problem.”
Durrie knew he was right, but the waste, the goddamn waste!
The plan was straightforward. Now that some time had passed, they would lure Oliver out of town to a place where no one knew him, and finish things there. Durrie was to stay in Phoenix and empty out both Oliver’s and Davies’s places, then make sure little things like shutting off utilities were taken care of so that the two cops’ “moving out of state” would look legitimate.
No, Durrie didn’t like it at all, but it was the job. It was what he was paid to do.
That afternoon Jake made a few calls, checking to be sure Usher International was someplace worth working. According to the people he talked to in Houston, Usher was a well-respected agency, headquartered there, but with offices around the world. Not long after he found this out, Mr. Usher’s secretary called with his flight information, and told him the ticket would be waiting for him at the counter. A car would then pick him up at the airport in Houston, and bring him straight to the offices. Did he have a favorite beverage they could have on hand for the meeting? A preference for dinner in case things went long? He told her he was flexible.
After hanging up, he actually felt a bit of hope for the first time in a while, a feeling that things were going to be okay.
He packed an overnight bag in case he would be there longer than a day, then treated himself to a meal out.
23
Durrie hadn’t slept well.
There were times when he could be a good little soldier, blindly doing whatever he was told. And there were times when he could perform his duties while well aware of the ludicrous nature of the assignment. But never in his nearly two decades in the business had he contemplated what he was contemplating now.
It wasn’t an altruistic move born out of a sense of decency or kindness. Those were not qualities Durrie would use to describe himself. It was opportunity and waste — losing the former by committing the latter — that was making him think this way.
He knew better than to share his thoughts on the matter with anyone, so he had spent a rough night tangling with them himself. When he gave up and pulled himself out of bed at 5 a.m., he had two plans in his mind. One, the plan he was expected to carry out, and the other, the plan he thought he should.
The only question he had was, which one would it be?
Jake’s flight was scheduled to leave at 11 a.m. It would take only a couple of hours to get to Houston, but with the time zone change he wouldn’t arrive until just after 2 p.m. His meeting with Mr. Usher was scheduled for 3 p.m., which seemed tight, but since they were the ones who’d made the arrangements and were picking him up, Jake wasn’t going to worry about it.
He was up early enough to go for a run. It was nice to feel the road beneath his feet. He hadn’t done any real exercise since he’d been let go from the force. He’d been too wrapped up in first trying to find Berit, and then trying to figure out what he was going to do with his life. But now the warm air and the sweat were revitalizing.
Back home, he showered, made himself some instant oatmeal, then spent thirty minutes trying to decide which tie to wear with his only suit. Finally ready, he headed out to his car.
Durrie spent the time between 5:30 and 8:00 a.m. preparing. Whichever plan he would ultimately go with, there were things that needed to be done first for each. It was a busy two and a half hours, but he needed to be in front of Oliver’s apartment building before the kid left for the airport, so he had to make the most of his time.
Once he was in position a block from where Oliver lived, he placed the portable receiver on the dash, and turned it on. It was quiet in Oliver’s car — no engine noise, no sound of breathing.
Durrie settled in his seat.
At 8:25, the dead air on the receiver was replaced by the sound of a car door opening. Less than thirty seconds later, the engine started.
The airport was only a fifteen-minute drive away. Jake would easily be there before the recommended one hour prior to departure for domestic flights. He glanced at his overnight bag sitting in the front passenger seat, and went through a quick mental checklist of everything inside to be sure he didn’t forget anything. Satisfied, he pulled out of his space in the parking garage, and headed for the exit.
Outside, the day had grown considerably warmer than it had been when he’d gone on his run. He cranked up the A/C a few notches, and switched on the radio.
The idea of that was really starting to appeal to him.
The former cop didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry, then again, the airport wasn’t that far away. Durrie followed just a couple of cars behind, his mind still going back and forth. He knew if he waited too long, the decision would be made for him, and Jake Oliver would be flying toward his death in Houston.
Durrie wasn’t going to let it come to that. Whatever was going to happen, it would be what he decided was best. To do otherwise would be to take the easy way out, and he hated people who took the easy way. If more people would just take responsibility and make a damn decision, the world might not be as screwed up.
By the time Oliver pulled into the airport parking lot just off Van Buren Street, Durrie knew which plan he was going to carry out.
He turned in after Oliver, the tension of having to make a decision finally gone.
All the spaces closest to Van Buren were taken, so Jake kept driving until he found a spot about two-thirds of the way into the giant lot, up against the fence and far from the entrance. He turned off his engine, and retrieved the cardboard sunscreen he kept folded on the back seat, then propped it up against the front windshield. If there was one thing he’d learned since living in Phoenix, it was how quickly the sun could damage the interior of a vehicle. Case in point, the crack in his dash just above the glove compartment.
Protection in place, he grabbed his bag and climbed out of the car.
Durrie slowed as Oliver turned his Civic into an empty spot.
Durrie grabbed the weapon out of his kit bag, and quickly exited his sedan. By the time Oliver opened his door, Durrie was standing just ten feet away.
Jake didn’t notice the man until after he’d shut his door and turned toward the parking lot. He thought the guy wanted to get into the car next to his, and was just waiting for Jake to get out of the way.
“Hi,” he said. “If you move back, I can get out, then you can leave.”
When the man didn’t respond, Jake took a hard look at him, and was about to ask what his problem was, but the words caught in his mouth.
It was the third man from the Lawrence Hotel, the one who’d entered the elevator and been briefly acknowledged by the light-haired guy. There was no mistaking him.
Jake took a step forward. “I’ve got a plane to catch. So if you’ll excuse me…”
He kept moving as if he were going to push past the man, but halted in his tracks when the guy raised his hand. In it was a weapon, not a traditional pistol, but something that looked like a cross between that and a Taser device Jake had seen a demonstration of at the station.
