Exit Strategy (Nadia Stafford 1)

"He says he has more information on the man you were asking about. There's someone he wants you to talk to. He's arranged for a meeting tonight."

"Where?"

"At a condo on H.G. Wells Boulevard." He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "Here's the address."

Jack took the paper, unfolded it, read it and frowned. "Where the hell is this?"

"In one of those new master-planned subdivisions. Adventura, they call it. In the north."

"Near Centennial Hills?"

"Closer to Aliante."

Jack studied the paper for a moment, frowning as if he was having trouble reading it. The lighting, while not great, was

decent enough so I knew eyesight wasn't the problem. I peered down the alley. Too long and empty for someone to be lurking down there. As I moved to the mouth, Jack stalled, asking the kid for better directions. I peeked, then moved out, standing watch and hoping no one mistook me for a hooker. A quick survey of the street showed people coming and going, but no one hanging about suspiciously. I glanced back at Jack and nodded.

After a few seconds, his voice floated along the alley, so soft I had to strain to hear him. "You said Mr. Gallagher gave you this message?"

"Not Mr. Gallagher personally, sir. I've never seen Mr. Gallagher. No one does."

"So it was an employee?"

"I don't know. I was on the door, and some guy came by with the message, and gave me a hundred bucks to deliver it."

"Huh." The crinkle of paper. "That hundred bucks? Look something like this?"

"Yes, sir."

"You take that then. Matching pair. Now describe the guy."

"Uh...I didn't really get a good look at the guy. He was a guy. I know that. Or...well, I'm pretty sure..."

That's all the kid could recall--that it had looked like a man. Size? Not noticeably big or small. Age? Maybe forty...or younger...could have been older, too. Distinguishing features? He thought the guy might have been wearing glasses. Short of hypnosis, that's all we were going to get out of him. Listening in, I could tell he was worried about losing that hundred, and scrambling to come up with enough to keep it.

"I'm sorry, sir. I just wasn't--I wasn't paying attention."

"Busy looking at Benjamin Franklin's face instead?"

A sheepish laugh. "Yeah. You, uh, want your money back, I guess..."

"Keep it. Guy comes around? Asks how it went? You delivered the message. Seemed like I was going. Never asked any questions."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

THIRTY-EIGHT

"You handled that well," I said as we got into the car.

"Do what works. Drop a few bills? Play it cool? Sometimes good enough."

"Safer and easier than throwing people to the ground and pointing guns at their head."

A shrug as he started the engine. "Depends on the circumstances. At Little Joe's? Didn't see me offering the guy cash. Depends on the person, too. Sometimes, though..." He shrugged. "Might feel better to toss them around but...

"It won't always get me the results I want, and I'll have a lot harder time going back if I want more. With that kid, making nice and tossing him some cash was definitely the way to go. That's someone I wouldn't have wanted to rough up...even if it might teach him a lesson about taking money from strangers."