lifeline. Then back at us. “I have a beater Chevy truck in the garage. Space 104. I barely drive the thing, I certainly don’t take it to social events or Elysium. Eve wouldn’t recognize it. The keys are marked and hanging by the elevator on the key rack.”
“When will the money be here and ready?” asks Zack.
Maitlan checks his watch. “I called my banker last night. It’s too much for me to waltz out of the bank with. They own an armored Mercedes. He’s bagging up the money, placing the duffels in the trunk and driving it over. I should have it in hand by ten.”
Zack turns to Bradley. “Keep a security detail on it.”
“Will do.”
“Roger?” Zack’s hand is on Maitlan’s arm. “You going to be all right?”
He narrows his eyes. “I will be as soon as I have my son back. Zack? Don’t let them get away.”
Zack releases his grip. “We won’t.”
* * * *
We pick up Eve’s tail on I-87 N out of the city. Zack is riding shotgun. The two of us are in the lead car, our dress casual. Just two folks heading out of the city to enjoy a little fresh air for the day. Torres and O’Neill are following in a black sedan with tinted windows. Thanks to Bradley, we’re all in communication.
“Where do you think she’s heading?” Zack asks after we’ve been traveling thirty minutes.
“No cement, no skyscrapers. I think they call this the country,” Torres replies dryly.
No kidding. We’re surrounded by gently sloping farmland and green pastures. “It’s hard to believe this is right outside New York City,” I say.
“For how long, who knows?” Torres replies. “More and more families are selling out to developers. A few have preserved their farms, but the money is a great temptation to most.”
“Does Eve have property out here?” I ask.
Bradley chimes in. “Not that I’ve been able to find.”
We’re a good ten car lengths behind Eve. An impatient driver passes Torres, then us. He rolls down his window and flicks out a cigarette. I get the feeling he’s about to pass Eve as we approach the turnoff to Underhill Avenue from the Taconic State Parkway, but he doesn’t have to. Her turn signal flashes on.
“Here we go. She’s turning,” Zack says.
No sooner does she complete the turn, the guy ahead of us in the pick-up pulls off to the side of the road. “What an asshole.” I mutter. “He passes us just to pull over?”
“He’s one of ours,” replies Torres. “We’re trying to create the illusion of additional traffic. Makes us less conspicuous.”
We continue to follow Eve from a safe distance. A range rover marked as a Sheriff’s car drives past us on the opposite side of Underhill Ave. “He one of ours too?” Zack asks.
“No sir,” Torres confirms. “He’s out here all on his own.”
If the sudden appearance of the Sheriff made Eve nervous, it’s not evident. And there’s no sign that she’s aware of being followed.
“It looks like she’s going to turn on Baptist Church Road,” I announce. “Do I follow?”
I can hear Bradley clicking away on his keyboard. “There’s a popular farm store out that way,” he says. “But it’s on a two-lane road and not open for the day yet, so it’s too early for there to be much traffic. I can re-route Torres once we know where Eve’s headed. Emma, you go ahead and take the turn. Aside from the store, there are only a couple farms out that way. If she turns on Croton, you keep going on Baptist Church Road. Pull over and wait. As soon as Eve reaches her destination, I’ll let you know. We’re close, I can feel it.”
Bradley’s hunch is correct. Eve makes another right onto Croton Avenue. I drive past the turn off, then pull over. The road we’re on now is narrow, framed on both sides by thick woods. Two additional SUV’s come out of nowhere.
“I thought we couldn’t trust anyone?” Torres asks.
“These guys aren’t local. They’re with the Hostage Rescue Team.” Zack turns to me and adds,
“When will the money be here and ready?” asks Zack.
Maitlan checks his watch. “I called my banker last night. It’s too much for me to waltz out of the bank with. They own an armored Mercedes. He’s bagging up the money, placing the duffels in the trunk and driving it over. I should have it in hand by ten.”
Zack turns to Bradley. “Keep a security detail on it.”
“Will do.”
“Roger?” Zack’s hand is on Maitlan’s arm. “You going to be all right?”
He narrows his eyes. “I will be as soon as I have my son back. Zack? Don’t let them get away.”
Zack releases his grip. “We won’t.”
* * * *
We pick up Eve’s tail on I-87 N out of the city. Zack is riding shotgun. The two of us are in the lead car, our dress casual. Just two folks heading out of the city to enjoy a little fresh air for the day. Torres and O’Neill are following in a black sedan with tinted windows. Thanks to Bradley, we’re all in communication.
“Where do you think she’s heading?” Zack asks after we’ve been traveling thirty minutes.
“No cement, no skyscrapers. I think they call this the country,” Torres replies dryly.
No kidding. We’re surrounded by gently sloping farmland and green pastures. “It’s hard to believe this is right outside New York City,” I say.
“For how long, who knows?” Torres replies. “More and more families are selling out to developers. A few have preserved their farms, but the money is a great temptation to most.”
“Does Eve have property out here?” I ask.
Bradley chimes in. “Not that I’ve been able to find.”
We’re a good ten car lengths behind Eve. An impatient driver passes Torres, then us. He rolls down his window and flicks out a cigarette. I get the feeling he’s about to pass Eve as we approach the turnoff to Underhill Avenue from the Taconic State Parkway, but he doesn’t have to. Her turn signal flashes on.
“Here we go. She’s turning,” Zack says.
No sooner does she complete the turn, the guy ahead of us in the pick-up pulls off to the side of the road. “What an asshole.” I mutter. “He passes us just to pull over?”
“He’s one of ours,” replies Torres. “We’re trying to create the illusion of additional traffic. Makes us less conspicuous.”
We continue to follow Eve from a safe distance. A range rover marked as a Sheriff’s car drives past us on the opposite side of Underhill Ave. “He one of ours too?” Zack asks.
“No sir,” Torres confirms. “He’s out here all on his own.”
If the sudden appearance of the Sheriff made Eve nervous, it’s not evident. And there’s no sign that she’s aware of being followed.
“It looks like she’s going to turn on Baptist Church Road,” I announce. “Do I follow?”
I can hear Bradley clicking away on his keyboard. “There’s a popular farm store out that way,” he says. “But it’s on a two-lane road and not open for the day yet, so it’s too early for there to be much traffic. I can re-route Torres once we know where Eve’s headed. Emma, you go ahead and take the turn. Aside from the store, there are only a couple farms out that way. If she turns on Croton, you keep going on Baptist Church Road. Pull over and wait. As soon as Eve reaches her destination, I’ll let you know. We’re close, I can feel it.”
Bradley’s hunch is correct. Eve makes another right onto Croton Avenue. I drive past the turn off, then pull over. The road we’re on now is narrow, framed on both sides by thick woods. Two additional SUV’s come out of nowhere.
“I thought we couldn’t trust anyone?” Torres asks.
“These guys aren’t local. They’re with the Hostage Rescue Team.” Zack turns to me and adds,
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