As he left the apartment building, Steve spotted his tail. The typical, government-issued, nondescript sedan was now a light-gray subcompact Toyota. But Steve was able to make it out easily when it pulled out of a parking space just down the block from the apartment's parking lot.
Now where should we go now, Steve wondered. The Toyota was remaining a discrete distance behind him, so he doubted the ISA was planning another move. Not when they don't know where I'm going.
To give the impression that he was just running a few errands, Steve stopped at the gas station and filled up his tank. Then he made a swing by the flower shop. At each stop, the Toyota parked a block away. Its occupants never got out to get a close look.
At the flower shop, while waiting for the florist to put together a small bouquet of yellow roses and baby's breath, Steve made a couple of quick calls from the pay phone. Jack was not at the Spectator. Good. Steve smiled as he walked back over to the florist to pick up the flowers.
"Is that everything?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. Johnson, exactly as instructed," the florist said as she handed him the bouquet. It was swathed in plastic, with the stems placed in a brown bag. "The bag will help in this cold."
Walking out of the shop with his bouquet, Steve shivered. Kayla was right about how cold it had turned. With the wind chill, it felt a lot closer to winter than late-September. Pulling his jacket tighter, Steve forced himself to focus on his present task and checked that the Toyota was still in place. It was. He spotted two men in the front seat.
Time to have a little fun boys.
Once inside the car, Steve reached into the brown bag and found what he was looking for. Billy Jack came through. He pulled out a sealed plastic bag and grinned as he stared at a brand-new walkie talkie.
He slowly pulled his car out of the parking lot. Keeping the car to about 15 mph, he made sure the Toyota was able to follow easily. He drove down Main St. and turned toward the riverfront.
Don't fall behind, Steve silently instructed the ISA agents. He was only a few blocks from the docks now, so he pulled the walkie talkie out of the bag and turned it on. After it blared to life, Steve pressed the "talk" button and asked, "Jackson, you there?"
He let go and briefly listened to static before he heard Jack's voice. "You're supposed to call me 'Eagle.' Or 'Eagle One.'"
Steve grimaced. "I think that's reserved for the President."
"Then how about 'Alpha'?" Jack asked.
"This isn't a time for games, Jack." Steve lost his patience. "Just tell me everything's in place."
The walkie talkie crackled before Jack replied. "That's an affirmative, Cyclops."
Cyclops. Steve rolled his eye. "You're not making fun of the patch now, are you, Jack?"
"Uh, no . . . it just seemed to . . . uh . . . fit your large, commanding presence. A giant among men."
Steve had enough. "Look, cut it out with the codenames and just be ready to move. I'm just a block away."
"Uh, sure," Jack said.
"Good. And, Billy Jack, don't screw this up."
Setting down the walkie talkie, Steve glanced again in his rearview mirror. The Toyota was still in sight. He slowly turned right a few blocks from the river. His car was now headed into the riverfront warehouse district. The Toyota followed.
He passed Simmons Freight and briefly wondered if the Simmons brat still had a "professional" crew. The old Allied warehouse was not too far away and Steve drove toward it.
The Toyota continued to follow.
Reaching the Allied warehouse, Steve turned right onto a small street that ran between a couple of the larger warehouses. In some of the side alleys and warehouse entrances, he spotted large trucks being loaded with freight.
Nearly there.
Behind him, the Toyota turned down the road. Steve kept driving down the street as he picked up the walkie talkie. "Okay, Jack . . . . Wait for it . . . Wait . . ."
The Toyota pulled past the first alley.
"NOW!"
Steve's view of the Toyota was cut off as a large truck with the logo of the Salem Spectator pulled out of a warehouse and blocked the street. Steve pulled his car to the side of the street, stopped, and jumped out. With the walkie talkie against his ear, he yelled, "Did we get them?" He almost forgot to let go of the button, but when he did, he heard Jack through the static.
"- as a bug in a rug. Our friends aren't going anywhere, Cy- I mean, Steve."
The truck between him and the Toyota had stopped just a few feet from the warehouse opposite the one it had pulled out of, so Steve had room to pass. As he reached the truck, he heard the sound of a car horn blaring. He grinned when he got a view of the other side.
The Toyota was stopped, trapped between the truck Steve had just passed and another Spectator truck that had pulled out of an alley behind it. The driver punched his horn again, then spotted Steve, and grimaced. He reached into his coat, most likely for a sidearm.
"You don't need that," Steve called out. He held his arms away from his body to show that he was unarmed and holding only the walkie talkie. "Actually, I should advise you that representatives of the press are present, so you probably shouldn't do anything you might regret becoming national news." He looked past the Toyota at the truck on the other side and saw Jack grinning back. Next to him was a Spectator photographer who was snapping away with his camera. "Besides, I just want to have a little talk."
In the car, the driver pulled his hand out of his coat and sat back in his seat. The passenger was doing the same. Neither appeared to have a gun in hand.
Steve walked casually to the car, still keeping his arms out. A blast of wind struck his face and he grimaced at the cold, but he did not lower his arms. He reached the driver's door and looked inside. He laughed when he realized the driver was the ISA agent to whom Steve had given a black eye at Lawrence Alamain's house.
"Nice to see you again," Steve said, while he waited for the driver to lower the window. Eventually, the man complied.
"You're going to regret this," the ISA agent said. His partner in the passenger seat looked equally unhappy.
Steve shrugged. "Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. But right now, I think I have you in a rather awkward situation. So, for now, why don't you listen while I tell you what's going to happen next."
The ISA agent's eyes narrowed.
"I want a meeting with Tarrington," Steve said. "Today. He can name the place and time. Just . . . just make sure he knows that Jack Devereaux will know exactly when and where it's taking place and just needs to fill in a few blanks for the article to hit tomorrow's Spectator."
The ISA agent said nothing for a moment, and Steve feared he might refuse, but the man finally nodded. "I'll let him know. Where should he contact you?"
Steve grinned again. "I'll be at The Cheating Heart. Plenty of folks will be around just in case. I'm sure the ISA can find the number and address."
Turning away, Steve felt a momentary wash of relief. He still had to deal with Tarrington, but everything had worked like clockwork so far. Tarrington would get the message. Steve glanced down at the walkie talkie in his hand and chuckled. It was probably the most expensive model on the market. Jack had probably paid a pretty penny for it and to pay off the clerk at the flower show to slip the device to Steve earlier.
And there were the Spectator trucks. As he walked toward the truck that had cut off the Toyota, he lifted the walkie talkie and punched the "talk" button again. "I must say that I'm glad to see you putting the paper's resources to good use."
There was a pause before Jack responded. "I'll let you tell that to the union. I'm sure I'll get a grievance over this one."
Steve laughed as he reached the truck. He grinned and gave the driver a small salute. The man grinned back, then began reversing the truck into the warehouse.
"I don't think you have too much to worry about," Steve said into the walkie talkie.
Jack's voice came back over the device. "Oh . . . and I want that walkie talkie back. I still have the receipt and can probably return it. I don't want Jennifer finding out that I spent next month's rent on a toy."
Steve chuckled. "You got it. Meet me at the Cheating Heart and I'll buy you a drink. One drink," he added quickly. Then he grinned again. "You know what? I hate to say it, Jack, but you did good, little brother. You did real good."