The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [162]
“What is it, ma’am? What’s wrong?” a tall guard with a crewcut and a silver badge quickly asked.
“Are you okay?” a black man in a matching blue shirt followed.
“My wallet!” Joey shouted to both men. “I opened my purse and my wallet was gone! It had all my money… my three-day pass…!”
“Don’t worry—it’s okay,” the tall guard said, putting his hand on her wrist.
“Do you know where you had it last?” the second one followed. As the two guards calmed her down, Joey noticed the way they watched the gawking crowd. The show, clearly, must go on.
“She’s fine, folks,” the tall guard announced to the onlookers. “Just misplaced her wallet.”
As the crowd broke up and continued on its way, the guards huddled around Joey and helped her to a nearby wooden bench.
“Did it fall out on a ride?” the black guard asked.
“Or maybe in one of the restaurants?” the other added.
“Are you sure this isn’t it right here?” the first one asked, pointing to the wallet that stuck out from Joey’s purse.
Joey stopped and looked down. “Oh, God,” she said, forcing a laugh. “I’m so embarrassed… I could’ve sworn it wasn’t there when I—”
“No worries,” the tall guard said. “I do the same thing with my keys all the time.”
Standing from the bench, Joey thanked the two men and once again apologized. “I really am sorry—next time I’ll be sure to… uh… to check my purse.”
“Have a nice night, ma’am,” the tall guard said.
Stumbling backwards up the block, Joey stepped into the crowd and let the guards disappear. The instant they were gone, she spun around, shoved her earpiece back in place, and plowed with a determined gait directly up Main Street.
“Well?” Noreen asked.
“It’s like I always tell you…” Joey began. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a black police radio with the word Security written on it. “Whenever you’re on vacation, you gotta watch out for those pickpockets.”
She turned up the volume and held the radio up to her ear. All she had to do was listen.
81
We can get you out of here, Oliver—all you have to do is have a little faith,” Gallo says, his raspy voice scraping from the back corner of the silent warehouse.
Tucked down behind the bow of the pirate ship, I shut my eyes and replay the last two days: from the moment we met Gillian… to our night diving… to everything in between.
“It’s the truth,” Gallo calls out. “Even if you’re afraid to believe it.”
Once again, I listen for Gillian to argue. Once again, she’s nowhere to be found.
“C’mon, Oliver, are you really that surprised? You know what’s at stake—you found the worm…” The way his shoes grind against the concrete, it sounds like he’s turning down one of the back aisles. “It’s pretty amazing, don’t you think? All from a bit of computer code. Cut it in half and it just keeps growing back.” Gallo laughs to himself. “When you think about it, that program is Duckworth’s real baby.”
Wherever she is, Gillian doesn’t say a word.
“So what’s with the silence, Oliver? You got your feelings hurt? You’ve never had a knife in your back? Please, son—I met your bosses at the bank—you’re paid to grab your toes and take it from behind every day. And with all those rich clients who pretend they like you? You should be an Old Master at being lied to. From that alone, Gillian’s stuff should roll right off. You had to know her whole background seemed fishy—or did you never bother to wonder where she got a New York accent? Besides, you’ve only known the girl two days—how upset could you possib—”
Gallo cuts himself off. And once again lets out a deep, throaty laugh.
“Oh, Oliver…”
I shut my eyes, but it won’t go away.
“… you really thought she liked you, didn’t you?” Gallo asks.
Sinking down to the ground, I scrape my back against the ship.
In the corner, Gallo stops short and turns around. He knows I’m there. Like the best predators, he can smell the despair.
Within seconds, he heads my way. “So how’d she get you to bite the hook?” he asks, taking way too much joy in the question. “Was it the bullshit story, or something more physical?”
From the sound of his footsteps,