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“I want the?—”
“You broke the engagement, I get the ring.”
“You stabbed me with a fork!”
“You married another woman first,” Agnes said. “Go away. I have things to do.”
“You won’t get away with this,” Taylor said.
“That’s the best you’ve got?” Agnes said. “Beat it or I’ll have Doyle take a hammer to the Cobra.”
“Hey!” Taylor said, and then evidently realizing his ride was vulnerable, he left.
Agnes looked at the ring and then at the basement door. “Why can’t anything this week be simple?” she said, and went to call her lawyer.
“We’re about five minutes from the bridge,” Carpenter said. “I can see the towers.”
Shane checked his watch. Ten minutes till the payoff. He poked his head in the opening to the front of the van and saw two suspension towers straight ahead on the horizon. Left and right was swamp as far as the eye could see.
“Ideas?” Shane asked.
“I would think a direct approach is needed here, which is your specialty. It’s not like we’re going to be able to sneak up on the drop site.”
“Pull off before you hit the on-ramp for the bridge. I want to see if I can get an over-watch position with a clear shot with the long rifle.”
“Roger that,” Carpenter said, “but it’s going to be a tough angle up to that midspan.”
Shane saw what he meant as they came around a slight curve, and the road rose precipitously toward the nearest tower. “Pull over here,” Shane said before they got so close that he wouldn’t be able to see the midspan.
Carpenter waited until they crossed a concrete bridge over a creek, then pulled over to the side of the road.
“Open the sunroof,” Shane ordered as he placed his M21 sniper rifle in the passenger seat, muzzle up.
Carpenter did so, and Shane stood between the seats, putting a small spotting scope on the roof of the van.
“Not inconspicuous,” Carpenter noted.
“Feel free to contribute Plan B,” Shane said.
“We grab the consigliere and the money before the exchange. Maybe Casey Dean will work a deal with us or break off the contract.”
“Wilson wants Dean terminated.”
“Did he say so?”
“He doesn’t send me out to talk to people.” Shane leaned forward and looked through the spotting scope, adjusting the focus. “He’s testing you.”
Yeah, and I fail if I don’t shoot Casey Dean.
Shane saw a black Lincoln Town Car pulled over in the breakdown lane, right side of the bridge, center span. These goombahs were nothing but predictable, he thought. He checked his watch. Three minutes before two. Casey Dean was a professional, which meant the drop would be made right on time. Shane slid back down in the van, crouching between Carpenter in the driver’s seat and the sniper rifle in the passenger seat, taking the spotting scope with him.
“The consigliere is there.” He held the scope as he peered through the windshield. The view wasn’t quite as good, but he could clearly see the black Town Car.
“Two minutes,” Carpenter said. “And we’ve got flashing lights coming down the road behind us.”
“Cops?” Shane could hear the sirens now.
“Looks like, followed by an ambulance.” Carpenter reached forward and turned on the special radio, tuning it to the local emergency band, the volume turned low while Shane kept his focus on the bridge.
