The Drifter (Peter Ash #1)(80)

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“What’s the point?” he said, although he knew already. “Why me?”

“Because you’re perfect,” said Lipsky. “Homeless vet, no job, post-traumatic stress. History of violence. Look at you. Sweaty and pale. Trying to hold in whatever demons have taken root. Practically a ghost already. You’re a walking time bomb. Much better than the last guy we had.”

“The last guy,” said Peter. And found that he already knew that, too.

“Your friend, Mr. Johnson. He was going to be our co-conspirator, although he never made it past the planning stages.”

Peter clenched his jaw. “Who killed him? You?”

“It was an accident,” said Lipsky with a shrug. “There’s a reason cops don’t use that choke hold anymore. I was just trying to get him under control.”

Now Peter understood. “The bullet under his chin was to prevent an autopsy.”

“A good choke doesn’t leave bruises,” said Lipsky. “That’s a murder investigation. But I knew the coroner wouldn’t think twice about another veteran suicide.” He shook his head. “As it was, him dying already screwed everything up. We lost track of the contents of that suitcase.” He smiled at Peter. “Until now.”

“I know what you wanted the plastic for. But what’s with the money?”

“Payment,” said Lipsky. “Services rendered. I worked hard for that money. It’s not easy to bury a murder charge. I’m going to want that back, too, by the way. It’s not much compared to what we’re expecting, but it’s nice to have hard cash in hand, just in case. Always have more than one exit strategy, right?”

“So it’s all about the money.”

Lipsky raised his eyebrows. “Ten years in the Army, fifteen as a cop. My life on the line every day. Getting paid shit. And this is it? A pension promise that might get revoked the next time the governor gets the hiccups?”

Peter ignored Lipsky’s whining. You signed up for it, you knew what you were getting into. “So what’s the target?” he asked. “How many people are you planning to kill?”

The phone in Lipsky’s hand chimed again. Lipsky glanced down. “Right on schedule. In about two minutes, you’ll tell me where to find the C-4.”

The scarred man walked through the big rusted iron door from the veterans’ center. He wore the same black leather car coat and Kangol cap worn backward. His face was a collection of mottled bruises, the skin split and raw at the lip and left cheek. He saw Peter cuffed behind the table and sauntered toward him with a cruel smile.

“Boomer.” Lipsky’s voice cracked like a whip. It made Peter want to stand at attention, and he was handcuffed to a chair.

Boomer’s mouth bunched like a fist, but his step faltered. “I’m just gonna hit him once.” The man’s face really was a mess.

“What happened to you?” asked Peter with an innocent expression. “Fall off a bicycle?”

Boomer started toward Peter again. “I’m gonna hit you so fuckin’ hard—”

“Stop,” said Lipsky, his voice an edged weapon. The scarred man froze in his tracks. “You can have him later, Boomer. Right now you’re still working for me. So show me.”

“Fine.” Boomer’s mouth twisted up farther, but he turned away from Peter and pulled a phone from his pocket to show Lipsky. “We’re all set up.”

Lipsky looked at the screen. “You’ve only got one kid here. Where’s the dog?”

Boomer shrugged. “There was only the one kid. And no dog.”

The static flared into Peter’s brain. His arms strained against the cuffs, his gut clenched, and his chest was wrapped in steel bands. Breathe in, breathe out. I hear you, old friend. Just hold off for a few minutes.

Lipsky gave Boomer a sour look.

Boomer threw his hands in the air. “Hey, trust me, we looked. I wanted to shoot that dog personally.”

Lipsky shook his head, then took the phone out of Boomer’s hand and held it so Peter could see the screen. “This is why you’re going to give me that C-4. My guys went in and took them this morning.” Dinah and Miles, wearing rags as blindfolds, bound with the same yellow plastic handcuffs, sat on a bare dusty floor with a pale brick wall at their back. They were somewhere in the warehouse, maybe even the next room.

They looked so small and helpless. This wasn’t supposed to happen. And where were Charlie and the dog?

But this, he knew, changed everything.

His plan with Lewis was out the window.





37





Peter


Go watch the woman and the kid,” Lipsky told Boomer. “Don’t touch them. Just keep them calm and quiet. Start prepping the drums. And send Midden back here.”

Boomer scooped up the coils of conduit from the table, glared at Peter, and walked through the door to the warehouse.

Peter pulled hard at the plastic cuffs. “What did you do?”

“We took them,” said Lipsky. “Your other friends are dead. Collateral damage. I believe you know the term.”

“If you harm them, either one of them,” said Peter, “I will kill you in the most painful way possible.”