The Tin Man by Dale Brown

Author:Dale Brown
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-12-05T20:43:16+00:00

* * * *

Buchanan felt a rush of relief when at last he saw Thea stepping through the doorway leading to the vault. As she headed toward him, looking like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary, he checked her hands to see if she held anything besides her briefcase and purse. She didn’t, telling him she’d either put away whatever she’d found or found nothing of consequence.

“Well…?” he prodded impatiently as she approached.

“Not here,” she whispered, looking around.

He looked around, too, half-expecting to see someone in a black trench coat lurking nearby. There was nobody beyond a few customers waiting in line and filling out forms.

“Why the secrecy?”

“We can’t be too careful,” she said, keeping her voice low.

That was true enough, but he still didn’t like her sudden cloak-and-dagger demeanor. He was dying to know what, if anything, she’d found.

“Can you at least tell me if you found something?”

“Yes.”

He glowered at her. “Yes, you can tell me? Or yes, you found something?”

Rolling her eyes, she hissed, “Yes-s-s-s, I found something.”

When she started toward the exit, he followed her, his patience wearing thin. She pushed through the outer glass door, skirting around an elderly woman with a cane who was preparing to come in. He held the door for the old woman while keeping his focus on Thea, who, to his annoyance, was still walking. What the devil was she playing at?

“Quit fucking around,” he snarled, hobbling up to her.

Rounding on him, she wore a bemused smirk, as if she was enjoying her momentary power over him.

“What did you find?” he demanded.

“A voice recorder,” she said, still smiling coyly.

He wanted to shake her. “And…?”

“There was a disk inside.”

When she didn’t go on, his temper flared. “Did you listen to it?”

They were standing on the corner across from the bank, out in front of a bar and grille called Rotten Ralph’s. The doors were open and there were people inside, chattering and laughing.

“Only for a moment or two,” she told him.

“And…?” He was nearing the end of his rope.

“My grandfather, talking to an Englishman. His voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.”

Milo Osbourne sprang instantly to mind.

“It wasn’t Osbourne,” she said as if reading his thoughts.

“What were they talking about?”

“I couldn’t really tell,” she said. “It sounded complicated. I was hoping we could go back to the hotel and listen to it together.”

Just as they started walking, a black van cruised to the curb beside them. Buchanan glanced at it anxiously. Oddly, there was an airbrushed mural of what looked to be some kind of Greek god on the side. Zeus, he guessed, given that he was bearded and wielding a thunderbolt. The rear door slid open, revealing two men in the back. One, in a tan suit, was holding a gun on the other, who was bound and gagged. The bound man’s blue eyes bulged with terror. The eyes belonged to Riley Witherspoon.

“Get in,” the gunman growled, “or your friend here gets it.”

Buchanan reached for his gun, gaze darting up and down the street in search of an escape.

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