The Getaway - By Tom Barber Page 0,68

You pull your gun, I’ll pull mine and we’ll be stuck here wondering what to do next.’

Siletti stared at Archer for a long moment.

Archer stared straight back.

Eventually, Siletti turned his attention to Katic.

‘You’re in deep shit, Mina. Why the hell did you hitch a ride and not just take him in? And where the hell is the money?’

‘In a safe place. Look, I had to intervene. I think someone on our team has flipped.’

‘What?’

‘Someone’s flipped.’

He stepped closer to the corner, lowering his voice. Archer looked past him, seeing if anyone was watching, making doubly sure the guy had come alone.

‘Who?’ Siletti asked.

‘I don’t know. But think about it. Surely you’ve got your suspicions. Farrell and his crew have been one step ahead of us every time.’

‘Yeah, I know. But to say one of us is working with them? That’s pretty extreme.’ Siletti said.

‘Just hear me out. Look, I promise you I’m legit. And I can trust you, right?’

‘Of course.’

‘So it’s either O’Hara, Lock, Parker. Or Gerrard.’

‘Gerrard. Are you nuts?’ Siletti said, still not convinced. ‘He’s head of the Task Force. He’s an SSA. Guys like that don’t turn on their own. It’s unheard of.’

‘When was the last time you spoke to him?’

‘Thursday. Why?’

‘We’ve been trying to call him for over a day now but we can’t get through. Whoever the leak is might have got to him first.’

Siletti shook his head.

‘You’re serious about all this?’

‘As a heart attack.’

He cursed and ran his hand back over his slick hair. Then he looked over at Archer.

‘Speaking of deep shit, I should take you in right now. You’re on the casebook of every cop and Federal agent in the city. I could land a promotion by bringing in your ass.’

‘Go ahead and try.’

‘He’s good,’ said Katic, interjecting as the two men stared at each other again. ‘I can vouch for him.’

Siletti kept looking at Archer, then turned back to Katic.

‘OK. So how much was in the car?’ he asked.

‘Close to a mil,’ Archer said.

In the darkness, Archer saw Siletti’s eyes widen.

‘Jesus Christ. So where is it? That’s stolen money. It needs to be returned straight away,’ he said. ‘Right now, you two count as thieves. Badge or not, Mina, you’ve still got almost a million stolen dollars in your possession. That’s as illegal as you can get.’

She nodded and looked at his suit.

‘Were you at the Plaza?’

He nodded.

‘So do you know what happened with Farrell and his crew?’

He nodded again. ‘The cops took them at the Garden. The operation’s over.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Let’s go get the money, head downtown and sort this all out.’

Katic looked at Archer for approval, encouraged.

‘C’mon, my car’s a couple blocks away,’ Siletti said.

They headed outside, pushing open the doors. Katic looked to Archer, reassured, but noticed he didn’t seem as upbeat. The trio headed up the street. Siletti drove a small Mercedes, and it was parked on the kerb, an FBI badge on the dashboard. He pulled a set of keys and the lights flashed as it clicked open.

‘Let’s go get the cash first,’ he said. ‘We need to get it in safe hands as soon as possible. Where did you stash it?’

Archer went to reply, but his phone suddenly rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the display. Private Number.

Oh shit. This could be Gerry.

He clicked Answer quickly, hopeful.

‘Hello?’

‘I’m going to kill you, you piece of shit,’ a voice said.

It wasn’t Gerry.

It was Farrell.

Katic and Siletti had opened their doors, but turned, watching Archer take the call. He hid his shock at hearing Farrell’s voice and smiled.

‘Oh hey, how are you?’ Archer said, warmly, his mind racing.

‘You’re a dead man.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘You ditched us.’

‘Really?’ he said, still cordial, thinking hard.

‘Where are you?’ Farrell asked.

‘Around.’

‘Bring us the money and I’ll let you live.’

Archer smiled, as he looked at Katic. His mind was racing as fast as he’d driven from the Garden, Katic’s gun in his ribs.

‘OK. I’ll be in touch,’ he said. He ended the call.

‘Who was that?’ Katic asked.

‘Just a friend. Let’s go.’

Siletti looked at him for a moment, his face unreadable. Archer didn’t make eye contact.

He took another look at the man’s suit instead.

They all climbed into the car, shutting the doors.

And what happened next was fast and violent.

In the front passenger seat, Archer smashed his left forearm into Siletti’s face, then slammed his head forward against the wheel as hard as he could. He wasn’t ready for it and his head smashed into the wheel like they’d been in an accident, and he pulled