rearview mirror for the Starbucks two buildings back to his right. Inside the Starbucks, Vigneault was buying coffee and sandwiches, taking advantage of the first chance all day they’d had to get something to eat and drink.
Foucault occasionally checked his phone, awaiting any update or further instructions from Kristoff. For now, they were still in the watch and follow mode. Thus far there was little more to report. From their time at DataPoint, McRyan and the woman, other than a quick stop at their hotel, drove aimlessly around town it seemed for an hour before coming to this point and heading into the pub. He and his partner had given some thought to one of them sliding into the pub to see what they were up to but decided against it. If they had another two men or two vehicles, it would have been done. However, with just the two of them, they thought it better to hold their position and see where McRyan and his lady friend were off to next.
Foucault looked in the review mirror and caught Vigneault pushing out the front door of the Starbucks with a cardboard drink carrier holding four coffees and a paper bag containing sandwiches.
“What do you have?”
Vigneault shook his head, ever the Frenchman. “American coffee is passable at best. They may call this espresso, but please, a weak imitation. And the sandwiches?” He wrinkled his nose, “I will eat them because I have to.” He bought an assortment of ham and turkey wraps.
Foucault was not as picky, having spent more time in the States and was well accustomed to American fast food. He took a sip of his coffee and it was agreeable and the turkey wrap wasn’t bad either. Was it like home? No, but it would get the job done. On his third bite, McRyan and Wire emerged from the front of the pub. “There they are.” He set his coffee in the cup holder in the center console and reached for the keys and started the Traverse.
McRyan and Wire crossed the first half of the street, waited at the center median for traffic to pass and then jogged across the northbound side of Water Street to their Acadia. After a moment, the lights for the Acadia came on but the vehicle didn’t move. After a couple of minutes, McRyan pulled out and proceeded north on Water Street.
“That traffic will keep them well back, I should think,” Wire said, looking back behind them.
“Good,” Mac answered. “I need about a two-block lead on them for this to work.”
* * *
Foucault looked in his rearview mirror and had traffic right on top of him that he needed to let pass.
“I’ll watch for a break,” Vigneault said, his view north blocked by the vehicles parked in front of them. “You keep your eye on them.”
The traffic passed.
“Go.”
Foucault quickly pulled out, McRyan still visible two blocks ahead. He wanted to push his way closer but the traffic that passed them was now between them and McRyan, clogging the path forward.
“He’s turning left,” Vigneault exclaimed and then took a look at the GPS. “Left on … Knapp.”
Foucault reached Knapp about ten seconds after McRyan and turned left. Now away from the traffic, he could accelerate some and he needed to as the Acadia was already at least three blocks ahead across the Milwaukee River where Knapp became McKinley Street.
“We need to get a little closer,” Vigneault ordered.
“Working on it,” was the reply as the Traverse reached the west side of the Milwaukee River, still two blocks back but closing quickly. “It looks like he’s turning right. What’s that on?”
* * *
Mac caught a glimpse of the quickly closing Traverse in his rearview mirror. He took a right turn off McKinley onto North Sixth Street, accelerated a half block and took a hard right onto a narrow alleyway halfway up the block. He powered down the alley and took another quick right behind a building into an alleyway running south back towards McKinley.
“If this works, we should circle around and come in behind them,” Mac said as he drove south down the alley and turned right back onto McKinley Street. Once on McKinley, he took an immediate right on North Sixth Street and a block and a half ahead was the Traverse, which was followed by a black Ford Edge. “Bingo, and Ring’s man fell in right behind them.”
* * *
“Where did they go?” Vigneault asked. “There wasn’t another street to turn right on, at least