I Will Ruin You

Fifty-Six

“Flash your lights,” Stuart said.

I turned the pickup’s headlights on for one second, then off. The driver of the black Audi popped his high beams for a moment in return. The car drove slowly into the lot, coming to a stop, angling across two spots, about three car lengths away from us. The light from a phone dimly lit the interior of the Audi by the steering wheel, as if the driver was making a call or sending a text.

“Oh shit,” Stuart said. “That’s probably for me.”

He got out a phone and powered it on. I was guessing it was a phone he was afraid could be tracked, so he’d been leaving it off whenever he wasn’t using it.

“Come on come on come on,” he said to the phone, waiting for it to be active. Once it was, he waved it in the window, a signal to the other driver.

The phone rang.

“Yeah,” Stuart said, hitting the speaker icon immediately.

“We’re ready,” a woman said.

“Same here. You got the money?”

“Do you have what’s ours?”

“Of course, what the fuck? Yes. So I’m gonna send someone over with it.”

“We want to deal with you. Who’s this other person?”

“Just a friend,” Stuart said, and gave me a smile, like we were pals. “He’s not a cop or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not stupid.”

“No, of course not,” the woman said.

“Show me the money,” Stuart said.

“Can’t very well show it to you from here.”

“Hold it up or whatever.”

“A moment.”

We could see some movement in the car. Then the passenger door opened and a man stepped out.

“That’d be Gerhard,” Stuart said. “And the woman is Andrea. Billy told me their names.”

Gerhard was holding a backpack by one of the shoulder straps. He held it up high so we could see it.

“Okay, that’s good. He can just stay there,” Stuart said. “Give us a minute on this end. Sending him over shortly.”

Stuart ended the call, dropped the phone onto the seat between us. It was still glowing.

“I don’t trust those two,” he said. “I’ll get the bag. Don’t try running off. If I don’t shoot you, they probably will.”

I said nothing. My eyes kept going to the phone.

“Give me the key,” Stuart said. I removed the key from the ignition and put it into his hand. He got out of the truck. Once he had his feet on the pavement, he folded the seat forward so he could drag out the carry-on bag.

I had been waiting for an opportunity. This was as good as it was going to get. I picked up the phone with my right hand and immediately moved the small switch on the side down, muting it. I opened up the messages app.

“Fucking thing is really jammed in here,” Stuart said.

I tapped the icon in the upper right corner to send a text. Where it said “To” I quickly tapped in Bonnie’s phone number.

Stuart hauled out the bag, set it on the pavement, and pushed the seat back into position. I was about to type out a message, but stopped, rested my hand casually over the phone. Stuart closed the passenger door, extended the handle on the top of the bag, and started to wheel it around to my side. While he was passing the truck’s front end, I moved my thumb across the miniature keyboard as quickly as I could. Hit send. Took one fast glance at what I had texted.

WALNT BEAHC.

Two typos, but clear enough. I turned the phone over onto the seat as Stuart reached my side of the truck and opened the door.

“You’re on,” he said, the gun in his left hand, the suitcase handle gripped by his right.

I undid my seat belt and slid out of the truck. I took the case from him and took a step away from the vehicle. Stuart moved the gun to his right hand, positioned himself behind the door, using it like a shield, and rested his right arm on the sill of the lowered window.

“Away you go,” he said.

I walked slowly toward the Audi. The driver’s door opened and Andrea got out. She and her partner, still holding the backpack, met at the front of the car and waited for me to get there.

When I was no more than six feet away, I stopped, wheeled the bag around to stand in front of me, and said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Andrea said.

“So here it is.” I let go of the handle and held out my hand, expecting Gerhard to give me the backpack.

“Not so fast,” the woman said.

“It’s here,” I said. “It’s all here. Look, I’m not a part of this. That asshole basically kidnapped me to help him do this. Just give me the backpack and let us get the hell out of here.”

Gerhard handed the backpack to Andrea, grabbed the case by the handle, and set it on its side on the pavement. He got down on his haunches, took a key from his pocket to undo the lock that held the two zippers together.

Fine, I thought. See that it’s all there, give us the backpack, and let’s get the hell out of here.

He undid the lock, pocketed it and the key, and then slowly drew back the two zippers so he could flip open the top of the bag. I had a view of the contents that was almost as good as his, lit by one of the parking lot lamps.

Gerhard froze.

I didn’t know what was supposed to be in there or how it was supposed to be packaged, but it seemed obvious from his reaction that this was not what he was expecting to find.

“What the fuck?” he said under his breath.

He started pulling things out of the bag. A bottle of shampoo, a pair of shoes, some wadded-up clothes. The more items he pulled out, the farther he tossed them, getting angrier and angrier, shouting, “Fuck!” and “Cocksucker!”

I took one quick look back at Stuart to see whether he was aware that something was amiss. He had stepped out from behind the driver’s door, had a puzzled look on his face.

“Is there a problem?” he called out.

Andrea was looking over her partner’s shoulder to see what had so upset him. She was grim-faced as he stood and gave the bag a good kick with his right foot.

I’m not sure when she got her hand on a gun, or what pocket she pulled it from. But it was there now, and it was pointed straight at me.

This was not good. This was not good at all.