Stan Taylor drove the Crown Vic away from the Pequot Woods. Sculley sat in back next to Raines.
Raines had his cuffs fastened to a bar on the seat in front of them.
How he had enjoyed that! Being whisked out of Hauck’s grasp. Wachman had always said they would come through for him. And so they did! He had always done the hard jobs, the jobs no one else was willing to do.
Now he was being paid back.
He had no idea where he was being taken, other than he was with people who knew how to handle things and make things go away. Wachman. Casey. They’d said they had people in their pockets. They’d work out some kind of safe haven. They knew that if Raines ever had to face those damaging charges, he could take a lot of very important people down.
A pivotal cog in an ongoing corruption investigation…
That was priceless!
They rode for a while in silence. The car banked onto the highway south, in the direction of New Haven. The headlights of the second FBI car shone brightly behind them, hovering a few lengths behind. This time of night, the traffic was light. Raines allowed himself a moment to feel relieved. Ecstatic. He had performed his duties capably and without question. He had done what he was paid to do. Protect his employer’s interests.
“So where are you taking me?” He turned to the agent in charge seated next to him.
The man was balding, a little reddish fuzz around the sides. He merely shrugged. “The less you know, the better.”
Probably right. Raines sat back. “Tell Mr. Wachman I appreciate this.”
Sculley nodded obligingly. “I’ll be sure to pass that along.”
The road was dark. The highway was basically a link between the casino and I-95, the main north-south artery along the coast. Pretty much nothing in between. Raines settled in, then glanced behind him.
The headlights from the car behind them had disappeared.
The black agent driving slowed the car.
The slightest tremor of anticipation shot through Raines. “What’s going on?”
Taylor pulled off onto the embankment on the side of the road.
“Making a transfer,” Sculley said. The agent in charge reached across and undid his cuffs.
“Transfer?” There wasn’t a light on the highway. He didn’t see anyone else around.
Taylor climbed out of the front on the passenger side.
“Here,” Sculley said, “this may come in handy.” The FBI man reached under his jacket and, to Raines’s shock, handed him his own gun. A Smith & Wesson .40 caliber. Raines was familiar. Standard agency issue.
Raines’s heart picked up. This wasn’t like any transfer. “What the hell’s happening?”
“Take it,” said the agent in charge.
Warily, Raines wrapped his hand around the gun. The weight seemed a little light. He was about to check the clip when Taylor opened the door.
“C’mon, get out.”
“Out?” Raines looked back, not quite understanding. The anticipation he was feeling had now crossed into uneasiness. With a bit of hesitation, he climbed out the open door. He rubbed his wrists and fingered the proffered gun. He noticed the safety was off. It still felt light. He looked around for some kind of activity on the road.
There was none.
“This is some kind of joke, right?”
“Yeah, Raines,” Sculley said, “a real knee slapper. Now get the fuck going.”
“Going?” He looked around. They were in the middle of nowhere…
Taylor, the driver, opened his sport jacket. His own gun was holstered at his waist. “Get moving, Raines. Call it your lucky day. Must be all those people watching over you. This is the end of the line. Run.”
Run? Raines looked back and forth between Sculley and Taylor, trying to figure out what was going on. All he saw was a ditch on the side of the highway. Where the hell could he go?
The uneasiness had deepened into worry, worry into freaking out.
“Where’s Wachman? You let Senator Casey know that I’m here. Call him! I’ve done favors for him. He’ll want to know.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Raines,” Agent in Charge Sculley said.
In front of him, Taylor removed his gun.
His eyes widened. He was being set up. He lifted Sculley’s Smith & Wesson. Raines took a step back, dread kicking up in his blood. The black FBI guy stood there unconcerned.
You sons of bitches… Raines panicked. He fired.
Nothing happened. All he heard was a click.
In fear, he pointed and kept on firing. Several shots, in rapid succession. Aimed at Taylor’s chest.
Just clicks.
Raines’s jaw dropped. He put the gun down. He started to back away.
“Senator Casey sends his regards,” Agent Taylor said.
Anyone within half a mile would’ve heard the two rapid retorts.