squealing, as the truck roared away. A moment of throbbing silence followed. Then a red haze engulfed his vision, and Paul Dugan’s world faded to black.
“Big Ed’s got the keys and made it away clean,” said
the fidgeting man in the passenger seat.
“Let’s go,” the driver grunted.
Toomes threw the Explorer into gear, pulled away from the curb. As they drove by, Drew peered through the tinted glass at the man on the ground.
“Jesus, I hope Big Ed didn’t kill ’em,” he said, one hand clinging to the dashboard.
“So what if he did?” Toomes kept his eyes on the highway, his giant hands wrapped around the steering wheel. His rubbery jowls bounced like jelly on the rough pavement.
“Goddamn construction,” he cursed.
Drew dropped back into his seat. He lifted his wrist to display his plastic Seiko watch. “It’s after three. We should have been back by now.”
“Relax. We’re done. We’re gonna pick up the other trucks.”
“Yeah, we’re done. But was it done smart?” Drew’s voice was high. His eyes were close together, and bulged a little, like fish eyes. Now they darted nervously. “Listen, Hugo told us to snatch three trucks in Reno, Toomes. Not Vegas,
Toomes snorted. “Hugo Bix gives the cops in this town way too much credit. Why should I give up my winning seat at a high stakes table at the Bellagio, to drive to Reno in the middle of the stinking night. All that, just to jack three trucks?”
“It’s what the boss wanted—”
“Bix is
Drew calmed a little. “We’re in the clear, as long as Big Ed don’t say nothing to Hugo before we get there…”
“If Big Ed says anything, he won’t get paid. And Big Ed likes to get paid.”
Toomes braked for a traffic light. Traffic was particularly heavy along this stretch near the Lakes.
“Man, we’re later and later,” Drew whined.
Wheezing, Toomes glanced at his own watch. The Rolex seemed tiny on his thick wrist, the band tight around flesh and muscle.
“It’s not even three-thirty,” the big man wheezed. “Hugo’s boys have plenty of time to prime the trucks. We’ll go fetch the two we jacked this morning and drive them over to the garage. Bix will be so happy to see us he’ll never know the difference.”
Crossing the game floor to the Tiki Lounge, Jack heard his cell phone beep over the jangling slots. He slipped into an alcove near the rest rooms, an area marginally shielded from the noise.
“Jager,” he answered.
“It’s O’Brian.”
“Where are you, Morris?”
“Up in the rafters with the rest of the bats.”
Jack automatically glanced up. Somewhere behind the one way mirrors that made up the ceiling, Morris O’Brian was watching him.
“Got a call for you, Jack. It’s Henderson, across the special line.”
Jack tensed, sure it was more bad news. “Put him through.”
A long silence. Then Jack heard a breath inhaled hundreds of miles away, at CTU, Los Angeles.
“You don’t have many fans upstairs, do you Jack?” Christopher Henderson’s voice was delayed a second and oddly distorted — byproducts of Morris O’Brian’s audio encryption system. But at least no one could possibly intercept the call, either here or at CTU.
“What’s going on?” Jack asked.
“I have a bureaucrat by the name of Alberta Green up my ass. You know the woman?”
“Yes.”
“She’s been questioning our operation from its inception, even though she doesn’t have a clue what we’re doing. Now she’s talking about pulling the plug on our budget if we don’t show some results.”
“She can do that?”
The pause seemed overlong this time. “She can, especially with Ryan Chappelle making the same noise. Unless we show some progress, we could be shut down tomorrow.”
Jack chose not to hide his impatience. “We’ve
Before his boss could reply, Jack put Henderson on hold and punched up Morris.
“I heard, Jack. And I might say that from up here, you don’t look particularly happy.”
“Morris, I want you to brief Henderson about the technology we seized today.”
“Will do. Should I mention our corpse down in the basement?”
“Say nothing for now. If Henderson asks, tell him I’m still interrogating the suspect. I need to find out who killed Max Farrow before I can reveal his death.”
O’Brian paused. “Gambling again, Jack?”
“Morris. Don’t second guess me. Just do your job.”
“Right-O, chief. I’ll—”
Jack hung up, slipped the cell into his pocket. He felt an impotent rage welling up inside of him. He already knew this operation was running on borrowed time, but Jack was hoping that today’s discovery of stolen technology would breathe new life into the investigation. The death of Max Farrow had thrown more than a crimp into his plans. Ironically the man’s capture had been their first break, but Farrow’s death — once revealed — might end the operation immediately. Before Henderson’s call, Jack felt he still had a little time to maneuver. Now, with the entrance of Alberta Green into the equation, his window of opportunity had been reduced from days to hours.
A hand on his shoulder broke Jack’s concentration. “Hey, Jaycee. Have you seen—?”
“What?” Jack snapped.
Lilly Sheridan took two steps backwards. “Jesus, I’m sorry I bothered you.” The woman turned away. Jack grabbed her arm. “Whoa, Lilly. Don’t go. I’m sorry I took your head
off.” Lilly pulled back. “Don’t, Jaycee—” Her eyes were locked on his fingers. Jack released her arm.
“Look, I didn’t mean anything,” Jack told her. “I’m having a rough day, that’s all. You’re looking for Stella, right?”
She hugged herself, nodding. “I’m supposed to give her a ride somewhere before I go to work.”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, over to Hugo’s garage.”
The woman frowned. “I didn’t want to say.”
“Yeah, well…” Jack grunted, in character.
Lilly shrugged. “Look, I don’t know what’s what… Who knows what game Stella’s playing.” “No game, so she says. Just a repair job,” Jack replied. He watched Lilly’s expression, saw the skepticism there. He wondered if Lilly was lying. If she really did know something he didn’t.
“Let’s go to my table at the Tiki,” Jack offered. “Stella’s using the shower. She’ll be down in a minute.”
“I don’t know, Jaycee. I have my daughter here.”
“Here?” Jack said, genuinely surprised.
A girl Jack guessed was about ten years old stepped around an idle bank of slots. She met his gaze, regarding Jaycee Jager with a mixture of wariness and unconcealed interest.
“This is Pamela,” Lilly said, pulling the child close.
Jack blinked. Though Pamela Sheridan was a few years younger than his own daughter, he was suddenly reminded of Kim. Jack wondered what she was doing right now. Was Kim in school, or in rehearsal for the class play
