to feel pointedly sorry for her.
“Jack, you catch that?” Annabelle asked, raising her voice for the benefit of the intercom system.
“I’m way ahead of you, luv. Nice going, Clara.”
There was a pause in his speech, at which point Beatrice patted her daughter’s cheek proudly. And then Jack continued. “Before the highlander, it was a black Impala. And I believe that took the place of a silver Taurus.”
“Wow, they really made sure to mix up their brands, didn’t they?” Dylan sat forward, his hands on his legs, his expression now distinctly nervous. “What do they want?”
Clara shrugged. Cassie couldn’t answer. Everyone looked at Annabelle.
She took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Even Jack deigned to come to her rescue, as the intercom remained annoyingly silent. “Most likely, they’re after the clue that your father left behind, Dylan. They want to know where we’re going – that we’re looking for Craig Brandt at Columbia University.”
“Who are they?” was his next question.
“I don’t know,” she answered.
“I do.” Jack said.
Everyone looked toward the front of the car, even though a barrier separated them and the man in the driver’s seat. There was another stretch of silence.
“Of course!” Clara suddenly stated excitedly. “They’re hit men. Only hit men would know to follow this pattern.” She chewed on her lip, her cheeks flushing pink. “But who hired them – that’s the question.”
“Jack?” Annabelle prompted.
“Sorry, Bella. I haven’t got an answer for that one.”
“What are we going to do?” She wanted to know next.
“Try to lose them.”
“In a limo?” Dylan asked incredulously. “Is he serious?”
“He’s got a point, Jack. We haven’t got much of a chance.”
To that, Jack didn’t reply. And the inhabitants of the car fell into an uneasy silence. Dylan’s eyes were wide. Clara sat on the edge of the seat. Beatrice clutched the “oh shit” bar above the car’s back windows. Annabelle chewed her lip and looked toward the front of the car. Jack wasn’t speeding up and he wasn’t making any particularly difficult maneuvers or abrupt turns. So, what was he doing? What was the plan?
They kept driving, coming to a slow as they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and entered Manhattan’s major populated area. Yellow taxi’s dominated the streets, criss-crossing lanes with what seemed like reckless abandon but was actually practiced expertise.
“The Altima just changed lanes.” Annabelle said.
“Getting ready for another switch. It’s a long drive for an effective tail.” Even through the slightly metallic filters of the stereo system, Jack’s British accent and calm, confident tone gave Annabelle comfort.
“And there’s the black BMW. Bit of an obvious choice, don’t you think?” Clara stated, with a shake of her head.
Annabelle nodded. A black BMW had taken the place of the red Altima. It was a bold move. Everyone noticed a jet-black BMW with black tinted windows. Especially one as shiny and new as that one. But then again, in New York City, they were literally everywhere. It was a frequent and utterly commonplace sight. To the unsuspecting and ignorant mark, a black BMW that suddenly appeared and then disappeared just as quickly would raise no suspicion. And that was apparently what the people following them were counting on.
Which meant they didn’t know that their quarry included Jack Thane – and his highly observant daughter.
That thought made Annabelle smile. It was a definite trump card if their followers didn’t know who they were dealing with.
“What the-”
Annabelle turned to face Cassie, whose expression had changed from worry to one of surprise as she stared out the window at their changing surroundings. She followed Cassie’s gaze to find that they had just pulled into the covered lot of the prestigious City Coach Limo rental office.
Limousines of every size, mostly black, stretched across literally hundreds of parking spaces. There were limo’s set up for anywhere from six to maybe twenty-five passengers, all lined up according to size and color. Scattered here and there among them were the occasional Mercedes Benz S500 and Lincoln Town car. All in black.
A smile spread across Annabelle’s face. Jack was a bloody genius.
They parked at the office entrance and Jack got out to open the back door. As everyone piled out, Annabelle watched the black BMW ride smoothly past the rental office to continue down the street and disappear around a corner several blocks down.
“After you, luv,” Jack waited until everyone else had gone in and Annabelle was still standing beside him. She shot him a smile and then followed the others into the building’s showroom. At that point, Jack moved to the front of the group and approached the sales associate that greeted him.
With gestures both well practiced and incredibly smooth, Jack led the man away from the group to speak with him in private. He turned his back to them as he dealt with the salesman and Annabelle couldn’t tell exactly what he was saying or doing.
“What do you suppose he’s planning, luv?” Beatrice asked Annabelle. She watched Jack carefully and then turned to Beatrice, who was leaning up against the black Mercedes Benz that had been placed on display at the center of the room.
“My money is on diversions. We’re surrounded by limos that look exactly like the one we rode in on.” She paused and bit her lip. “Or maybe he wants to make a trade…”
Then the salesman left Jack and slipped into the back of the offices. When he returned, it was to nod at Jack reassuringly and step to the side. A second later, five drivers, all dressed in their professional white and black uniforms, two female, three male, stepped out of the back offices and nodded to Jack as they approached him.
Again, a conversation in hushed tones ensued. After a few minutes, the drivers indicated that they understood Jack’s orders and would comply, and then they turned and left the show room, exiting through the door that led to the parking garage beyond.
“Diversions, then.” Annabelle concluded.
Jack approached Annabelle and the others, who waited expectantly to hear the plan.
“So, what’s the Jackie, da’?” Clara asked.
Before Annabelle could shoot her a confused look, Jack told them what he’d set up and within a few very well choreographed minutes, the entire group, minus Jack and Annabelle, was seated in the back of one of the five different vehicles, which each left City Coach Limousines at exactly the same time.
Jack drove. He didn’t want to involve an innocent driver in what was already a strange, mixed-up mess and that had resulted, thus far, in more than one homicide.
This time, Annabelle sat beside him, in the front seat. “There were at least five cars used in the tail, Jack. All they have to do is send each of their cars out after each of the limos and, chances are, we’ll be found out.”
“They have to realize what happened, first.” Jack told her. “It’ll take them some time. Hopefully, we’ll be at our destination before they’re the wiser.” Then again, whoever was after them had managed to determine their location in the first place. That, alone, was impressive. How
Jack took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. These guys were good. Too good. Which meant they were top-of-the-line and highly paid. Which meant that the mess Annabelle had gotten mixed up in was either very, very big, or very, very bad.
“Medicine,” Annabelle said suddenly. Jack gave her a side-long glance. She turned to him and blinked. “Sorry, it’s just that I think I just realized this all has to have something to do with medicine.”
“Oh?” Jack asked. “Explain.”
Annabelle had been thinking about this for a while. What could Teresa Anderson have stumbled upon that would be worth her life? In the movies, only a few things were worth killing someone over. Honor was one of them. Jealousy or revenge. Love, of course, was the biggie. And then there was the nasty one. Money.
