The Vessel by Taylor Stevens

Author:Taylor Stevens [Stevens, Taylor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-553-41990-0
Publisher: Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2014-06-09T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

Munroe sat in the darkness, minutes ticking on like hours, waiting for the sun to rise, waiting for the man who would know to make the next move.

There would be a next move.

Taking the car and keys and stranding the seller couldn’t have been part of the purchase, and the patterns of the last four days said the chauffeur hadn’t driven the girl away only to leave his boss solo.

The hands on the clock continued their slow march along its face, and Munroe breathed back against the impatience, ready and thirsty for movement, for action. The chauffeur returned on foot shortly after dawn, proving her right, and the Mercedes finally left the property at high noon.

She followed with the rental car, a Fiat 500 that handled well enough even when the lead vehicle turned off the highway for a dirt road that vanished into the hills. A kilometer in, Munroe pulled to the side and shut off the engine. The trail of dust kicked up in the distance. Tracking on this deserted stretch risked alerting the prey to her presence, and what did it matter, really, where they went? The luggage had been left behind, they’d return.

They had no choice but to take this same road back.

She restarted the engine and diverted up a rocky track that overlooked the city in the distance, drove on until she’d found what she wanted, then returned to the dirt road to wait. Midafternoon came and went and, with the time, only two vehicles, both of them over twenty years old at the least, rusted and dented, and carrying supplies from the big city out toward the villages. The sun had nearly reached the horizon when dust in the distance foretold the arrival of a third car.

Munroe picked out the Mercedes through a spotting scope.

She drove the Fiat into the road, blocking half, then propped the hood and opened the doors. Arms crossed, she leaned against the car, and, when the target neared and slowed, she stepped into its path.

She waved a hand for hello, for attention, for help.

The Mercedes stopped and the chauffeur’s window rolled down. Munroe smiled, sweet and friendly, and took a step forward.

The chauffeur met her eyes and smiled back.

The shadow of Patrick Haas filled part of the windshield from the rear seat, and there was no shadow beside him—no company, no girl.

Trusting and genuine, Munroe continued around toward the open window.

The chauffeur’s eyes and his smile tracked her until she nearly touched the car door, and he opened his mouth in greeting.

Munroe drew the handgun and, at near point-blank, she fired.

Double tap to the head.

The smile drooped into a half twist of shock.

She reached into the car before his foot dropped off the clutch. In a fluid movement that stretched into three, she slammed the gear stick into neutral, yanked the emergency brake, and popped the door locks. Then stepped to the rear door and wrenched it open.

The man who would know blinked and stared.

“Steig aus,” she said. “Sofort.

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