“You okay?” he asks. When I shrug noncommittally, he nods. “Well, get ready. We have a long night ahead of us.”
The car pulls away from the curb, accelerating smoothly into the darkness. I glance backward. Through the tinted windows, I watch the flashing lights of the media horde and the police cruisers vanish from sight.
I have no idea where we’re going.
I have no idea what will happen next.
[HANDWRITTEN — Taped to envelope containing $12,000 cash.]
For Unit 16-C. Six months paid up front.
Don't say a word to anybody.
I don’t know where we’re going. We wind through streets I don’t recognize and take turns that seem designed to disorient.
Kir doesn’t speak and I don’t ask questions. I’m too wrung out for interrogation.
Eventually, we descend into an underground garage beneath an a
