Near Dark (Scot Harvath #19)(58)
His preference was to stash it someplace out of sight and walk up to the house. That said, he didn’t want to leave it anyplace that might be tempting for thieves to break into. He had too much stuff in the cargo area that he didn’t want to lose.
In the end, as was so often the case, fate handed him his answer. One of the side streets was involved in a public works project and was off-limits. That had pushed cars onto the next side street, where they were parked along the curb almost bumper to bumper. The only open parking was on Luk?a’s street and based on the posted signs, it was permit-only. Harvath found an empty spot at the beginning of the block and pulled in. Now, he had a decision to make.
Murphy’s Law being what it was, he felt certain that the moment he stepped out of his vehicle and walked away, a cop or a parking enforcement officer would come by and notice the infraction. Not knowing what kind of sticklers they were for enforcement, at best he was looking at a ticket, at worst—getting towed. Either way, there would be a record of his vehicle being in the area.
Depending on how his meeting with the truck driver went, that might not be a problem. But his job was to prepare for the worst. And there was actually something worse than getting towed. If the cops forced their way into his vehicle and went through his gear, it would no longer be a parking enforcement issue. It would become much more serious.
His other option was to find a car that was unlocked and steal that person’s parking permit. That was asking for just as much trouble. There was no telling how many pairs of eyes were looking out from behind curtains and upstairs bedroom windows. It would only take one person to call the authorities and all the aforementioned problems would come crashing down on top of him.
Picking up his encrypted phone, he texted Nicholas a request. As he waited for the answer to come back, he pulled a piece of blank paper and a Sharpie from his laptop bag.
Two minutes later, he had his response. Zooming in on the picture Nicholas had sent, Harvath copied the sentences exactly as they had been written in Lithuanian. This vehicle belongs to a home healthcare nurse. I am visiting a patient. I will return shortly. Thank you for your understanding.
From the armrest, he retrieved the Sig Sauer P226 9mm pistol McGee had given him, as well as two of the additional magazines. Removing it from its Sticky holster, he did a press check to make sure a round was in the chamber. Then he returned it to its holster and placed it inside his waistband at the small of his back. The mags went into his pocket.
Placing the note on the dashboard, he knew it was contradictory to the image he was about to present the neighbors. Hopefully, he could get in and out before anyone noticed.
Leaning back, he grabbed his purchase from the farmer’s market and then unlocked the Land Cruiser’s door.
Stepping onto the street, he looked slowly around and didn’t see anyone. Because it was a weekday, most of the residents were likely at work.
Shutting the door, he armed the vehicle’s alarm system, and headed toward Luk?a’s home. He didn’t like the fact that he was going to have to confront the man while his wife was there. He liked even less what he might have to do—to both of them.
Nevertheless, there was no way around it. The ball was in the truck driver’s court. How the game played out would be entirely dependent upon what happened the moment Harvath rang his bell.
CHAPTER 26
Taking his time, Harvath walked up the street toward the narrow, two-story home. It was a warm day and the windows facing the street were open. There was a light breeze and, when it picked up, striped yellow curtains could be seen billowing in and out.
As he got closer, he could hear a television on inside. It sounded like someone was watching sports. Based on the enthusiasm of the broadcaster, he assumed it was soccer.
Approaching the front door, he peeked in one of the windows and saw Luk?a—one leg propped up, lying on the couch. He was indeed watching sports, but it wasn’t soccer. It was rugby.
He positioned himself so that the truck driver couldn’t see his face and then rang the bell. As he heard Mrs. Luk?a come near, he held up the bouquet of flowers he had bought at the farmer’s market. Upon opening the door, it was the first thing she saw.
Harvath smiled as she said something to him in Lithuanian. He assumed she was asking who he was.
“I’m an old friend of your husband’s,” he replied, in English. Not knowing and, actually, not caring if he had gotten the question right. Already, he had placed his foot inside the door frame so she couldn’t close it.
The shift in his body frightened her and the color drained from her face. The truck driver yelled something from their living room. Mrs. Luk?a’s words again were in Lithuanian, but this time Harvath understood one of them—“Amerikietis.” American.
In any other situation, Harvath might have been worried about his subject bolting out the back, but based on his injuries Mr. Luk?a wasn’t running anywhere.
“You should put these in some water,” said Harvath, offering the lady of the house the flowers and gently pushing past her.
When he entered the living room, the truck driver had already picked up his crutch and was struggling to get off the couch.
He was wearing a stained tank top and brown cargo pants. His left knee was in a brace, his right hand in a cast. His hair was matted and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a while. Movement was probably quite painful for him.