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SEATTLE (Saturday, Dec. 1, 2012, 2 p.m.)— Mac was standing on the pier right at the top of the hour. He leaned against the railing and watched the crowd stroll by. Tourists for the most part. A few commuters headed toward the ferries to the rich places like Bainbridge Island. His stomach growled. The man who walked up to him was both familiar and unfamiliar. The easy gait, the cautious eyes that noticed everything, the alertness — Mac would recognize those things anywhere. The lines and the gray in his hair were a shock.
“Hello, Shadow. Long time,” the man said. He leaned against the pier next to Mac.
“You staying in past your 20?” Mac asked abruptly.
Kellerman winced. “You know how to make an old man feel old, don’t you?” he said. “No. I’m not. A non-com, attached to the Pentagon? I’m about as high as I’m going. I could stay there, but it’s time to get out.” He looked Mac over. “You carrying?”
Mac rolled his eyes. Kellerman laughed. “Yeah. Of course, you are. Are you wired?”
Mac shook his head. “Didn’t figure this was on the record.”
Kellerman hesitated, then accepted Mac’s word for it. “On the record. A goddamn reporter. Who would have thought?”
Mac looked at him out the corner of his eyes, not losing sight of the busy street across from him and the one above that on the hill. Seattle went up steep from the docks. “You ready to tell me what this is all about?” he asked.
“You looked up to me when you were first in,” Kellerman began. “I was your model of what a Marine was supposed to be.”
Mac shrugged. “Yeah,” he said. “So?”
“Well the man I looked up to when I was a boot was a man named Howard Parker. He was tough. But he stood for things, you know? The right things.” Kellerman paused, his eyes watching the same hillside as Mac. “He was wrapping up his 20 when I was just in, but I about worshipped that man. He got active in politics, no surprise. Did some stuff for various agencies."
“Including the DEA,” Mac said.
“Yeah. Now he’s close to being nominated for Secretary of Homeland Security. He deserves it. He’s good. He understands the military, understands what this country needs. He can help restore this country’s defenses. We need him in that position. You can understand that, can’t you? You’ve been there.” Kellerman paused. “He stands for the same things that you fought for. He’s a true patriot.”
Mac fought back a wince. “Patriotism these days includes trying to kill a cop, kidnapping civilians, not to mention trying to kill me?” he asked without looking at Kellerman. “And don’t give me crap about breaking eggs to make omelets.”
“Well it’s true, and you know it,” Kellerman said defensively. “Sometimes the things you have to do to get to the right end aren’t pretty. That’s the first thing you learned as a Marine. Wasn’t it? Well?”
Mac was silent. When Kellerman realized he wasn’t going to answer, he went on, “Mac, look, I can’t defend everything that’s gone down in this mess. I wish I’d been included from the beginning, but I was out of the country. I know you. I would have handled it differently. Hell, we’d have had this talk at the beginning. You, me, Troy. We could have worked things out. All Parker wants is to continue the fight that we fought for as Marines. Is that so bad?”
Mac shook his head. “I don’t know why you fought,” he said levelly. “I enlisted because it seemed better than the streets and jail. I fought because the Marine Corps paid me to fight. All this patriotism crap? Not for me, Kellerman. Iraq? Why did we fight that war? For the good of our country? Turns out no WMDs, no links to Al Qaeda. For freedom and democracy in the Middle East? Shit. We fought that war for Exxon gas. So don’t give me that bullshit. Parker wants power and money, just like everyone else.”
Kellerman laughed without amusement. “Still cold, aren’t you?”
Mac ignored that comment. “What happened in west Texas, C.J.?” he asked. “Why did we nearly buy it on that mission? What is he covering up?”
Kellerman shook his head. “It isn’t what it seems, Mac,” he said. “Parker was in D.C. when you all were ordered to survey that area, or he’d have headed it off. No one was supposed to know about that set-up.”
“No shit,” Mac said. “Cocaine manufacturers generally don’t want anyone to know. You telling me that Parker wasn’t on the take in that fuckup?”
“Parker may have been wearing DEA tags, but he was working for... a different part of the government,” Kellerman said slowly. “He was part of a cross-jurisdiction effort to infiltrate the Columbia drug lords.”
Mac shook his head. “You may buy that, but it smells like shit to me,” he said. “If that were the case, he wouldn’t care if the Feebs find out now. He’d just close-door it. Parker was on the take.”
“No.” Kellerman was adamant. “If it came out even now, it would make Ollie North look small time. One thing to run arms to contras. It’s another thing to sell cocaine.”
“Sure is,” Mac said with little inflection.
“Look, I can understand why you’re pissed. But if you back off, I can clean this mess up. Parker will get the nomination. That’s the right thing to happen, Mac.”
And you’ll have a job when you get out, Mac thought but didn’t say. Instead, he asked, “You remember that stunt you used to do with a chicken?”
Kellerman snorted. “Hell, yeah.”
“Do you know how best to kill a chicken?”
“You wring its neck,” Kellerman said. “But that would hardly have made the point, would it?”
“Did you ever think that some recruit one day might go hungry because they couldn’t bring themselves to bite a chicken’s head off? And didn’t know there was a better way?” Mac asked curiously, turning to look at Kellerman for the first time.
“Not likely. It made you men sit up and take notice. You thought I was tougher than God. And you needed to think that if you were going to learn what I had to teach.” Kellerman looked at Mac in puzzlement. “Does this have something to do with Parker?”
Mac shook his head. “No, I just wondered. Look, what you say, makes some sense, but I need to think it over. And it would help if Kristy Brown and Troy Maxim showed up. Can you give me a few days? Maybe clean up that part of the situation — as a gesture of good faith?”
Kellerman hesitated. “Sure, Mac. That seems reasonable.” He started to raise his hand to put it on Mac’s shoulder.
“Don’t!” Mac said sharply. “Just drop your hand back down. Don’t do anything I might think is a signal to your sniper up there.”
Kellerman dropped his hand back to his side. “What makes you think I’ve got a sniper?”
“As you said, if those had been your boys last night, they wouldn’t have fucked it up,” Mac said. “So, I took a few precautions myself. You make any kind of gesture, and my sharpshooter will fire. You trained him; he won’t miss.”
“Danny Brown,” Kellerman said with a sigh. “Still, you’d be dead.”
“I didn’t come with just one backup, C.J.,” Mac said.
“You always were a cautious son of a bitch,” Kellerman said, with a half-smile. “Okay, so how do we get out of this without either of us getting shot?”
Mac didn’t move away from the railing. “Let’s talk just a bit longer,” he said comfortably. “I’d like to hear how you justify shooting a cop, kidnapping a girl, beating up a woman, and not incidentally, trying to have me, Troy and Danny killed.”
Kellerman looked troubled. “There’s a greater good,” he said slowly. “But the truth is, it boils down to loyalty. Mine for Parker; Parker for his country. Is it too much to ask that you’d back off out of loyalty to me?”
“I’m loyal to me,” Mac said flatly. “I take care of me because no one else is going to. And I take care of mine. You been messing with my family, my friends. And no, I don’t think you can justify all this with some shit about greater good and loyalty. Platoon, corps, country, God — you believed in that shit, which category does all this fall in?”
Kellerman shrugged. “Platoon, I guess. Parker was my platoon leader, and he always will be.”
“Then get him to turn Kristy Brown loose,” Mac said. “You know that isn’t the way to be.”
“Parker is paranoid about what’s in Maxim’s notes, Shadow. Maxim won’t talk about what he’s got proof of. The only weak spot we’ve got is Danny Brown. And his weak spot — besides being a bit short in brains — is his fondness for his sister. Parker isn’t going to give that up unless he gets those documents.”
“So why shoot Donnelly?” Mac asked. “I thought he was on your side.”
Kellerman rolled his eyes. “God, Mac, it’s been fucked from the beginning. Do they sit down and talk to me — someone who knew you guys? No that would be too smart. Then they hire cops they know to do profiles on each of you. Donnelly was profiling you.” Kellerman shook his head in disbelief. “Something he found in your past made him curious about Parker. When the Feeb fuckup showed up to pick up the research on you, Donnelly said he wasn’t quite done. Then he started asking questions about Parker. Shouldn’t have even connected Parker to the investigation.”
“And then the Feeb panicked? Called for a hit?” Mac asked skeptically. “What the hell did Donnelly ask?”
Kellerman shrugged. “Don’t know. The FBI don’t share information easily. Anyway, the Feeb decides to clean house, so to speak, kill you, kill Donnelly, ruin your rep, discredit the whole deal. Too complicated, bound to go wrong.”
Mac nodded in sympathetic agreement. Complicated operations always went sour. Keep it simple, stupid was good advice no matter what you did. “So why do the cops think I shot Donnelly?”
Kellerman smiled without humor. “Same reason they kidnapped Danny’s sister. Leverage. Dumb fuckers.”
Mac stood away from the railing, stretched, cracking his spine. “Yeah? And what do you think Parker is going to do now? Turn Kristy loose to talk? Let Troy go? Right. And what? You’ll be conveniently out of the country when that goes down? And Parker’s Feeb fuck-up can finish what he started?”
Kellerman said nothing.
“Who’s the FBI part of this mess?” Mac asked. Kellerman didn’t answer. Mac hadn’t expected that he would.
Mac sighed. “Right,” he said with disgust. In a different tone, he added, “OK, now without any strange gestures, or getting too close to me to pull a knife or the gun you’ve been fingering in your left pocket, we’re going to walk slowly across the street to that black Lexus over there. When we get there, I’ll get in back, you get in the front. I’ll have my gun on you then, so don’t try anything. We’ll drop you off at your sniper’s location. You can untie him. Got it?”
“Got it,” Kellerman said without inflection.
The two men sauntered slowly across the street, both of them with their hands in their jacket pockets. When they got to the car, Shorty opened the front passenger door. C.J. Kellerman slid in. Mac closed the door behind him, and opened his own back door and slid in.
“Everything OK?” he asked Shorty.
“Slick as shit,” Shorty said, as he pulled back out onto the street. “Danny may look like a hayseed, but he’s fast in a fight.”
“And my man?” Kellerman asked sharply.
“Your man’s just fine,” Shorty said. “Unless Danny’s been beating on him since I left. He’s a bit pissed about his sister being missing.”
No one said anything as Shorty navigated the twisty roads up toward Pike Place Market. He pulled into an alley, honked the horn twice sharply. Danny poked his head out around a corner, and then nudged another man out ahead of him.
“You can get out,” Mac said. Kellerman opened the door without a word and got out. Danny slid into the car in his place. Kellerman stopped, gestured to Mac’s window. Mac rolled it down.
“Tell me... About the chicken,” Kellerman began. “Were you the Marine who went hungry because he didn’t know how to wring a chicken’s neck?”
Mac’s eyes were cold. “Not me,” he said. “I did what you showed us to do — and bit its damn head off.” The window rolled up, and the Lexus backed away, leaving Kellerman looking after them.
“Now what, boss?” Shorty asked, cruising slowly down past Pike Place, dodging tourists, kids, and the homeless.
Mac pulled his backpack from under the back seat, handed Shorty a piece of paper with a list of addresses on it. “We scope out these properties,” he said.
Shorty glanced at it. “Who we after? Bill Gates or something?”
“Howard Parker,” Mac said shortly.
Shorty yelped. “Fuck, Mac, couldn’t you have found a smaller fish to fry than that? Like a barracuda?”
“What’s the matter, he on your school board or something?”
Shorty shook his head. “No that’s a different Parker — cousin I believe. Seriously, Mac, you think Howard Parker is behind all this?”
Mac reached for Shorty’s cell phone. “You’re sure this thing is scrambled?” he asked for the umpteenth time.
“Yeah, it’s scrambled,” Shorty said. “Which of these places do you want to start with?”
“Start out and work in,” Mac said, punching in Janet’s home number.
“It’s me,” he said. “I’m safely back in the car after meeting Kellerman.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“Yeah, it’s Parker all right. Have to prove it though.”
Janet hesitated. “There’s someone here looking for you — Agent Warren. I haven’t told him anything but that you’d be checking in. He seems to know stuff anyway. Want to talk to him?”
“Warren? At your house? Yeah, put him on.”
“What did you think I gave you that card for?” Stan Warren asked. “Going off to a meet with Kellerman? Don’t you think you could have used a bit of back up? What, you wanted to give him a second chance to do the job right this time?”
“I provided my own backup,” Mac said. “Backup I trust. He says he wasn’t behind the first attack — as he said, his boys wouldn’t have fucked it up. Seems maybe Parker has strings that reach into the FBI as well as the Marines, Agent Warren. You?”
“Sh... No, not me,” Warren said, his voice cold.
“Didn’t think it was,” Mac said, settling into the back seat comfortably. “But you’ve got rogues in your bureau, Agent. I suspect I’ve met a couple of them recently at a stop. They said it was because I was suspected of picking up a drug dealer at the airport. One’s a heavy set, ex-cop, ex-military type, smoker voice. Probably 50, proud to be tough. His partner is smoother, younger. Dresses better. Has a bit more class, been to college instead of the Army perhaps? Recognize them?”
“White?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you just described 90 percent of the FBI,” Warren said dryly. “I suppose you could identify them if you saw them again?”
“Yeah, so could Danny. One of them was part of the break-in at his place in Louisiana. You do know about that don’t you?”
“Yeah, I know about that. Anything else?”
“They didn’t like me mentioning your name, or suggesting they follow me down to the nearest cop shop to do their search. Nor did they know there wasn’t a police station where I pointed. Not local, either, Agent Warren.”
“Seeing there are fewer than two dozen local FBI agents, that doesn’t narrow the field.”
“Who do you have watching me?” Mac asked, changing the subject. “Are you sure he isn’t in Parker’s camp?”
“What makes you sure I’ve got someone watching you?”
“You know too much.” Mac thought a moment. “Actually, you know more than that. You got a mole in Parker’s camp.”
“Well just don’t shoot anybody until you’re sure they’re shooting at you.”
“You warn your agent, and your mole, that I won’t hesitate to shoot everyone in the room. Let God sort them out,” Mac said coldly. “Your men had better speak up fast.”
“Got it.”
Mac looked at Danny. “You’re being awful quiet.”
Danny shook his head as if trying to wake up. “Kellerman bothers me, Mac,” he said. “Maybe I should give over those files. Are you sure Troy was on the right side of this?”
Mac shrugged. “No. But I do know Troy didn’t kidnap your sister, beat up my aunt, or try to kill me.”
“Yeah.”
Mac hesitated. “Danny, those files. They are in a safe place, aren’t they? I mean, if federal agents showed up and demanded them, could they find them?”
Danny snorted. “Not without warrants and a couple of court orders. This place doesn’t welcome the government in for any reason. And then they’d still have to find them.”
“Good.”
Danny was silent for a moment. “Why?”
“Because those files are the only things keeping your sister alive,” Mac said bluntly. “If they get those files before we get your sister — and Troy, I think — they’ll kill them both.”
“Kellerman?” Danny asked painfully.
Mac was silent. Danny groaned and went back to staring out the window.
Shorty went through a MacDonald’s drive through on the way out of the city. “It’s four o’clock,” he said. “Figure we need to eat.”
Mac unwrapped a hamburger, took a bite. He was hungry, he discovered. He swallowed, took another bite.
“It’ll be dark by 6:30 p.m.,” Shorty said. “We still going to case these joints?”
“You got anything better to do?” Mac asked.
Shorty raised his eyebrows. “On a Saturday night? Shit, Mac, getting stoned and grading papers would be more fun than this.”
“You’re really a schoolteacher?” Danny asked, his mouth full. “You weren’t shitting me?”
“He’s really a schoolteacher,” Mac said dryly. “Let me see the list. He’s got property in Snohomish — the old home place, I guess. Some commercial property in Bellevue, a cabin at Snoqualmie Falls, another on Whidbey Island, and probably the main house on Lake Washington.”
“I’ve read about that one,” Shorty said. “The house Bill Gates had to beat to be the biggest in town.”
“Whatever. Suppose we swing through Snohomish and Snoqualmie Falls tonight,” Mac said. “Hit the others tomorrow morning.”
Shorty nodded, pulled the Lexus out of the parking spot and onto the street. “You guys bunking down at my place?” he asked.
“That all right? We can’t go back to my place,” Mac said.
“Yeah, Caroline is pissed ‘cause I’m out with the guys tonight,” Shorty said, dryly. “She’s at her place sulking, picturing me out drinking and dancing without her. So, my apartment is available, shall we say.”
“Well, y’all up North sure know how to have a fine time on the town,” Danny said, gesturing with the last bite of his hamburger.
Snohomish was a ways out from downtown Seattle. Mac was glad it was Saturday — almost impossible to get any speed at 5 p.m. on a weekday. Too many people moving out away from downtown and then having to commute in. Still, the traffic was never good near Seattle. Mac listened to Shorty mutter at drivers who were too slow, in the wrong lane, or just basically in his way. It meant nothing. Shorty always yelled at other drivers.
Snohomish wasn’t much of a town, known mostly for its antique stores — Lindy occasionally came up for the day and would come back with all kinds of weird stuff. Once through town, the countryside was primarily green, even in early December. Mac looked out the window, not participating in the chitchat between Shorty and Danny — punctuated by Shorty’s discussions of the failures of other drivers. He wasn’t fond of the countryside. It held no attraction for him at all. He was a city kid. The only countryside he’d ever experienced was in the Marines, when he primarily was trying to get through it without getting killed. When he looked out at the trees and hills, he saw places for the enemy to be hiding, spots that could have a land mine planted, danger all around.
The first address was a farm nestled against the green hills. It was a real farm, still in operation it looked like, on the old road to Monroe. There was the white farmhouse, the red barn, various other buildings whose use wasn’t apparent to Mac. Old Macdonald’s farm, he thought sourly. Shorty drove by slowly.
“Nothing conspicuous about us,” Mac observed.
“You could be walking,” Shorty pointed out. “We need to get in closer?”
“Don’t bother,” Danny said. “They aren’t here.”
“What makes you say that?” Shorty asked.
“Kid’s toys. Tricycles, bicycles. Some family with kids lives here. We sure this is the place?”
Mac looked at his list. “It’s the place.”
“Then Parker’s got it leased to someone, someone who probably actually farms it,” Danny said. “You wouldn’t use a place with kids to hide out kidnapped victims — the kids would blab too much.”
Mac nodded. “Good point. Snoqualmie Falls, next,” he said.
The road from Snohomish to Snoqualmie Falls was winding and dark — but a fun road to drive a good car on, Shorty explained, shifting smoothly into a lower gear as he hit the hills.
“Of course, I can think of more fun people to have along on a moonlight Saturday night,” Shorty observed. “It isn’t even raining.”
“Can’t we all,” Mac said. He pointed at a turnoff. “Take that road, I think.” He compared the GPS to the address. “Yeah, about a mile up this lane, we want to go left.”
The lane wasn’t paved. Shorty concentrated on avoiding potholes and washboard. Everyone was silent; Mac kept his eyes on the road. Danny stared out the window at the dark woods.
They stopped at the top of the drive, 50 yards from the cabin. Wealthy people didn’t use their mountain cabins during the wintertime unless they were ski cabins. This one wasn’t, too low for that. It looked deserted from where they sat. It was hardly a cabin either — one of those trendy log homes with two stories, a big porch, balcony above, lots of glass windows.
“Man sure knows how to rough it, doesn’t he?” Mac muttered.
“There’s nobody here,” Danny said. “Are you sure, he’d stash them on his own property? He’s pretty good at deniability.”
Mac opened the door and got out. “Best way to keep control of the situation,” he said. “Especially a powerful man like Parker, he’s not going to get raided by the cops on a whim. Already got security in place probably — he’s the type.”
Shorty and Danny got out the car. “What about here?” Danny said. “He’s probably got security here, too.”
Shorty surveyed the place. “Yeah, I see the wires. We going in, Mac?”
Mac shook his head. “Just looking around. It feels too deserted for them to be here, but we’d be foolish if we left without looking, and they were tied up in back somewhere.”
“I’ll stay with the car,” Shorty said.
Mac nodded and gestured to Danny. Danny and Mac padded silently around the house; fading from shadow to shadow. The garbage cans were empty. The back windows were shuttered tight. No sounds of human occupancy. Rustling wind in the pine trees; that was about it. Danny leaned close to Mac’s ear, cautious even now.
“Not here,” Danny said softly. Mac nodded his head in agreement.
Both whirled at a rustling sound — Mac reached inside his jacket, going for his gun.
“Don’t shoot,” Shorty called softly from the shadows.
“Jesus Christ, Shorty,” Mac growled. “You want to get yourself killed?”
“You’ve got a phone call, Mac, on my cell phone,” Shorty said. He sounded freaked by it. “I think you’d better take it.”
Mac reached for the phone. “Who is it?” Mac asked.
Shorty shook his head. “How would anyone know to call this number to get you?” he whispered back. Mac shrugged.
“This is Mac Davis,” he said into the phone.
“We need to have a talk young man,” said a deep, rumbling voice. “Kellerman says you’re a reasonable man.”
Mac’s eyes widened; he looked at the phone as if it could bite. Parker? he mouthed to the others, and then gestured them toward the car. They nodded understanding and moved out to stand watch.
“I doubt Kellerman said anything like that,” Mac said dryly.
“Well, he said you could be reasoned with,” the voice acknowledged. “What will it take to reason with you?”
“Let the woman and Maxim loose,” Mac said.
Parker snorted. “Do you realize how much trouble I can cause you? I can make your life hell.”
“Seems to me the trouble is going your way,” Mac sparred.
“Minor inconveniences,” Parker said. “Let’s try this: You persuade Brown to give up the package Maxim left with him. You drop the story, tell Warren that you all had mixed up a couple of DEA missions, and I’ll call back my men.”
“And in return, I get what?”
“I won’t destroy you.”
There was silence. I am sitting at this man’s cabin talking to him, Mac thought. Does he know where I am?
“And Donnelly?”
“The cops don’t have enough to convict you. Unless I help them, they never will.”
“Maxim and the girl?”
“We’ll trade the girl for her brother if he brings Maxim’s packet.”
“Then what?”
“That won’t be any of your concern,” Parker said coldly. “What you need consider is what happens to you if you don’t cooperate.”
Mac looked around at the wealth displayed so casually in the middle of the woods. He smiled grimly. “Maybe you’ve got it wrong, Parker. Maybe you should be worried about what I can do to you.”
“You? A God damn drug dealer turned reporter. Your name should be struck from the Marine roll.”
Mac laughed. “You’ve got room to talk, Parker. I may have been dealing, but you were fucking manufacturing the stuff. Your operation makes mine look like kids sharing dope.”
“It isn’t the same thing at all!” Parker shouted. He got control of his voice and added, “I have never done anything but for the good of this country.”
“Tell that to the crackheads who bought your coke in Los Angeles and Chicago,” Mac taunted. “You sold the dope on American soil didn’t you? Used the leverage with the cartel, used the money to build a power base, siphon a bit off for your personal stash. And you preach to me? Shit.”
“We needed that information stream,” Parker said defensively. Mac listened. Would Parker blurt out some necessary pieces to the puzzle if he got him on the run?
“Right,” Mac drawled. “Why don’t you tell that to the press? Pardon me, I guess you are telling it to the press, aren’t you?”
“You can’t prove a goddamn thing without Maxim’s info!”
“Can’t I? I was on the mission too. I saw the same things Troy saw. And I’ll get more, Parker.”
“Son, you’ve got nothing,” Parker began. Mac interrupted.
“I am not your son,” he said. A muscle jumped in his jaw. He fought to keep his anger under control; the very word was a button he didn’t like pushed. “Unless, you know something my mom doesn’t even seem to know.”
“Probably a good thing, you aren’t,” Parker said without an ounce of humor. “I doubt either of us would have survived the experience. My own son is bad enough — I don’t need to add another loser to the family tree.”
Mac smiled coldly. Parker was trying to needle him just as he had poked hoping for something to spill. Mac eased back against the porch step a bit.
Parker went on when Mac didn’t respond to that. “And you are going to lose, you know. I have more than 20 years of experience, connections, and power over what you have.”
Mac laughed deliberately. “You know what they say: Do you have 20 years of experience or one year 20 times? You haven’t learned much from those 20 years, Parker.”
“The hell you say,” Parker said furiously; the needling had gotten to him again. Mac filed the information away. The old man wasn’t used to having someone stand up to him. “I hold all the cards in this game.”
Mac’s eyes were cold; the chill entered his voice. “I cheat at cards. You best watch your back. I’ll be coming for you.”
“I’ll bury you,” Parker said. “By the time I get done with you, you’ll be dead. Everyone will be blaming you for all of it. Unless you’re willing to negotiate.”
Mac reached into his backpack, dug out a cigarette lighter. He flicked it. “Can you hear the sound, Parker?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Parker said warily.
“You know where I am?”
“With your buddy and Brown. In a black Lexus, license plates AMD 324,” Parker said, expecting to intimidate with his knowledge.
Mac flicked the lighter a couple more times. “I’m sitting on your doorstep, Parker. It’s pretty out here. Quiet, remote. A good place to hide people, except they aren’t here. Be a long time before someone got a fire truck up that lane.”
“What the hell?” Parker spluttered.
“You’d better check your hole cards, Parker. You’ve got more to lose than I do.” Mac turned the phone off. He sat quietly for a moment, listening the silence. Then he got up and trotted back to the car.
“Let’s go,” Mac said as he got in the car.
Shorty nodded and carefully navigated his way back out. “Was that Parker?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Mac said. He tapped the folder on the dashboard. “I’ve got some reading to do.”
“What did he want?” Danny asked anxiously. “Is Kristy okay?”
“Kristy’s fine until he gets the information he wants,” Mac said. He didn’t mention Parker’s proposed exchange. Danny might be idealistic enough to think Parker would keep his end of the bargain.
“How did he get my cell phone number?” Shorty demanded.
“He didn’t say. But he knew your license plate number. Kellerman probably passed that on. We’re going to need to ditch this car,” Mac said.
“And then what?”
“Then I’ve got a packet of information to read,” Mac repeated, tapping the folder from the newspaper’s files.
“That’s it?” Shorty asked. “That’s all you’re going to tell us?”
Mac leaned his head back against the headrest. “The rest wasn’t important,” he said.