Chapter 4 #2
Pablo heads for a road, and the camera pans back.
The cops are waiting east and west, cruisers behind barriers, stingers lying across the asphalt, spikes prominent.
He rides toward them, seemingly oblivious, then skids to a halt a hundred yards short.
Guns pointed at him. More cars coming in behind.
It’s obvious the stupid fucker is caught. If I hadn’t seen the headline, I wouldn’t have believed he was dumb enough to draw on them.
But he pulls the gun he told us he had. Steps off the bike, lets it fall. Shouting something as he walks forward, arm extended. A muzzle flash, another. The camera pulls back fast, censorship by distance, but there’s no doubt what happens as his body jerks, then crumples.
The gene pool has just been marginally improved.
And we’ve got away clean.
Was this Renner’s plan all along? Is that why he didn’t stop Pablo from taking a dirt bike? Was Pablo the sacrificial lamb?
If so, from which point? From the first time Pablo opened his mouth in Renner’s unit, insulting Genesis with his very first words?
It’s a hunch, nothing more, but it feels right. My grudging admiration for Renner jumps a notch.
Which means what, that Pablo’s died with an empty bag? Or a third of the loot?
I stride to the backpack Renner gave me, weighed down and heavy. Unclip the flap, zip it open. Stare at the contents. Reach in, pull out one of the three drills we heard them use. There’s another one, too. But otherwise, the bag is empty. Just a roll of paper towels for bulk.
A curse becomes a laugh, and I shake my head at the audacity of it.
I’ve been running with nothing more incriminating than some used hardware and something to mop up messes. Which means Genesis has it all—unless they took some on the van. But the whole point was for the main crew to be clean. No, she’s got everything, and Renner didn’t trust me or Pablo.
Can’t argue with that. I wouldn’t either, in his boots.
Question is, am I being set up too, or was he just being prudent?
Is there even a rendezvous tomorrow night, or will the unit be moved, and I’ll never see him again?
Never see her again.
That’s not acceptable. I’ll hunt her down if I need to.
Might even be more fun that way.
On the TV, the news anchors are discussing the robbery, and the FBI is mentioned. It grabs my attention.
“…they’ll have automatic jurisdiction here, Kenny. Bank robbery is a federal crime, and we’d expect to see the Bureau involved in the investigation going forward, likely in coordination with local law enforcement—”
I grab the control and hit the off switch, not needing the reminder. But I know I have to check in, explain myself. May as well get it done.
My burner phone sits beneath a loose board in the corner of my bedroom, because the classics are classics for a reason. It rests on my gun, a couple of passports, my laptop and a wad of cash. I lift it out, turn it on, and the messages start coming in.
Diana Mercer is pissed.
I stop reading after the first few, and instead hit the dial button for her number.
She answers on the second ring. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“I assume you’ve seen the news.”
“Exactly, and it’s got Renner’s marks all over it,” she says coldly. “Three weeks since your last check-in, and now this? You’re supposed to be getting into Renner’s crew, not fucking around with Briggs.”
“I am in his crew,” I reply.
That stops her. For a moment. “What? You mean to say you were there? You knew this was coming and you didn’t say anything?”
“I knew.” I sit on my bed with my back against the headboard. This room is a mess too. When did I last wash the sheets? I’m going to clean the whole damn apartment. Tomorrow’s task. Ready for when I bring her here. “So what? It’s just a bank job. No one died.”
“Tell that to the body we have in the morgue.”
“No one important died. No civilians, no cops, no bank staff. A few wealthy people lost money they won’t notice has gone.”
“Wealthy people with political pull.”
“Your problem, not mine.”
“Yeah, it’s mine. Now I get to make it yours.” Mercer sighs down the phone. “Give me one good reason why we aren’t smashing our way into Kurt Renner’s house right now?”
Because I’ve no idea where he lives.
But I have my answer ready. “This bank job was nothing more than a precursor. Someone is giving Renner instructions, and I don’t yet know who that is.” Probably. Possibly. Either way, it buys me time. It buys her time. “Do you want the mouse, or the cat?”
Mercer doesn’t miss a beat. “What’s your evidence?”
“He told me so,” I lie. “It was in the briefing. Next job is bigger.”
“We’re under pressure here, Maddox.” Her voice has gone flat. “You’ve been six months on this case.”
“Hale,” I correct. It’s bad form to use my real name when I’m working. Mercer knows that. “And I’m making progress.”
“Yeah,” she admits grudgingly. “All right. Don’t go native on me, you hear?”
I scoff. This isn’t my first rodeo. “No chance.”
She pauses. “In fact, we should meet. It’s been too long since I had eyes on you.”
I don’t like that idea, not one little bit. “Operational security, Mercer. I can’t be seen—”
“You were just involved in a bank robbery that left a man dead and two of their staff in the hospital. Make yourself seen.”
My jaw clenches as I realize there’s no getting out of this. “Fine. Somewhere quiet and early. Six a.m., Saturday?”
“Venice beach, near the Surf Shack. I’ll bring my dog.”
The line goes dead, and I shut the phone down before putting it carefully back in its hole in the floor. Then I pull the dresser over the top of it, just to make sure. I want her in this room, in my bed, just as soon as I can get her here.
It wouldn’t do for her to find this. No, that wouldn’t do at all.
What am I doing chasing after Genesis? One of Renner’s goddamn crew?
Good questions, but I don’t care.
She’s got inside my head, and I’m just fine with that. I want to get inside her, and that’s the only thing that matters right now.
Except it’s not. I have to look at the bigger picture.
Kurt Renner is going down; Mercer won’t accept any other outcome.
How the hell do I do that, while also keeping Genesis safe?