“Okay. Thanks,” Drex said. “Can you get there by tomorrow afternoon?”
“To Atlanta?”
“Don’t ask like that. Ever been there?”
“No.”
“It’s nice.”
“It’s nice where I am.”
“You can’t leave a trail, which means you can’t fly. You’ll have to drive.”
“How far is it?”
“Far. Google says almost four hundred miles.” Mike grumbled something unintelligible. Drex said, “I’m not in the mood to argue about it, Mike. It’s six hours in the car. You can snack all the way. Will you do it or not? If not, good night.”
After a brief silence, Mike said, “What do I do when I get there?”
“Check into The Lotus. Make a reservation tonight.”
“It’s costly.”
“I’ll pay.”
“It’s the weekend. What if it’s booked up?” Gif asked.
“Child’s play,” Mike said. “I’ll hack their system and cancel somebody’s reservation.” He paused. “I don’t suppose you’re sending me there to sample the five-star cuisine.”
“I’m sending you there to keep tabs on the Fords.”
“Are you nuts?” Gif exclaimed. “He couldn’t fade into the woodwork if they had a sequoia growing in the hotel lobby.”
“He’s not your typical undercover operative, no,” Drex said. “He’s obese and ugly—”
“I’m still here,” Mike said.
“—which is why no one would take him for a spy.”
Drex wanted Mike in Atlanta, but not only for the reason stated. He also wanted him out of Lexington. If the shit went down, he didn’t want Mike to be within Rudkowski’s reach. Eventually he would corral them, but Drex didn’t want to make it easy for him.
Gif, in his reasonable manner, suggested that he be sent to Atlanta instead. “I’m already in a neighboring state.”
“Yes, but Charleston is roughly a hundred and fifty miles farther. I checked. Besides, if Talia saw you, she might remember you from the coffee shop.”
“He’s unmemorable,” Mike said. “And what’s that about the coffee shop?”
“We’ll tell you later,” Drex said, impatience mounting. “Mike, can Sammy get you an untraceable car by morning?”
“With one phone call.”
Sammy—Drex wasn’t sure which alias was his real last name—was a mechanic who could make a rattletrap run like a Porsche. Early in Mike’s career with the bureau, he had been in on the sting that busted Sammy for transporting stolen merchandise across state lines.
Sammy had served time, but, by the time of his release, Mike was working with Drex and had seen the advantages of cultivating a relationship with a guy like Sammy, someone who was only a little crooked. They’d used Sammy and his larcenous automotive know-how more than a few times.
“The tricky part will be making the swap,” Mike said. “But Sammy is creative.”
“Leave as early as possible,” Drex said. “I’d like you in place by check-in time.”