Exit Strategy (Nadia Stafford 1)

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TWENTY-SIX

Had the maintenance men seen Jack, noticed his janitor's uniform shirt and called him over to help with something?

A moment's silence. Then a man's voice, raised just loud enough to carry.

"Drive where?"

"Just drive," Jack called back.

I walked up a few steps and stood on tiptoes to peek over the top. Jack and the two men were about twenty feet away, on the other side of a storage shed. I darted over to it.

"Not good enough," one man said. "Tell me where the hell I'm driving, Jack, or..."

I didn't hear the rest of it. My brain snagged on Jack's name.

Jack walked past the storage shed. Hearing the other man still talking, I swung back, trying to get out of sight. I stepped on a branch, the crack of breaking wood loud enough to make Jack turn. His gaze met mine. He looked away quickly, but it was too late. The two men in maintenance suits were behind him, now both staring right at me.

One of them was around Jack's age, average height and lean to the point of bony, with thinning ginger hair, a sparse beard and glasses.

The other man was closer to my age, a little over six feet with a solid build, light brown hair, and a face that was pleasantly handsome but no cause for second glances. Nothing about him screamed "cop"--no mustache, no brawny forearms, no steel-eyed glare of perpetual suspicion. But I knew that's what he was, the same way I'd know a Beretta from a Glock with a split-second glance.

The cop looked from me to Jack. "Your new partner, Jack? Either that's one hell of a disguise or there's something you forgot to tell us."

"Drive," Jack said. "North. First rest stop."

The cop opened his mouth to argue, but the red-haired man said, "We'll be there." He smiled at me, then shooed his partner toward the parking lot.

"That was Quinn, wasn't it?" I said as we got into the car.

"Yeah."

I fought the first bubble of panic rising in my gut. "Okay. Presumably, Quinn got the same message those Feds did, and came by hoping to find out what was going on. Bad timing, but now we have to deal with it. This meeting at the rest stop. Should I stay in the car?"

He pulled out of the parking lot. "Up to you."

"My first instinct is to stay out of their way. But he already got a good look at me, and he obviously figured out I'm your mystery partner. So if I stay in the car, that's going to arouse suspicion. They'll wonder if it's more than rookie nerves."

"Yeah."

I looked over at him. "Can I get some advice? Please?"

He drove for at least five minutes without answering, then did so slowly, as if with great reluctance. "Safer to meet them. Get it over with. You're in disguise. Quinn's a blowhard but..." A long pause, as if he'd rather not finish. "He's good. Trustworthy. You'll be fine."

Quinn and his partner were waiting when we pulled into the rest stop. Jack drove past them, circled to the rear of the building and parked on the far side. He looked around, then got out and headed for the picnic area that, given the cool season and the late hour, was understandably empty.

He gestured at the table in front of us. "Here good?"

"Seems okay. We're far enough from the buildings that no one should overhear if we keep our voices down. Watch the body language, though."

When I looked up, Quinn was bearing down on us, jaw set, fists balled at his sides.

"So much for body language," I murmured.

Jack stood, shoulders squaring. Quinn's partner headed our way, as if to intercept, but he was too far to reach us in time.

"What's this?" Quinn said, gesturing at me. "When you said you had a partner, we all figured you meant Evelyn or someone we knew. That"--his finger jabbed my way--"is neither."