‘PDA with internet capability. I’m assuming you aren’t hauling around fifty million in tens and twenties. You’ve got the money parked in an account somewhere. Prove it to me that you’ve got it, show me the account balance online, and we can deal. Show me the money, bud.’
Eric held the phone, looked at the screen. ‘I… I…’
‘What are you waiting for?’
‘I’m not going to show it to you.’
‘I need proof that you’ve still got the whole fifty million.’
Eric didn’t look over toward Luke but he raised his head with a slow dignity. A decision made. He tossed the phone back to Mouser, who caught it one-handed. ‘I’ve got it all, but I’m not showing you the accounts. I have no reason to lie.’
The sound of the shot was a hard slap in the close air of the basement. Under his hand, clamping over her mouth, Luke felt Aubrey choke down a scream.
‘Not any more,’ Mouser said as a soft eulogy.
Luke did not risk peering through the pipes. He tried to breathe silently, through his mouth. Mouser had killed Eric. Just ten feet away from them.
He heard footsteps. A clanking of metal – the unused basement door. The cool night crept into the basement.
Aubrey pressed her face into her elbow, curled on the concrete.
The door clanged shut. Mouser was in the alley.
The gun. Eric still had his gun. In his jacket.
Luke moved from the web of pipes and didn’t even glance behind at Aubrey.
Eric lay dead on his back, a Rorschach of blood on his forehead. Slackening astonishment on his face.
Luke glanced at the door. It began to push open again. Too soon to be anyone but Mouser.
Luke ran and shoved the door hard, kicking his heels against the concrete floor.
A bullet tore through the thin metal, ricocheting into the air an inch from Luke’s scalp.
He slammed the door fully shut, slid the deadbolt.
Luke was running now, yelling for Aubrey. She crouched, shivering over Eric’s body, her mouth trembling, her skin pale as moonlight. He knelt, grabbed the gun from the jacket, a sheaf of papers, a key ring and cell phone from the pocket. A miniature basketball on the key ring bounced against his palm. Luke grabbed it all, put the gun under his own coat.
Luke and Aubrey ran up the stairs, into the small crowd in the lobby, out into the cool of the wind-blown street. They took a hard left and ran onto the busy sidewalk. Cars zoomed past, headlights painting them in whites.
It would only be a minute before Mouser was on the street.
People crammed the sidewalks, thronging from the restaurants and stores. Luke and Aubrey ran and he looked ahead and to the left, at the upcoming intersection, and he saw Mouser scanning the street, suddenly raising his hand. Running after them. They dashed out onto Armitage Avenue. Mouser closed fast on them.
In the street they were caught in a wash of lights, a roaring peal of brakes. A Chicago Transit Authority bus honked, veering to avoid Luke and Aubrey. He saw the lighted windows of the bus, commuters standing and sitting, just wanting to get home to their safe cocoons, frightened and gripping the seats and each other as the bus driver hammered its brakes, spun, crunched into cars parked along the avenue.
For a moment Luke thought the bus would either topple on them in its skid or simply run straight over them. But they ran out of its path, Luke glancing back, seeing Mouser vanishing as the bus blocked Luke’s view. A car rammed into the side of the bus.
They ran. Luke heard the squealing of brakes from a truck trying to avoid them. Aubrey grabbed his arm and they ran down a side street. Luke glanced back, didn’t see Mouser in the chaos of the braked cars, didn’t hear another crack of gunshot.
They ran back toward the elevated train station. They fed their cards into the ticket reader and hurried up the staircase.
They stood at the end of the platform, waiting for the rumble of the rails. Aubrey leaned against him, panting. If Mouser made it up the steps…
‘Go,’ he said. ‘Go to the police.’
She looked at him and a toughness in her that he had not seen before settled in her eyes. ‘I’m not sure the police can protect me from people who can kill the power grid. You took his keys?’
‘Yes.’
A train, bound for the Loop, rumbled into the Armitage station. ‘Let’s go,’ she said.
They stepped onto the train. The crowd mixed, doing the dodge-you-first dance, jockeying for seats and stands near the door. The train was less crowded than he thought it would be. Businessmen, rough looking kids, a group of women chattering in Spanish. Luke and Aubrey sat down, as far from everyone else as they could.
Aubrey huddled close to him and shivered. ‘I might be sick.’
Awkwardly he put a calming hand on her back. She breathed hard. ‘Oh God. Oh God. He did it to save us.’
‘To save you. He was definitely not trying to save me. He painted a goddamn target on my back.’
She looked up at him; her eyes were wet but she blinked hard as though unwilling to risk a trickle of tears. He saw the strength in her face. ‘He was wrong to do that.’
Luke watched the train speed past the lit buildings, a mist starting to fall, the light smeared and dreamy.
This money was the key, to stopping the Night Road and perhaps finding out who Jane was – the architect of his destruction. They had to find where Eric had hidden it.
‘Where’s Eric’s apartment?’
‘Near downtown, River West area.’
The train huffed into the station. People shuffled on and off. A trio of homeless men boarded, along with an elderly man in a neat suit, with a frown on his face and a newspaper tucked under his arm.
‘How many more stations?’ Luke did not like sitting still, where someone could study and remember his face from television. ‘Where should we get off?’
The homeless men laughed at a private joke among themselves. The elderly man sitting across from Luke and Aubrey inspected them as though measuring them on a finely tuned secret balance. He opened and began to read a newspaper.
Luke saw his own face – the image captured on the ATM camera – on the front page. A headline read SUSPECT IN BIZARRE KILLING MARKED BY TRAGEDY. Probably an account of his father’s death in a bizarre plane crash and his mother’s death in a car crash. The twin blots of sorrow in his life.
Aubrey saw the headline and touched Luke’s hand. She pulled on his sleeve and he stood, getting away from the newspaper, following her toward the homeless guys, who had staked out the center of the car as a temporary turf. The rest of the passengers gave the trio plenty of space.
Luke and Aubrey stood near the door. Luke kept his face toward the window. The great city lay beyond the glass. He wished he could enjoy the view.
He glanced back at the man.
The elderly man had turned to the first page of the paper. It lay folded on his lap, Luke’s picture above the crease.
24
Mouser watched the train arrive to sweep them away – no way he could reach them in time. So he stopped running.
Eric had lied. He was sure they’d been the ones to lock him out of the basement. Which meant Eric died shielding them. So they must know where the money is. It was the only reasonable explanation.
He turned and headed back to his car, parked at a pay slot. A slow heat warmed his skin. His phone rang as soon as he reached the car.
‘Did you get them?’ Snow sounded tired.
‘Not all. Just Eric. Luke is with Eric’s woman. I think Eric’s told them where the money is. He wanted to save that girl something fierce.’
‘I can help. Where are you going now?’
‘Don’t you worry. I’ll be back at the motel soon. It’s going to be okay.’
‘I can meet you. I have a car.’
‘You have a car.’
‘I did not like that doctor. I borrowed her car when she came over to check on me.’ Then a hint of crossness in her voice. ‘She shouldn’t have tried to stop me.’