Trust Me

23

Mouser hurried up the stairs and as he hit the door the lights surged back into life.

The power company had overridden the darkness he’d been promised.

No matter. He reached the Crosby apartment, tested the knob. Unlocked. He opened it, scanned the room with his Glock, moved from room to room. A shattered glass, a gush of red wine, a fire extinguisher, blots of blood on the carpet.

The apartment was empty. They had not exited through the lobby; he’d have seen them in the windows as he approached. They must still be in the building.

So where would they hide? A neighbor’s? Unlikely – this wasn’t Aubrey and Eric’s real home, they wouldn’t know the neighbors. So they had to be on the roof or in the basement.

The roof would be a dead end. The basement would offer service exits. Maybe onto a back entrance or alley.

Mouser hurried down to the lobby, then across it till he found the basement entrance, and headed down the stairs. A faint red glow from the emergency lights led downward, the red gleam like a mockery of hell.

‘Trust me, I can cut a deal,’ Eric said. ‘I can reason with them. I’ve been planning on it.’

Of course he was, because he was treating the money like a bulletproof shield, Luke thought. ‘They don’t want to negotiate. They’ll force you to hand over the money and they’ll kill you.’ Luke pushed him along into the depths of the basement. Part of the floor was being renovated into ground-level units, but an open stretch of space at the back contained electrical equipment, a nesting of pipes and a set of industrial water heaters. The disorder created a maze of construction junk, half-walls and maintenance equipment.

The power surged back on.

‘Maybe he’s gone,’ Aubrey said. Luke reached to the switch and killed the lights again.

‘Let’s see if we can wait him out. Eric, give me the gun,’ Luke said.

‘No.’

‘If this is the same guy who’s after me, if he sees you with a gun, he’ll just shoot you. No time for a deal,’ Luke said.

‘I know what I’m doing. I’m keeping the gun. I’m not going to let them hurt Aubrey.’

Luke heard a door open above.

They hid in the labyrinth of pipes, kneeling to the cool concrete floor. In their hiding place Aubrey was further back, then Luke, then Eric, close to the front. Luke raised a finger to his lips.

Luke listened. Hard. A footstep. Another.

In the trickle of the light he peered between the pipes and a black form passed between the far wall and a table of tools. Stopped. Listened.

In the thin red light Eric stood and came out from the hiding place and walked toward the figure. Luke went still. If he yelled he would betray himself and Aubrey. But Eric was already betraying them.

‘Hey,’ Eric said quietly. ‘Night Road?’

The shadow gave no answer.

Luke stifled the urge to run in blind panic. Eric was either going to save them or hand them over to this enemy.

‘I’m Eric Lindoe.’

‘I know who you are.’ It was Mouser. ‘I’ve been carrying your picture in my pocket. I thought I was gonna get a nice vacation in Thailand, chasing you down. How you doing?’ His tone was relaxed, friendly. ‘You look beat up.’

Aubrey closed her hand over Luke’s arm.

‘I’m okay,’ Eric answered.

‘Where’s your girlfriend, Mr Lindoe?’ Mouser asked.

‘She’s someplace safe. You don’t need to worry about her. She’ll stay quiet about this mess. But Luke Dantry’s gone.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘There’s an alley exit – for maintenance delivery – on the other side of the basement. He went out the door.’

‘Luke Dantry was here?’

‘Yes.’

‘How long ago?’ Mouser was already turning to run.

‘Five minutes. I doubt you’ll catch him.’

Silence again. Luke’s heartbeat rattled like wind in a chimney.

Mouser said, ‘You have a lot of explaining to do. You have our money.’

‘Yes, but I’ve kept it safe for you.’

‘That’s a piss-poor interpretation of the situation,’ Mouser said.

‘I know where the money’s hidden. I’d like to trade that information.’

‘Fine. Trade it for your continued breathing. Where’s our money?’

Eric made no answer – there was only the creaking of the building, its bones settling and stirring, the outside hum of traffic, the distant murmur of voices. Luke could feel Aubrey’s breath against his shoulder.

‘Let’s make a deal,’ Eric said after a deep breath. ‘If I give you the money, then you let me walk away. Because I’m done with the Night Road. I want out.’

Mouser’s voice devolved into a low hiss. ‘We’re not negotiating. You tell me where the money is. Or you die. Five. Four. Three.’

‘Okay. Here’s the deal. Immunity for me and my girlfriend, from Henry, from the Night Road. All I did was cause a hiccup in the plan, just to get my girlfriend back. I give you the money. We walk away from each other. I just want out, free and clear.’

‘Except I need more than the money.’

‘What?’

‘This British woman, this Jane. She’s the Night Road’s enemy,’ Mouser said. ‘We need to find her, find out how she knows about us. Because that’s the ticket – ain’t nobody supposed to know about us, about what we’re planning, about Hellfire.’

‘I have no idea who she is. All I can give you is the money.’ And then the knife twisted. ‘Luke Dantry knows. He’s figured out you’re the people he found for his stepfather. He won’t stay quiet.’

‘We’ll call Henry, we’ll talk to him on the phone together.’

Between the pipes Luke saw Eric sag in relief.

‘Except.’ The word hung in the air like a sword ready to slash. ‘I would like to know a couple of details.’

‘What?’

‘You and your lady friend were on a flight manifest to Thailand. Now. How the hell did that happen if you didn’t get on the plane?’

Eric was silent.

‘You buy a ticket?’

‘Yes. But we didn’t use the tickets.’

‘But you don’t get on the manifest unless you use the ticket. How did you get on that list?’

‘I don’t know. Clerical error. What does it matter?’ A panicky edge touched Eric’s voice.

‘It matters. Somebody’s trying very hard to protect you, Eric. Somebody with the rather impressive power to alter a flight manifest. Tell me who’s protecting you, Eric.’

The silence from Eric told Luke that Mouser had hit a nerve, had seen the key in Eric’s deceptions. Finally Eric said, hoarse: ‘No one’s trying to protect me.’

‘You cut a deal with someone else. Maybe with someone powerful who’d hide you if you betrayed the Night Road, whispered all our secrets in their ear. Maybe let you keep a chunk of our fifty million.’

‘No.’ But Eric, pushed to the limit, sounded as though he were about to cry.

‘Did that same someone powerful offer a deal to Luke Dantry? Does Luke know where the money is?’

‘No.’

‘I want a name, Eric. Who is protecting you?’

‘No one.’

Luke peered through the pipes and saw Mouser toss an object to Eric. Eric caught it deftly in one hand.

‘What’s this?’ Eric asked.

‘PDA with internet capability. I’m assuming you aren’t hauling around fifty million in tens and twenties. You’ve got the money parked in an account somewhere. Prove it to me that you’ve got it, show me the account balance online, and we can deal. Show me the money, bud.’

Eric held the phone, looked at the screen. ‘I… I…’

‘What are you waiting for?’

‘I’m not going to show it to you.’

‘I need proof that you’ve still got the whole fifty million.’

Eric didn’t look over toward Luke but he raised his head with a slow dignity. A decision made. He tossed the phone back to Mouser, who caught it one-handed. ‘I’ve got it all, but I’m not showing you the accounts. I have no reason to lie.’

The sound of the shot was a hard slap in the close air of the basement. Under his hand, clamping over her mouth, Luke felt Aubrey choke down a scream.

‘Not any more,’ Mouser said as a soft eulogy.

Luke did not risk peering through the pipes. He tried to breathe silently, through his mouth. Mouser had killed Eric. Just ten feet away from them.

He heard footsteps. A clanking of metal – the unused basement door. The cool night crept into the basement.

Aubrey pressed her face into her elbow, curled on the concrete.

The door clanged shut. Mouser was in the alley.

The gun. Eric still had his gun. In his jacket.

Luke moved from the web of pipes and didn’t even glance behind at Aubrey.

Eric lay dead on his back, a Rorschach of blood on his forehead. Slackening astonishment on his face.

Luke glanced at the door. It began to push open again. Too soon to be anyone but Mouser.

Luke ran and shoved the door hard, kicking his heels against the concrete floor.

A bullet tore through the thin metal, ricocheting into the air an inch from Luke’s scalp.

He slammed the door fully shut, slid the deadbolt.

Luke was running now, yelling for Aubrey. She crouched, shivering over Eric’s body, her mouth trembling, her skin pale as moonlight. He knelt, grabbed the gun from the jacket, a sheaf of papers, a key ring and cell phone from the pocket. A miniature basketball on the key ring bounced against his palm. Luke grabbed it all, put the gun under his own coat.

Luke and Aubrey ran up the stairs, into the small crowd in the lobby, out into the cool of the wind-blown street. They took a hard left and ran onto the busy sidewalk. Cars zoomed past, headlights painting them in whites.

It would only be a minute before Mouser was on the street.

People crammed the sidewalks, thronging from the restaurants and stores. Luke and Aubrey ran and he looked ahead and to the left, at the upcoming intersection, and he saw Mouser scanning the street, suddenly raising his hand. Running after them. They dashed out onto Armitage Avenue. Mouser closed fast on them.

In the street they were caught in a wash of lights, a roaring peal of brakes. A Chicago Transit Authority bus honked, veering to avoid Luke and Aubrey. He saw the lighted windows of the bus, commuters standing and sitting, just wanting to get home to their safe cocoons, frightened and gripping the seats and each other as the bus driver hammered its brakes, spun, crunched into cars parked along the avenue.

For a moment Luke thought the bus would either topple on them in its skid or simply run straight over them. But they ran out of its path, Luke glancing back, seeing Mouser vanishing as the bus blocked Luke’s view. A car rammed into the side of the bus.

They ran. Luke heard the squealing of brakes from a truck trying to avoid them. Aubrey grabbed his arm and they ran down a side street. Luke glanced back, didn’t see Mouser in the chaos of the braked cars, didn’t hear another crack of gunshot.

They ran back toward the elevated train station. They fed their cards into the ticket reader and hurried up the staircase.

They stood at the end of the platform, waiting for the rumble of the rails. Aubrey leaned against him, panting. If Mouser made it up the steps…

‘Go,’ he said. ‘Go to the police.’

She looked at him and a toughness in her that he had not seen before settled in her eyes. ‘I’m not sure the police can protect me from people who can kill the power grid. You took his keys?’

‘Yes.’

A train, bound for the Loop, rumbled into the Armitage station. ‘Let’s go,’ she said.

They stepped onto the train. The crowd mixed, doing the dodge-you-first dance, jockeying for seats and stands near the door. The train was less crowded than he thought it would be. Businessmen, rough looking kids, a group of women chattering in Spanish. Luke and Aubrey sat down, as far from everyone else as they could.

Aubrey huddled close to him and shivered. ‘I might be sick.’

Awkwardly he put a calming hand on her back. She breathed hard. ‘Oh God. Oh God. He did it to save us.’

‘To save you. He was definitely not trying to save me. He painted a goddamn target on my back.’

She looked up at him; her eyes were wet but she blinked hard as though unwilling to risk a trickle of tears. He saw the strength in her face. ‘He was wrong to do that.’

Luke watched the train speed past the lit buildings, a mist starting to fall, the light smeared and dreamy.

This money was the key, to stopping the Night Road and perhaps finding out who Jane was – the architect of his destruction. They had to find where Eric had hidden it.

‘Where’s Eric’s apartment?’

‘Near downtown, River West area.’

The train huffed into the station. People shuffled on and off. A trio of homeless men boarded, along with an elderly man in a neat suit, with a frown on his face and a newspaper tucked under his arm.

‘How many more stations?’ Luke did not like sitting still, where someone could study and remember his face from television. ‘Where should we get off?’

The homeless men laughed at a private joke among themselves. The elderly man sitting across from Luke and Aubrey inspected them as though measuring them on a finely tuned secret balance. He opened and began to read a newspaper.

Luke saw his own face – the image captured on the ATM camera – on the front page. A headline read SUSPECT IN BIZARRE KILLING MARKED BY TRAGEDY. Probably an account of his father’s death in a bizarre plane crash and his mother’s death in a car crash. The twin blots of sorrow in his life.

Aubrey saw the headline and touched Luke’s hand. She pulled on his sleeve and he stood, getting away from the newspaper, following her toward the homeless guys, who had staked out the center of the car as a temporary turf. The rest of the passengers gave the trio plenty of space.

Luke and Aubrey stood near the door. Luke kept his face toward the window. The great city lay beyond the glass. He wished he could enjoy the view.

He glanced back at the man.

The elderly man had turned to the first page of the paper. It lay folded on his lap, Luke’s picture above the crease.