The caustic scents of gas, exhaust, and motor oil assaulted my nose, but I held back a cough and slithered forward, the pavement digging into my hips and stomach. Dixon had been messing around next to the truck for a reason, and I wanted to know what it was. When I reached the rear bumper of the truck, I rolled over so that I was on my back, slid the flashlight out of my belt, turned it on, and focused the beam up at the underside of the truck.
Nothing. I saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Just the wheels, pipes, and axles that made up any large vehicle. I moved the light this way and that, but I didn’t see anything suspicious. In fact, the vehicle looked exceptionally well cared for, and all the parts practically gleamed, including the muffler and the box that was attached to it—
Wait a second. I was no mechanic, but mufflers didn’t have boxes on their sides, as far as I knew. I wiggled up a little more so I could get a better look, and I realized that there was a hole in the box. I reached up and hooked my finger in the slot. To my surprise, the metal slid back easily, revealing what was inside the box.
Another bomb.
I froze, wondering if I might have somehow armed the device just by opening the box, but as the seconds passed and I didn’t get blown into next week, I relaxed.
A little.
I let out a tense breath and slowly moved the light over the device. This bomb was just like the one I’d pried off the bridge board, a brick of explosive with a cell-phone trigger. It wasn’t an enormous bomb, but it probably had enough juice to torch the truck and everything in it. That must have been what Dixon was checking with his phone earlier—to make sure that he could blow the device when the time was right.
I frowned, even more puzzled than before. Why would Dixon rig the moving truck to blow? Especially since there was already several millions of dollars’ worth of art on it, with more on the way. Blowing the bridge was one thing. Clementine needed that to help with her escape. But this—this made no sense. Why destroy the things you had come here to steal in the first place?
I lay there under the truck a moment longer, thinking. Then I turned off my flashlight and wormed my way out from underneath the vehicle. I got to my feet, crept to the front of the truck, and looked inside the cab, but it was empty except for a set of keys hanging in the ignition.
I quickly scurried around to the other three trucks and looked into their cabs as well, but they too were all empty except for their respective keys. Since they giants hadn’t started loading them up yet, the backs of them were all still shut and locked.
I paused a moment, thinking. Not seeing or hearing any giants headed my way, I decided to risk checking on one more thing.
I climbed into the back of the truck that was open, the one that I’d seen the giants stuffing with art earlier.
It was almost full, with only a narrow path leading from the front to the back, and I imagined the giants would fill in the rest of the available space soon enough. I snapped my flashlight back on, moving it over everything inside. Rolled-up tubes, bubble-wrapped statues, empty frames made of gold and silver. The giants had certainly been thorough in their looting.
But there was one thing that was missing: the silverstone case that I’d seen Dixon carrying earlier.
I moved the flashlight over everything again, but the case wasn’t here, which meant that the jewelry wasn’t in the truck. But Dixon hadn’t been carrying the case when he’d come out here with the giants before. So where had he taken the jewelry? And why not store it in here with everything else?
I snapped off the light and stood in the darkness, thinking some more. Then I shook my head, slid the flashlight back through the loop on my belt, and crept toward the open end of the truck.
Once I made sure that the coast was clear and no giants were coming my way, I hopped out of the back of the truck and slipped into the shadows again. I thought about prying the bomb off the undercarriage, but I decided to leave the device where it was. I already had one explosive, and, really, that was all that I needed.
Because now it was time to spin my own web of death and destruction—and for Clementine to finally feel the Spider’s sting.
My next destination wasn’t nearly as picturesque as the covered bridge.
I stopped long enough to retrieve the first bomb from where I’d left it behind the bushes. Then I hurried down into the parking lot and scurried through the rows of cars until I reached Finn’s Aston Martin.
I checked to make sure there weren’t any giants lurking around, but the area was deserted. Once I was satisfied that I was alone, I scooted around to the front of the car and the tag there—FINNSTOY. I shook my head at his vanity, then reached around behind the tag until I felt something small, hard, and metal. I gave it a good yank, and a car key slid into my hand.
Given the shady life we led and all the people Finn, Fletcher, and I had killed over the years, the extra key was a little safety precaution we took. Finn had them stashed on all his vehicles, just like I had one on my car. Just in case one of us wanted to get into the other’s ride without making a lot of noise or needed to make a quick, clean getaway.
I used the key to pop the trunk, which contained a couple of black duffel bags. Finn always kept extra gear in his various cars, just as I had some stashed in the back of the Pork Pit, at Jo-Jo’s salon, and other places that I frequented. In case of emergencies. I’d say tonight definitely qualified as one of those.
I unzipped one of the duffel bags. Pistols, silencers, ammunition, cleaning oil. Most of the items inside were gun-related, since those were Finn’s weapons of choice. I dumped the gun I’d taken off the giant and grabbed one of Finn’s instead, along with a silencer and several clips of ammo. Guns jammed too much for my liking, but my foster brother was obsessive about keeping his in tip-top shape, so I knew they would be far more reliable than the giant’s.
Finn also had an extra suit, shirt, tie, and socks and a pair of glossy wing tips stowed in a small suitcase in the trunk, along with an iron. Not helpful, unless I wanted to steam and starch someone to death. I shook my head again, this time at his obsessiveness when it came to his appearance.
Finally, I unzipped the final bag—my bag.
Finn kept some of his things in my car, and I reciprocated in his. After the gun, the next items I grabbed were two extra knives and their holsters. I buckled the bands of leather around my thighs and slid the weapons into the appropriate slots. Now I had four blades instead of just two. Good for me, bad for everyone else.
Last, I pulled a pair of black boots out of my bag.
The scarlet heels I’d worn earlier were still tied to the leather belt around my waist. After dropping them in the trunk, I grabbed a pair of socks out of the bag and sat on the rim of the open trunk. I used some of the cut-off fabric from my dress to wipe as much of the dirt, dew, and grass off my feet as I could before sliding the cotton socks and boots onto my feet.
The black socks and boots didn’t exactly go with my dress. Or maybe they did, given how tattered, torn, and bloodstained the scarlet gown was now. Either way, now I wouldn’t have to watch where I was walking or worry about cutting up my feet. Besides, I felt better in the boots—stronger and more grounded. Steel toes tend to bolster a girl’s confidence in her ability to kick some serious ass.
When I was properly attired, I walked around the car, opened the passenger door, and grabbed my purse off the seat. I didn’t carry a purse all the time, and I hadn’t wanted to keep up with one tonight, which is why I’d left it in the car. But there was one final item in the tiny bag that I needed—a cell phone.