Afraid of the Dark - James Grippando [135]
Shada lowered her voice further, increasingly nervous about holding so much cash. “Even if I had the time to do that—there are five hundred notes here—it’s a microchip I’d be looking for. It isn’t easy to see, unless you know it’s there.”
“That’s a problem.”
“If your personal assistant here brings the money to you, the police are sure to follow.”
“That’s an even bigger problem.”
“I can fix it,” said Shada. “Let me come with her. I’ll bring the money to you personally.”
“That doesn’t fix anything.”
“Yes, it does,” said Shada.
“What difference does it make if you come or not?”
Had the girl not been watching her, the cell phone would have been shaking in Shada’s hand. She kept her nerves in check.
“All the difference in the world,” said Shada. “I have a plan.”
Chapter Seventy-five
They’re leaving the café,” said Jack. He still had Chuck on the line.
“Together?”
“Yes,” Jack said. “They’re heading for the main exit.”
“Perfect. As soon as they leave the building, I’ll be able to pick up the tracking chip in the money. Stay with them, but keep your distance. If I lose the GPS signal for some reason, my backup is you.”
“Police officers are much better at this than I am.”
“We can call the police as soon as these two lead us to Vince. Just stick with the plan a few more minutes.”
It was after six A.M., a full ninety minutes before sunrise, peak hour for the fish market. The crowd around the exit was almost double what Jack had seen on the way in. The men walking out with coolers on their heads were especially hard to see around, so he closed the gap to under a hundred feet in order to keep a bead on Shada’s yellow scarf. He phoned Chuck with an update.
“They just left the building.”
“I have them on my computer now,” said Chuck. “You can drop back a little farther out of sight. Stay on the line and I’ll tell you where to go.”
Jack pushed through the north exit doors, and a gust of cold air welcomed him to the parking lot. Security lights cast a yellowish glow around the loading docks, but most of the lot was dark, which was to Jack’s advantage. Still, he walked on the other side of a long line of refrigeration trucks to make sure he remained out of Shada’s sight. Chuck fed him almost step-by-step instructions past the loading docks to the fenced walkway along Aspen Way, a busy divided highway. It was the early phase of the morning rush hour. Six lanes of commuters, three in each direction, whizzed by at speeds that would have made hopping the iron fence and crossing the road suicidal.
“They’re on a pedestrian bridge across the highway,” said Chuck.
Jack looked up at the suspension-style bridge and saw them. It led directly to Poplar Station. “I think they’re getting on the underground,” said Jack. “That will kill your GPS.”
“My computer says it’s DLR—Docklands Light Railway. I’m pretty sure that’s aboveground. But they might switch over to the underground. Stay with them.”
A train was pulling into Poplar Station. Shada and the girl made a run for it, and their lead on Jack was at least a hundred yards.
“I’ll do my best,” he said as he tucked away the phone and sprinted toward the station.
The Dark was playing mind games. Vince was sure of it.
Vince was seated on the floor, his hands tied to an old steam radiator. The Dark had just gotten off the phone, and Vince had been able to hear only one side of the conversation—the Dark’s side. The Dark was filling in the other half—the half that Vince refused to believe.
“Amazing, isn’t it, Paulo? McKenna’s mother begging me for forgiveness.” The Dark stepped closer and grabbed Vince by the jaw. “So where’s your apology? Can I hear you say you’re sorry for what you did to me?”
Vince still had no idea what injuries the Dark had suffered in the same explosion that had taken his own sight. It took all his strength not to ask, but expressing any desire to know would only have given the Dark more power over him.
“Nothing to say for yourself, huh?” The Dark was squeezing hard enough to break Vince’s jaw, but Vince