He wrapped both their binoculars in a grocery bag and placed the package in a hollow he’d prepared next to a tree, spreading loose soil and pine needles over the top. They weren’t going to need them again unless they came back here to check on Thorne, which hopefully would be never. Behind him, Sara started the motorcycle and revved it a couple of times. She was keen to get going. Recon work was not for everyone, doing nothing for long periods of time wore you down. You lost focus, becoming first bored, then angry. She turned the lime green Kawasaki to face downhill and looked over her shoulder at him. He smiled as he pulled on his helmet. She looked amazing, like a comic book villain. Tight black leather, large black boots.
Practically unstoppable.
He got on the motorcycle and they took off through the trees.
The forest road was rough. Heavy vehicles had torn up the muddy surface, forcing Sara to weave from one tire track to another to avoid the deepest holes. Despite the conditions, she took it fast. He knew she needed excitement after the long wait, but it wasn’t the kind of riding you wanted to do as a passenger. She stopped at the edge of the tree line, thirty feet back from the junction with Glen Canyon Road. She was such a pro, she always knew the right move. The angle prevented them from looking at approaching vehicles, but it hid them from the road.
He glanced at his watch.
They’d timed the journey from the mansion’s entrance to where they sat at a conservative fifty mph. Any longer than two minutes meant the car had turned north, toward Scotts Valley, and they’d have to race to catch it. The forest road had taken them less than a minute, so they wouldn’t have long to wait one way or another. He was about to check his watch again when the black car shot past. Sara drove down the last of the track then gave the car enough time to round the next bend before she popped the motorcycle up onto the asphalt and followed.
The road was slow and narrow with forest on both sides. Where it widened, cars and SUVs were parked, most of them at least ten years old. Shade from the trees reached across first one side of the asphalt, then the other. He wondered why people willingly choose to live in a place like this, surrounded by trees, when they could live in a city and be part of the real world. What was there to do here? Was there any work? He wanted to know, the question begged to be answered. They couldn’t all run gas stations or hardware stores; there had to be something else.
At the city limit sign, Sara started to close up on the Lexus.
Beyond this point the number of possible destinations opened up dramatically and she couldn’t let Ashcroft get out of sight. In the center of the city, the streets formed a typical grid and the Lexus was going up one street then switching across and going down the next. It didn’t seem like Ashcroft had a particular destination in mind, but was driving about for the hell of it. They were on a street they had been on over five minutes’ earlier. It was one-way and had vehicles parked on both sides.
A twin deck bus pushed out in front of them at an intersection.
The bus was long and the turn forced it diagonally across the width of the street, where it stopped. It hid the Lexus completely. A tightness built in his chest. To lose Thorne now would be a disaster after the hours they’d invested in tracking him. Sara moved across to look down the outside, but the bus driver had left only a couple of inches next to cars parked at the curb. After a moment the bus moved forward, but instead of moving to the left to unblock the street it straighten up to the right. The rear of the vehicle was now coming toward them and Sara had to back off to let it through. Blake caught a glimpse of the Lexus, then it was gone again.
He started to relax, at least it was still there.
Twenty to thirty seconds passed before the bus moved again, it felt like an eternity. Sara ducked to the left to go down the inside and almost hit a dark brown delivery truck that was blocking the left side of the street. Blake gritted his teeth. Between the truck and the bus he could see the next intersection. He stared at it while they waited. Ashcroft didn’t turn off on the cross street. The small black car had to still be in front of the bus somewhere. Finally, the bus moved forward again, clearing the truck, and Sara flew past. Blake knew what he was going to see, but it was no less dispiriting when it happened.
The Lexus had disappeared.
“Fuck!”
He wanted to shout it loud enough for the bus driver to hear. Instead, it was little more than a hiss. Just the same, Sara stiffened between his hands. He cursed her caution. There'd been a moment at the intersection when she could’ve nailed the throttle and got in front of the bus. She'd hesitated, and that was all it had taken. Thorne would certainly have made them had she done so, but remaining undetected meant nothing if the target got away. He tried not to think about it. There was no way she could’ve anticipated the bus blocking them. Getting blocked on a motorcycle was rare. Sara pulled over to the side of the street. It was pointless to continue without a plan. He looked up as the bus rolled past and saw the driver shaking his head at them. They had nothing.
Thorne could be anywhere by now.
“Don’t start with me, Aidan. I’m not in the mood.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Me neither.”
Up ahead, in front of a Chrysler sedan, he saw a curve of high gloss black bodywork. Relief washed over him, it was the rear of the Lexus. Ashcroft had parked. It looked like wherever they were going, they’d arrived.
Blake took his right hand from around her waist and pointed.
“There. Go past like we’re looking for a parking spot. Slow so we can see if anyone’s inside, then pull over a short distance after.”
Sara pulled out into traffic. They turned to look as they passed the Lexus. The car was empty. As Sara brought the bike once more to a stop, he glanced up and saw the side of Thorne’s head. He couldn’t believe it, Thorne was sitting right next to the window of a cafe. Across from him, sat the Ashcroft girl. There was no sign of the old man and judging by the way the two of them were looking at each other, he wasn’t anywhere close. Blake smiled. He’d expected his next encounter with Thorne to be unavoidably violent, something that could jeopardize his new plan, but this? This was going to be sweet.
Sara twisted around, visor open. “What now?”
“Stay close, this won’t take long.” Blake dismounted and passed her his helmet. “Park where you can watch the entrance. I’m not expecting any problems, but if things go south I might need to leave in a hurry.”
She nodded and he walked back up the street.
He was certain Thorne hadn’t seen them ride past and he’d never see him coming from this direction. He slipped into the cafe and into a booth against the far wall. It was nearly noon and the place was packed. A long line of people snaked down the middle of the store. There was no waitress service, you had to order at the counter. Normally he hated places like this, but today it suited him just fine. He’d be left alone with no one bothering him for an order he didn’t need. Blake stared across at his old friend, partially screened by the moving line of people. The window seat had probably been chosen so that Thorne could keep an eye on people coming and going, but that was never going to work when you were seated opposite Lauren Ashcroft. The woman was seriously into Thorne, her hand kept reaching across the table to touch his hand or his face. Since they were in such a public space, Blake wondered if she even knew she was doing it, or if she did it without thinking.
He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for until he saw it.
The woman leaned across the table and whispered something to Thorne, before standing up and heading for the back of the cafe where the restrooms were. Blake moved quickly, crossing the floor and looping around the line of customers until he was standing next to Thorne’s table. Only several seconds had passed and he could still smell Lauren’s perfume hanging in the air. He glanced to the right in time to see her ass swinging one way then the other as she walked away. Thorne was staring at a menu with brightly colored photographs of doughnuts, cinnamon rolls, and other baked goods.<
br />
“This seat taken?”
“Yeah,” Thorne said, without looking up.
Blake waited for the bandaged head to tilt up and look at him. He didn’t want to blink and miss the moment it dawned on Thorne who was standing next to him. It was quick, no more than a flicker between his eyebrows, as the actor’s subconscious processed his voice. The head came up, followed almost immediately by a body braced for action. The man’s reflexes were damn fast, even in this condition. Blake pushed his automatic forward inside his jacket pocket, so that the end of the barrel became obvious.
There was no need for any kind of misunderstanding.
“Easy, brother,” he said. “This is just a conversation.”
Thorne froze, his eyes fixed on the pistol.
“Sit down, buddy,” Blake said. “It’s probably better we get through this before that little cheerleader gets back from the restroom. These liberal types are compassionate, but there’s only so much they can understand. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Thorne eased back down onto the cafe’s bench seat, his face flushed, arteries pulsing visibly on his neck. Blake knew it meant Thorne’s system was wired with adrenalin and that he’d have to be careful. Even with the Glock, he wouldn’t be guaranteed victory. If the actor came at him at this range he might only have time to fire a single shot and that hadn’t been enough before. He slid onto the seat the Ashcroft woman had been sitting on and smiled. It was still warm from her perfect ass. She was well put together all right, and it told him everything he needed to know about why his friend had turned on him.
“You look like shit, Thorne.”
“Feel like it too.”
“They got you on any good drugs?”
“Oh, sure. You could shoot me now and I wouldn’t feel it until a week on Tuesday. That why you’re here? To score some pills?”
“I thought we should have a little chat is all.”
Under the table, Blake took the pistol from his jacket and laid it sideways on his thigh, the barrel aimed at Thorne’s crotch. If he needed to use it he didn’t want it stuck in his pocket while two hundred pounds of Marine flew at him across a narrow strip of wood. Thorne’s eyes followed his arm’s movements with interest. Looking for weakness, planning moves should he need them. It wasn’t hard to work out what he was thinking, they had similar training and background. He only to imagine what he’d do in the other man’s shoes.
“I’m not very happy with you, Thorne.”
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t like doing what I did but you gave me no other choice.”
“All you had to do was look the other way. These people were nothing to you, what do you care what happens to them? Before this started you didn’t even know they existed.”
“I guess that’s true, but I didn’t like the idea of having to live with their deaths if things went wrong. I am sorry about Sam, he didn’t deserve that.”
Blake shrugged, indifferent.
“Porter knew the risks going into this. I don’t feel bad about it. I’d rather die here, like that, than in another country in a bullshit fight over oil. Wouldn’t you?”
“He’s not dead, Blake.”
“What?”
“Yeah, he’s at the hospital in a coma. I’m told he’ll make a full recovery. What do you suppose he’ll tell the cops when he wakes up?”
Blake said nothing. He knew exactly what would happen when Porter woke up; he’d sing like a goddamn bird. What else could he do?
“Where’s your charming assistant today, Blake?”
“Oh,” he said. “She’s around.”
“If she sees me looking this bad, she might leave you.”
He smiled. “She might at that, old man. Damned if I know what makes her tick. I’m almost certain she’s crazy but I wouldn’t have her any other way. She hides nothing from me; anger, joy, disappointment. It’s all there on her face, and in her actions. There’s no pretense, no agenda. It’s so refreshing to have that kind of honesty and passion.”
“The two of you are a regular American dream.”
Blake found his eyes drawn to the bandage around Thorne’s head. It looked bad. There was a blood stain the size of a silver dollar just below the surface. The blood dark, almost black. This, he thought, this was what happens when you do the right thing.
He’d been that guy once, never again.
“How many times were you hit?”
“Five.”
“Shit, Thorne. Don’t you have any vital organs?”
“Apparently not. I do have some cool new scars though, thanks for that.”
“What are we going to do with you, my friend?”
“Friend? Is that a joke?”
“You know it’s funny. There was a moment in that parking lot where you had a shot at me and didn’t take it.”
“You’re imaging things.”
“I don’t think so, and I’m not just speaking from memory here either. Have you seen the footage? It’s all there. You had me dead to rights and you didn’t take me out.”
Thorne sighed. “What do you want from me Blake? An apology? Revenge? If you came to cheer me up you wasted your time.”
“There’s still a chance to save this. Don’t you see? You’re on the inside now, they trust you. This couldn’t have worked out better if we’d planned it. You walk freely about that huge house, yes? Is the painting just hanging there on the wall? I guess they have alarms there too, but you have all the time in the world to work out how to run a bypass without having to worry about getting in and out. Don’t you see? Half the job is already done.” Blake pushed the automatic under his thigh and sat forward, both hands on the table between them. A gesture of good faith. He dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “You were on board with the robbery but not with the kidnapping. It’s two different things, I get that, I really do. This new plan, it’s back to where you like it. Nobody gets hurt and the two of us get rich. What do you say, brother? Can we put all this behind us and make some goddamn money?”
Thorne glanced back toward the restrooms before replying.
“Who else is involved?”
Blake smiled. Thorne had a hero complex, but he was still flat broke.
“Just you, me and Sara. Large crews are more trouble than they’re worth, trust me. You spend as much time looking over your own damn shoulder as you do looking forward. Who needs that?” He paused for a moment as his cell phone vibrated. The warning signal. He plowed on, regardless. “I’m prepared to honor our original deal, but the rest comes to me and Sara. Let’s call it a cool million and forget that 100,000 bullshit, I’m over that now. I think this is more than generous given the shit you’ve put us through.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I got no more reason to keep you alive.”
Outside, across the street, a sheriff’s car pulled up. They both glanced at it. Through the glass Blake saw the old cop from the news, Cabot.
“Is that what you’ve been doing, Aidan? Keeping me alive?”
The sarcasm was thick and hard to take, but he ignored it.
“It seems like our time’s up. What’s your answer?”
Thorne sat back and let out a slow breath, his head tilted to one side.
“Two million, that’s my answer. If you don’t like it you can go fuck yourself.”
Blake stared at him for several long seconds then burst out laughing.
“You got balls, man. All right, two it is. Now-”
“Just a second. Say we do this, I don’t want to see your cracker ass ever again. I’m not going to be your go-to guy whenever you need an alarm fixed. We’re done, okay?”
Cabot was halfway across the street now, heading straight toward them.
“Believe it or not Thorne, you aren’t that much fun to be around. As for other jobs, you got nothing to worry about. After this, I’ll never need to work again and that suits me just fine. I’m fixing to retire here, not start a new career.” He slid the automatic back into his pocke
t, got to his feet and stood next to the table. “Listen, turn on your goddamn burner phone so we don’t have to meet like this again. Next time, I won’t be so polite.”
He turned and walked toward the door.
This was the pinch point right here. He had his back to Thorne and the cop was about to arrive. It was the perfect opportunity for his friend to take him out the picture and clear any doubts over his name with the police. He knew it wouldn’t happen, though. He could think of two million reasons why it wouldn’t. Not to mention the story he could tell the cops about Thorne if he was arrested. The way he’d tell it, he’d just be a pawn doing what his old friend told him to do. For once in his life, his lower rank would work for him. No, he had Thorne over a barrel and he was certain the actor knew it.
Blake was in the doorway now and in front of him Cabot’s head was down, fighting the wind. He was holding his hat onto of his head with one hand, and blindly reaching for the door handle with the other. Blake got the handle first and snapped the door open. As the two passed each other, he leaned in and rolled his shoulder so that it dug hard into the cop’s chest, spinning the shorter man around and hard against the store’s large glass side window. It rang out with the impact.
“Excuse me,” Blake said, without stopping.
“Hey, son. Turn around.”
He kept walking. He had a huge grin on his face. The lieutenant sounded really winded and it was all he could do not to laugh. If he turned back now he’d laugh for sure and that wouldn’t sit too well with the cop. There was a fine line between an accidental bump and assaulting a police officer. Laughter probably tipped the balance.
“Something wrong with you, boy? I’m talking to you.”
Blake ignored him.
He reached the corner of the building and walked around it, out of sight of the lieutenant. One of two things would happen now. Either the old man would sigh and go into the store for coffee and bear claws, or he would decide to pursue him for a more sincere apology. Of the two, he knew which he’d put money on. To be on the safe side, he drew his weapon and tucked it discreetly under his left armpit, his right arm diagonally across his chest like he was scratching himself. Nobody passing him on the sidewalk would look twice at him, but he could fire the gun in less than half a second by straightening his arm. He picked out a spot on the building’s stonework that he imagined was the same height as Cabot’s head and stared at it.
Night Passenger Page 15
