Walking in, she saw it wasn't going to be easy. The bar was huge. It was a multilevel setup, with a first floor and an upper floor. Several bar areas. A couple of places to get food. It was filled with people, thronging around. The elevator on the side, which led to the owners’ and trainers’ floor, was guarded by a security guard who was checking IDs. So nobody from the Army could be on that floor, but they could theoretically be anywhere else.
"We need to split up," Cora decided. "This is going to take way too long otherwise. Do you want to take the upper floor? I'll take this one?"
"We’re looking for Army haircuts, Army clothing?" Gabe asked. "How else do you tell if the guy's a CO?"
"Older guy," Cora said. "If we’re looking for someone in the know, we don't want to speak to anyone under thirty. Over that, they may be more senior. And we need to be subtle." Even as she said it, she could see Gabe's eyebrow quirk. Subtle? Cora was not, in any way, a subtle person. Why start now?
"Okay. We call the other person if we find anyone?"
"Yes," she said.
Gabe headed to the stairs, and Cora walked into the bar, weaving through the crowds, looking for anyone whose appearance and demeanor screamed 'Army.'
There was a betting kiosk on the way.
She stopped and put her last fifty dollars on number six, the gray. To win. He was at ten to one. Those weren't great odds, and it meant the bookmakers didn't rate his chances. His name was Silver Blossom. It wasn't even a fast sounding name. It was the kind of name you’d give a horse who dozed in his pasture all day. Most likely she had just wasted her money.
But now she had a betting slip in her pocket, and a chance. Now, she carried on, keeping her eyes open, knowing that she needed to find that one person.
There was a knot of people sitting at a table that were undoubtedly Army, but when she looked closer she saw they were younger. Lower rank, not who she needed. She carried on searching.
After walking almost all the way through the bar, Cora spotted a guy who fit her specs. He was sitting alone at a table near the back, nursing a drink. He was a middle-aged man with a weathered face, wearing an Army jacket. Short buzz cut. Tough looking jaw.
She walked over to him and he turned and looked at her inquiringly.
"You Army?" she asked. "You work on the base nearby?"
Instantly, his face closed up. "So what if I do?" he asked defensively.
Cora held up her hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, I'm not here to cause any trouble. I just want to talk to someone who might know what's happening there."
The man eyed her warily, but didn't say anything. Cora took that as a good sign and continued. "I understand there's been some trouble there, and that maybe you might appreciate some help in looking into it?"
He knew exactly what she was saying, she could tell from his eyes. But he wasn't taking the bait.
"I don't know and don't care what you're trying to say," he told her firmly. "Now get lost."
Okay. Nothing doing there. She also wasn't sure that he was that senior, now that she was up close and looking at him. He knew what was going on, though.
That meant that he might share with other people that she'd approached him. If he was as defensive and worried as he seemed to be, that was a real possibility.
Cora backed into a corner of the bar, hiding behind a group of people, and watched him.
Sure enough, about a minute later he put down his empty glass and got up.
The race was about to start. An atmosphere of excitement was filling the bar as the runners finished cantering down to the starting stalls, and began to be loaded. A few of them were having problems. The chestnut was refusing to go in.
Silver Blossom strolled right in and stood there with his head down, as if he was having a nap.
Then, Cora’s eye was caught by the lower-than-CO who'd given her the brush-off. He had left his seat, and was now walking purposefully through the bar, heading for the exit door at the back, and as he went, she saw him speaking on his phone.
Keeping a few yards behind, Cora followed.
Was he going to tell someone else what she'd asked? Her money was on that, as he put his phone away and walked through the exit door.
Cora quickened her pace, shoving past a man who thought he had the right of way and expected her to move. She ignored his angry cry as the beer he was carrying sloshed over his hand.
"If you were polite, it wouldn't have happened," she muttered to herself.
