He wrapped his hands around the staircase door handle.
"I don't really care."
"He thought you might say that. He told me to tell you that 'he knows everything,'" the voice said with a slight hint of impatience.
"I'm still not impressed," said Petrovich.
"Zorana Sekulic," uttered the voice.
Daniel paused for a few seconds. Sanderson hadn't bothered him much since they parted ways. A Christmas card one year, a birthday card the next. Just a friendly reminder that the general was still out there. Using Zorana's name was more than a nudge. It was more like poking him with a knife.
"Where do we meet?"
"Starbucks. A few blocks from your building. Five minutes."
"No good. I'm a regular there. I'll meet you inside the Starbucks at Northgate Plaza," countered Daniel.
"Where is that?" said the voice.
"Figure it out," Daniel said, and disconnected the call.
He stuffed the headset in a trash bin by the door and took three flights of stairs running. He felt slightly panicked by the brazen use of Zorana's name. He'd taken extreme measures to bury that name in the past, but apparently he should have dug the hole a little deeper. He opened the door to the lobby and walked briskly toward the rear security station, which would lead him directly to his car in the back parking lot. He'd call his assistant as soon he was on the turnpike, and make up some excuse for vanishing.
Daniel approached the security exit with nothing for the guards to search. Normally, they would take a cursory look inside of his briefcase, but this time he wasn't carrying anything. He addressed the single guard, who swiveled in his chair as Daniel reached him.
"No need to get up, Harry. I'm just running a quick errand at Target before I forget. I have a pick-up soccer game after work, and if I don't do this now, it'll never get done."
Harold Parsons eased back into his chair. He barely turned his head far enough to watch Daniel move swiftly through the sliding door, and nearly break into a run.
Daniel strained to keep from breaking into a full sprint toward his BMW 545i sedan, which sat three rows deep in the lot. Though he was out of Harold’s sight line, five levels of windows faced the back lot, and the sight of anyone sprinting in the parking lot was sure to attract the wrong kind of attention, especially in the middle of the afternoon.
He fished a ring of keys out of his front pocket as he approached the back of his car, and remotely unlocked the doors. As his hand reached for the door handle, he pressed the ignition button on his key fob, and the BMW’s powerful 325 HP engine roared to life, and settled into a low hum. Seconds later, Daniel screeched out of the parking lot, headed for the Turnpike entrance.
James Parker tossed the burner cell phone onto the passenger seat, and began to program the dashboard mounted GPS system as if his life depended on it--which it did. After pushing several buttons, he located the Starbucks store in Northgate, and activated the navigator, which was programmed to take the shortest route to the coffee shop. He pulled his Grand Cherokee out of the parking lot in which he was sitting, and wove through traffic on his way to Congress Street, where he’d be able to pick up more speed without running the risk of attracting the attention of local law enforcement.
Roughly one minute after speeding out of the parking lot, his SUV passed the entrance to the Zenith Semiconductor Industrial Complex, and Parker glared at the closer of two glass encased office buildings. A few weeks earlier he might have spotted Daniel in the building's parking lot, but May had unleashed thick rows of brilliant yellow Forsythia bushes, which completely obscured his view of the complex's ground level. He leaned on the accelerator and shot toward Maine Mall Road.
Daniel's car arrived at the Maine Mall Road stoplight, one series of lights behind Parker's Grand Cherokee. As soon as the BMW came to a stop at the light, he reached under his seat and drew a compact Sig Sauer pistol from a hidden holster. He pushed the pistol under a newspaper on the front passenger seat and considered his next move. One thing was certain for Daniel. If this contact had any information regarding Zorana Sekulic, beyond her name, that information would die in the parking lot outside of the Northgate Starbucks.
The light turned green, and Daniel sped down toward Western Avenue, banking on the likelihood that the General's man wouldn’t take the turnpike. Just as the BMW's tires squealed through the turn onto Western Avenue, Parker's Grand Cherokee passed the turnoff leading to Interstate 95, and pushed forward on the shortest, but not quickest route to its destination.
Daniel arrived at the Northgate shopping complex less than ten minutes later, and parked his car at the back of the Shaw's parking lot, to the far right of the store. He could think of no conceivable way for his adversary to spot the car from any of the three approaches to Starbucks. He reached into the back seat and grabbed a dark blue, zippered nylon jacket and a dirty Red Sox ball cap. He opened his door and stood up to put on the jacket, followed by the hat. Before jogging across the parking lot toward the entrance to Shaws, he tucked the pistol into the rear belt line of his dark brown wool pants and pulled the jacket down to ensure that it was concealed.
He arrived at the automated entrance and glanced around. Starbucks was to his left, and there were three open parking spaces in front the coffee shop, directly off the covered pedestrian walkway linking together the strip mall's business fronts. A dozen more spaces sat unoccupied among the three rows of parking available further back from the store fronts. He didn't have much time to position himself, so he trusted his instincts, and walked briskly into the field of cars across from the coffee shop.
His mind raced with thousands of possibilities, variables, and scenarios, as he searched for an unlocked car in the third row away from Starbucks. His training had broken through, but it felt like a glitchy computer. He shook his head, as if he could rattle his brain's circuitry back into place. After checking several cars, he found an unlocked Honda Accord, and slipped into the back seat.
Parker veered his Grand Cherokee left at the split of Auburn Street and Washington Avenue, and spotted the traffic signal that marked the front entrance to the Northgate shopping center. His stomach was knotted, and he tried for the hundredth time, since arriving in Portland, to stop grinding his teeth. He'd seen enough of the Petrovich file to warrant an ulcer.
He arrived at the red light, and scanned the parking lot in front of the Starbucks and Shaws for a BMW, though he was reasonably certain that he'd beaten Petrovich to the shopping center. His only goal had been to get into the Starbucks alive, where, in front of witnesses, he'd at least have a brief opportunity to explain that he knew nothing about Zorana Sekulic, only the name. The general had made it clear that this would be the most pressing business on the table, and that Parker's survival would depend on it.
The light turned green and Parker sat for a few seconds, momentarily paralyzed. A horn jarred him back to reality, and he pulled into the plaza, cruising slowly while he searched for the BMW.
Daniel spotted the Cherokee immediately thanks to an impatient Mainer. Three short horn blasts drew his attention to the front entrance of the parking lot, where even the most unobservant field agent could spot Parker cruising "casually" past Shaws, craning his neck in every direction.
He peeked through the Accord's headrest and watched the Cherokee drive past Starbucks, and turn into the second row of cars. As the SUV headed in his direction, one row away, Daniel slid himself across the back seat and unlocked the passenger door. Hand on the door handle, he waited for the Cherokee to park.