by Josh Hayes
"You betcha."
Wendy pictured the street in her mind, remembering where the others were, remembering the plan. She repeated her instructions softly to herself. "Take him to Jay Street. Ace picks him up from there and it'll be a straight shot back to his place."
She concentrated on the opening to the alcove, waiting for the pudgy short man. Time slowed and blood pounded in her ears as she waited. She listened to her breathing, trying desperately to calm to a steady rhythm. Then he was there, his beard tucked into his long dark jacket, hat pulled down over his face. Wendy watched as the man's eyes darted nervously around him, scanning for enemies in the crowd. He didn't look much like a high-end weapons dealer. More like a scared child, trying to get home before his mother yelled at him for being out so late.
The bodyguard kept pace, slightly behind and beside his master. He was a monster of a man, almost six and half feet tall and built like a composite house. Rain pelted bare forearms that were bigger that Wendy's waist. He held a wide-brimmed umbrella in one meaty hand, the other free and waiting to crush any threat.
"I see him," Wendy whispered without moving her jaw. "I—"
Jukes stopped in the middle of the road, fishing for something inside his jacket. He turned his head to say something else and his eyes stopped on the alcove where Wendy stood. She froze, her blood running cold as she felt the dealer's eyes on her.
A second later the dealer turned back to the road, producing a small packet from inside his jacket. The bodyguard reached around him, holding something in front of Jukes. There was a spark, and the dealer leaned forward to light a smoke.
Jukes took a long drag, blew out the smoke, then continued walking down the street. The bodyguard followed silently, both seemingly oblivious to Wendy and her hiding place. Wendy let out a long, slow breath as they disappeared around the corner.
She brought the radio up, but stopped as another person stepped into her line of sight, walking briskly in the direction Jukes had just gone. He was soaked, rain dripping from his dark cobalt jacket, his blond hair matted to his scalp. He turned and locked eyes with her, holding her gaze until he disappeared around the corner. There was something about him…
"Peter, I—" her voice caught again.
"Wendy, what's going on? Are you okay? Michael, can you see her?"
Wendy shook herself. "I'm fine. Jukes just passed me, I'm moving to follow."
She stepped up the edge and peered into the street. The umbrella wasn't difficult to spot, not to mention the mountain carrying it. Movement caught her eye, and the back of the blond man's head appeared in the crowd. He glanced furtively over his shoulder, then turned back as he crossed the street. Wendy followed his gaze, and could've sworn the man was looking at Jukes and his bodyguard.
No, she told herself. You're just being paranoid.
She turned her attention back to the weapons dealer, stepping out from her hiding place to follow. The rain had let up some, she noticed, and she was thankful for that. She flicked water from her sleeves and began zig-zagging her way through the crowded street.
Bright neon lights, displayed on either side of the street, added their multi-colored hue to the pale white street lamps reflecting off the wet concrete. A deep bass rhythm coming from one of the clubs pounded through her so hard she felt it in her teeth. A mirrored window vibrated in time with the beat within. The door next to it opened ahead of her, music pulsing into the street; two girls giggled and laughed their way out of the club. They held each other up, both balancing on their high heels, laughing as they stumbled and bumped into a passing pedestrian.
Both wore barely any clothing at all; what scraps of material they were wearing only just covered their privates. One wore strapped high-heeled boots, the other a pair of platforms that looked awkwardly high. Wendy couldn't understand why women were determined to wear such unpractical clothes.
"Ugh," Wendy told herself, shaking her head. "How do they even think that's attractive?"
A voice answered her, but it didn't come from her earpiece. "I don't think they look all that bad."
Wendy spun, bringing her hand up to slap the offender, but Ace grabbed it, smiling, and held it just inches from his face. "Whoa, easy."
"Damn it, Ace!"
He let go of her hand. "Sorry, Wendy, didn't mean to scare you."
"For Graft's sake, Ace." She put a hand on her chest, trying to quell the pounding within. "What are you doing?"
The older boy shrugged. "I hate just standing around waiting."
Someone let out a high-pitched yelp down the street, and Wendy turned just in time to see the woman in platform heels lose her footing and collapse to the ground. Her companion tried desperately to pull her up, but was no use to her friend in the high-heeled boots. A man in a smart-looking suit stepped up to help the two women, smiling.
Wendy looked back over her should to Ace, one eyebrow arched. "Seriously?"
"Gotta love the heels."
"I really don't understand you men at all."
"We like it that way," Ace said with a grin.
"Hey." Peter's voice chided them over the radio. "Let's try to stay on mission here."
"Right," Ace agreed, putting a hand on Wendy's shoulder.
It only took a second to find the umbrella, and after another cursory scan of the surrounding street, they started off after the weapons dealer. They followed him through growing crowds, making sure to keep plenty of distance between them and their quarry. Now that they had him in their sights, they didn't want to ruin it by giving their position away.
"Okay," Peter said. "Looks like he's making his way back to Thornton Street. Michael?"
"I'm on my way."
Ace leaned close to Wendy and said, "Keep an eye out for spotters here."
Wendy nodded silently, already scanning. Her gaze darted from person to person, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Someone paying too much attention to their surroundings, or trying to look like they weren't. These were all things Peter and Ace had shown her over the last few months, and Wendy liked to think she was getting pretty good at it.
She was about to give the all-clear when she saw him. The back of the blond man's head appeared behind a couple walking arm-in-arm. His hair was starting to curl as it dried in the cool night air.
"Do you see…" She trailed off as the blond man turned abruptly and headed down a side street, away from Jukes and his bodyguard.
"You okay?" Ace whispered in her ear.
Wendy hesitated, watching the man cut through the crowd.
Ace stepped up next to her. "Wendy?"
"Sorry." She shook herself. "I thought I saw—"
"Jukes is stopping." Michael's voice in her ear cut her off.
Wendy and Ace watched as the dealer and his protection left the street, stopping in front of a large department store display. Large brightly lit letters above a windowed storefront read LADEN & KOTCH. Inside the display, headless mannequins wore expensive suits and dresses of various colors and cuts, chalk-white hands and fingers decorated with sparkling jewelry.
"Okay," Peter said, "Wendy, Ace, hang back a minute. Michael, take over."
"Got it," Michael said.
Wendy couldn't see where Michael had set up, but had little doubt he was in the perfect position. The former Enforcer was almost as adept at moving secretly through the city as Carter was. Peter was a good teacher, and she enjoyed the alone time the training afforded them, but there were times when she thought she'd learn more about the underground from the people who'd made it part of their lives for so long.
She felt Ace take her hand, pulling her gently out of the sea of people into a small alley. "Better hang out of sight, Michael's got this."
But it wasn't Michael she was worried about. She turned her eyes from the weapons dealer, and watched as the blond man reached the far side of the street, scanned around, then took up position behind a parked box truck.
"No way he's just out for a stroll."
"What's up
?" Ace asked.
She nodded. "I think we have a problem. Black jacket behind the truck, blond hair."
"Yeah, okay, I see him. What's wrong?"
"He was following Jukes back at the alcove too. Look how wet his clothes are, he's been out in the rain all night, just like us."
The man pulled a phone from his jacket and turned away from the street, talking heatedly to someone on the other end. But his eyes, his eyes kept flashing back to where Jukes and his bodyguard still stood admiring the expensive clothes. He wasn't talking to anyone, Wendy realized, he was pretending.
"Everyone's been out in the rain all night," Ace said. "Of course he's wet."
"No, he's not right. He's been eyeing Jukes the last several blocks. Ever since I saw him at the alcove. He's up to something."
Peter's voice came through her earpiece. "Michael, you see him?"
"Yeah, I got him. Definitely looks like he's eyeing our guy. No, wait, he's turning away."
Wendy watched as Blondie turned right and disappeared into the alley behind the truck.
"See," Ace said, "nothing to worry about."
Wendy frowned, not taking her eyes off the alley. "I—ow!"
Someone bumped into her, sending her stumbling sideways. She caught her balance and glared at a bearded old man who considered her with watery, bloodshot eyes, the smell of alcohol thick on his breath.
"Hey, watch it," she said.
A look of indignation spread across his face. "Hey, yourself," he said, drawing the words out. Then a smile crept across his cracked lips. "You, you're purty. I l—" He hiccupped. "I like you."
"Back off, asshole," Ace said, stepping between them.
The smile disappeared, watery eyes hardened. "I'm n-not talking to you, buddy." He hiccupped again. "I'm talking to th-this li'l lady here."
Ace started for him, but Wendy stopped him. "Thanks," she told the drunk. "But no thanks. Go home."
As she moved to pass him, he reached out, grabbing her with one dirty hand. "Now, yer just hol' on there, missy. I—"
Wendy twisted her hand, breaking his grip the way Peter had shown her, fingers closing around his wrist before he had time to react. She twisted his hand backward, rotating his arm almost completely over. She turned him until he faced away from her and folded his arm across his back.
He cried out in agony. "OW! What the—!"
"Shut up," Wendy said, pushing him away. "Get the hell out of here."
The drunk gave her an angry sideways glance and muttered several curses under his breath while cradling his injured arm, but he moved away as instructed.
"Come on," Ace said, wrapping an arm around her.
A small crowd had formed to watch the show, and were now pointing and jeering at the drunk as he made his way down the sidewalk away from them. Some clapped for Wendy as Ace led her away, while others just shook their heads and continued on.
"Damn it," Wendy muttered.
"You guys have quite an audience down there," Peter said.
Wendy shook her head. "Jerk walked right into me."
"Yeah," Ace agreed.
"Forget it," Peter told him. "Focus on the mission."
She glanced toward the department store, but Jukes was gone. "Shit, where is he?"
"I got him," Michael said, "just turned down Flor Street, heading north, away from the safe house."
Ace craned his neck, looking around the gathered group of people. "You think he's on to us?"
"No telling," Peter said. "He's got to stop eventually. Let's keep the net loose."
Wendy signed, frustrated. "Why don't we just snatch him now?"
"Too risky," Peter said. "Too many witnesses, too many chances for things to go wrong."
"Come on." Wendy took Ace's arm and pulled him through the crowd. They stopped at the corner, and she picked up the umbrella almost immediately. Not getting away that easy, she thought.
Fewer people moved along the two-lane side street than the main street they'd left, but still enough for them to lose themselves in the crowd. A flatbed transported lifted in to the air from the street next to them, quad-turbines whining. Wendy covered her face as she quickly stepped past, holding her breath against the torrent of dust and trash the exhaust tossed into the air.
As the air settled, she wiped her face and spit dirt from her mouth. "Are you serious right now?"
Ace put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I—" Wendy blinked hard, doing a double-take. She glanced back the way they'd come, then back across the street. "Impossible."
"What's wrong?"
Wendy motioned to the lone man standing slightly in the shadows cast by the flickering street lights, his curly blond hair matted by the rain. His jacket was a different color, green and not black, but it was the same man, she was sure of it.
He couldn't have gotten ahead of us that quickly. She was sure that the mysterious blond man had been heading south as they'd followed Jukes north.
"Wendy, what's wrong?" Ace asked again.
"Something is wrong. That Blondie there, it's the same guy from the alcove, I'm sure of it. But…" She trailed off as the man glanced around, scanning the faces of the passing pedestrians.
"But?"
Wendy shook her head. "I don't know."
"What's going on?" Peter asked?
Ace gave Wendy an expectant look, shrugging.
Wendy signed. "Something isn't right here."
"Is there a threat?"
"Yes—no, damn it, I don't know."
"Ace?"
"I—"
"Guys," Michael interrupted. "He stopped. Looks like they're scanning for tails."
Ace pulled Wendy behind a rack of vid-phone terminals, out of the weapon dealer's line of sight. She pulled her arm free of his grip, glaring.
She leaned out, keeping her eyes on Blondie. He stood seemingly relaxed, his hands inside his jacket pockets, one shoulder pressed against the dark brick wall. His eyes continually scanned the people moving past. There was something wrong here, Wendy could feel it. The way he was making too much effort to appear like he wasn't paying attention.
To everyone else he just looks like a normal guy, standing on the side of the street, Wendy thought. His eyes, though, they told a different story. They darted around far too quickly and purposefully to simply be people-watching.
Then suddenly, his eyes met hers and stayed there. Wendy held his gaze for a second, then looked away, feeling her cheeks flush. She cursed under her breath, counting silently in her head. After ten seconds, she risked a glance and her stomach instantly turned.
"Shit." She pressed her back to the wall. "He's coming this way. Peter, he's coming right for us."
Chapter Eleven
Then
Wendy barely heard Peter's voice over her heart pounding in her ears. "I'm coming to you. Michael, stay on Jukes."
"Come on," Ace whispered, pulling her completely behind the phone bank.
Wendy couldn't force herself to look directly at the approaching man, but she felt him coming all the same. Must be a lookout for Jukes, she thought. She reached inside her jacket, fingers closing around the grip of the pistol holstered under her arm. "He's made us."
"You don't know that," Ace said.
She risked another glance. He was halfway across the street know, zig-zagging through the crowds. He wasn't looking in their direction any longer, but he was still coming. He has, she decided, popping the clasp on the holster, and began to pull her weapon slowly out.
Her body tensed as Blondie closed, and just as Wendy was about to draw, he stopped, touched a hand to his ear, then abruptly turned and veered back into the street, merging with the crowd. He never gave them a second look as he made his way south, back to the main avenue.
Wendy let out a long breath. "Holy shit."
"You okay?" Peter asked.
"We're fine," Ace told him. "Blondie's on his way back to Crestway."
Carter appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, shaking w
ater from his navy-blue rain jacket. "Man, this rain pisses me off. You guys okay? What the hell was all that about?"
"Nothing, it's—"
"It's not nothing," Wendy interrupted. She jammed her pistol back into its holster, then turned and took off after Blondie.
Behind her Ace said, "Shit, Wendy, wait."
"I want to see what he's doing." She shrugged his hand off her shoulder.
"Wendy, take it easy," Peter warned. "Whoever that guy is, he's not the mission. Jukes is the mission, don't forget that. We don't have time for this."
At the corner, Blondie turned left and disappeared. Wendy quickened her pace, reached the corner a few moments later and stopped. Blondie checked both directions, then crossed the four-lane avenue, making a rude gesture at a car that had to stop suddenly to avoid hitting him.
"Jukes is moving again," Michael said.
"Wendy, stop," Peter said. "Forget about him. If he really was a threat, he wouldn't be leaving the area. Let him go, we have a job to do here."
"Damn it." Wendy stopped under a glowing awning, her eyes never leaving the back of Blondie's head.
Ace came up beside her. "What's your deal with this guy?"
"I don't have a deal. Something isn't right about him."
"Okay, but what, though?"
"I don't know what, but something. He was watching Jukes. Following him like we are."
"Wendy, I didn't see anything like that at all. Maybe he's just walking. Hell, I'm sure a hundred people out here looked at Jukes tonight."
"No," Wendy told him. "He's not just walking, Ace. He's out here for a reason, I know it."
Michael's voice chirped through the radio. "Guys."
They ignored him.
"Look, the chances of this guy working the same mark we are is so remote… I don't even know what the odds are. And besides that, he's leaving. It's kind of hard to follow a guy you're not even watching."
"I know what I saw, Ace."
"Guys," Michael called again.
Carter stepped up between them. "Maybe let's not have this discussion out here right now?"
"Guys!"
All three answered Michael in unison. "What?"
"Jukes is leaving the street. He just entered 1637, main floor entrance. Tan door, trimmed with brick."
