Black Ice by Thomas King

Author:Thomas King
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2024-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

22

The airport parking lot was mostly empty. Cooley was waiting for him by a bright blue kiosk with a sheltered overhang.

“Hey, boss.”

Thumps hadn’t been to the airport in a while.

“This new?”

“It is,” said Cooley. “According to the guy at the rental desk, this is the latest innovation in car rentals.”

Under the kiosk was a stand of metal lockers. Each locker was numbered. Off to one side was a central keypad.

“It’s really neat,” said Cooley. “You make a reservation, and they send you a code. So when you arrive, you just come here, punch the code into the keypad, and the appropriate locker opens. Inside is the rental agreement and the keys to the car.”

“You don’t have to go to the main desk?”

“Nope,” said Cooley. “Skip the line. And when you return the car, you just drop the keys in the drop box, and Bob’s your uncle.”

“Show me.”

Cooley punched in a number and locker number twelve on the far end snapped open.

“This Greeley’s locker?”

“It is,” said Cooley. “The great thing is that the locker is yours for as long as you have the car.”

“So you can store things in the locker.”

“Yep. Let’s say you have stuff you don’t want to carry around with you, you can leave it here until you return.”

“And Greeley stored some stuff ?”

Cooley nodded. “He did. Take a look.”

Inside the locker was a cellphone, a folder, and an automatic pistol with a suppressor screwed onto the barrel.

“Phone’s cheap but new,” said Cooley. “I think it’s a burner. Only has one number programmed into the memory.”

“You try the number?”

“It’s long distance,” said Cooley. “Texas area code. Figured I’d give you the honours.”

“And the folder?”

“Photographs,” said Cooley. “Bunch of people.”

There were eleven photographs in all. Thumps recognized a younger Nora Gage and a younger Cisco Cruz.

“Isn’t that your buddy?” asked Cooley. “Looks different in a suit and tie.”

Thumps would never have imagined Cruz in anything but black leather, yet here he was, suited and tied, buzz cut, ramrod straight, apple pie and the dawn’s early light. A model for a military recruitment poster.

“That the Gage woman?”

“It is.”

“How about the rest of them?”

“No idea.”

Cooley turned Cruz’s photo over. “Call PK” was written in tight, precise letters on the back. “Guessing we don’t know who PK is either.”

“Which leaves the pistol.”

“Staccato 2011,” said Cooley. “Cute little compact.”

“Nine millimetre?”

“It is,” said Cooley. “And not cheap.”

“So, we got a sniper rifle in the trunk and a pistol with a suppressor in the locker.”

“All we need,” said Cooley, “is Colonel Mustard in the library with a candlestick.”

Thumps double-checked the locker, in case Cooley had missed anything. “So, you rent the car online or by phone, pay for it with a credit card, come here, open the locker, get the key. Everything completely anonymous.”

“That’s about it.”

Thumps shielded his eyes. “That a camera?”

“A dummy,” said Cooley. “The guy at the rental desk called it a deterrent. You know, like those Beware of Dog signs when you don’t have a dog.”

“You check the credit card information?”

“I did,” said Cooley.

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