"Something like that. While you're at it, I need a few others things. I'll make it worth your while." She told him what she wanted.
The man reluctantly agreed and quoted an extravagant price. He was trying to allay his concern with cash.
"Fine," Julia said. "Bring them to the Hungry Farmer on Henley Street at five." Their taxi had passed the restaurant on their way out of Knoxville. She knew through Bonsai that the cops were onto Dorsett's clone-phone business. She couldn't risk their seeing her at his counterfeit storefront.
"Hey, I don't make house calls, lady. I don't care who you know."
"Tell me business is booming after
It's what eventually got them all: greed.
"All right, five o'clock, but I ain't coming in. I'll be driving a red convertible Camaro. Come out when you see me, cash in hand."
"See you then," she said, sweet as candy.
fifty-one
Allen just didn't get it, and Stephen shouldn't have been surprised. He shook his big head and steered the van onto Broadway Avenue. After the Vega, it was a pleasure to drive such a smooth-running machine; that he actually
"It's not like I assaulted the guy," Allen said, continuing their argument.
"You said his van was a piece of—"
"That's called negotiation."
"You were antagonizing the man!" A light turned red, allowing him to turn the full force of his gaze on his brother.
"Oh, bull," Allen countered snidely, which was really no counter at all. "He didn't take offense."
"He almost decked you."
"I would have let him if it lowered the price."
"How can you spend so much money and be so cheap at the same time?"
"How green do you want it?"
Stephen glared at him a moment, then realized he was talking about the traffic light and accelerated through the intersection.
"Besides, he could have told us to take a hike if he didn't like my attitude," Allen said.
"Some people don't have the luxury you do to turn their backs on cash. Not that you ever have." It was a wonder they had come from the same family. The next light turned yellow, and he slowed for it. He seemed to have caught the red side of Broadway's traffic-light cycle. Fortunately, they were only a few blocks from the motel.
Abruptly, Allen fell to the floor between the two front captain's chairs. "Turn your head to the left!" he yelled, motioning wildly in that direction. His terrified expression compelled Stephen to obey.
"What?" he asked.
"Don't look, but the motel . . ."
He flicked his vision at the Motel 6, catty-corner on the right. The massive figure of the Warrior filled the open office doorway. He had his head cranked around, looking into the parking lot, toward where Stephen waited for the light to turn green. Stephen turned his head away. He felt the skin on his arms rise rapidly into goose bumps. There were maybe fifty yards between them. The Warrior could look right at him if the thought crossed his mind.
A horn behind him blared.
"Oh—" Green light. He glanced over. The Warrior was talking to someone in the office. Stephen made a panicked decision to turn away from the motel, instead of driving past it. He checked for cars in the left-turn lane, signaled, and edged into the intersection. A pickup was approaching from the other direction, and he braked for it, realizing too late that he could have darted across ahead of it. If a siren erupted from the van and flashing lights sprang up on its roof, he would not have felt more exposed. Another car pulled out from a liquor store, filling the gap between the truck and a knot of cars racing forward from the intersection a block away.
"Come on, come on," he said under his breath.
"Just go!" From his position on the floor, Allen was blind to the traffic.
Stephen hunkered low in the seat and looked over. The Warrior
had come out of the office. He was standing in the sunlight, squinting at the cars in the parking lot.
The car behind him honked again. Stephen jumped. The Warrior turned to look. He put his hand against his brow to block the sun. The horn blared again, longer. Now the Warrior was striding forward, across the motel parking lot, directly toward Stephen.
He realized the rear of the long van was blocking the lane that went straight through the intersection. Deciding to turn had been a mistake.
He calculated he could cut through the traffic behind a car and pray the oncoming drivers were attentive enough to slam on their brakes hard enough and fast enough to avoid colliding with him. He saw an opening and knew there wasn't room. He was going for it anyway.
