Page 49 of Cross Down
Chapter
59
My trip northis delayed for a few minutes, because when I get to the entrance of the Southpark Mall, there’s a line outside, and I quickly spot the metal detectors and the security guards with wands slowly letting shoppers in.
Even with my detective’s shield, I don’t want to pass through while carrying my pistol; people would remember me. I wander away from the line, find a row of shrubbery planted out front, kneel down as if I’m tying my shoe, and hide my Glock there.
About forty minutes later, I’ve gotten what I need from the shops in the mall, but I’m not finished.
I need new transportation, because finding one radioactive tracking cube on my vehicle doesn’t mean there isn’t another one, maybe even more carefully hidden. But one tracker is traveling with UPS, which’ll confuse my enemies, and confusing enemies is always a good strategy.
I take a position outside a chain steak-and-seafood restaurant that has a separate entrance from the mall, and I wait, pacing back and forth behind a set of concrete planters, glancing at my watch like I’m waiting for someone.
There are some open parking spaces near the restaurant, and I wait and wait, knowing that the people tracking me might be circling the mall parking lot, looking for a very tall and very large Black man who stands out in crowds.
Since my wife’s death, I’ve not been much of a praying man, but I do offer up prayers and requests to the sweet spirit of my wife:Billie, I need your help. I need some sort of intercession. Please help me.
I pace some more.
A silver Lexus comes up and parks in a nearby space. Two young well-dressed women in heels come out, one a blonde, the other a redhead. The redhead is the driver, and as she accompanies her friend to the restaurant, she makes a quick motion with her right hand.
Beep-bleep.
The Lexus is now locked.
But it’s not safe.
A few minutes later, I follow the women into the restaurant, still without my Glock, and that turns out to be a wise choice, as the entrance to the joint is guarded by two fellows about my weight but a foot shorter, both wearing tight black T-shirts and black slacks.
They’re quick and polite as they wand me, and one apologizes. “Sorry we have to do this, bro. But it’s new rules, you know?”
I raise a hand, smile. “No worries. There’s some crazy shit out there and we’ve all got to adjust.”
I step into the dark and cool restaurant, the dining area to the right, the large bar up ahead. I spot the red-haired woman at the end of the bar and slowly walk toward her, dodging waiters and waitresses exiting the kitchen. The place has leather booths, white linen tablecloths, and exposed dark wooden beams and brickwork.
I maneuver my way to the bar. The attractive redhead, sitting on a barstool, is deep in conversation with her blond companion, and I stand behind her, hold up my hand, and wave at the overworked bartender at the other end.
A couple of minutes pass, and the redhead notices me and says, “Trying to get a drink?”
I smile down at her. “Trying not to die of thirst.”
She smiles back. “I’ll get up from my seat and you can take it. Maybe he’ll see you better.”
“That’s fine,” I say, my left arm still up. “But I appreciate it.”
Her smile gets wider. “I don’t mind at all. Besides, I warmed it up for you.”
We laugh at the flirtation. I keep trying to get the bartender’s attention with my left hand.
While slipping my right hand into her purse and removing her Lexus fob.
Once I’m outside in the fresh air—after lying to the nice redhead and saying I needed to call and check in on my mother (wherever she might be)—I pick up my Glock and head over to the Lexus. Ibeep-bleepthe door open, slide in, adjust the seat quickly, and start it up.
I drive around to my Cherokee, transfer my duffel bag and other belongings into the freshly stolen Lexus, then exit the mall and get back on I-95, heading north. The Cherokee is left behind; the radioactive source I pulled free is doing its silent job in the moving UPS truck for my unknown watchers out there.
After about ten minutes, I find what I’m looking for. I say,Thanks again, Billie,and pull the car over on a bridge spanning what looks to be a large stream or small river. I rummage through a plastic bag and take out a burner phone I purchased and activated back at the mall.
Over the next few minutes I transfer some important phone numbers to the new phone, and when I’m finished, I get out of the Lexus and walk to the bridge railing.
