?Certainly. Anything else??
?Okay if I browse??
?Please do. Let me know if you have any questions.?
Nikki took thirty minutes to pick out a collapsible sniper rifle nearly identical to the one she?d left in Italy, a .50-caliber Desert Eagle for stopping power, and another 9mm, a Beretta that was smaller and easier to conceal than the Glocks. She considered a gleaming nickel snub-nose .38 simply because she liked the way it looked, but it was such an impractical, inefficient weapon she couldn?t bring herself to buy it.
At no extra charge, Stringfellow packed her new guns into a set of metal attache cases with the word
Nikki opened her briefcase and fetched out three thick bundles of cash and handed them to Stringfellow. They shook on the deal, and Stringfellow assured Nikki her business was welcome at any time.
Back out on the street, Nikki whistled for a cab, loaded her cases into the trunk, and told the driver to take her to the Plaza Hotel.
* * *
Nikki waited until room service dropped off the Caesar salad and the pot of French roast coffee before opening the cases and spreading her new weapons across her king-size bed. The guns were spotless and new, but Nikki wanted to be familiar with them. She broke down each firearm, checked each piece, and put them back together again. She packed the guns back into the cases and put the cases in the closet. She kept out only the 9mm Beretta and slid it snuggly into a lightweight nylon shoulder holster.
She picked at the salad, but made half the pot of coffee disappear within ten minutes. Her caffeine addiction was a minor weakness she could easily tolerate in herself. A flaw in her character to prove her humanity.
She changed into red bicycle shorts, Reeboks, a sports bra, and a gray athletic tank top. She went to the Plaza?s gym and ran five miles at 8 mph on the treadmill. She drew admiring looks from some of the other patrons, incredulous looks from others. She worked multiple reps with light weights on several of the Nautilus machines.
On the way back to her room, she stopped at the coffee bar for a double espresso. Twenty-five minutes later she was showered, dressed smartly in a blue pin-striped power suit, the Beretta and holster under her light jacket.
Nikki double-checked the address she?d scribbled on a yellow Post-it. Above the address, she?d written the name Andrew Foley. She hailed a cab, told the driver a different address exactly five blocks from Foley?s residence. She?d walk the rest of the way, keeping an eye peeled for a tail. Probably not necessary, but why risk it?
Her hand drifted into her jacket. She touched the butt of the pistol as if making sure it was still there. She found the touch comforting.
Nikki Enders was armed, fully caffeinated, and ready to do business.
8
The morning sun came in through the bus window and slapped Andrew Foley awake. He was sore as hell from sleeping on the bus all night, and an egg salad sandwich he?d purchased when changing buses in St. Louis ground away at his gut like it hated him. He asked the guy sitting next to him where they were. They?d just passed Claremore, Oklahoma, and Tulsa was twenty minutes away.
The inside of his mouth tasted bad. Very bad.
The fear must be fading, he thought, if he was concerned about things like food and comfort and brushing his teeth. Just yesterday he?d been scared shitless. He chuckled. Riding the goddamn bus had trumped his fear of death.
Maybe he would check into the Motel 6 and sleep a day before calling his uncle. Or maybe he was being dumb. He didn?t want to get complacent. He needed to take this situation seriously, but it was difficult to believe a hired killer was on his ass when New York was hours and miles behind him. He?d feel pretty foolish if all this was some kind of big mistake. It was probably nothing. If he hadn?t been so trouser-shitting paranoid, letting Vincent spook him so easily, he could be in his apartment asleep in his comfy bed right now.
* * *
It was later that afternoon that Nikki Enders sat on Andrew Foley?s comfy bed, wondering if she should wait and shoot him when he came home or if she should come back and kill him later.
Later she would be busy. Very busy. But she didn?t like the idea of waiting in the dingy apartment all afternoon
