DROVE US BACK to Manhattan but with no destination in mind. The exertions and the exhilaration of the night and the stressed early morning wake up call had left me feeling adrift.
It was like we’d been chased out of everywhere. I felt like we were running from a tornado, and just about barely keeping ahead.
He made me stop at almost every medium-sized convenience store or mini-mart while he went in to buy pre-paid credit cards and cheap, pay-as-you-go cell phones.
“Just one of each at a time.” He said, coming back with the second purchase.
I told him, “You know there will be a CCTV of you buying that.”
“Sure.” He flashed that grin that made me melt. “But someone still has to track it down. That’s why you use as small a store as you can. Someone has to look up where the card or the phone was sold then they’ll have to look on the register to find out what time, and then get the CCTV. It all takes time. If you never use a phone twice, they have to do that for every call you make.”
He certainly had a handle on the procedure. “Each time they’ve got a little more information, they know a bit more about your movements.”
“Yeah,” he said, “But each time, you’re a couple of hours farther ahead.”
“You’ve thought about this a lot.”
“I just did a masters degree in the university of crime, remember?” His eye sparked and it made me jump. “Thanks to the five-year scholarship you got me.”
“Look,” I said. I wanted it out of the way. “About that.”
“Not now.” He said, “Pull up on the corner here.” I did and he jumped out. “I’ll meet you a block along and a block left, okay?” He was dialing the phone as I pulled away. I drove as he’d directed. He went the other way. I parked up on the corner where he’d said and waited. I wondered whether he wanted to not be in the car when he made a call, so as not to have the car identified when the phone was tracked.
If he was as knowledgeable as he seemed about the use and hazards of cell phone tracking, he’d know that tying a phone to a car in the city really hard without very long conversations, singe the tracking only places the caller to in a range of about thirty yards. That’s a lot of cars in Manhattan. Or in any city.
No, I figured he wanted to be able to talk without me overhearing. I guess he heard me call the SAC from the bathroom in the loft. I had no way to know whether he knew that was who I’d called.
All I had done was to check in. I didn’t say where I was. I didn’t even learn much. I had the distinct feeling that Horse thought that call was how our location was blown. A Bureau agent wouldn’t have acted that way, I was sure of it. They must not have known that I was there. The SAC would have given me a heads up if they were coming for the location where they knew that I was.
No, Horse’s buddy Noah Braxton must have tipped them off, but I knew better than to try and convince Horse of that. He came along the sidewalk, in the shadows close to the buildings and with his face down into his lapels. Before he drew level with the car I leaned across to pop the door open for him.
I started the car. As he climbed in I saw him folding away the scowl he’d plainly been carrying. We drove through the slow metal flow of contained aggression that was Manhattan as it jostled and slugged its way to work. I wanted to know who he had called – but I guessed he would have called Noah first. Horse was an army guy. You could see it in him. Looking out for his buddies and teammates was a high priority.
Did he consider me on his team at this point, I wondered, were we on the same side in his eyes? As I drove I snatched a look at his face. Maybe I was over-analyzing things, but I thought he was being guarded with me. Holding himself a little farther away than he needed to, keeping his eyes hooded. His lips were thin and his mouth was tight.
I couldn’t stand it too much longer and I cracked and asked him, “Did you call Noah?”
He looked back at me. I saw the caution in his eyes.
I said, “That’s just who I thought you would call first. Make sure he was aware and prepared. Just in case.”
He made a couple of small nods and said, “Just in case.”
“Did he say anything?” I asked him, “What did he say?”
“Oh, not much,” he glanced out of the window and I felt it. Not much that I’d risk telling you.
A red light made me stop. The weight of the tension in the car made it hard to keep still and stay quiet. I felt like there was a bitter lurking, waiting for whatever I said next.
“Look, I made a call, okay.” That was what it was about, and it was going to be about that until we got it out in the open. I felt like I was in a corner and I hated it. “I made a call to my SAC. Just to check in.”
“What is that, S A C?”
“Special Agent in Charge,” my heart pounded.
“Oh,” his lips pursed, “That sounds very special. How special is that exactly? Out of ten.”
“That wasn’t what got us…” I hesitated.
“Busted?” he taunted me, “Was that what you were going to say? That wasn’t what got us busted?“
“No. I…”
“No, because you can’t be busted, can you. You’re one of the good guys.”
Okay, here it was. Me and you. Us and them. He wasn’t one of us. I was one of them.
“Fuck the fact that I’m on an FBI kill list and you brought them right to us. And the fact that Noah went out on a limb to help us out. Who cares that you burned his damned safe house, right? However much time and work he put into that and he opened it to us.” I looked over at him. His eyes were smoldering and his voice was cold like steel.
“To you, Vesper.” His voice lowered, “He welcomed you and gave you his sanctuary, even though you’re technically the other side.”
“Oh, wait up.” My blood rose, “The FBI are ‘the other side’ now? I know you contract for a group called The Mafia that I may have heard of, but Noah? He’s ex-Delta Force as far as I know. Since when were Delta Force and the FBI not on the same side?”
“Read your history.” He snarled. “No-one has ever known what side the FBI were on,” that made my hackles rise, “Other than their own.”
Taking a turn I swerved harder than necessary. Even from the corner of my eye I felt the gleaming edge of his stare. I jerked the Jeep into the curb and hit the brakes hard.
“All manner of shit goes on at the political level,” I said with my teeth clenching, “I know it’s easy to sneer at the Bureau. There are movies and TV shows and comics and everyone can make a buck taking a poke at the G-Men, but let me tell you,” he turned his shoulders to face me. His teeth shone and his grin stretched. I wanted to slap the smugness right off of his stupid face. “Let me tell you that every instructor, supervisor and agent that I’ve had the honor to serve with is honest, hardworking and dedicated to upholding the law and they risk their lives every day in the service of the public.”
He just looked at me. My blood vibrated in my veins and I was hot, in my throat and my chest. And in my pants. Damnit. I was almost shaking.
“Alright.” I said, furious now. “Alright. You don’t trust me. I get it.” His eyebrow arched upwards. The one over the eye with the pale strip in the long lashes. The bastard. “So. The crook that works for organized crime, the guy who just got out of jail.”
That straightened out his grin. When his lip curled back, I knew what he was going to say. Damn, it was worth it, though. “Out of a five year stretch for something I didn’t do.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. You were the criminal, guarding the criminals to help them while they did some criminal thing, got jail for the crime he didn’t commit.” His eyes narrowed as his head dipped. “Yeah. Oh, just out of curiosity, while you were in the big house, how many guys did you meet who weren’t innocent? Hm? How many people said, ‘Oh, yeah, well I did do it,’ and accepted their sentences? Hm?” I left him a moment to chew on that. “And what makes you so different, soldier?”
I let him fume. I knew I was out of line, way out of line. But I couldn’t help how good it felt to let it out, just for a few moments. So I said, “Alright, soldier. Maybe that was a little strong.” He looked back up, slow. My stomach plunged about forty stories.
I said, “So.” A little more softly. “You think you’ll recover?” He moved toward me so fast I hit the back of my head on the window of the Jeep getting out of the way. I held up both palms.
“Alright.” I said, “Let’s test this theory.”