No Way Back(Jack McNeal #1)(42)

“Close call, let me tell you. Finn, please bill me for this work. I feel bad for taking up your time without paying. I prefer to keep things aboveboard. You understand?”

“I understand. But I don’t want a paper trail. This is a personal favor for you and your father. You need people you can trust at times like this, son. But think long and hard before you go after this guy.”





Twenty-Nine

Andrew Forbes approached a small village in the eastern foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains when his cell phone buzzed to life. He was seventy miles west of Washington, DC.

A man’s voice told him, “You’re getting closer.”

“Thank God for that. I thought I was never going to get there.”

“Drive on for two more miles.”

Forbes did as he was told. He saw the sign marked Old Rag Mountain.

“You’ll get on the Old Rag Mountain trail up ahead.”

“Old Rag—”

“Then get out of your vehicle and hike on the dirt path.”

“Got it.”

“One final thing: remember, take the battery out of your cell phone.”

“Why do you want me to do that?”

“So, we know you’re alone and not being followed. Do you copy?”

“I understand. Sorry, copy that, yes.”

“Don’t be late.”

Forbes’s mouth went dry. He considered what the hell he was doing out in the middle of nowhere. He drove until he saw the sign and parked. He got out of the vehicle. He pulled on his backpack that contained water, a compass, and some cereal bars. He carefully took the battery out of his cell phone and placed it in a side pocket. He followed the dirt path into the woods. He hiked on for a mile through a forest, heading higher into the wild. Shoulder-high ferns brushed his skin. He flicked away the flies buzzing his face. “Fuck!”

He trudged through single-track trails and ankle-deep streams until he came to a clearing. Two men stood, wearing camouflage, shades, and masks, each holding semi-automatics, blocking his path.

The smaller of the two stepped forward. “Spread ’em! Hands on your head!”

Forbes complied as the guy frisked the insides of his legs, waist, and chest. The backpack was ripped off his back.

“We’ll hold on to this for safekeeping.”

“I need my cell phone.”

“Not where you’re going.”

“Where to now?”

The smaller of the two pointed to a narrow opening in the trees. “Follow that route. Ten minutes due south, up the trail. You’ll arrive at a log cabin. She’ll be waiting outside for you.” The man cocked his head in the direction of the trail. “Go on, get!”

Forbes took the hint and moved on, quickening his pace. He hadn’t expected such a welcome party. His shirt clung to his sweaty back. He hiked hard, wishing he had his backpack to take a drink of water. Eventually he came to a clearing, and the log cabin, and the woman.

Standing, hands on her hips, was Karen Feinstein.

“What took you so long?”

Forbes wiped his brow with the back of his hands. “I got lost somewhere around God knows where.” He walked up to her and hugged her tight. “What’s with the goons half a mile back?”

“Don’t worry, they’re my guys. They’re just not house-trained.”

“They need to lighten up.”

“That is them lightened up.”

“What’s this all about?”

“Loose ends. I wanted to give you an update in person. Things are getting trickier than we anticipated.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“We had a situation last night. We thought we would nip this McNeal character in the bud.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a slam dunk. Send in the girl and blackmail him. What happened?”

“Jack McNeal is way more dogged than we anticipated. He’s smart. And I’m worried about him.”

Forbes shrugged. “What do you mean? What the fuck happened?”

“Apparently McNeal pulled a gun on our girl. A fucking gun. She’s done it a hundred times before. Best in class. But this time . . . this time, she got her comeuppance.”

“So, hang on, this Internal Affairs cop, McNeal. He’s got the story?”

“Not exactly. He’s got a version of the story. Francesca told McNeal who had paid her. Said it was a woman. But it might be only a matter of time before McNeal figures out that it’s me.”

“Fuck.”

“This is not good.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Forbes wiped the sweat from his brow.

“We paid her in cash. So, that’s gone.”

“The money is the least of our problems.”

“We have to deal with this. And that’s why I wanted to tell you face-to-face.”

Forbes struggled to keep up. “What if someone starts digging into Francesca? I mean really digging into how you two go way back.”

“Then we’ve got a major problem.”

“Where is she?”

“We brought her here.”

Forbes looked at her face, half-expecting this to be a joke. But there was no punchline. No laughing. No smiles. “Here? What do you mean, here? Are you fucking with me?”