it?”
“A seriously bad dude is looking for my young friend here.He put this transmitter in her bag. She wants me to destroy it. I’d like to look at our other options first.”
The trucker scowled at Jack and then at Juma. “You look mighty young to be on your own. Where are your parents?”
“In jail,” Juma said. She blanched under the stare Jack gave her.
Walt’s eyes flicked to Jack and again to Juma. “That’s a drag, but shouldn’t you be in school?”
“I’m sixteen. I don’t have to go to school if I don’t want to.”
Cindy slipped into the booth beside her. “You don’t like school?”
“I didn’t say that. But he has no business telling me what to do, and neither does Jack.”
“They’re just concerned for your welfare, honey,” Cindy said. “We all are.”
“Everybody says that,” Juma retorted. “But do they listen to what I want? No. Never.”
“So, Walt,” Jack said, “what do you think we should do with the transmitter?”
The trucker pondered and shook his head. “He’s right, kid. If you destroy it, he’ll figure you found it. If your story is legit…” He paused meaningfully. “Better to have him think you’re in one place when you’ve really hightailed it somewhere else.”
“You could leave it here,” Cindy said, “like it fell out of your bag, maybe.”
“Better yet, get someone to take it in the wrong direction,” Walt said. “Sure to be someone here who can help. And then”—he stabbed a finger at Juma—“go back home where you belong. This fella may be okay.” He pointed at Jack. “A lot of guys aren’t.”
“Walt’s right,” Cindy said. “You lucked out with Jack.”
A Jeep turned into the parking lot. Jack’s. Rose had seen it, too, and was hurrying back inside.
“The bad guys are here,” Jack said. “Time for plan B.”
Pale and trembling, Juma crammed her belongings into her backpack. Jack turned the transmitter over and over in his hand. “Juma, go to the kitchen with Cindy.”
Cindy dumped the last of the teenager’s stuff into the backpack and zipped it up. “Don’t worry, kid. We’re all on your side. Should we call the cops?”
“No. Take her to the kitchen. Keep her out of sight.” Jack headed for the front doors, hating the decision he’d had to make, hating to have to ask Rose for anything.
She banged through the doors and walked smack up to him. “Listen, Jack—”
“She’s hiding in the kitchen,” Jack said. “There was a transmitter in her bag.”
“They’re both here, Stevie and Biff.”
“With luck, we can tackle them separately.” Jack forced the next words out. “You distract them, I’ll take them down.”
“Right,” Rose said flatly. The thugs were getting out of the Jeep.
“We’ll corner them in the women’s showers,” Jack said. “Best if I can get in there unseen.”
“Tell me what to do,” Rose said. The thugs were striding quickly toward the building. “Let’s go.” She took off toward the women’s section at the rear of the building.
Walt the trucker hurried up. “Anything I can do?”
“See those two guys?” Jack backed away after Rose. “Country boy with a ponytail and a blond in a Tigers shirt. They ask you any questions, stall a little, act dumb, but don’t get in their way. Rose and I can handle this just fine.”
“What do you mean, ‘just fine’?” Rose hissed as he caught up to her at the hallway to the showers. “I have no idea how your camouflage works.”
“Stay ahead of me. Walk in a straight line right next to the wall. The rest we play by ear.”
It was smooth sailing along the corridor. A woman carryinga sports bag zoomed past without noticing Jack sliding semicamoed behind Rose. They passed the entrance to the toilets and came to an open area with sinks down one wall and shower stalls down the other, and a woman in a bathrobe about to dry her hair. Rose hesitated, moved sideways to the right…and they were screwed.
“What’s
“A seriously bad dude is looking for my young friend here.He put this transmitter in her bag. She wants me to destroy it. I’d like to look at our other options first.”
The trucker scowled at Jack and then at Juma. “You look mighty young to be on your own. Where are your parents?”
“In jail,” Juma said. She blanched under the stare Jack gave her.
Walt’s eyes flicked to Jack and again to Juma. “That’s a drag, but shouldn’t you be in school?”
“I’m sixteen. I don’t have to go to school if I don’t want to.”
Cindy slipped into the booth beside her. “You don’t like school?”
“I didn’t say that. But he has no business telling me what to do, and neither does Jack.”
“They’re just concerned for your welfare, honey,” Cindy said. “We all are.”
“Everybody says that,” Juma retorted. “But do they listen to what I want? No. Never.”
“So, Walt,” Jack said, “what do you think we should do with the transmitter?”
The trucker pondered and shook his head. “He’s right, kid. If you destroy it, he’ll figure you found it. If your story is legit…” He paused meaningfully. “Better to have him think you’re in one place when you’ve really hightailed it somewhere else.”
“You could leave it here,” Cindy said, “like it fell out of your bag, maybe.”
“Better yet, get someone to take it in the wrong direction,” Walt said. “Sure to be someone here who can help. And then”—he stabbed a finger at Juma—“go back home where you belong. This fella may be okay.” He pointed at Jack. “A lot of guys aren’t.”
“Walt’s right,” Cindy said. “You lucked out with Jack.”
A Jeep turned into the parking lot. Jack’s. Rose had seen it, too, and was hurrying back inside.
“The bad guys are here,” Jack said. “Time for plan B.”
Pale and trembling, Juma crammed her belongings into her backpack. Jack turned the transmitter over and over in his hand. “Juma, go to the kitchen with Cindy.”
Cindy dumped the last of the teenager’s stuff into the backpack and zipped it up. “Don’t worry, kid. We’re all on your side. Should we call the cops?”
“No. Take her to the kitchen. Keep her out of sight.” Jack headed for the front doors, hating the decision he’d had to make, hating to have to ask Rose for anything.
She banged through the doors and walked smack up to him. “Listen, Jack—”
“She’s hiding in the kitchen,” Jack said. “There was a transmitter in her bag.”
“They’re both here, Stevie and Biff.”
“With luck, we can tackle them separately.” Jack forced the next words out. “You distract them, I’ll take them down.”
“Right,” Rose said flatly. The thugs were getting out of the Jeep.
“We’ll corner them in the women’s showers,” Jack said. “Best if I can get in there unseen.”
“Tell me what to do,” Rose said. The thugs were striding quickly toward the building. “Let’s go.” She took off toward the women’s section at the rear of the building.
Walt the trucker hurried up. “Anything I can do?”
“See those two guys?” Jack backed away after Rose. “Country boy with a ponytail and a blond in a Tigers shirt. They ask you any questions, stall a little, act dumb, but don’t get in their way. Rose and I can handle this just fine.”
“What do you mean, ‘just fine’?” Rose hissed as he caught up to her at the hallway to the showers. “I have no idea how your camouflage works.”
“Stay ahead of me. Walk in a straight line right next to the wall. The rest we play by ear.”
It was smooth sailing along the corridor. A woman carryinga sports bag zoomed past without noticing Jack sliding semicamoed behind Rose. They passed the entrance to the toilets and came to an open area with sinks down one wall and shower stalls down the other, and a woman in a bathrobe about to dry her hair. Rose hesitated, moved sideways to the right…and they were screwed.
“What’s
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