Hardbingers

5

Now what?

Jack sat in his car and stared out at the street. He'd started the engine but hadn't put it in gear. He'd budgeted a longer time frame for Zeklos. What to do with the excess?

Well, since he was in the neighborhood, why not drive by the yeniceri warehouse and see if anything was shaking?

Jack ducked inside and did a quick check of the bedroom and bathroom—no one.

He pulled Zeklos's H-K from the shopping bag and wiped it down. Would have been nice to have access to a crime lab—check out Zeklos's prints, see if he had a record, or a gun license, or if Zeklos was even his real name. But he didn't, so low tech would have to do.

Part of the low-tech approach involved head games. That was where Plan C came into play.

He wiped down the pistol and placed it on the kitchen table. Then, keeping his gloves on, he pulled out a pen and notepad and wrote:

He slipped that under the pistol and made his exit.

He smiled as he bounced down the stairs. The last thing Zeklos would expect was the return of his weapon. Losing it had to be a crushing blow to the ego of someone who considered himself a yeniceri. Now that he had it back he might be a little less defensive and a little more forthcoming about his buddies in black.

And then again he might not.

Head games… such fun.

He took a roundabout route, scanning the sidewalks for familiar faces—always better to see first than be seen.

A couple of turns and he had the warehouse in sight. The bricks of the walls looked battered, weathered, and faded, but the ones filling the window frames looked new.

Nobody out front.

A quiet day in crummy Red Hook.

As he approached the three-story building he felt the same itching, burning sensation across his chest as last night, intensifying as he passed the front, fading as he left it behind.

What the hell?