The Last Kind Word (Mac McKenzie #10)

The Last Kind Word (Mac McKenzie #10) Page 84

“You coming?” I asked.

The thug waved Fenelon over and whispered something into his ear. A moment later he walked purposely to the Jeep Cherokee, opened the back door, and slid inside. He didn’t say a word.

I turned my attention back to Brand. He was speaking earnestly with the Mexican gunrunner, who seemed to be hanging onto his every syllable.

“Tomorrow,” I said. “We’ll pull the job tomorrow. I’ll have the cash in hand by tomorrow night.”

“See that you do,” Brand said.

He was smirking. I refused to let it annoy me. There were so many better reasons for wanting to kill him.

I turned the Cherokee and drove down the makeshift road until we hit 425 and started backtracking toward Orr. The old man kept turning his head to look at the thug in the backseat. He wanted to talk but was afraid of being overheard. Finally he just came out with it.

“What are we going to do?” he asked.

“We’re going to do what we always planned on doing,” I said. “Rob the remote vault near Lake Vermilion.”

“Then what?”

“Then take the money to Brand and his Mexican gunrunners and ransom Jillian.”

“Just like that?” The old man was speaking, yet in the back of my mind I could see Chad Bullert. It was to him that I was actually communicating—God help us if he didn’t understand what I was saying.

“This time there won’t be any surprises,” I said. “I’ll take care of Jill, and everybody else can do what comes natural.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“If everyone does what they’re supposed to, there shouldn’t be any problems.” I angled my head so I could see the thug in the rearview mirror. “You got a name?”

“Daniel.”

“Anyone ever call you Danny or Dann-o?”

“No.”

“How did a guy like you end up in a place like this?”

“Circumstances beyond my control.”

“Boy, does that sound familiar. I don’t suppose you want to tell me where we’re going to take the money after we steal it.”

“No.”

“I could make you.”

“I doubt it. Anyway, it would take more time than you have.”

“You’re probably right. Well, in that case, Dann-o, strap on your sneakers.”

Daniel grimaced at the modification of his name, which was fine with me. I wasn’t talking to him anyway.

We were nearly back at Orr before the old man asked the inevitable question. “What’ll we do first?”

“First, we’re going to Norman’s One Stop and Motel so I can take a leak,” I said. I parked in the same spot as earlier that morning and shut down the Cherokee. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m going with you,” Daniel said.

“What? Are you my new potty pal?”

Daniel shook his head as if he had now heard everything and was disappointed by the achievement.

I pointed at the old man. “What about him?”

“I stay with you.”

“It’s going to be a long couple of days.”

I left the Cherokee. Daniel followed. He paused only long enough to tell the old man not to do anything stupid. We entered the building, found a door in the back with a sign that read MEN, and went inside. There were two urinals and one stall. I moved to the stall, paused, said, “This is where I draw the line, Daniel,” went inside and locked the door.

I didn’t actually need to use the toilet, yet I went through the motions just the same. Once I was sitting down, I slowly pulled the body bug off of my ribs—I didn’t know what kind of tape the ATF’s tech agent used; whatever it was it hurt like crazy coming off. I hoped Daniel would attribute whatever noise I made to something else. After removing the bug, I wrapped it in paper and set it behind the base of the toilet. I would have preferred to keep the bug, but I was afraid that Daniel might discover it—God knows what fresh hell that would bring. I could only hope that Bullert and the badge boys understood the references I had made earlier and would act accordingly.

I put myself back together, flushed the toilet for dramatic effect, and stepped out of the stall. Daniel was leaning against the far wall, his arms folded across his chest and staring at his reflection, a pensive expression on his face. I’ve seen him before—hell, I’ve been him before—the man looking in the mirror wondering who the hell it was looking back. I went to the sink and washed my hands.

“Just out of curiosity, what did you tell Fenelon back there before we left?” I asked.

“I told him that if anything happens to the girl, it had better happen to him first.”

I pulled a couple of paper towels from the dispenser and dried my hands. “You like her, too,” I said.

“You should never have involved her in your schemes.”

“Oh, I didn’t. It was her nitwit husband.”

Daniel moved his hand to the side of his face where Roy had clipped him with the handgun, and for the first time I realized that there wasn’t a mark on him.

“I think I met her husband,” Daniel said.

“Is there going to be a problem about that?”