After the Dark by Max Allan Collins

After the Dark by Max Allan Collins

Author:Max Allan Collins
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780345464347
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2003-06-02T16:00:00+00:00


Ninety minutes later Alec finally met the Fremont Troll.

Under the north end of the Aurora Avenue bridge, the reclining stone troll rose eighteen feet, nearly bumping its head on the underside of the bridge. The troll looked just as Mole had described him—long-haired with one shiny metal eye, crawling on its belly, the fingers of his right hand spread, its left fist closed around a gray hulk of a car.

Alec and Mole climbed up behind the troll peeking out from the darkness under the bridge. Rolling his head on the column of his neck to ease the stiffness, Alec settled in for a wait.

No telling how long it would take the Furies to get there with Logan, but a glance at his watch told him it could be up to two hours till the scheduled hostage/ransom exchange.

“Mole,” he said. “I'm beat.”

“Sleep, then,” he said. “I got it covered.”

“I'm just gonna shut my eyes. Rest a little.”

“Go ahead.”

When his phone trilled and he bolted upright, Alec had no idea how long he'd been out. The tiny ring echoed like a church bell beneath the bridge.

“You answer it,” Mole growled, “or I break it.” The lizard man still had a lit cigar clamped between his teeth and had apparently managed to stay awake through Alec's nap.

Quickly, Alec fished the phone out of his pocket and punched the button on the start of the second ring. “What?” he asked.

“Anything?”

Max's hushed voice. She'd be at Gas Works Park, with the others.

“No,” he said, but looked to Mole for confirmation. With a derisive snort, the lizard man nodded—nothing had happened. “How about you?”

“Nobody,” she said. “And they're overdue.”

“Well, they'd stop here first, surely—to deposit their hostage.”

“You'd think. But Joshua's stood ground while I've roved the area—nobody sniffin', nothing.”

“What's your read, Max?”

“Either something's gone wrong, or the Furies are playing some new game.”

“Hate when that happens . . . Maybe they're just waiting for you to leave.”

“Nope,” she said. “I got an A-plus in recon. Trust me, they're not here. And that bag's just sittin' there—even the bugs aren't goin' near it.”

“Not good, Max.”

“Almost two hours after sunup and nothing—something has definitely gone wrong.”

The bag she referred to was a leather valise they had packed with a cake of bricks and newspaper, under a frosting of smaller bills. If anybody picked the thing up, it'd weigh enough to pass for four million dollars, and a casual opening would reveal money on top. Only a more aggressive search would reveal the ploy.

But from what Max was saying, no one seemed interested enough to even look and see if they were being ripped off.

“We need to make a move,” Alec said, surprised that Mole had let him sleep this long without kicking him. “Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Any ideas, Max?”

“. . . I think we should visit the Furies' home.”

“The four of us . . . just drop by?”

“That's the plan, Alec.”

“And you say my plans suck.”

“You up for it?”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“Sit tight. Fill Mole in, and Joshua and me, we'll be right over—then we'll blaze.



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