Ashley glances at me, as if she’s not sure whether or not she should respond. I hesitate, then respond for the both of us.
“She’s not my friend.”
“Then what exactly is she doing here?”
“In the wrong place at the wrong time, I guess.”
I check Ashley’s face to see if she agrees with this, but she doesn’t give much of a reaction. Instead she seems to steel herself, take a breath.
“You’re really Melissa’s father?” she asks.
This gives my old man pause. He blinks again, leans back, gives her an apprising look.
“What’s your name?”
“Ashley Walker.”
“And, Ms. Walker, how did you know my daughter?”
“We were best friends in college.”
“Interesting. And why, exactly, were you at the bookstore just now?”
“Following a hunch.”
“Such as?”
“I refuse to believe Melissa killed her family and herself.”
A smile and nod. “Bright girl.”
“So you’re saying it’s not true?”
“Hey,” I interject. “What’s going on here?”
Up front, the driver says, “Eli, we’re skipping the tunnel. Too much chance of getting boxed in.”
My father nods like the driver just spoke to him, which doesn’t make sense, because Eli isn’t my father’s name.
Still, my father says, “We need to ditch this vehicle as soon as possible. No doubt they already have the make and model and are tracking us.”
The driver and bald passenger exchange a glance, but neither speaks. Right now it’s rush hour, the traffic congested, and it’s a miracle we’re able to keep going forty miles per hour.
For a moment there’s complete silence, and then I say, “Eli?”
My father looks at me, clearly responding to the sound of his name, and again I ask the only question that matters.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
twenty-two
“Where are they now?”
“Still on Seventh Avenue.”
“Are they headed for the tunnel?”
“Doesn’t look like it. At least they still haven’t headed east yet.”
Zach gritted his teeth against the slow-moving traffic. He was half tempted to jump the curb and tear ass down the sidewalk, but knew that would raise too many eyebrows. In his world, he and his people never raised eyebrows. They stayed so far under the radar, in many ways they didn’t exist.
As long as Zach had known Tyson, the man rarely showed any enthusiasm. He was a true professional, through and through, keeping his emotions in check. But now, coming through the earpiece of Zach’s phone, Tyson’s excitement was contagious.
“Yes!”
“What is it?”
“One of the traffic cams picked up a clean shot of the driver. I’m working the facial recognition now.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Eli has no friends. He has no contacts to pull off what just happened.”
Zach started nodding, already picking up the pieces. “You think mercenaries?”
“Something along those lines. If they’re hired guns, it’s very well likely they have military training, and if they have military training-”
“They’ll be in the system,” Zach said. “How much longer are we talking?”
“Can’t say. It could be a few more minutes, or it could … holy hell, look at that.”
“What?”
“We have confirmation. The driver’s name is Charles Bent. Ex-Marine. Did three tours in Iraq.”
“Any known associates?”
“One. Another ex-Marine name of John Grayson.”
“Large bald fellow?”
“That’s what the picture shows.”
“These guys working independently?”
“From the intel on my screen, these guys have no loyalty except to the highest bidder.”
“Is there a contact number?”
He was edging his way through traffic, swerving around one taxi or bus or car or another, people talking and shouting outside, cars honking, but still he could hear the smile in Tyson’s voice.
“As a matter of fact, there is.”
twenty-three
The driver takes a sudden left, nearly fishtailing the SUV, and then we’re racing down a side street, headed west.
I say to my father, “These people, whoever they are, they killed Melissa and her family, didn’t they?”
My father-or fuck it, let’s just call him Eli-nods his head slightly. “I’m afraid they did.”
“And you knew it was going to happen, didn’t you?”
I have no basis to make this assumption other than pure speculation, but his eyes shift away from mine, ashamed, and it’s all the confirmation I need.
“You son of a bitch.”
“Hey,” says the bald passenger up front. “Don’t blame your old man. There was nothing we could do to stop it.”
“Bullshit,” I say, but before I can continue the thought, a phone rings.
It’s coming from up front, in the middle console, the electronic buzzing of a cell phone.
Immediately Eli says, “Don’t answer it.”
Both driver and passenger exchange another glance, only this one is more concentrated, the two communicating in their own special silence. Finally the driver nods, almost imperceptibly, and the passenger picks up the ringing phone, opens it, places it to his ear.
“Yeah,” he says, and then is silent for several long seconds while he listens to the person on the other end, while the driver accelerates down the city streets, slamming on the brakes every hundred yards or so when someone tries to step out in front of the SUV and he’s forced to swerve around them.
Eli’s hand, meanwhile, is slowly moving toward the inside of his jacket, my father never once taking his gaze off the passenger.
Up front, the passenger says, “A quarter million.”
The driver, keeping the bulk of his focus on the street, gives his partner a hesitant glance.
I look back at my father and find him now looking at me-really looking at me for the first time. His hand is now completely inside his jacket, and I somehow know his fingers are gripping the gun holstered there.
Finally, after some more silence, the passenger says, “Will do,” and closes the phone. He takes a deep breath, glances at the driver, then suddenly a gun is in his hand, aimed directly at Eli.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Eli’s voice is hollow: “That didn’t take long.”
The passenger simply shakes his head.
“How much more are they offering?”
“Twice as much.”
The driver whistles, clearly impressed.
Eli says, “These aren’t good people.”
“Maybe.”
“You’ve seen what they’re capable of.”
“Very true. I’ve also just received a phone call from one of their people less than ten minutes after encountering one of them. Which makes me think they’re much more powerful than you first let on. Now bring your hand out where I can see it, slowly.”
Eli withdraws his empty hand from inside the jacket. “What are you going to do?”
“Difficult to say. They found us pretty quickly, and it’s pretty fucking impossible to find us.”
The driver gives his partner another look, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s clear he knows what’s going on. It’s also clear he has accepted the change in tide. This is evidenced by the fact that we aren’t going so fast anymore. The SUV’s constant acceleration has tapered off.
Eli pauses for a beat. “I’ll match it. I’ll even throw in an extra hundred grand.”
The passenger seems to think this over for a moment. “How do we know you have the extra money?”
“You don’t.”
The passenger lets loose a hearty laugh. “I don’t think it’s worth it, even if you do have the money. These people are too well connected. They’ll catch up with us eventually.”
“They may be well connected, but they’re still fallible.”
“Maybe. But at this point, I’m not willing to take the chance. How about you, Charlie?”
The driver shakes his head. “An extra quarter mil sounds pretty good to me. They want us to stop?”