5
EZRA
I was feeling pretty cocky by the time I reached south Denver, replaying the chase in my head again and again. That shit probably wouldn't have worked if I was in a car nicer than this beat up Volvo, or if my mark wasn't in that gaudy Mustang. There was something to be said for laying low.
Still, you couldn't be too careful in this business, so instead of turning down the street to Terrance's apartment I drove three more blocks and pulled into a parking garage. I rounded the ramp, climbing each floor until I was on the roof level, then parked at the very end.
I turned off the car and sat there for several minutes, listening to the bubbling noises of the engine cooling off.
Nothing happened. Only then did I begin to relax.
Now that everything was over, the airport terminal and the garages and the race through the city, the post-adrenaline crash hit me like an avalanche. My fingers trembled on the steering wheel, and everything went cold. I almost started crying, for Christ's sake. Get it together, Ezra.
I slid out of the car to get some fresh air. The sunlight on my skin was energizing, and I felt a modicum of safety up here on the roof of a garage, looking out over the city. The sapphire figurine felt heavy in my hand as I pulled it from my pocket.
"What the fuck have you gotten me into?" I muttered, and the stone seemed to pulse in response.
I stuffed it back in my pocket and rested my hands on the chest-high cement wall separating me from the river below. The Denver skyline was beautiful, and still felt exciting. New cities always held so much potential. But although I'd planned on being here for a few weeks, I couldn't stay now. Not with all of this going on. I needed a new plan.
First things first, I pulled out the wallet I'd pinched to survey my take. Four credit cards and $180 worth of twenties. I moved the cash to my pants and then put all the credit cards in my other pocket; I had a small window of opportunity to use them before they were reported stolen. Or I could see if Terrance would buy them as-is. A friend-of-a-friend, I didn't know much about Terrance except he sold drugs and worked in a chop-shop in Denver. He'd lent me the Volvo, but would probably sell it if I asked. Aside from what was in this wallet, I only had $45 in cash on me. I wondered if $225 and a handful of credit cards would be enough to score the car.
I could always just take it. I had the keys. It was in my possession right now. But burning bridges was a fast way to get isolated in this business. If it weren't for friends and favors I would have died years ago.
Slowly, my hands stopped trembling. I took deep breaths to calm myself while looking out over the city.
So if I got a car, what then? I'd always avoided the west coast, not wanting to infringe on the local gangs in California. But Los Angeles was probably my best bet to fence something of this value. Which brought me back to my original problem of finding a contact for selling gemstones. There was a list of people in my head I could call and probe, but few of them I trusted enough to give a lot of information, and most of them would demand a cut of whatever I sold. Which was fine for loose gems valued at under a grand, but something like this? I didn't want anyone to know what I had. It was bad enough that I had the Denver fucking mafia chasing me. I didn't need petty criminals putting a knife in my side to get their hands on it.
Stop it, Ezra. Don't focus on the negative. Just relax, and take it one step at a time. Get a car first.
"Please don't run."
I whirled and pulled my switchblade from my coat pocket in one smooth motion, extending it like a sword. The mark from the airport stood thirty feet away, hands held out in front of him. His dirty blond hair was strewn across his face, partially obscuring a strong nose and piercing blue eyes. More importantly, he had no weapon in his hands, and his tight T-shirt and khaki shorts made it clear he didn't have one on him.
"Stay back!" I yelled, jabbing the knife for emphasis. Even weaponless, he was a tall guy with a long wingspan. I needed to keep him at range. I was backed against the cement wall; my car blocked me to the left, so my only option was to run right. He'd have a good chance of cutting me off, though. I suppose I could climb over the edge behind me and swing down to the next garage level. I'd probably kill myself trying it.
Strangely, the man's presence didn't make me panic now. It was like the pressure in my head was diminishing, and the sapphire figurine didn't weigh so heavily in my pocket. All side effects of coming down from the adrenaline rush, probably. I needed to be careful. Don't get too complacent, Ezra.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"My name's Sam Feinstein," he said, strangely calm.
"No," I hissed. "I mean, who are you. Your organization. A gang? Some rare collectibles importing business? Denver mafia?"
A confused smile spread across his face, and it would have completely disarmed me if I wasn't already on alert. "Mafia? It's just me. I'm an astronomy engineer."
"Astronomy engineer," I repeated, making the words into a curse. "You made that up. That's a shitty fucking story. How'd you get away from the cops so fast?"
"The cops?"
"Yes, the cops. The ones who stopped you in your gaudy fucking Mustang outside the school."
He shook his head. "Okay, honestly? I have no idea what you're talking about." He twisted to gesture behind him. "I drive an old Honda Accord. It's parked down there."
He was lying, and he was bad at it. Trying to pretend like he was some innocent guy, that this was all a misunderstanding, and that if we just sat down and talked it out we might come to a mutual resolution. Yeah. Fat fucking chance. The tattoo sleeves on both arms showed me what he really is. Did he think I'd believe an astronomy engineer--whatever that was--would look like this?
Moreover, sweat covered his head and matted the sides of his hair. Even though he was in shorts and a T-shirt. "How are you sweating? It's 40 degrees out here. Did you run all the way here?"
He chuckled. "I know I look silly, but I didn't have a chance to get my coat out of my bag when I landed. I flew in from Belize, so..." He gestured down at himself.
"But why the sweat?"
"I'm not sure I can explain..." He took a step forward.
"STAY BACK!" I screamed, backing away from him until my shoulders hit concrete. But he didn't slow down.
"Please don't stab me," he said, still approaching hesitantly. "I can't explain it, but I'm not entirely in control right now. It's pulling on me. Drawing me near..."
A few more steps and he would make his move. He'd knock my knife aside and then he'd be on me, and there would be nothing I could do. I had a lot of strength for a woman my size, but I couldn't compete with this guy. If he closed the distance I was a goner.
But there was one way I knew I could keep him at bay.
"Come any closer," I warned, pulling the sapphire figurine from my pocket, "and I toss it."
Sam froze like someone had paused the movie.
I nodded patronizingly. "Yeah. Now you're listening." I extended the sapphire over the edge. "You'll never find this if I toss it in the river."
My heartbeat pulsed with new adrenaline. I could feel it throughout my body, and in the palm holding the object. It made it feel like the sapphire had a heartbeat of its own.
"Please," Sam said slowly. "That totem is very important to me."
Totem? Not the sapphire? If he'd come from Belize, then maybe the entire thing was some valuable artifact.
"Please," Sam repeated, "I'll do anything you want. Just don't do something crazy."
"Here's what's going to happen." The pulsing increased, making my arm twitch over the chasm. "You're going to walk back down to your Mustang, or your Accord, or whatever you drove here, and you're going to leave."
I knew I didn't sound very confident, but I didn't care. I had the leverage at that moment, even though the reality was that I didn't think I could let go of the sapphire if my life depended on it. Deep down I knew my fingers wouldn't let go of something that valuable, because they would never hold anything like it ever again.
And there was something else. The totem wasn't just an item of value in my hand. It was almost like it was part of me, sticking to my hand. Tossing it would be like cutting off a finger.
I trembled, and hoped Sam wouldn't call my bluff.
The pulsing of my heartbeat increased, and Sam winced along with it, like each beat was pounding in his own head. Sweat sprung anew from his temple, trickling down his cheek. His chest heaved like he was having a panic attack.
The sapphire glowed brilliantly in my hand, catching the sunlight just right. It was beautiful in that moment, brilliant in a way that its value couldn't explain.
"Please," he said, stepping forward once more.
I leaned back over the edge even further, and the motion caused me to squeeze the figurine. The sapphire under my finger suddenly gave, sinking into the stone within my grasp.
And that's when I officially lost my sanity.