He did a quick check on the tat as he approached the throng. Might not pass muster in the light of day, but here in the dark, with only streetlights for illumination, it was perfect.
He stopped by a knot of a half dozen guys and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. Making sure his tat was toward the group, he shook one out and lit up. As anticipated, someone needed a smoke.
"Hey, bro," said a blond guy in a work shirt. "Spare one of those?"
"Sure." Jack extended the box. After the guy had taken his, Jack offered it around. "Anyone else?"
One other guy took him up on it. Jack lent them his lighter to fire up. After a few drags—fake inhaled for fear of coughing—he looked around.
"What's going on? What's everybody doing outside? This a fire drill or something?"
The blond guy grinned. "Damn near. Like three o'clock this afternoon we get the word: Everybody outta the building. Move-move-move. We been out here ever since. I went and grabbed a burger and come back figuring everything'd be back to normal. But no. Still locked out, and no reason why."
A tall, sullen type was eyeing Jack. "Ain't seen you around before."
Jack eyed him right back. "I'm kinda new. Been out all day ripping down those sword flyers. You know they got them posted as far out as Jackson Heights? I mean, what gives with that?"
The blond guy said, "Word is that someone heard just as we were being moved out that the next job would be taking down the girl posters."
Jack stiffened. "You mean those missing Dawn Pickering things we've been plastering all over town? They want them down?"
"That's the word." He shrugged. "Don't mean it's true."
"Did they find her?"
The tall guy shrugged. "Don't think so. I been workin the phones these past four weeks and I ain't heard nothin but bullshit comin in. One lie after another, just trying to get a piece of that reward. Sometimes people make me sick, y'know? I think Hank just figured if we ain't found her by now, we ain't gonna find her at all, and he decided to pull the plug."
"You might be right," Jack said.
Like hell. No way Hank would give up on that baby. He and his late unlamented brother Jerry saw Dawn's baby as the Key to the Future. Only three reasons he'd pull the flyers: Dawn was dead, Dawn had gotten an abortion, or Dawn had been found and was under his control.
Clearing out Kicker HQ on such short notice added a lot of weight to number three. If true, she could be inside right now.
"Nice night."
Jack turned away and looked up, pretending to stare at the sky, but really checking for a vantage point that would allow him to see into the building. As he scanned the cornices of the rooftops across the street he spotted a flash of reflection—a double flash, side by side.
As in binoculars.
Her scream jolted Hank. Why—?
Oh, yeah. The sword. He'd been swinging it around when she stepped into the room. Must have thought he was going to attack her.
"Hey, it's all right," he said, lowering the blade. "I'm just playing with it."
She stood inside the doorway, trembling, her eyes shifting left and right.
"Wh-where's Jerry?"
Jerry? Did she think he was still alive?
Of course she did. She'd known him as Jerry Bethlehem. As far as anyone knew, Jerry Bethlehem was a murder suspect on the run from the law. But that had been an assumed identity. His body had been ID'd and he'd been declared dead under his real identity, Jeremy Bolton. No way Dawn could connect the two.
He studied her. She didn't look pregnant. He barely recognized her. She'd lost weight, and with her blond hair dyed brown and cut short, he might have passed her on the street without recognizing her. Only when he focused on her puggish face did he know for sure it was her.
And he wanted to slug her. Or cut her.
Probably not the best idea to be holding the katana while talking to her, but he liked the way it felt in his hands.
He fumed at the thought of how she'd come within a few feet and a few seconds of killing Jeremy's baby. If she'd set foot inside that clinic, she'd have been out of reach and the Plan would be in ashes right now.
But much as he wanted to, he couldn't hurt her. Not while she carried the Key to the Future.
But after the baby was born… a whole new ball game.
Then again, maybe not. She'd be the Mother of the Key, which might make her untouchable.
So Hank bottled his fury while he considered what to say.
She thought Jerry was alive… maybe he could use that.
"Jerry's not here at the moment."
"Where is he?"
"Around. He doesn't want to see you yet. He's too mad at you for running off and putting us to all this trouble."
"Us?"
"Him, me, all the Kickers. We've spent a lot of money and a lot of manhours looking for you."
She frowned. "What's in it for you?"
"Why, the welfare of your baby, of course."
She was staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. "You… you look like him."
Hank noticed Menck and Darryl still standing in the doorway.
He waved them off. "Close the door behind you." Then he turned to Dawn and said, "Like who?" though he knew exactly who.
"Like him. Put a beard on you and—oh, Jesus! You're related!"
"True. Jerry wa—" He caught himself. Almost said was. Have to watch that. "Jerry and I had the same father. He's my half brother. And that… " He pointed to her midsection "… is my nephew."
She grabbed her belly with both hands and backed away until she was pressed against the door.
"Oh, God!"
She began to cry, and he couldn't help feeling a little—just a little—sad for her. After all, she was only eighteen. Just a kid. She hadn't asked for this.
But on the other hand, she wouldn't even exist if not for the Plan, so she owed the Plan. Owed it her life. And all the Plan was asking in return was the baby she didn't even want, the baby she was on her way to kill.
He spoke in a soft, soothing tone. "It's not the end of the world, Dawn. It's nine months out of your life. And you're already—what?—almost two months into it. So we're talking maybe seven months here. You see it through, and then, if you don't want the baby, you walk away and spend the rest of your life any way you want to. If you want to stay and help raise him, you'll never want for anything ever again."
She stopped crying and glared at him as she spoke through her gritted teeth.
"I don't want this baby! I know who Jerry is and I want this obscene thing out of me! If I could rip it out with my hands I would. It shouldn't even exist. I don't know what you two are up to or what you think this baby's going to be, and I don't care. Find your 'Key to the Future' somewhere else!" Her voice rose to a scream. "I don't want it!"
Hank felt heat filling his head. "Well, you're going to have it so get used to it, babes. You can make it easy or you can make it hard, but that's the way it's gonna be."
"Yeah?"
She got a wild look in her eyes, and then suddenly she was charging him. No, not him—for the sword. He pivoted and moved it out of her reach. That was when he realized that she had no interest in him or the sword. She was heading for the window. And at the rate she was moving, it couldn't be just for a look. The window—a single piece of old glass—was down but she looked like she was going to jump right through it.