Chapter 6 · The Girl and the Bodyguard

Chapter 6

Another key detail: Harlan was in the middle of negotiating a massive project with the city, worth over 1.5 billion dollars. The deal was set to be signed next week, and any bad press could tank the whole thing.

That was his Achilles' heel.

I closed the file and leaned back, shutting my eyes again.

The plan was already coming together in my head.

At seven in the morning, Nina woke up.

She ran out of the hospital room, spotted me sitting in the hallway, and tilted her head, giving me a curious look.

"Sir, why are you sleeping on the floor?" she asked.

"I'm standing guard for you and your mom," I said.

"What's standing guard?"

"It means I'm here to make sure no bad guys mess with you."

Nina paused, then dug around in her pocket and pulled out a piece of candy, handing it to me.

"Here, have some candy. If you eat it, you won't feel tired anymore," she said.

I took the candy. It was a strawberry hard candy, the wrapper all wrinkled up—looked like it had been sitting in her pocket forever.

"Thanks," I said.

"You're welcome," she said with a smile, then dashed back into the room.

I stuffed the candy in my pocket and stood up.

Time to get down to business.

At nine in the morning, I left the hospital.

Before I left, I told Clara to lock the door and not open it for anyone, no matter who it was.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I've got something to take care of. I'll be back before noon," I said.

"The Zane family's people are still downstairs keeping an eye on us," she said.

"I know," I said.

I took the fire escape down and slipped out the hospital's back door, jumped on my battered electric scooter, and rode across half of Riverveil, ending up at an industrial park out on the east side.

Inside the park, there was a nondescript three-story building with a sign that said "PrimeLink Logistics."

On paper, it belonged to Blake Bell, but in reality, it was the training base for the Zane Security Agency.

I didn't go in.

I parked my scooter outside the breakfast joint across the street, ordered a plate of spaghetti, and sat by the window, keeping an eye on the building.

At 9:30, a black SUV rolled into the industrial park and pulled up in front of the building.

A guy got out—looked about forty, built like a tank, buzz cut, and there was an old scar on his left ear.

Blake Bell.

He went inside, and ten minutes later, came back out holding a document folder.

Then he got back in the SUV and drove off.

I set my fork down, hopped on my scooter, and tailed him from a distance.

Blake's SUV drove for about twenty minutes before pulling up at the entrance of an apartment complex.

The place was nothing fancy—just your average apartment complex, totally out of place for someone with Harlan's kind of money.

Blake got out and walked into the apartment complex.

I made a mental note of the complex's name and the building number he went into.

Then I turned around and rode back the way I came.

At 10:40, I got back to the hospital area.

Instead of heading straight in, I bought a bottle of water from the convenience store across the street and stood by the entrance, scoping things out.

The number of black vans parked at the hospital entrance had gone from four to six.

The number of guys in black had also increased—looked like at least twenty of them now.

They were beefing up their numbers.

Harlan wasn't bluffing about that noon deadline.

I checked the time—10:50.

Just an hour and ten minutes left.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number.

"Hello? Is this Ethan Sully?" I asked.

There was a brief silence on the other end. "Who is this?"

"We met in the hospital yesterday. Forgot already?" I said.

Another second of silence.

"The delivery guy?" Ethan snorted. "How'd you get my number?"

"Doesn't matter. The point is, I've got something Harlan would kill to know about," I said.

"What is it?" Ethan asked.

"I've got something that belonged to Smith Chase," I said.

There was dead silence on the other end.

Five seconds later, Ethan's voice came back, but now he sounded completely different.

"What did you just say?" he asked.

"I said Smith Chase," I said, my voice calm. "The guy who skipped town from Riverveil three years ago. Harlan should know that name pretty well."

"Who are you, really?" Ethan asked.

"Just a delivery guy," I said. "But I've got something that could make sure Harlan's 1.5 billion dollar project next week never gets signed."

I could hear Ethan's breath quicken on the other end.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I want to talk to Harlan. Not tomorrow—right now," I said.

"You're nuts. Harlan won't see you."

"He will," I replied. "Just tell him the name Smith Chase. He'll meet with me."

I hung up.

Then I walked into the hospital and took the fire escape up to the twelfth floor.

Clara's hospital room door was closed. I knocked three times.

The door opened just a crack, and Clara peeked through. When she saw it was me, she breathed a sigh of relief and swung the door open.

"You're back," she said.

"Yeah."

Chapter 6

That was his Achilles' heel.

I closed the file and leaned back, shutting my eyes again.

The plan was already coming together in my head.

At seven in the morning, Nina woke up.

She ran out of the hospital room, spotted me sitting in the hallway, and tilted her head, giving me a curious look.

"Sir, why are you sleeping on the floor?" she asked.

"I'm standing guard for you and your mom," I said.

"What's standing guard?"

"It means I'm here to make sure no bad guys mess with you."

Nina paused, then dug around in her pocket and pulled out a piece of candy, handing it to me.

"Here, have some candy. If you eat it, you won't feel tired anymore," she said.

I took the candy. It was a strawberry hard candy, the wrapper all wrinkled up—looked like it had been sitting in her pocket forever.

"Thanks," I said.

"You're welcome," she said with a smile, then dashed back into the room.

I stuffed the candy in my pocket and stood up.

Time to get down to business.

At nine in the morning, I left the hospital.

Before I left, I told Clara to lock the door and not open it for anyone, no matter who it was.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I've got something to take care of. I'll be back before noon," I said.

"The Zane family's people are still downstairs keeping an eye on us," she said.

"I know," I said.

I took the fire escape down and slipped out the hospital's back door, jumped on my battered electric scooter, and rode across half of Riverveil, ending up at an industrial park out on the east side.

Inside the park, there was a nondescript three-story building with a sign that said "PrimeLink Logistics."

On paper, it belonged to Blake Bell, but in reality, it was the training base for the Zane Security Agency.

I didn't go in.

I parked my scooter outside the breakfast joint across the street, ordered a plate of spaghetti, and sat by the window, keeping an eye on the building.

At 9:30, a black SUV rolled into the industrial park and pulled up in front of the building.

A guy got out—looked about forty, built like a tank, buzz cut, and there was an old scar on his left ear.

Blake Bell.

He went inside, and ten minutes later, came back out holding a document folder.

Then he got back in the SUV and drove off.

I set my fork down, hopped on my scooter, and tailed him from a distance.

Blake's SUV drove for about twenty minutes before pulling up at the entrance of an apartment complex.

The place was nothing fancy—just your average apartment complex, totally out of place for someone with Harlan's kind of money.

Blake got out and walked into the apartment complex.

I made a mental note of the complex's name and the building number he went into.

Then I turned around and rode back the way I came.

At 10:40, I got back to the hospital area.

Instead of heading straight in, I bought a bottle of water from the convenience store across the street and stood by the entrance, scoping things out.

The number of black vans parked at the hospital entrance had gone from four to six.

The number of guys in black had also increased—looked like at least twenty of them now.

They were beefing up their numbers.

Harlan wasn't bluffing about that noon deadline.

I checked the time—10:50.

Just an hour and ten minutes left.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number.

"Hello? Is this Ethan Sully?" I asked.

There was a brief silence on the other end. "Who is this?"

"We met in the hospital yesterday. Forgot already?" I said.

Another second of silence.

"The delivery guy?" Ethan snorted. "How'd you get my number?"

"Doesn't matter. The point is, I've got something Harlan would kill to know about," I said.

"What is it?" Ethan asked.

"I've got something that belonged to Smith Chase," I said.

There was dead silence on the other end.

Five seconds later, Ethan's voice came back, but now he sounded completely different.

"What did you just say?" he asked.

"I said Smith Chase," I said, my voice calm. "The guy who skipped town from Riverveil three years ago. Harlan should know that name pretty well."

"Who are you, really?" Ethan asked.

"Just a delivery guy," I said. "But I've got something that could make sure Harlan's 1.5 billion dollar project next week never gets signed."

I could hear Ethan's breath quicken on the other end.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I want to talk to Harlan. Not tomorrow—right now," I said.

"You're nuts. Harlan won't see you."

"He will," I replied. "Just tell him the name Smith Chase. He'll meet with me."

I hung up.

Then I walked into the hospital and took the fire escape up to the twelfth floor.

Clara's hospital room door was closed. I knocked three times.

The door opened just a crack, and Clara peeked through. When she saw it was me, she breathed a sigh of relief and swung the door open.

"You're back," she said.

"Yeah."