The Getaway (Sam Archer 2) by Tom Barber Read Free Book Online Page B

taking them two at a time and coming out on the corner of 42 nd Street and 7 th Avenue .
    Up on the busy street, he moved through the crowds of people, ducking into a store to the left of the stairs that led down to the subway. It was some kind of hat-store, all sorts of caps and beanies sitting on racks lining the shelves. He grabbed a navy blue baseball cap from a shelf and moved to the back, pulling it over his head. Taking cover behind a rack, he looked around it and waited.
    The guy appeared, rushing up onto the street level from the stairs, looking side-to-side as he searched for any sign of Archer. It was no use. He’d lost him. After a few more moments, Archer watched the guy curse to himself then visibly give up, disappearing from view as he returned down into the subway, probably headed back to Queens. Taking no chances, Archer moved to the counter and bought the cap. Ripping off the tag, he pulled it back over his head, took off his flannel shirt and then ducked out of the left side of the store, moving fast down 42 nd towards 8 th Avenue . As he passed two large cinemas, one either side of the street, he checked behind him to make sure the guy hadn’t picked him up again, the peak of the cap low, hiding his face, the sunglasses hiding his eyes. This detour would add to his journey, but he wanted to make sure he’d lost the guy for good.
    Once he got to 8 th , he crossed the street and ducked into a pizza place on the corner opposite the Port Authority Bus Terminal. There were a few stools near the window, and he sat on one, checking the street, waiting for five minutes. The guy didn’t reappear. Archer hung on for a few more minutes, just to make sure he’d ditched the tail, then left the restaurant, crossing the street and walking south. He could see the ugly shape of Madison Square Garden starting to appear up ahead on the corner of 33 rd Street . One of the most famous arenas in the world, possibly the most famous, yet it was decidedly unattractive from the outside, looking like a big, muddy, brown doughnut. If it wasn’t for its illustrious history, the place surely would have been demolished and rebuilt a long time ago considering the way it looked from the outside. Crossing the streets, he moved past people gathering on the corner of 35 th and turned to his left, headed back towards 7 th .
    The walk took him about two minutes and he occasionally checked over his shoulder to assure that he hadn’t been picked up again. As he approached 7 th , he began to pass a Starbucks coffee shop immediately to his left. After he arrived on the corner of 35 th and 7 th , he took the cap off his head and looked around. He saw a young black kid walking past, his fingers tapping on some buttons as he played some kind of video game.
    ‘Hey, kid.’
    The boy stopped and looked at him.
    ‘Want a free hat?’ he asked, offering it to him.
    The kid looked at him, unsure, then took the cap. He looked at it, checking it out, turning it side-to-side. It was a dark-blue peaked baseball cap, the Yankees team logo on the front, a silver N and Y on top of each other. He nodded approvingly, then looked up at Archer.
    ‘You for real?’
    Archer nodded. T he kid pulled it over his head.
    ‘Thanks man,’ he said.
    ‘No problem.’
    And with that, the kid walked off, returning his attention to the video game in his hands, the cap on his head. Archer watched him go, then turned and pulled open the door to the Starbucks, ducking inside.
    The coffee shop was moderately full, light jazz music flowing from the speakers, the ambience relaxed and quiet. The early morning mayhem of customers grabbing a drink before work had lessened slightly, and although there was a medium-length queue for the counter, the place was pretty chilled compared to the streets outside. People were si t ting around the coffee shop, some tapping into netbooks and laptops or reading newspapers, others chatting with friends and enjoying their drinks.
    Archer