The guy had trouble keeping with him in traffic. He continuously got out of position, allowing John to maneuver without responding. Once John had to go two blocks out of his way because he couldn’t have made the turn he wanted without losing the tail.
Finally, John found what he was looking for. He maneuvered in front of a city bus, just as it stopped to pick up a half dozen or more passengers. Between the traffic and the bus, his tail had to wait until the bus pulled away from the curb. By then, John was two blocks away on the side street. He slowed, waiting for the tail to make the corner. Once they had, he took the next left before they could accelerate enough to catch him. John knew this route. He could maintain the speed limit and still keep them from gaining too much ground. Each time he turned, they were just pulling onto the street he’d left. With luck, they wouldn’t even suspect he was leading them on.
He made his last turn into a side street and put the gas pedal to the firewall. His tires squealed as the 440, Six-Pack, V-8 shot the ‘Cuda across the concrete. A block away he slammed on the brakes, made a quick right, accelerated, braked, and then turned right again. He pulled out onto the main street just in time to see his tail turn down the corner he’d taken. John accelerated after them and reached the side street as they cruised past the first turn he’d made. It was just shy of a hill that hid the rest of the street. The hill would lead a tail to think his quarry had continued on. At the top of the hill, they’d find the narrow street dead-ended at a deserted warehouse.
They were effectively trapped.
John accelerated rapidly and reached the top of the hill about the same time his tail realized they’d missed a turn. They slowed and started a three-point turn in the middle of the street. John burned more rubber off his tires as he slid to a stop behind them.
For the first time, he could see the faces of the men in the car. There were two of them. Both had Asiatic features, Japanese, or maybe Korean, he couldn’t always tell. Before they could react, he leapt from his car and ran to the driver’s door. When the driver tried to open it, John kicked it shut and bent down so he could watch both of them through the glass.
John motioned to the driver to lower the window, and he did. Dark sunglasses hid the driver’s eyes.
“Can I help you?” John asked.
“Your car is blocking mine. Please move it.”
The driver’s answer helped him confirm the Japanese suspicion. He spoke in excellent English, but John still detected the hint of an accent.
“I assumed you wanted to talk, that seems only right since you’ve gone to so much trouble to follow me. Now I’m here, and we can talk. What did you want?”
The driver didn’t bat an eye, but his partner twitched toward his door handle. The driver placed a hand on his partner’s arm, restraining him.
“Following you? You must be mistaken. We turned down this street by mistake.”
“I don’t think so, but I’m open to convincing.”
The passenger made a quick comment in Japanese. John didn’t catch all of it, but he seemed to be offering to do the convincing. The driver snapped back at him in the same language to be patient.
John maintained a straight face as if he hadn’t understood the exchange.
“Please,” the driver said. “Why would we be following you? We are simple businessmen who are late for a meeting.”
The bulge in the armpit of his partner’s custom tailored suit belied the simple businessmen remark.
His question was another matter. It could be rhetorical, or he could be trying to confirm that John was working for Caitlin. If someone at the Pacific Rim had put them on him, they would already know whom he worked for. How else could they have picked him up? But they hadn’t been behind him when he left the hotel. He was sure of that.
John decided to go on a fishing expedition. “Well, if you weren’t following me then you must accept my apology. Perhaps I was overly cautious. But when you’re in possession of ... Never mind, I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
He made a slight bow and turned toward his car.
Three steps later, the driver called out. “Excuse me, perhaps I was hasty. I, too, am cautious. We should talk.”
John stopped and turned back to the face the driver who now leaned out of his window.
“Perhaps,” John said. “What did you have in mind?”
The driver’s words were slow and calculated. “As businessmen, we are always on the watch for ... lucrative investments. If you have something of value to sell, we could, perhaps, talk.”
John waited to give him the impression he was thinking it over. “I don’t see where talking could hurt. Perhaps we could meet later, over drinks.”
The driver hesitated now. Was he playing the same game?
“Assuredly,” he said at last. “Did you have a particular place in mind?”
“Someplace open, you know breezy. I like fresh air. How about Melville’s, on Pier 34?”
“I am not familiar with the place.”
“That’s all right. It’s very popular; once you reach the pier, you won’t be able to miss it. Just follow the crowds.”
“Ah, excellent. What time shall we meet?”
“Let’s say five this afternoon. I have other errands to run between now and then.”
“Very well, I look forward to talking with you at greater length, Mr. –”
