Ocean Prey (A Prey Novel #31) - John Sandford Page 0,89

Zero that Cattaneo had seen in the deli, and his real phone, which he’d left in the apartment, taped under the refrigerator. He retrieved it as soon as they were back, went in the bathroom with Rae, shut the door, put the phone on speaker and called Lucas.

“Brought up eleven. We were told they were about ten kilos each, so that’s what? More than three million, I think. It was still on the boat when we left and it looked like everybody was taking off. Like they were planning to keep it on the boat until they were sure they could move it.”

“We saw you all leave and nobody’s been back to the boat,” Lucas said. “We’ve got a couple of FBI agents in an apartment across the waterway from the boat, they’ll be watching twenty-four-seven until they move the shit, and then we’ll track it.”

“Word gets around a condo, you know, if they’ve got somebody in there,” Rae said.

“Female agents. They’ve got actual jobs in a restaurant on Collins Avenue, different shifts.”

“That’s good, but listen,” Rae said. “Cattaneo let slip that there was somebody watching the boat from a parking lot across the water. I hope they didn’t see you guys when you were over there.”

“Ah, boy! We didn’t see anybody. I’ll warn our people, see if we can spot the guy. Nobody said anything to you?”

“No, but it’s something to worry about,” Virgil said. “The guy who came down to the boat was Behan. You see that?”

“Yes. We thought it was him,” Lucas said. “That’s good. That’s confident. No way Behan would have showed up if they’d spotted us watching.”

“All right,” Rae said. “By the way, we’re going to spend some of this money in case they’re watching us full-time.”

“Go ahead, spend it all if you want. Andres and I are in the back of the Pathfinder, a block or so away. About the time you were dropped off, a Jeep pulled over and nobody got out. It’s just sitting there. So . . . we don’t know if it’s a problem, but it could be.”

“Won’t be going out tomorrow,” Virgil said. “The cold front’s already in Palm Beach, it’s going to be rough out there for the next two or three days. They don’t want to lose their most valuable employee.”

“Okay. Listen, we want to get together tomorrow, if we can,” Lucas said. “I’ll figure out a spot to meet, probably at a motel somewhere. We’re going to put an FBI countersurveillance team on you tomorrow morning, whatever’s a good starting time. Ten o’clock?”

“That’d be okay,” Virgil said.

“When we’re sure nobody’s following you, I’ll call with an address for the meet. Figure out somewhere to go where we could spot anyone on your back.”

Rae: “I told them I wanted to buy some shoes and so on. I’m thinking we head down to the Bal Harbour Shops. It’s like north of Miami Beach.”

“That should be fine,” Lucas said. “Give us some time to spot them, if they’re out there. Watch this Jeep, though. Red Jeep, across the street, halfway down the block.”

* * *

When they rang off, Virgil said, “Let’s get cleaned up and head down to Ouroboros. Spend some money.”

“Soon as I get the salt off me. You want tough ghetto chick or cheap slut?”

“Slut’s always appealing,” Virgil said. “Haven’t seen that look so much.”

“You got it,” Rae said. She stepped closer and whispered, “You gonna have to carry the gun, because I won’t have a place.”

“It’s a very small gun,” Virgil whispered back.

“Outfit I’m gonna wear, I couldn’t hide a paper clip.”

* * *

She was right. She showered, wrapped a towel around herself, and headed to her bedroom. Virgil showered, got dressed in the bathroom, and when he emerged, Rae was waiting in a streaky short romper the color of walnut wood, excessively but not quite obscenely low cut, and strappy low heels. “How do I look?”

“I won’t say, because I could be arrested,” Virgil said. “We might have to shoot our way out of the bar.”

“You are such a gentleman,” Rae said.

* * *

Virgil hid his phone again, and they fired up a little more weed before they headed out the door. They spotted the red Jeep, still parked down the block, paid no attention to it, and walked on to the Ouroboros bar. Inside, Roy, the biker, was in his booth, back to the door, poking at a laptop.

He brightened when he saw them, said, “Hey, people,” and pointed at the seat opposite him.