The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [76]
Feeling around for the wiring that ran up from the floorboard, she clipped onto a red wire and quickly plugged the other end into the black box that looked like an outdated cell phone, but without the keypad.
“Joey, they won’t hesitate to throw you in jail…”
She lifted her head to glance out the side window, and a bright light caught her eye. Inside the building. The elevator doors slid open. Here they come. Less than thirty seconds. Fighting her hands from shaking, she pulled one last item from her pocket. It was a shiny extendable pointer with a slight hook at the end of it. Opening it to its full three feet, she attached it to the wiry antenna that ran out of the black box and tucked it under the base of the cloth-covered seat.
“Joey, get out of there…”
With a sharp shove, she threaded the pointer—and the an-tenna—straight up the back of the seat. Completely out of sight, but still perfectly angled to send a signal through the moon roof. One homemade global positioning system coming up.
“Joey…!”
“Call him,” she whispered.
“What?” Noreen asked.
“Call him.”
Frantically stuffing the black box under the seat, Joey locked it in place with a magnetic thunk. That was it. Time to get out.
From the back window, she could see Gallo and DeSanctis walking up the block. Less than fifty feet away. It was too late…
A high-pitched ring screamed through the night and Gallo stopped in his tracks. So did DeSanctis. “This is Gallo,” he answered, flipping open his cell phone. The two agents turned back toward the building. That was all Joey needed. In one fluid movement, she ducked out the back door and scuttled across the street.
“Sorry, wrong number,” Noreen said in Joey’s ear.
Gallo shut his phone and headed back to his car. As he pulled the door open, he squinted up the dark block. Joey was sitting on the hood of her car.
“Any luck up there?” she called out.
Gallo ignored her, dumping himself in the driver’s seat and slamming the door shut. In a blink, the dome light clicked off. Joey sat back and grinned.
31
Stepping off the plane at Miami International Airport, I stick to the crowd and lose myself in the mass of recently arrived passengers being smothered by loved ones. It’s not hard to tell the difference between natives and guests—we’re in long sleeves and jackets; they’re in shorts and tank tops. As the group fans out toward baggage claim, I scan the terminal, searching for Charlie. He’s nowhere in sight.
All around us, the airport shops and last-minute newsstands are closed. Metal bars cover every storefront; lights are off. It’s past midnight and the whole place is nothing but a traveler’s ghost town. Spotting the sign for the men’s bathroom—and knowing Charlie’s tiny bladder—I make a sharp right and weave my way toward the urinals. The only one there is an overweight man in an aqua Florida Marlins jersey. I keep going and check the stalls. All empty.
Racing back into the terminal, past the Christmas tree and menorah that’re on display, I double my pace and fly down the escalator. Charlie knows he was supposed to wait for me when we got off the plane. If he didn’t… I stop myself. There’s no reason to think the worst.
With a leap from the escalator, I’m down in baggage claim, checking every corner. Past the rental cars… around the conveyor belts… still no Charlie. On my right is a phone bank, where a Hispanic woman is laughing into the receiver. Beyond the phones, there’s an e-mail and fax stand, where a man in dark sunglasses—
Dark sunglasses?
I slow down, tempted to turn the other way. If he’s with the Service, I’m not serving myself up on a platter. But just as I’m about to switch direction… just as I get close… he turns away like I’m not even there. I pass right by him. He doesn’t even look up. And that’s when I realize—this is Miami—sunglasses are just part of the landscape. As long as no one knows who we are, there’s no reason to—
“Excuse