4. THE FIRST JOB #2
“Once.”That was technically true.He’d only spoken to her once.He had, however, seen her twice since.Once getting into a black SUV outside Mateo’s office.Another time walking through the garage without coming inside.Both times she’d looked at Chris.Both times he’d noticed.Sloan watched him. “That’s it?”
“What exactly are you asking?”
“You know what I’m asking.”Chris smiled without humor.“Nothing happened.”
“Good.”Mercer checked his watch.“Three minutes.”Chris leaned forward.“So what’s the plan?”Sloan exchanged a look with Mercer.Chris caught it.He didn’t like it.“What?”
Mercer said, “We accelerate.”
“How?”
“We make Roman more useful.”
“I’ve been trying.”
“Not fixing engines.”Chris’s eyes narrowed.“Then what?”Sloan opened a thin folder.
Inside was a photograph of Mateo stepping from an SUV.“We give Mateo a reason to trust you.”Chris looked from the photograph to her.“You can’t manufacture trust.”
“No.”Sloan closed the folder.“But we can manufacture an opportunity for you to earn it.”
Chris stared at her.That sentence had federal disaster written all over it.“What kind of opportunity?”Mercer answered.“Mateo has a meeting Thursday night.”
“With?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Where?”
“Private club downtown.”Chris waited.Mercer continued.“Afterward, Mateo will need a driver.”Chris’s expression hardened.“He already has drivers.”
“One of them is going to develop a problem.”
“What problem?”
“Car trouble.”Chris looked at Sloan.She didn’t smile.Chris looked back at Mercer.
“You’re sabotaging Mateo’s vehicle?”
“Nothing dangerous.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“His driver will be forced to use another car. Ortega will recommend Roman.”Chris slowly understood where this was going.“You’re putting me behind the wheel.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”Sloan answered.“Then Mateo gets followed.”Silence.Chris stared at her.
“By who?”
“Us.”Chris leaned back.“You’re staging a tail.”
“A controlled pursuit.”
“That’s a pretty way of saying you’re going to chase me through downtown traffic.”
“It won’t be downtown by then.”
“That makes me feel much better.”Mercer said, “The route is controlled.”
“Traffic isn’t.”
“We’ve planned for that.”Chris laughed once.“Those are famous last words.”Sloan ignored him.“The objective isn’t to create a movie chase. Mateo needs to believe someone has identified his vehicle. Roman notices first. Roman gets him out.”
“And suddenly I’m valuable.”
“Exactly.”Chris looked through the windshield.Concrete pillars.Empty parking spaces.Fluorescent lights.He didn’t like it.Not because he couldn’t do it.Driving was the easiest part.It was everything else.“You’re gambling.”Mercer answered, “That’s undercover work.”
“No. Undercover work is me managing risk. This is you manufacturing it.”
“We need movement.”
“And if Mateo figures out it’s staged?”
“He won’t.”Chris looked at Mercer. “Everybody says that right before somebody figures it out.”Sloan leaned forward.
“Walker.”He turned.“We can leave you moving cars for another six months and hope Mateo eventually decides you’re useful.
”Chris said nothing.“Or we give Roman a moment Mateo remembers.”Chris looked at the photograph again.Mateo Vargas.The man everyone around him feared.The man Chris needed to trust him. “How fast?”Sloan frowned.“What?”
“The pursuit.”Mercer answered.“You’ll control the speed based on conditions.”
Chris smiled faintly.Mercer immediately pointed at him.“No.”Chris raised an eyebrow.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I know that look.”
“What look?”
“The same look you had before you hit one twenty-three on the training course.”
“One twenty-three?”Sloan looked at him.Chris shrugged.“Closed course.”Mercer said, “This isn’t a game.”Chris’s smile disappeared.“I know.”And he did.That was why he was good.When the danger became real, Chris got quieter.Colder.Everything unnecessary disappeared.Sloan studied him.“You comfortable?”
“With the driving?”
“With all of it.”Chris thought about the question.Mateo.Diego. The garage.
The warehouse.The black Mercedes with something in the trunk he’d never seen.
And Camila Vargas smiling at him from across an engine bay.Too many moving pieces already.But that was the assignment.Chris Walker wasn’t supposed to be comfortable.
Chris Roman was supposed to be useful.“Do it.”Mercer nodded.“Thursday.”Chris reached for the door.Sloan stopped him.“One more thing.”He looked back.“When this happens, don’t overdo it.”Chris stared at her.“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re not trying to win a pursuit-driving trophy. You’re trying to convince Mateo.”Chris opened the door.“Relax.”Mercer groaned.“That word coming from you makes me nervous.”Chris stepped out.Then leaned down and looked back through the open door.
“There’s one thing you’re forgetting.”
“What?”Chris smiled.
“When I’m driving, I’m always relaxed.”He shut the door.Thursday arrived faster than Chris wanted.At four seventeen that afternoon, he was underneath a Mustang at the garage when Rafael’s shoes appeared beside his head.Chris kept working.“What?”
“I need you tonight.”Chris rolled out.Rafael held a set of keys.Black Dodge Charger.Chris looked at them.Then at Rafael.Interesting.“Another delivery?”
“No.”Rafael tossed him the keys.Chris caught them.“Mateo needs a driver.”Chris stared at the key fob.The operation had begun.He stood.“When?”
“Seven.”
“Where?”
“I’ll give you the address.”Chris wiped his hands.Rafael started walking away.“Rafael.”
He stopped.Chris held up the keys.“Anything I should know?”Rafael looked back.“Yeah.”
“What?”
“Don’t piss him off.”Chris glanced at the Charger.Then smiled.
“No promises.”Rafael shook his head and walked away.Chris looked down at the keys again.His heartbeat remained steady.Nobody in the garage knew that federal agents were already preparing vehicles.Nobody knew routes were being coordinated.Nobody knew that sometime tonight, a threat would appear behind Mateo Vargas.A threat designed by the FBI.A threat Chris Roman would escape.And if everything went perfectly, Mateo Vargas would walk away believing one thing:Chris Roman was the man he wanted behind the wheel when his life depended on it.Chris closed his fist around the keys.The garage had gotten him through the first door.Tonight—the FBI intended to kick open the second.