Marked Masters by Ritter Ames Read Free Book Online Page B

people with videos that could identify us to the
authorities."
    "No doubt there were people taking
videos."
    "A fact which makes me deliriously happy at
the moment."
    "You want us picked up by the cops?"
    Jack just smiled and finished his text. When
he hit Send, he turned and said, "Luckily, the U.S. Senator whose
family is in both of our debts after last night's little exercise
is a representative of the whole state of Florida. Not just
Orlando."
    Why didn't I think of that? After
giving myself a mental palm slap, I asked, "So, you're going to
have your buddy get the senator to keep our names off the police
blotters?"
    "Yes, and if a video does surface to help
positively identify the guys or the Honda, I want to know that
information too." His phone chimed, and he read the text, then
turned it my way. On it. Ur covered. Will send DTs gained
l8r.
    "Which I'm translating as his promise that
if he gets any details later, you will receive them too."
    Jack nodded.
    I chewed my lip, thinking. "How did the guys
in the Honda pick us up? This is a new rental car, so no
opportunity for them to add a tracking device. And I didn't notice
them following from the airport. Did you?"
    "They could have the car rental agent on
their team. Most rentals are GPS tracked now, especially luxury
models. But that gets complicated since they didn't know which
company we would use. Hell, I didn't even know which company I was
going to use." He shook his head and raised his phone, looking a
moment at the screen. But he returned it to his pocket without
using it again, then said, "My guess is one guy stayed in the car
at Miami International, ready and waiting to move, and the other
went inside and shadowed us from the arrival gate. I imagine our
meeting the suits simply whetted their interest and concerns even
more. As we all left the complex, they likely hung back at enough
of a distance to tail us until they could pick their spot to drive
us off the road to kidnap or hijack or…" His voice went almost to a
whisper. "Or kill us. Who knows?" The volume of his words went up a
smidgeon, but his tone remained deadly. "When they realized we
spotted them, they moved in close and improvised. Almost always a
mistake."
    The semi-dark was getting to me, and I
removed my sunglasses to study Jack's face in the forty-watt
lighting. I didn't know what to think, but I had a question I
wanted to ask. "So, were they after both of us? Or just one of
us?"
    "What difference does it make?"
    "If both," I reasoned, "then it relates to
the project at hand, and it means we're getting closer even if we
don't know exactly what we're getting closer to. If they only
wanted one of us, then it may be something out of one of our pasts.
And if that's the case, we might need to split up, to not only make
sure the other person doesn't get hurt in the crossfire but to be
better at reaching our objective if we become compromised."
    Jack didn't say a word. He simply stared at
me for so long I felt my pulse rising again, and not in a good way.
I reached down to the floorboard, trying to break his focus by
moving to retrieve my cell phone. The ploy worked. He slammed the
gearshift into reverse, and we cruised for the exit.
    A half hour later, Jack pulled into a side
lot to the prestigious Browning Gallery, a small but world-renowned
terra-cotta landmark with its distinctive 1920s architecture and
gilded Art Deco design touches. In the open spaces around the
gallery, activity bustled as crews set up for an annual art fair
scheduled to open the next day. The gallery was decked out for the
fair and members-only party. Notables from corporate and various
government interests would be on hand for the important event, and
not just Americans. This event had reached the point of being truly
international.
    The preparations reminded me of the opening
extravaganza for the gallery's Browning Art Studio that I attended
more than a decade ago, when I was in my teens and my grandfather
still made