The Switch

73

William Abbott, his face gone red, grabbed Tanner’s arm, gripping it hard. “You goddamned son of a bitch, do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“It was in my locker,” Tanner said numbly.

“What the hell kind of long con do you think you’re running? Let me tell you, you’ve just made a very dangerous enemy.”

“Get your hands off me,” Tanner said. Abbott — though several inches shorter — was trying to hurt him.

“You’re a dead man,” Abbott said. Veins at his temples were throbbing visibly.

“It was in a gym locker,” Tanner said. “I mean, who the hell robs a gym locker?” He glanced out the window onto Tremont Street. He looked over at the Nepalese fruit stand, where he usually bought bottled water, and realized something was off.

He looked for the proprietor, Ganesh. But he wasn’t sitting there. Instead, it was a young white guy with a clean, hard look.

Ganesh was gone.

Ganesh never took time off. He sent more than half his earnings to his sister and her kids back in Nepal. Tanner always made a point of greeting him. Ganesh was always there. Something wasn’t right.

A guy in a baseball cap was sitting in an idling car, window open. Two guys in their thirties were standing in front of the entrance to the sports club, talking to each other, or at least pretending to; he wasn’t sure.

These were Earle’s men. They were waiting to grab Will once he exited the sports club with the laptop.

Now that plan had been dashed.

He knew how the conversation with Earle would go. Nobody would believe the laptop was truly lost or stolen. Without the laptop, Earle was not going to be in a forgiving mood. Abbott suspected him of playing a trick, and Earle would think the same way.

Earle’s men would grab Abbott, and once they learned he didn’t have the damned laptop, they’d come for Tanner. They’d detain him in the white facility, for who knew how long, and Tanner would be powerless to do anything about it.

No. He had to find a way out of the situation.

“You need to take your hands off of me,” Tanner said.

“You bastard, where the hell did you put it?” Abbott swung a fist at Tanner, who dodged, but the fist connected, cracking into Tanner’s upper chest around the breastbone. It was painful, and it pissed Tanner off. He let loose, shot a fist into Abbott’s solar plexus.

Abbott instantly doubled over and collapsed onto the floor.

Tanner raced down the hall.

He descended two floors to the custodial area, where he saw Ramon, the Guatemalan attendant, folding and stacking gym towels.

“Hi, Mr. Tanner,” Ramon said, surprised to see him there.

“Ramon, I need to ask you a favor. A big one.”

Will gasped. He couldn’t breathe. The wind had been knocked out of him. He was on his hands and knees and he felt like he was dying.

Some big muscled black guy in a blue polo shirt that said “SportsClub Boston” and “Trainer” loomed over him. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“Gotta pace yourself, man.” The trainer put out a hand and helped Abbott up. “Have some water.”

Michael Tanner had slugged him just below the chest, right in the solar plexus, and it was breathtakingly painful. He didn’t know anything could hurt this much. He wondered if there was internal damage to organs and blood vessels. How was he going to explain this to Jen? He teetered, and the trainer steadied him by grasping his shoulder.

“Whoa, there, big guy, you need to sit down.”

Abbott leaned over, head down. His stomach was spasming. “I’m okay, thanks,” he gasped, waving the trainer away.

He didn’t know which way Tanner had run — he’d been too busy gasping for air — but he knew that, whichever way he went, Tanner was heading for the exit. Was there more than one? He walked, stumblingly, in the direction he’d come in from.

“Excuse me, sir?” said a small young woman with a pixie haircut and a gymnast’s build, a low center of gravity. “Weren’t you just swiped in?” She was wearing a blue polo shirt that said “Membership Director.”

Will turned. “Yes.” A red-shirted custodian passed by, pushing a laundry basket full of wet, dirty towels.

“I’m sorry, sir. Guests are required to be accompanied by their hosts at all times. Is your host nearby?”

“I’m looking for him, actually.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid you can’t be here.”

But Will kept walking.