and thought of calling the cops, but again kiboshed that idea. He didn’t trust them. Never did and never would. Besides, as far as the cops were concerned, he could always count on losing any his-word-against-theirs contest. And, as he’d realized, the guys in the Chrysler seemed to have a solid setup, which meant they had connections. All he had was a rap sheet that would dry up an inkjet cartridge.
Another idea, a more promising one, elbowed its way into that one’s place. He quickly put it through its paces, looking for flaws, and decided it was his best option. His best option out of a total of one, actually. He sneaked a last glance at the Chrysler, convinced himself that they weren’t going anywhere just yet, then made his way back to the 7-Eleven.
He cut through the store, past Sanjay, who gave him a worried, quizzical glance. Without breaking step, Matt flicked him a stay-put, though not hugely reassuring gesture.
“I need some tape,” he told him. “Something solid and sticky, packing tape, that kind of thing.”
Sanjay thought for a beat, then nodded. “I’ll get you what I have,” he said as Matt disappeared out the front door.
A quick glance around yielded no visible threats. Matt walked to the back of the Mustang and popped the trunk. With practiced fingers, he pulled back the lining along its side wall. He reached in behind it and found the small niche he was looking for. In it was a small black box, not much bigger than a packet of cigarettes. Matt pulled it out and stuffed it in his inside breast pocket. He then pulled out the lug wrench from the spare wheel’s tool kit, closed the trunk, and ducked back into the store.
Sanjay was waiting for him. In his hands was a roll of two-inch-thick duct tape. Matt just grabbed it, blurted out a guttural “Perfect,” and kept going.
He crept back to the corner of the brick building and peered around its corner. The Chrysler was still there, as he’d left it. He checked the perimeter, backed up, and crept into the shrubs and trees behind the parking bay, keeping low. He maneuvered to a spot around fifteen yards behind the Chrysler, making sure he wasn’t in the line of sight of their mirrors. From there, he dropped to the ground and crawled the rest of the way.
Matt advanced on elbows that were still suffering from his leap out of the van. He ignored the pain and kept going until he was right behind the Chrysler. He paused to catch his breath and check for a reaction. None came. Satisfied that he hadn’t been spotted, he rolled onto his back and pulled himself under the car. He quickly found a strut that would suit his purpose. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the tracker, and taped it to the strut.
He was almost done when he felt a small weight shift in the car, which was followed by the click of an opening door. He turned his head sideways, to the passenger side of the car, and froze as he saw first one foot, then the other, drop to the ground, faintly illuminated by the cabin’s inside light. They crunched into the snow, and the light dimmed as the man swung the door back quietly without clicking it shut.
He felt a surge of panic as a sudden realization hit him. Very slowly, he angled his head sideways to look behind the car and saw the trail he’d left behind in the snow. It led right up to the car, a black streak through the pearlescent shimmer of the light snow cover.
His body tensed up as he watched the man take a few steps. He was heading to the back of the car. Matt’s eyes stayed on him, fast-forwarding to the moment the man would spot the trail and what the best move would be. With his heart in his throat, he followed the man’s feet around past the rear wheel, farther back to the edge of the car—then they stopped. Every nerve ending in Matt’s body throbbed with alarm, and his fingers reached under his coat and tightened against the handle of the lug wrench. He was about to swing his legs out in an attempt to kick the man off-balance when he turned so he was now facing the wall. Matt then heard a zipper open, and his body pulled back from Defcon five as he realized the man was