Matt’s battered condition.
Matt just nodded absently, his mind still processing the situation while he made sure there was no one else around. “Sure is,” he finally replied after the distracted beat, then his face darkened and he said, “Sanjay, I need to go out the back way.”
Sanjay stared at him for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “Whatever you need, Matt.” They’d known each other ever since Matt had taken over the lease on the garage down the road. Matt had been a good customer and a reliable neighbor, and by now, Sanjay knew him well enough to know that Matt wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.
He led him to the back of the store and unlocked the door.
Matt paused at the doorway. “Don’t lock it just yet, will you? I won’t be long.”
Sanjay nodded hesitatingly. “Okay.” He glanced away, then turned back and added, “You sure you’re okay?”
“Not really,” Matt shrugged, then slipped out the door.
There were no cars around. He stayed low and close to the wall of the back lot and headed away from the main road, making his way past Sanjay’s car and the Dumpsters. Any light from the store quickly petered out, and he was soon in total darkness with only a diffused moon glow to guide him. He ducked into a patch of trees and over to a low, single-story brick structure that housed a small law firm. As expected, all of its lights were out, and no cars were around. With his left leg and hip blazing with pain with every step, he scuttled along the back wall of the building quietly until it ran out.
He bent down and chanced a peek around the corner. He’d read it right. A dark Chrysler 300C was parked in one of the law firm’s spots, huddled behind the far side of the building, about twenty yards from the entrance to his shop. He could just about make out the silhouettes of two figures inside.
They were waiting for him. Either that, or they were about eight hours early for their appointment with their lawyer, and no one was that enthusiastic about meeting a lawyer.
Matt inched back into cover, his mind racing through his options. His first instinct was to charge in, beat them to a pulp, and pound the truth out of them. A few years back, he might have done just that, despite the odds. But right now, the odds weren’t good, and much as he was desperate to take them on, he grudgingly forced himself to accept that it would be the wrong move. He was hurting all over, and his left leg was barely holding him up. He wouldn’t stand a chance, and he knew it.
He had a momentary lapse and thought of calling the cops, but again kiboshed that idea. He didn’t trust them. Never did and never would. Besides, as far as the cops were concerned, he could always count on losing any his-word-against-theirs contest. And, as he’d realized, the guys in the Chrysler seemed to have a solid setup, which meant they had connections. All he had was a rap sheet that would dry up an inkjet cartridge.
Another idea, a more promising one, elbowed its way into that one’s place. He quickly put it through its paces, looking for flaws, and decided it was his best option. His best option out of a total of one, actually. He sneaked a last glance at the Chrysler, convinced himself that they weren’t going anywhere just yet, then made his way back to the 7-Eleven.
He cut through the store, past Sanjay, who gave him a worried, quizzical glance. Without breaking step, Matt flicked him a stay-put, though not hugely reassuring gesture.
“I need some tape,” he told him. “Something solid and sticky, packing tape, that kind of thing.”
Sanjay thought for a beat, then nodded. “I’ll get you what I have,” he said as Matt disappeared out the front door.
A quick glance around yielded no visible threats. Matt walked to the back of the Mustang and popped the trunk. With practiced fingers, he pulled back the lining along its side wall. He reached in behind it and found the small niche he was looking for. In it was a small black box, not much bigger than a packet of cigarettes. Matt pulled it out and stuffed it in his inside breast pocket. He then pulled out the lug wrench from the spare wheel’s tool kit, closed the trunk, and ducked back into the store.
Sanjay was waiting for him. In his hands was a roll of two-inch-thick duct tape. Matt just grabbed it, blurted out a guttural “Perfect,” and kept going.
He crept back to the corner of the brick building and peered around its corner. The Chrysler was still there, as he’d left it. He checked the perimeter, backed up, and crept into the shrubs and trees behind the parking bay, keeping low. He maneuvered to a spot around fifteen yards behind the Chrysler, making sure he wasn’t in the line of sight of their mirrors. From there, he dropped to the ground and crawled the rest of the way.
Matt advanced on elbows that were still suffering from his leap out of the van. He ignored the pain and kept going until he was right behind the Chrysler. He paused to catch his breath and check for a reaction. None came. Satisfied that he hadn’t been spotted, he rolled onto his back and pulled himself under the car. He quickly found a strut that would suit his purpose. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the tracker, and taped it to the strut.
He was almost done when he felt a small weight shift in the car, which was followed by the click of an opening door. He turned his head sideways, to the passenger side of the car, and froze as he saw first one foot, then the other, drop to the ground, faintly illuminated by the cabin’s inside light. They crunched into the snow, and the light dimmed as the man swung the door back quietly without clicking it shut.
He felt a surge of panic as a sudden realization hit him. Very slowly, he angled his head sideways to look behind the car and saw the trail he’d left behind in the snow. It led right up to the car, a black streak through the pearlescent shimmer of the light snow cover.
His body tensed up as he watched the man take a few steps. He was heading to the back of the car. Matt’s eyes stayed on him, fast-forwarding to the moment the man would spot the trail and what the best move would be. With his heart in his throat, he followed the man’s feet around past the rear wheel, farther back to the edge of the car—then they stopped. Every nerve ending in Matt’s body throbbed with alarm, and his fingers reached under his coat and tightened against the handle of the lug wrench. He was about to swing his legs out in an attempt to kick the man off-balance when he turned so he was now facing the wall. Matt then heard a zipper open, and his body pulled back from Defcon five as he realized the man was just out there to take a leak.
He waited for him to finish, then watched without moving an inch as the man got back into the car. Matt made sure the tracker was solidly attached, then slid back out from under the car and retreated along the same path he’d taken, only pausing briefly to commit the car’s license place to memory.
He found Sanjay standing by the cash register, clearly unable to do much, out of worry.
Matt gave him a firm nod of gratitude as he reached over for a pencil and scribbled down the Chrysler’s license plate on a flyer. He tucked it into his pocket, then turned to Sanjay. “Do me a favor. Anyone asks, you haven’t seen me, not since lunchtime. Okay?”
Sanjay nodded. “You gonna tell me what’s going on?”
Matt’s expression clouded under competing instincts. “Better you don’t get involved. Safer for you that way.”
Sanjay acknowledged his words somberly, then hesitated and said, “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” in an uncertain tone, as if unsure about how much he should say or get involved.
Matt half-smiled. “That’s the plan.” Then he thought of something, took a few steps to the fridge, and pulled out a can of Coke. He held it up to Sanjay and said, “My tab still good?”
Sanjay visibly relaxed a touch. “Of course.”
And with that, Matt was gone.
Chapter 19
Amundsen Sea, Antarctica
“So what’s the verdict? Do we believe this guy?” Gracie leaned her head against the cold glass of the conference room’s window. Outside, the light was virtually unchanged, the sky infused with the same grayish pallor, which didn’t help her flagging spirit. She needed to rest, to take a step back and give her mind a chance to reboot, if only for an hour or two. It had to be the equivalent of way past midnight, and the continuous
