Jane brought the BMW to life and quickly took the corner. Their quarry was nowhere to be seen.
“Okay, take a right at the next corner,” Sunny directed. “Maybe he’s doing that instead of making the U-turn.”
They made two turns and spotted the SUV with a three-block lead on them, which Jane closed to one block. The driver ahead didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, dawdling his way around downtown Portsmouth, seemingly taking turns at random. Jane sat white-knuckled at the wheel out of sheer frustration. She muttered curse words as cars cut her off or beeped at her to hurry up. “What the hell is this guy doing?”
“Maybe he’s got a meeting somewhere and is just killing time,” Sunny suggested.
They followed the SUV into a more industrial neighborhood. The few stores that fronted on the street had closed. “Well, this is a good place for a meeting—if you like spy movies,” Jane said.
The big guy’s SUV made a sudden turn into a narrow alleyway.
“Cut off your lights and turn in,” Sunny said. “If he keeps going, we can follow him. If we don’t see his lights, we’ll pretend we’re making a K-turn—”
“And get out of here?” Jane suggested.
“I guess so,” Sunny said. She’d hoped the guy they were following might lead her to some hangout where they’d be able to watch him discreetly, maybe even eavesdrop. As the thrill of the chase died down, Sunny’s more cautious side weighed in. This guy was a possible killer, after all. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a great idea to get too close to him. Still, if they got an idea where he stopped in this dark alley, they could come back in the daytime and get an address.
Jane made the turn, and had to jam on the brakes—the SUV was right in front of them.
And then, a second later, another SUV came pulling up behind, boxing them in.
Sunny and Jane looked at each other.
11
A figure in a heavy overcoat got out of the truck behind them and stepped over to Jane’s window, his hand in one pocket. At the same time, the big guy had appeared beside Sunny’s door, blocking her in, too. And he also had his hand in a pocket of his big, floppy coat.
The guy by Jane rapped on the window with his free hand. She lowered it a little.
“We have to talk,” the man said in a pleasant tenor voice. Sunny caught a slight accent. “Please to come out.”
With his big friend keeping watch over both Sunny and Jane, the smaller guy went into the alley and opened a door. Sunny exchanged a look with Jane. They really didn’t have a choice in the matter. So they got out of the BMW and went inside.
They found themselves in a sort of foyer, a plain, concrete-floored box with a heavy metal door facing the entranceway. Sunny was pretty sure if she tried the handle, she’d find it locked. As for the way back out, the big guy planted himself in front of that, more effective than any lock.
The fellow who’d spoken before put out his hand. “Identification, please.”
Sunny and Jane wordlessly handed over their wallets. While he looked through them, Sunny noticed that, despite his heavy overcoat, he was actually a slim guy. The big man would probably make about three of him.
Mr. Slim held up Jane’s driver’s license, his sharp features relaxing a little. “Mrs. Doctor Rigsdale,” he said. “Please accept my excuses. And you, too, Miss Coolidge. When Olek here calls me, says someone is following him, and asks for instructions, you might understand why we worry.”
“But now that you know who we are, you’re not worried?” Jane asked.
“Yes,” the man said simply. “I am Dani, by the way. And while I don’t know you, I do know—did know—Mr. Doctor Rigsdale.”
He breathed hard through his nose. “He owes me money.”
“I tell you a story,” Dani said, handing back their wallets. “It goes back to the time I live in Kiev—Ukraine. My father, he has a business . . . let us call it moving things.”
“That can be a useful business,” Sunny said. “Like when people need to get their furniture to a new house.”
Dani shrugged. “That’s not exactly what we’d do.”
“Or when you need to get food from the country into a city,” Jane suggested, but Dani shook his head.
“There are things that people might want,” Sunny said slowly, remembering her friend Vanya’s comments on Ukrainian smuggling rings, “That other people—like a government—wouldn’t like to move.”
Dani nodded and smiled. “Exactly right. Sometimes it could be cigarettes, or vodka—or even money.”
“Sounds like a good business,” Sunny said.
