He was reaching for the door when his phone buzzed. “Yeah.”
“Hold on.” Marshall’s voice quiet.
“What’s up?”
“I’m not sure. I think something’s wrong. I’m going to get closer.”
“Where are they?”
“Fourth floor, northwest corner. Near the movie theater. They’re carrying a bag,” Marshall said. “You want me to just go get-”
“No. Stick to the plan.” He hung up, peered out again. What are you doing, Tom?
Jack unzipped the jumpsuit halfway, then took his phone from his pocket and dialed.
TOM’S PHONE RANG. He didn’t recognize the number. Taking a deep breath, he flipped it open. “Hello.”
“Mr. Reed? This is Detective Halden. Where have you been? After our last conversation-”
Shit, shit, shit! “Detective, now isn’t a good time.”
There was a pause. “Are you in danger? Is the drug dealer there?”
He snuck a glance at his watch. 10:02. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just” – he looked around, sure he would see Jack coming toward him at any moment, that big gun in his hand – “I can’t talk right now.”
“Listen, whatever you’re doing, this is more important. That guy, he’s going to be looking for you, and you won’t see him coming. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll be there in ten minutes. I can keep you safe.”
Tom hesitated. The window of the luggage store was empty. Where had Andre gone? Everything was happening so fast. He thought of the guy with the jersey, how he’d realized in that moment that they were in way over their heads. Maybe he should tell Halden everything. Get the cops here. The idea was tempting: Give up control, let the professionals handle it.
“Mr. Reed?”
Tom opened his mouth. There was a beep in his ear, and he pulled the phone away to look at it. Another number he didn’t recognize.
“Tom, I know you’re scared. Let me help.”
His pulse was heavy enough to shake his vision. “I’m sorry. I’ll call you back soon. I promise.”
“Wait-”
He hung up, clicked to the new call. A familiar voice said, “Who were you talking to, Tom?”
ANNA SAW THE WINCE, saw Tom look around wildly. He mouthed the word Jack, then said, “No one.” Paused, and said, “It was my mother, all right? I got her off the phone as quick as I could.”
Her heart throbbed in her chest, and her fingers tightened on the railing. I am pale blue light.
Tom said, “Yeah, well, you don’t know my mother.”
She looked left, toward the theater. A bored college kid behind the ticket counter, posters for indie films, a bench with an old lady sitting on it. If things started to go bad, they could make for that. Motion caught her eye, a level down, the cop strolling past a display window. There was a stairwell to the right, where the guy in the Cubs jersey had gone.
Tom said, “We’re not leaving the mall. No way.”
Pop music still played from overhead, inane and insistent, that stupid boy band song that went “Bye-bye, baby, bye-bye.” She could smell stale popcorn.
Tom said, “Okay.” He hung up. “He wants to meet on the ground floor, in front of the salon. He said to not take the elevator.”He glanced over his shoulder, then passed his phone to her. “You’ll have to page Andre. I can’t and still hold the bag.”
“I’ll-”
“Jack would never believe I’d have you carry it.”
She bit her lip, knew he was right. Slipped the phone into her pocket and her hand in after it, one finger on the Send button. I am pale blue light. “We should go.”
They started down, Tom slightly ahead. The fourth floor slowly gave way to the third. Her eyes scanned fast, looking for Jack, for Andre, for any of them. Overhead, the boy band’s singer said that he didn’t want to be a player in a game for two, and Anna wondered what the hell that meant. Three floors to go. There was no sign of Jack, but there were a whole lot of people around: a cluster of teenagers at the elevator, women fingering clothing in the Express, a clerk on break reading a book. Two and a half floors to go. She found herself thinking of that mother with the stroller. Wondering if she knew how lucky she was. Wondering if anyone did, until they didn’t. Life could fall apart so fast.
Which was what she was thinking at the exact moment Jack Witkowski stepped out of the stairwell door in front of them.
TO JACK, the pair of them looked ragged, stretched thin with panic. Something in Anna seemed particularly off, her hands in her pockets and her eyes wild. Perfect.
He smiled, gestured to the gym bag in Tom’s hand. “That for me?”
Tom’s eyes darted like a rabbit looking for cover. He took a step back. “I thought you wanted-”
“Never mind what you thought, dipshit,” Jack said. “Open the bag.”
Tom Reed stood still.
“Tom,” Jack said, and unzipped his jumpsuit so that the holster was visible. “Open the bag.”
“You’re not going to use that. We’re in a public place.” The guy said it like it was a contract, like a kid on the playground whining about the rules.
Jack laughed. “Are you kidding?” He shook his head. “You’ve passed a dozen people in the last few minutes. Can you tell me what any of them looked like?” He cocked his head, smiled. “What makes you think any of them saw what I look like?”
TOM FELT LIKE his face had grown apart from him, like it was a separate entity. He could feel the blood banging in his forehead, could feel the heat in his cheeks. “We had a deal.”
Jack shrugged, the motion rippling the blue jumpsuit and revealing more of the big pistol. “We still do. It starts with you opening that bag and showing me what’s mine.”
“You just said you were going to kill us.” Trying to keep conversation going. Praying that Anna had been able to page Andre.
“Actually, Tom, I said that I could kill you.” Jack was smug, obviously enjoying himself. “If I do decide to kill you, I probably won’t tell you about it in advance. Now open the goddamn bag.”
“No,” Tom said, as steadily as he could. He had to hold out.
Another few seconds, a minute. His life, their lives, it came down to a minute. Sixty endless seconds. Where the hell was Andre? “Not until you tell me, straight up, that once you have this money you’ll leave us alone.”
Jack smiled. “My word.”
Something went cold inside Tom, and he realized that one way or another, today or tomorrow, Jack meant to kill them. Had simply decided that it would happen.
Then, over Jack’s shoulder, he saw someone coming up the escalator that bisected the mall. A bulky guy with a boxer’s moves. Wet lips and white teeth. Andre was walking, his jacket open. Anna had done it.
“All right.” Tom took a deep breath, trying to draw things out, feeling a rush of adrenaline and a surge of wild hope. He rolled his shoulder and then set the bag on the ground.
Behind Jack, two white guys came around the corner to fall into step with Andre, the three of them moving steady and easy. One wore a maroon tracksuit and a gold ID bracelet. The other had on a broad-cut suit. The one in the suit slid his hand into the pocket and pulled out something plastic. A blue spark arced along it. A stun gun.
Tom squatted beside the bag, put his hand on the zipper. Timing would be everything. He hesitated, said, “Remember, you promised.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed, and he said, “Quit stalling.”
No way around it. If he went any further, he risked Jack looking around, things going south. He had to pray that the money on top would fool Jack, or at least hold his attention long enough for Malachi’s people. Twenty feet now.
He drew the zipper down as slowly as he dared, then reached for the sides of the bag, planning to open it just enough to flash Jack. Ten feet.