The Fury - Jason Pinter [51]
chatted with the guard. I assumed they were part of the
same crew as Scotty and Kyle.
I decided to wait. I couldn't go inside in case Scotty
or Kyle came downstairs. Thankfully, I didn't have to
wait long, because within twenty minutes a veritable
crush of young, well-dressed men came pouring out of
the front doors. Their pace was quick. They offered
pithy "laters" and "rake it in, boys" goodbyes to each
other.
And, I noticed, all of their briefcases looked full.
I waited another fifteen minutes to be sure, then I
walked inside the building. I pretended to act confused,
reading the directory on the wall.
"Help you?" the guard asked.
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"Yeah," I said. I went up to his station, saw the
logbook open. I pretended to be thinking while I
scanned the log.
And there, right next to each other, were two names:
Scott Callahan
Kyle Evans
Scotty and Kyle. And by the company line they wrote
"718 Enterprises."
"Actually," I said to the guard, "I'm in the wrong
place."
Walking back into the lobby's atrium, I stopped by
the company directory listings. Scanning the names and
floor numbers of the companies that were housed here,
I could find no listing for 718 Enterprises. Strange.
Where were all these young men going?
And what the hell was 718 Enterprises?
I figured I'd ask someone who might know. I walked
up to the security guard and said, "Hi, sorry to bother
you again. I'm looking for a company called 718 En
terprises. I'm pretty sure it's here, but I can't find it in
the directory and I forgot the name of the person I'm
supposed to meet."
The guard looked me over. He was in his late fifties,
heavyset, with big wide eyes that looked like they
believed me as far as he could shove me down his throat.
"No, you didn't," he said.
"I didn't?" I said incredulously.
"No. You're not. I don't know you, friend." He
averted his eyes to the crossword puzzle on his desk. I
stood there for another moment, until the guard's eyes
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came back to mine. He put his hand on the phone at his
desk and said, "Do I have to call the cops?"
I apologized and walked outside.
Standing there outside the building, I tried to piece
this together. Those young men who filed into the
building, who knew each other and were all dressed
alike, I'd be willing to bet they all took on the moniker
of Vinnie during their day job. And I'd also be willing
to bet that whatever 718 Enterprises was, it was some
sort of supplier.
I still had no idea what, if anything, they had to do
with the deaths of Beth-Ann Downing or even Stephen
Gaines. But it's all I had. As thin and transparent as this
thread was, it was the only one I had to pull. And I'd
had thinner ones that ended up unraveling a great deal.
As I stood outside the building pondering my next
move, a lone straggler exited the building wearing the
telltale suit and carrying a bulging briefcase. He was
thin, younger-looking than his cohorts, and had a gangly
walk that told me he hadn't been at this very long. He
began walking north. He took a cell phone from his
pocket, checked it then dropped it into his briefcase.
A thought crossed my mind. Suddenly it occurred to
me what I could do. What I needed to do. I certainly
wouldn't feel good about myself...but my father's
freedom was at stake. Finding a killer was my justifi
cation. I silently apologized for what I was about to do.
I began to walk faster, the young kid in my line of
sight. I was ten feet behind him. Nine. Eight. Seven.
I began to jog to keep pace, my pulse quickening.
The subway was just a few blocks away. I'd make it...
Pushing off my back foot to get a burst of speed, I
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lunged forward and grabbed the briefcase off the young
guy's shoulder. It was loose with surprisingly little
effort, and suddenly, to my surprise, I was standing
there in the middle of the street holding a young man's
bag that I'd just stolen.
He twirled around to see what was happening, and
just before I could react, he locked eyes with me. His
were light green,