it be? What kind of "friend" could he have? What kind of friend could help him? It didn't make sense. It had to be the cops or some killer from Benny. It had to be.
But with his situation as desperate as it was, he wanted to believe there were other possibilities. It
could
be real, couldn't it? It could be, say, the girl from Whittaker, the girl he'd helped out when Benny went for her. Maybe she had a brother or sister who wanted to show their gratitude and would bring him down to Mexico and hide him among their happy family. He worked up a daydream about that, about the children playing in the sun and
Mamacita
bringing him bowls of rice as he waited out the long, hot Mexican days. Then he worked up another fantasy, more elaborate, about this guy Whittaker who ran the foundation. Maybe Whittaker had seen the girl on TV and seen how Shannon had helped her and how he hadn't taken the money from his foundation after all. Someone who had a foundation—he must be at least a billionaire, right? Maybe he was sitting in his red leather wingchair, smoking a pipe in his bathrobe, and he saw the girl on TV and said to his butler, "By gadfrey, Jeeves, I think I'm going to help that young fellow."
Shannon had to choose. Time was running out. Hector was going to turn him in. He could tell. He either had to leave for Mexico tonight or meet this mysterious friend of his at the mall and hope for the best.
Eyes
—that's what finally tipped the balance. He knew the mall well—he'd cased it for a job once—and he knew Eyes. Eyes was an eyeglasses store. It had a unique location, set on a sort of island in the middle of the mall's enormous parking lot, away from the other stores. If you were a cop—or even a killer—it wasn't the place you would choose for a meeting. It was too easy to scope out. Shannon could approach it from any direction, get a good look at the surrounding area, and make a run for it if there was any trouble. Plus, he could come and go anonymously because, while there were security cameras all over the rest of the mall, the only camera near Eyes was inside the store. It was hard to think of a place in town that would give Shannon more advantages in any kind of ambush. That had to be why this "friend" of his chose it. It had to be some kind of gesture to gain his trust.
Finally, desperate as he was, he decided to go to the mall.
The mall at midnight was vast and empty. The quick, steady traffic hissed and flashed past on upper Main and Pacific, the streets that bordered the place on two sides. But in the mall itself, there was nothing moving. The parking lot seemed to go on forever, an immense expanse. On one side, the Pacific side, was the supermarket, the Vons. Way over on the other was the huge white block of a Macy's department store and the long, low white gallery of shops and restaurants that ran from the Macy's to the huge white block of a Sears, for all your home and garden needs. In the middle was the gray pavement of the lot, going on and on. There were no cars there at this hour, which made it seem even larger, oceanic, a shadowy gray sea with the white parking stripes like whitecaps on it. Street lamps made an archipelago of bright pink patches across its brooding, solitary distances.
Shannon entered the lot from Pacific on foot, skirting the Vons to avoid its security cameras. He was dressed in black again and carrying his gym bag, ready to leave town. His eyes were moving as he crossed the lot, but it was plain to see there was no one in the whole great expanse of it. He headed toward the center, toward the isolated island, toward the small glass box of the eyeglass store, Eyes.
He moved fast, his black sneakers quiet on the asphalt. He avoided the outglow of the street lamps and stuck to the dark. Now that he was here, his first doubts had resurfaced. He was sure he was walking into trouble like an idiot. It had to be a setup. Had to be.
He neared the store. He still saw no one, but he had an
But with his situation as desperate as it was, he wanted to believe there were other possibilities. It
could
be real, couldn't it? It could be, say, the girl from Whittaker, the girl he'd helped out when Benny went for her. Maybe she had a brother or sister who wanted to show their gratitude and would bring him down to Mexico and hide him among their happy family. He worked up a daydream about that, about the children playing in the sun and
Mamacita
bringing him bowls of rice as he waited out the long, hot Mexican days. Then he worked up another fantasy, more elaborate, about this guy Whittaker who ran the foundation. Maybe Whittaker had seen the girl on TV and seen how Shannon had helped her and how he hadn't taken the money from his foundation after all. Someone who had a foundation—he must be at least a billionaire, right? Maybe he was sitting in his red leather wingchair, smoking a pipe in his bathrobe, and he saw the girl on TV and said to his butler, "By gadfrey, Jeeves, I think I'm going to help that young fellow."
Shannon had to choose. Time was running out. Hector was going to turn him in. He could tell. He either had to leave for Mexico tonight or meet this mysterious friend of his at the mall and hope for the best.
Eyes
—that's what finally tipped the balance. He knew the mall well—he'd cased it for a job once—and he knew Eyes. Eyes was an eyeglasses store. It had a unique location, set on a sort of island in the middle of the mall's enormous parking lot, away from the other stores. If you were a cop—or even a killer—it wasn't the place you would choose for a meeting. It was too easy to scope out. Shannon could approach it from any direction, get a good look at the surrounding area, and make a run for it if there was any trouble. Plus, he could come and go anonymously because, while there were security cameras all over the rest of the mall, the only camera near Eyes was inside the store. It was hard to think of a place in town that would give Shannon more advantages in any kind of ambush. That had to be why this "friend" of his chose it. It had to be some kind of gesture to gain his trust.
Finally, desperate as he was, he decided to go to the mall.
The mall at midnight was vast and empty. The quick, steady traffic hissed and flashed past on upper Main and Pacific, the streets that bordered the place on two sides. But in the mall itself, there was nothing moving. The parking lot seemed to go on forever, an immense expanse. On one side, the Pacific side, was the supermarket, the Vons. Way over on the other was the huge white block of a Macy's department store and the long, low white gallery of shops and restaurants that ran from the Macy's to the huge white block of a Sears, for all your home and garden needs. In the middle was the gray pavement of the lot, going on and on. There were no cars there at this hour, which made it seem even larger, oceanic, a shadowy gray sea with the white parking stripes like whitecaps on it. Street lamps made an archipelago of bright pink patches across its brooding, solitary distances.
Shannon entered the lot from Pacific on foot, skirting the Vons to avoid its security cameras. He was dressed in black again and carrying his gym bag, ready to leave town. His eyes were moving as he crossed the lot, but it was plain to see there was no one in the whole great expanse of it. He headed toward the center, toward the isolated island, toward the small glass box of the eyeglass store, Eyes.
He moved fast, his black sneakers quiet on the asphalt. He avoided the outglow of the street lamps and stuck to the dark. Now that he was here, his first doubts had resurfaced. He was sure he was walking into trouble like an idiot. It had to be a setup. Had to be.
He neared the store. He still saw no one, but he had an
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