Farber had briefly considered ordering a pizza but he didn’t like scattering his new name and address around where somebody might sniff it out, so he threw a couple of hamburger patties into a pan and toasted some bread. It wasn’t gourmet food but he wasn’t a gourmet kind of guy so he figured that it all balanced out. He had just flipped them over and was debating slicing off a piece of yellow cheese when his phone rang, not the regular one he would have used to order a pizza if he had decided to go that way, but the other one, the one that only Ryan Munroe knew about.
The screen said “Blocked Caller” and for a moment Farber’s paranoia made him wonder if he should answer it but what the hell was the good of having the thing if you didn’t use it?
“What?”
“It’s me.” It damn well better be you since you’re the only guy who’s supposed to have this number, Farber thought, but he relaxed a little because he recognized Munroe’s voice.
“What’s the street number of your house?”
“Why do you want to know?” Munroe didn’t know where he lived and he wanted to keep it that way.
“Just fucking tell me the number!”
Farber thought about it for moment then mumbled, “817.”
“Shit! The guy called.” Farber didn’t need to ask What guy? “They’re on to you. There’s probably a SWAT team headed your way right now. Get out! Run!” The phone went dead.
Fuck! Farber turned the stove off and ran upstairs. He kept a “go bag” behind a false wall in his closet with clothes, a gun, a thousand bucks in cash, a clean phone, and the key to the safety-deposit box where he stored a hundred thousand more in cash, a clean ID and a virgin credit card. It took him only seconds to grab the bag and race down the stairs. He couldn’t resist a peek out the window. A dark-colored Dart was rolling past, moving too slowly for his liking.
Farber grabbed his coat and ran out the back door. The yard was empty. He threw the bag over the back fence and scrambled over after it, cutting his palm in the process. The ground was soft from yesterday’s rain and when he landed he slipped and muddied his knees. He couldn’t worry about that now.
He ran down the driveway, keeping close to the side of the house. He couldn’t see any lights from inside. Peeking around the corner the street looked empty. He turned right and headed up the block, then quickly crossed to the other side. He was almost to the intersection when the shadows lightened as a car turned the corner behind him. Farber hugged the bag to his chest and made a left on Polk. Once he was around the corner he took a peek back and saw a silver Ford Escape pull up next to the driveway he had just left. Three men in black uniforms with helmets and plastic face shields got out and jogged toward his back fence.
Fuck! How did they find me? He needed to get the hell out of here. He wanted to run but that would only draw more attention. He thought for a moment and decided that the Fort Totten Metro station would be the closest one, about a mile and a half away. He’d take the train someplace where he could hole up in a no-name, all-cash motel then get his money and new ID from the safety-deposit box tomorrow. After that he’d take a bus to the airport in New York or Philly or someplace far enough away that they wouldn’t be running a facial recognition program on him. From there he could go anywhere he wanted. His new passport was pretty good. Maybe not the sort of thing that he might use to go to Russia or China or someplace like that but it wasn’t going to set off any alarms entering Mexico or the Cayman Islands. Hell, he could be using an expired passport and he probably could still waltz into one of those countries.
By ten he had bought an anonymous room in a motel where credit cards were a rarity and nobody wanted to know your name. When he was finally able to sit down and take a breath he almost laughed. Fuckers, he thought, I beat you, again. Then he noticed he was hungry. And thirsty. Well, there were plenty of places in this neighborhood where a man could get a drink, and maybe a little more than a drink. The room looked lonely and suddenly he felt like celebrating. Hell, in a couple of days he’d be on a beach on some tropical island with money in his pocket. He’d be a brand new man.