Page 97 of The Fourth Option
“I got you. Remember, I won’t talk but I’ll be able to hear the exchange.”
“I know. Okay, I’m going in.”
“I’ve got you, Belle.”
“Quit worrying.”
He could hear the BMW’s engine whine as Belle fired it up and made her approach. Her headlights illuminated the green glow of his night vison monocle. A moment later the car drove into view and pulled to the curb in front of the trap house.
He watched her exit the vehicle and heard her via comms.
“Hey, can I come up?”she asked.
He couldn’t hear the reply, but watched the broad-shouldered dealer wave her in. She stopped a few feet in front of the cooler. Walker scanned the porch. The young man with the flat-brim hat said something.
“The Garden,”Belle replied. They’d rehearsed that she was a failure-to-launch, entitled Tulane dropout who lived with her parents in the Garden District, just in case she was questioned, though they hadn’t thought it would really come up.
The responding tone of voice suggested the dealer was telling Belle to get lost. The flick of his wrist suggested the same thing. Interesting. Why didn’t they want her money?
Don’t push it, Belle, get out of there.
“I need it,”she said.“Dying, man. Come on. I’m looking for Snowball.”
Again, the answer was no, the body language telling her she was not welcome.
Walker tensed and adjusted his grip on the rifle.
“Beat it, bitch,”Cooler said.
It looked like Flat Brim was typing something into his phone.
What is going on?
She pulled out her roll of cash.
“Six hundred,”she said.
The man with the flat brim was coming down the porch steps. He wore high-top sneakers, a New Orleans Pelicans T-shirt, and shorts. He was still on his phone.
Come on, Belle, time to go.
Flat Brim circled around Belle, focused on his device.
Shit.
Now, with his back facing the street, he could see that Flat Brim had a shiny pistol jammed in his shorts. His hands were occupied with the phone.
“My girlfriend told me I could get Snowball here,”Belle said.
“Get outta here, girl,”Cooler said, his voice taking on a brasher tone.
Take his advice, Belle. Get out.
“Nah, hold tight, pretty girl,”Flat Brim said.“Why you so interested in Snowball?”
Damn you, Belle.
Walker pressed the pressure pad on the rail of his rifle, and an IR beamvisible only to him cut through the night. He centered it on Flat Brim’s upper back.
