I casually put my Bluetooth earpiece in and dial Josh as I walk.
“Yo!” he says as he answers, his trademark enthusiasm and happiness even harder to stomach than normal due to my headache.
“Yo? Who says that anymore?” I ask.
“Just trying to bring it back, Boss!”
“Well, don’t — it sounded stupid in the nineties, and it sounds worse now.”
“You’re touchier than usual today… Still hung over, are we?”
“No… listen — I’m being followed.”
There’s a moment’s silence on the line.
“You sure?” he asks.
“I double-checked. Definitely a tail.”
“One of Trent’s?”
“That would be my guess, yeah.”
“Do I wanna know what you have planned?”
“I’m not gonna kill him, if that’s what you’re getting at,” I say. “But I am gonna ask him some questions when I get chance. Anything you wanna know that might help your little online robbery idea?”
“Well, I doubt we’re lucky enough to have Trent’s personal accountant following you, so there’s not much he could do for me,” he says. “But any information about how Trent’s handling you being back would be helpful.”
“Agreed.”
“Just don’t be too… y’know… shooty with your line of questioning.”
“Too shooty?”
“Yeah, not every interrogation needs a gun, remember?”
“Piss off,” I say with a smile as I hang up.
I take a quick look around. I can see the breakfast bar I’m looking for across the street… I’m so hungry, but food will have to wait. This inconsiderate asshole is getting in the way of my breakfast, and I’m not happy.
Up ahead there’s a crossing. I use it as an excuse to casually look behind me and see where my tail is, acting like I’m preparing to cross the street, like anyone else would do. I step into a small group of people and wait for the green WALK sign to appear. And just like everyone else, I instinctively look left and right. I get a good look at the guy following me, and I definitely recognize him from somewhere, but can’t place him.
He has to be one of Trent’s men… He’s trying to act as casual as I am, but he’s not very good at it. He might as well be wearing an A-board and ringing a bell, advertising his services as a talentless thug for hire with no sense of discretion.
I cross over and continue up the other side of the street. I see an alleyway between two sandwich bars on my right. It’s reasonably wide, and has trashcans piled up on either side belonging to each establishment. There are puddles on the ground and graffiti on the walls. Both doors leading into the kitchen areas of each building are open.
I make a snap decision and turn down the alley. It seems to lead right through to the street one block over, running parallel to me, so it won’t have looked too suspicious — just another pedestrian taking another shortcut. I speed up a little, in an effort to force my tail to break his not-so-subtle cover so he can keep up. My plan is to lure him farther into the alley, then stop and spin around suddenly and grab him.
Simple, but effective. The element of surprise is a powerful tool.
I’m over halfway into the alley, so I think now’s as good a time as any… I take one last step and spin quickly on the balls of my feet, doing a quick one-eighty and stopping in a loose fighting stance.
But I’m alone.
Huh…
Maybe I am getting paranoid in my old age…
I wait another thirty seconds, to make sure, then turn around again to head back out of the alley at the other side. I’ll just double back around the block and go into the breakfast bar, like I originally intended.
I turn into a powerful right punch that hits me squarely in the face. The impact, coupled with the shock, sends me staggering backward. I eventually lose my balance and drop to one knee.
What the hell was that?
I look up and see the man I figured was following me. He must’ve carried on past the alley and sprinted around to the other side. He doesn’t even look out of breath… His face is calm and expressionless.
I slowly get back to my feet. He stands his ground but keeps a respectable distance. I dust myself down and stare at him.
“That was your free shot,” I say. “You go to hit me again and I’ll break you in half.”
He regards me silently for a moment, before speaking in a heavy East Coast accent.
“You’re just like he described,” he says with a cocky smile. “Maybe a bit smaller.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You must really be sick of breathing,” I say.
“Save your threats. I’m not an enemy.”
“So why did you hit me? Who are you?” I ask, reaching behind me and taking a Beretta out of my holster, holding it loose and obvious by my side. “And, before you say anything, please be aware that, to avoid getting shot, you need to make your answer phenomenally good…”
His eyes flick between mine and my gun. He obviously knows who I am, which means he knows his life depends on what he says next.
“My name’s not important,” he says, remaining impressively calm. “But who I work for is. I came here to hire you.”
“I already have a job,” I reply with a shrug. “Take a ticket like everyone else.”
“I appreciate that your services are in demand, but my employer is an old acquaintance of yours, and he’s willing to pay top dollar for your services, as a gesture of goodwill.”
I frown. An old acquaintance?
“Who do you work for?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
The man smiles and takes out his phone, dialing a number. When it starts ringing, he hands it to me.
“See for yourself,” he says.
I reluctantly take the phone from him. “Hello?”
“Hello, Adrian. It’s Jimmy Manhattan.”
My eyes go wide with surprise for a split second, and I silently curse myself for letting any emotion slip out.
“So, you’re not dead then?” I ask, quickly composing myself.
“As observant as ever,” replies Manhattan. “I always said you were smarter than you look.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to offer you a job.”
“We’ve been down that road before,” I say, “and it didn’t end particularly well for either of us. So, if it’s all the same, you can feel free to fuck off.”
The line goes silent and, in front of me, Manhattan’s man goes tense.
“Will you at least hear my proposal?” he asks me, finally.
I look at his man, who’s eyeballing me and trying to look menacing. I take a deep breath and sigh. I must be crazy…
“You’ve got thirty seconds,” I say. “Then I’m hanging up this phone and killing your guy.”
The guy relaxes and takes a step back, increasing his already respectful distance.
“That’s fair,” replies Manhattan. “Tell me, where exactly are you right now?”
I see no reason to lie — as far as he’s concerned, I’m just doing a job.
“In an alleyway in the center of Pittsburgh.”
“I’m in my hotel suite at The Carrington, over in Allentown.”
I fail to hide my surprise for a second time, and I’m thankful Manhattan isn’t here to see he’s caught me off-guard again.
“What are you doing in Pennsylvania,” I ask, unable to suppress my growing curiosity.