortable-looking chairs. It looked worn, like it had been handled a lot. He grinned to himself.
    “Dismantle the computer; we’re taking the hard drive with us. I’ll check for the register. Work fast, Dennis.” Five minutes later, he hissed to Dennis, “Tell your guy it is not in the bottom desk drawer or any of the other three places he mentioned.”
    Dennis relayed the information as he continued to work on dismantling the computer and removing the hard drive. “He said to try the small linen closet in the bathroom, where she hides her stash of cigarettes and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, which she’s addicted to.”
    Jack raced into the bathroom and ripped open the door. He gasped at the cases of candy and the cartons of cigarettes. He rummaged behind and under them, and finally found what he was looking for under a stack of lace-edged purple towels. Purple towels?
    A minute later, he was back in the main part of the office, waving the small checkbook in the air.
    “That’s it!” Dennis hissed.
    Jack laughed. “Maybe she has an aversion to big, cumbersome, hard-bound desk registers. Nikki has one like this. According to the balance”—and Jack whistled as he flipped the pages—“this is it! You ready, Dennis?”
    “I am so ready to get out of here I could scream.” To Jamie, he said, “We got it. I’ll be in touch in the next day or so. I’m ending this call now so we can get out of here.”
    They were halfway down the hall when they saw a very tall man dressed in a three-piece suit heading their way. Dennis muttered under his breath that the dude looked meaner than cat shit.
    “Remember who we are and let me do the talking,” Jack said.
    “Who are you and what are you doing here? Who let you up here?” the big man boomed.
    Jack whipped out his credentials so fast, Dennis got light-headed. “FBI. And you are . . . ?”
    “Evan Bell, head of Andover Security. How did you get in here and up to this floor?”
    Jack waved the warrant and said, “This is the only introduction I need. Is there going to be a problem here?”
    The big man planted his feet a little more firmly, looked Jack in the eye, and said, “If you tell me what and why, I don’t see a problem. Does that warrant say you can take that hard drive I see in your partner’s hand?”
    “It does. It also gives me the power to take you to headquarters and hold you for seventy-two hours.”
    Bell reached for the bogus warrant Jack Sparrow had sent and pretended to read it. Jack knew full well the man needed reading glasses at his age, and wasn’t at all surprised when Bell said, “Well, it looks in order. Do you mind telling me what’s going on here?”
    Jack smiled while his insides roiled. “We ask the questions, we don’t