“What’s going on with the wire?” Neil Granger said.
“What do you mean?”
“You keep cutting out.”
“Really?” Worth moved around in the booth. His clothes would be rustling down the street, behind the coin laundry, where the tech van was parked. “I don’t know. Nothing looks wrong. Is it off or on now?”
“It came back on a second ago,” Granger said. “Look, just, I don’t know. Sit still or something.”
He hung up.
Worth folded the phone.
Gwen returned with two beers and two shots of whiskey, somehow carrying it all in both hands.
“I took the liberty.”
“Clearly.” He smiled, even though he was thinking of her injured kidney. “Dr. Mandekar wouldn’t approve.”
She crossed her heart. “I’ll drink lots of water tomorrow.”
Somebody from the YWCA had brought a few of her own clothes to the safe unit. Tonight she’d dressed in a baseball-style T-shirt, running shoes, and a pair of frayed jeans that rode low on her hips. The shirt fit tight and short, showing the name of some band he’d never heard of, a hint of belly button, a glimpse of thong underwear, and the difference in their ages.
At the SaveMore, Worth had noticed that guys didn’t really seem to look twice at Gwen Mullen. Personally, he’d always considered her pretty but plain, beautiful underneath the surface in some way only a sensitive soul like his could appreciate.
Here, almost every male in the bar took some form of notice as she crossed the floor. A few females did the same, for clearly different reasons. For the briefest moment, Worth couldn’t decide if he wanted to tear all her clothes off or ask her to put her coat back on.
Then she slid into the booth carefully, her movements slow and measured. He caught a look at the remnants of her bruises and remembered what they were doing here.
Gwen arranged the drinks in front of them. She raised her shot and said, “Here’s mud in your eye.”
Worth grinned, but he left the alcohol on the table. It was almost midnight. He unplugged the wire and watched the door.
Gwen knocked down her shot and placed the empty glass quietly on the table. She winced, ground her teeth together, and blew out a breath. Whoo.
She turned and dug in her coat, pulled out a cigarette, and lit one with a book of matches somebody else had left behind. While he watched the door, Gwen took a drag and sat back, sighing long and content, sending a jet of smoke toward the ceiling.
“God,” she said. “Do you know, this is the first cigarette I’ve had in almost a week? I almost forgot I smoked.”
His cell phone buzzed again.
“I’m here.”
On the other end, Granger said, “So, just kinda look around. You don’t happen to be sitting near a giant electromagnet, do you?”
“Not that I know of,” Worth said. “Why?”
“Completely lost you now.”
He fiddled, moved around, slowly easing the microplug back into the jack on the transmitter unit a little at a time.
“Okay, you’re back. What did you do?”
“I just wiggled it,” Worth said. “There must be a short.”
Gwen pointed toward the bathroom and slid out of the booth. Worth tried to grab her hand, but she was already out of reach.
“Gwen,” he said, but she didn’t seem to hear him over the jukebox. Even though a few people at nearby tables glanced his way.
Granger said, “What was that?”
“Nothing,” Worth told him. “What should I do about the wire?”
“Okay, hang on. Maybe we have time to…shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Incoming,” Granger said, and hung up again.
Tony Briggs pulled into the cramped, crooked lot of the Homey Inn five minutes before midnight.
He spotted Grocery Boy’s Ranger sitting alone, beyond the reach of the streetlamps. He parked alongside, killed the engine and the headlights, and sat tight for a moment, surveying the area.
For the time he sat there, nobody came in or went out. No traffic passed by on the street. All was quiet.
Tony hauled himself out of the car.
He felt like he’d been thrown off a balcony. His ribs were sore, hands bruised. Joints already starting to stiffen. His lower back felt loose and creaky from grappling with Ray on the floor. Salcedo had wrenched the shit out his shoulder, and Tony thought there might still be a piece of glass in his elbow somewhere. His torn stitches felt like barbed wire under the ball cap he’d put on.
On top of that, he couldn’t breathe through his nose. The cold night air hit his broken tooth like a dentist drill. Tony instinctively covered the jagged socket and sliced the bottom of his tongue.
He took a deep breath. Clenched his fists. Spat a mouthful of blood.
Maintain.
Ten yards away, music thumped faintly. Neon buzzed in the windows.
Eddie had brought them here. Tony and Ray. They’d held down a dark corner booth and heard all about these Polacks in Chicago, a direct supply of Turkish heroin, and a franchise opportunity.
That was Uncle Eddie. He’d spent the week up there at some trade show, got bored by Wednesday. Went out looking to score a cocktail waitress and maybe a gram to party with back at the hotel.
Instead, he’d ended up in some dive off South Archer Avenue, drinking Zywiec beer with some guy who knew a guy. That was why he’d picked this place to pitch Tony and Ray in the first place: it was the only bar in town that served Zywiec on tap. Uncle Eddie through and through.
They’d killed five pitchers between them, closed the place down talking possibilities.
So much for that shit.
Tony spat another string of blood. Wiped his mouth.
Went inside.
While Gwen was in the bathroom, Worth got up and moved all her stuff onto his side of the booth. Coat, cigarettes, a small nylon purse.
A few of the same people at the same nearby tables glanced in his direction again.
He ignored them, dividing his attention across the barroom floor, between the front door and the bathrooms in the opposite corner.
After a couple minutes, Gwen came out, holding the door for the next girl waiting.
Worth looked to the front and saw Tony Briggs coming in.
He slid out of the booth and stood to the side. Partially to let Briggs see him, mostly to direct Gwen where he wanted her to sit.
She smiled at him, starting back to the booth.
Worth checked out Tony Briggs. He wore khaki pants, a black nylon jacket, and a black ball cap pulled down low.
The guy’s face was a mess. Scrapes all over, a couple small cuts, a fat purple bulb for a lip. As Briggs neared, Worth noticed his nose was packed with cotton.
Gwen saw where he was looking and followed his eyes.
The moment she saw Tony Briggs, her smile faded. Her expression went blank—eyes going dull and distant, face becoming smooth as stone.
They all met at the booth.
“Hey, kids. How’s it going?” Briggs tipped his head to Gwen, gesturing toward his side of the booth. After you.
Worth put a hand on her elbow, steering her gently his way instead.
He felt her tense up the moment he touched her. Instant, reflexive. She pulled her arm away.
“Don’t do that,” she said.
More glances from the other tables.
“Yeah, come on,” Tony Briggs said. “Don’t be so controlling, man.”
Worth could sense the change in Gwen from a foot away. It was the same change he’d witnessed at the safe unit, the night Briggs and Salcedo had braced them. That extra gear of hers: like a small animal backed into a corner by a larger one.
She pushed past Briggs, slipping into his side of the booth like it was nothing one way or another to her. You don’t control me, either.