Reversion (The Narrows of Time Series Book 3) by Jay J. Falconer Page B

at him. He didn’t want her to see him as a suspicious person or a threat, so he smiled at her.
    Her eyes were on him, though her right hand was busy on the computer terminal mounted to the dashboard, only inches from a tactical shotgun.
    “Everything okay?” she asked, leaning her upper body to the right—the seatbelt still wrapped around her shoulder.
    “Yes, Officer. I’m just taking a break. Resting my eyes,” he said, hoping the cop wouldn’t get out of her car and ask for his ID. If she lingered, the buyer might get spooked, and then Larson could kiss the money goodbye.
    “You live around here?” she asked in that special tone that cops use.
    “No, ma’am. Just passing through on my way to an early meeting.”
    Her eyes tightened. So did her jaw. “Where? What kind of meeting?”
    “I’m an attorney for the University of Arizona. We’re negotiating with several contractors for a campus expansion. I have a meeting with the highest bidder in Nogales,” he said, reaching for the contracts sitting on the passenger seat. He held them up for her to see. “I was up all night working on the agreements. Didn’t get much sleep.”
    “There’s no stopping on the pavement,” she said with authority. “You need to get moving. There’s a rest stop fifteen miles ahead. I suggest you use it.”
    “Okay, will do. Thank you.”
    She studied his car for a few seconds, then gave him a sharp mini-wave of her hand. She closed the passenger window and drove off, accelerating to high speed as she sped around the curve and out of sight.
    He exhaled and held his stare for a few seconds, letting the back of his head hit the headrest before looking at the fabric covering the underside of the roof. He rolled his eyes.
    “What the hell am I doing here?”
    He took a long minute to let his pounding heart slow down. It did. But before he could decide what to do next, a black SUV pulled alongside of him, skidding to an abrupt halt. His blood pressure surged into overdrive again, sending a sudden rush of adrenaline pumping into his system.
    “Here we go,” he mumbled, preparing himself for what he hoped would be the final encounter with this man. He grabbed his data recorder, swiped the menu screen to the second page of icons, and turned on the covert audio recorder. He waited for the screen to go blank, then got out of the car.
    The buyer—a smartly dressed businessman in his forties, with a thin nose and pale lips—got out of his car and walked to the rear of his vehicle. The man pulled a semiautomatic Glock handgun from a shoulder holster hiding under his suit coat. He cocked the weapon and pointed it at Larson’s face.
    “Easy now,” Larson said, taking a shallow step back and putting his hands up. He could feel the beat of his heart pounding at his eardrums. His military training kicked in, helping him appear calm. “Let’s not do anything rash.”
    “What the hell was that cop doing here?”
    “She stopped to see if I needed any help.”
    “What’d you tell her?”
    “That I was just resting my eyes. Taking a break from driving. She bought it and drove off. End of story. No reason to get jumpy.”
    The buyer didn’t respond or move.
    “Look, she was just doing her job and I took care of it. It’s all good. Are we gonna do this or not?”
    The buyer stared at the pavement ahead, then put the gun away. “Do you have it?”
    “Yes. In my briefcase.”
    “Give it to me, before the LEO returns.”
    “Do you have the money?”
    The buyer nodded, but only once.
    “Let me see it.”
    The man opened the rear hatch of the SUV. He pulled out a green canvas bag with an exaggerated sag at its midpoint. He opened the bag, showing the contents to Larson—bundles of hundreds were lying inside.
    “One million, as agreed. Do you wanna count it?”
    Larson didn’t want to extend the exchange any longer than necessary. The cop might circle back any minute, putting his ass and his family’s future on the line. “No,