his throat and tugged his collar. “You think these guys are pro enough to have brought a cover driver?”
“If it was me I would. One lone jockey can knock a tail off or decoy pursuit if he’s good, and then bug out any number of ways – on foot, swapping cars, even a boat or helo. Anything to get the goods away.”
A grunt came from Bill, wordless agreement.
I pointed. The warehouse cargo door showed a dim crack beneath it before rolling up suddenly, quickly. The van pulled forward and the driver leaped out to slap a button, causing the big portal to close before he climbed back in and drove to the gate. I could see the plates had mud smeared on them obscuring the numbers, a common trick.
“Does your security center open the barrier or is it automatic?” I asked.
“It’s automatic unless we disable it or the alarm trips.”
I reached for the ignition to start Molly, leaving all lights off. “Better buckle up, then. This might get interesting.” I pulled my four-point harness down and snapped in.
“Uh…”
“What?”
“I get carsick.”
“This isn’t a high-speed pursuit. If they make us, we have to drop off anyway.”
“Then why the seatbelts?”
“Same reason you got a safety on your weapon. Unexpected shit happens.”
Bill stared at me for a moment, and then reached for the harness. Once buckled, he opened his hand. “Flask.”
“Like hell,” I retorted, not feeling charitable right then.
Bill dropped his hand, defeated.
I hoped I wouldn’t regret this night, trying to help a fellow ex-cop get over his fears and back into the field. Maybe I should have come alone. I put the doubts out of my mind as the van exited the warehouse drive to steer left and away, cruising back the way it had come from.
Easing Molly out, I let the van get a block ahead, then two before I turned on my lights. Checking my rearview mirror, I didn’t see any tails. No Audi, green or otherwise. We followed as the thieves picked up the state highway across the top of San Pablo Bay toward Vallejo.
“Where you wanna bet they go?” Bill asked.
“South,” I said. “Napa’s too refined. Hard to hide. The 80 corridor is a possibility, but their options that way get more and more limited the farther they go until they hit Sacramento at least. South, though, and you got nothing but suburban sprawl for miles. Lots of places to hole up.”
“You don’t think they’ll drive the haul out right now? Head for a big city to fence the stuff – Vegas, L.A., Seattle? Leave the girl somewhere, phone the mother for a pickup? That’s what I’d do.”
I chewed my lip. “They gotta know the theft will be found out in the morning, maybe even tonight during the next shift if your guys are diligent in checking the logs and get suspicious. Everything is on video even if the plates were obscured. At the very least they’ll have to transfer the cargo to a new vehicle and it’s logical the girl will be there with a third member of the crew.”
“It could get dicey if we find their hide. What if they decide to tie up their loose end?”
“They won’t. Murder takes the story from two forgotten column inches and a mention on the local news straight to the front page of the Chronicle and nationwide TV coverage. In fact, if that happens, I know an investigative reporter that will run these sons of bitches to ground before law enforcement does, if I don’t first.”
“You’re assuming rational self-interest, but what about the two-day delay?”
“Could be one of many reasons. Like, the first two trucks they stole both broke down. Or the driver tripped, hit his head and had to sleep off a concussion. Or they scored some uncut smack and put themselves out for a day and a half. Maybe they ate some bad burritos and spent a sleepless night on the crappers. With lowlifes it could be anything.”
“What if they aren’t making the decisions? A heist this big…they deliver the cargo, their employer pops them and the kid too,
“If it was me I would. One lone jockey can knock a tail off or decoy pursuit if he’s good, and then bug out any number of ways – on foot, swapping cars, even a boat or helo. Anything to get the goods away.”
A grunt came from Bill, wordless agreement.
I pointed. The warehouse cargo door showed a dim crack beneath it before rolling up suddenly, quickly. The van pulled forward and the driver leaped out to slap a button, causing the big portal to close before he climbed back in and drove to the gate. I could see the plates had mud smeared on them obscuring the numbers, a common trick.
“Does your security center open the barrier or is it automatic?” I asked.
“It’s automatic unless we disable it or the alarm trips.”
I reached for the ignition to start Molly, leaving all lights off. “Better buckle up, then. This might get interesting.” I pulled my four-point harness down and snapped in.
“Uh…”
“What?”
“I get carsick.”
“This isn’t a high-speed pursuit. If they make us, we have to drop off anyway.”
“Then why the seatbelts?”
“Same reason you got a safety on your weapon. Unexpected shit happens.”
Bill stared at me for a moment, and then reached for the harness. Once buckled, he opened his hand. “Flask.”
“Like hell,” I retorted, not feeling charitable right then.
Bill dropped his hand, defeated.
I hoped I wouldn’t regret this night, trying to help a fellow ex-cop get over his fears and back into the field. Maybe I should have come alone. I put the doubts out of my mind as the van exited the warehouse drive to steer left and away, cruising back the way it had come from.
Easing Molly out, I let the van get a block ahead, then two before I turned on my lights. Checking my rearview mirror, I didn’t see any tails. No Audi, green or otherwise. We followed as the thieves picked up the state highway across the top of San Pablo Bay toward Vallejo.
“Where you wanna bet they go?” Bill asked.
“South,” I said. “Napa’s too refined. Hard to hide. The 80 corridor is a possibility, but their options that way get more and more limited the farther they go until they hit Sacramento at least. South, though, and you got nothing but suburban sprawl for miles. Lots of places to hole up.”
“You don’t think they’ll drive the haul out right now? Head for a big city to fence the stuff – Vegas, L.A., Seattle? Leave the girl somewhere, phone the mother for a pickup? That’s what I’d do.”
I chewed my lip. “They gotta know the theft will be found out in the morning, maybe even tonight during the next shift if your guys are diligent in checking the logs and get suspicious. Everything is on video even if the plates were obscured. At the very least they’ll have to transfer the cargo to a new vehicle and it’s logical the girl will be there with a third member of the crew.”
“It could get dicey if we find their hide. What if they decide to tie up their loose end?”
“They won’t. Murder takes the story from two forgotten column inches and a mention on the local news straight to the front page of the Chronicle and nationwide TV coverage. In fact, if that happens, I know an investigative reporter that will run these sons of bitches to ground before law enforcement does, if I don’t first.”
“You’re assuming rational self-interest, but what about the two-day delay?”
“Could be one of many reasons. Like, the first two trucks they stole both broke down. Or the driver tripped, hit his head and had to sleep off a concussion. Or they scored some uncut smack and put themselves out for a day and a half. Maybe they ate some bad burritos and spent a sleepless night on the crappers. With lowlifes it could be anything.”
“What if they aren’t making the decisions? A heist this big…they deliver the cargo, their employer pops them and the kid too,
Similar Books
