Mr. Dark 4 (Tamed #4)(23)

He fired up his engine and drove off after the kiss, and I followed him, keeping a decent distance between us. I wanted to get him alone, and try to find a way to implement my plan.

Thankfully, he made a move that I hadn't expected. Instead of going home, he turned towards the industrial district and the Pressman Contractors office. I wondered what he was up to, but decided not to look a gift horse too much in the mouth. Instead, I drove past, pulling around a building down the block and shutting off my engine. Getting out, the dome light gave away nothing, I'd turned it off long ago. From the back seat I took out my equipment and checked my load. I was ready.

I approached the Pressman building silently, doing my best to avoid any cameras or other surveillance equipment. I was wearing a skull cap and camouflage face paint, so I doubted I could be identified by image, but still I wanted to take as few chances as possible.

I didn't wear a full ski mask. I've done it before, and it does have its uses. If you are in an ambush, or in a long range sniping situation, they can be great for retaining body heat. However, there is one flaw in even the most high tech ski mask, and that is that it changes the way you hear, and the way you breathe. I didn't want either problem in a fluid, sensorally important stalk.

As I came around the side of the Pressman building, I heard the key rattle in the front door, and Scott Pressman come out. I flattened myself against one of the company trucks, close enough that I could hear him and even see when he moved. What he said was helpful.

"Yeah, it's me baby," he said, obviously talking into a cell phone. "Who, the redhead? Yeah, she's going to be ripe for the picking soon. I've got her so hopped up on my act that she'll give us anything we want. Info on Smiley, his bank account numbers, anything we want. Sure, it wasn't as good as taking out that girl with him, Warbird, but still, getting his main financial advisor is a good in."

He paused, listening to whatever the person on the other side said. "No, you'd of had fun with her too if you'd tried. She seems to have had a thing for women, she'd have been putty in your hands. Ha, maybe sometime later, if we could figure out the angle to play it. No, she was pretty good, a lot better than a lot of the marks I hit. No baby, she was nowhere near as good as you of course. Hey, I'll be home soon, I'm going to check in with a buddy on some computer cracking gear, I hear that Smiley's a real bear when it comes to cyber security. The redhead might get us in the door, but I doubt she's got Smiley's passwords. I love you too, baby. Bye."

He hung up the phone, and rattled the keys in the lock again. I heard a deadbolt shoot, and I made my move. Easing around the side of the truck, I saw Scott Pressman pull out a keyring from the door and turn to his right, pocketing the keys. He never saw me approaching from the left, and my tranquilizer dart caught him right where I wanted, close to the carotid artery. He barely had time to swat at his neck before his legs went to jelly, and he collapsed on the ground.

Scott woke up ten minutes later, the sedative was fast acting but also short term. I didn't take him far, in fact we were inside the Pressman building. He struggled a bit against his bonds, but couldn't break the plastic zip-strips I had tied his arms and legs to the office chair with, they were rated to four hundred pounds of pressure each, and I'd used two on each limb, as well as a conveniently left lying piece of rope to tie his waist to the seat as well. He wasn't going anywhere. "What the.....?"

"How's it going, Knave?" I asked. This was the difficult part of my act, and the only part I had to somewhat play by ear. I tapped a small button on my belt, and the digital video recorder I had in my back pocket turned on. The lens and microphone was attached to my shirt, so as long as I kept Scott in my sight, I was good. The lights were dim though, so the image wasn't great. It helped protect me. "Thought you and I should become better acquainted."

"Who are you?" he asked, trying to see in the murky darkness. I was sure he could see my outline against the slightly lighter darkness outside, but that was about it. Meanwhile, the very dim light allowed me to see him in pastel blues, grays and blacks, like some sort of anime noir. "Who is this Knave?"

"Oh, don't be shy, you're damn near a legend," I said, teasing him. "I mean, I was pretty well known, but you'd expect that. My job depended on fear and intimidation, people needed to know at least my nickname if nothing else. But you, oh you are the opposite, the fewer people know who the Knave of Hearts is, the better, especially those with wives or daughters who might be your targets. But you're so damn good that even a simple leg breaker like me knew who you were, dude. The Knave of Hearts, best damn dick in the city. The Lothario of Larceny, the Corrupting Cock of Cons, Don Juan de Thievio!"

Pressman dropped the act, and sat up straighter in the chair. "Okay, okay. Fuck man, did you make that last one up yourself?"

"Kinda did. Watched Rocky IV before coming over, and loved how Apollo Creed got himself a ton of nicknames. But that's not the point. I've been a big admirer of your work, man."

Pressman laughed. "Which is why I'm zip-tied to an office chair. Nice choice, by the way, choosing the wheeled one that I can't tip over because the base is too wide. And you attached my feet in such a way pushing off the floor is impossible too. You've had training. So can I ask your name, or are you going to just be my secret admirer?"

"Oh, how remiss of me!" I said with a big, fake Southern accent. Actually, all I did was take my native South Carolina accent and turn it up to eleven. "Of course you may know who I am. I mean, after all, when we're done, I'm just going to have to let you go, let you go, can't hold you back any more....."