bundled him straight in, Sean sliding into the rear seat of the centre vehicle alongside him, as much to ensure he didn’t get any ideas about leaving us prematurely, as for his own protection.
I was behind the wheel of the chase car, with Parker Armstrong riding shotgun. In a conservative dark-grey suit that contrasted with his short-clipped hair, Parker had a quietly prosperous air about him. He could have been a banker, or a lawyer, or a businessman, especially with those ever-watchful shrewd eyes hidden behind wrap-aroundsunglasses. But the casual observer would have been hard-pressed to point to close protection as his stock-in-trade. Unless they jammed their face right up against the limo-black tint on the windows, that is, and saw the MP5K slung casually across his lap.
The shortened version of the Heckler & Koch MP5 sub-machine gun was ideally suited as a close-quarters weapon within the confines of a vehicle, which was why Parker favoured it. As well as my SIG, I had an HK53 compact assault rifle down the side of my seat, in the gun rack the vehicle armourers had thoughtfully provided for the purpose. When they’d said the Chevys came fully loaded, they’d meant it.
I kept checking my mirrors for signs of a tail amid the jostling traffic, noting the drivers of half a dozen makes and models who seemed eager to match our speed and course. Maybe they just thought we might have some big-shot Hollywood type on board and they were craning to catch a glimpse.
Not that we were expecting trouble. No more than usual. I certainly wasn’t expecting it to come from inside the vehicle.
‘You let him get to you,’ Parker said then, out of nowhere.
I’d been concentrating on keeping the Chevy close enough to the car in front to practically exchange paint, and he caught me way off balance. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Witney,’ he elaborated. ‘You let him get under your skin.’
‘If he did, I handled it,’ I said shortly.
Parker gave a slow nod. ‘That you did,’ he agreed witha flash of very white teeth against his tan. When I glanced over, he added, ‘That takedown was as fast and nasty as any I’ve seen – I was impressed. But that wasn’t what I meant.’
‘Oh?’ I fought not to let my alarm show, kept my hands steady on the wheel, eyes flicking between the driving mirrors and the massive rump of the Suburban that seemed to fill my forward view. It was a difficult balance between keeping far enough back to have reaction time if we came under attack, and not giving anyone chance to muscle between us.
Parker sighed. ‘Just be thankful I was the one monitoring the feeds this morning, and not Sean,’ he said. He waited until he saw the hint of colour, the sudden heat in the tips of my ears, before he let me off the hook of that accusing gaze. He slipped off his shades, tucked them into his top pocket as his voice turned gentle. ‘You gotta tell him, Charlie.’
‘What? That Witney tried to land one on me?’
‘No, that he scored a direct hit with that crack about parental responsibilities.’ He paused, added with a gentleness that almost undid me, ‘If it was me, I’d want to know.’
Would you ?
My breath hissed out. ‘I’ve never planned to keep anything from Sean,’ I said. ‘I’ve just been searching for the right moment.’ It sounded lame when I said it. But the right moment never came. And by the time I realised that, it was much too late.
‘Search harder,’ Parker said, grim. ‘If the hospital hadn’t called me, I wouldn’t know either, would I?’
No, you probably wouldn’t . ‘Did you tell Bill Rendelson?’ I asked, remembering that bitter glare.
‘I didn’t have to,’ Parker pointed out in a steady voice.‘All agency paperwork comes across Bill’s desk – including medical expenses.’
Damn. And how long can he be relied upon to keep that little titbit to himself ?
‘All right,’ I said, defeated. ‘As soon as we’re done here, I’ll find a way to tell
I was behind the wheel of the chase car, with Parker Armstrong riding shotgun. In a conservative dark-grey suit that contrasted with his short-clipped hair, Parker had a quietly prosperous air about him. He could have been a banker, or a lawyer, or a businessman, especially with those ever-watchful shrewd eyes hidden behind wrap-aroundsunglasses. But the casual observer would have been hard-pressed to point to close protection as his stock-in-trade. Unless they jammed their face right up against the limo-black tint on the windows, that is, and saw the MP5K slung casually across his lap.
The shortened version of the Heckler & Koch MP5 sub-machine gun was ideally suited as a close-quarters weapon within the confines of a vehicle, which was why Parker favoured it. As well as my SIG, I had an HK53 compact assault rifle down the side of my seat, in the gun rack the vehicle armourers had thoughtfully provided for the purpose. When they’d said the Chevys came fully loaded, they’d meant it.
I kept checking my mirrors for signs of a tail amid the jostling traffic, noting the drivers of half a dozen makes and models who seemed eager to match our speed and course. Maybe they just thought we might have some big-shot Hollywood type on board and they were craning to catch a glimpse.
Not that we were expecting trouble. No more than usual. I certainly wasn’t expecting it to come from inside the vehicle.
‘You let him get to you,’ Parker said then, out of nowhere.
I’d been concentrating on keeping the Chevy close enough to the car in front to practically exchange paint, and he caught me way off balance. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Witney,’ he elaborated. ‘You let him get under your skin.’
‘If he did, I handled it,’ I said shortly.
Parker gave a slow nod. ‘That you did,’ he agreed witha flash of very white teeth against his tan. When I glanced over, he added, ‘That takedown was as fast and nasty as any I’ve seen – I was impressed. But that wasn’t what I meant.’
‘Oh?’ I fought not to let my alarm show, kept my hands steady on the wheel, eyes flicking between the driving mirrors and the massive rump of the Suburban that seemed to fill my forward view. It was a difficult balance between keeping far enough back to have reaction time if we came under attack, and not giving anyone chance to muscle between us.
Parker sighed. ‘Just be thankful I was the one monitoring the feeds this morning, and not Sean,’ he said. He waited until he saw the hint of colour, the sudden heat in the tips of my ears, before he let me off the hook of that accusing gaze. He slipped off his shades, tucked them into his top pocket as his voice turned gentle. ‘You gotta tell him, Charlie.’
‘What? That Witney tried to land one on me?’
‘No, that he scored a direct hit with that crack about parental responsibilities.’ He paused, added with a gentleness that almost undid me, ‘If it was me, I’d want to know.’
Would you ?
My breath hissed out. ‘I’ve never planned to keep anything from Sean,’ I said. ‘I’ve just been searching for the right moment.’ It sounded lame when I said it. But the right moment never came. And by the time I realised that, it was much too late.
‘Search harder,’ Parker said, grim. ‘If the hospital hadn’t called me, I wouldn’t know either, would I?’
No, you probably wouldn’t . ‘Did you tell Bill Rendelson?’ I asked, remembering that bitter glare.
‘I didn’t have to,’ Parker pointed out in a steady voice.‘All agency paperwork comes across Bill’s desk – including medical expenses.’
Damn. And how long can he be relied upon to keep that little titbit to himself ?
‘All right,’ I said, defeated. ‘As soon as we’re done here, I’ll find a way to tell
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