Sleeper's Run

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

I think I've seen this movie before: the plastic bindings, the hood over my head and the long-ass car ride. Only this time I'm riding in the trunk. They made sure to remove the tracking device from my ankle as soon as I was subdued. There's no mystery here, except for why the snipers didn't take me out at the airport.

As far as I can tell, the trunk has been carefully cleared of anything I could use to free myself. We're learning. The only thing I can hear is the sound of the engine and the raindrops falling above me.

When the car stops, it's the same old pulling and pushing until I'm seated in a chair. The hood goes off and there they are. What a surprise. These guys remind me of the Persian Immortals; no matter how many I kill, there always seems to be four of them. Black and Blue are joined by the guy I saw in my lobby in Miami and some pasty Asian kid with a badly worn suit who looks like an IT if I ever saw one.

"Hello again, Mr. Caine. Long time no see," Blake says while lighting a cigarette. "Or is it Mr. Miller? Or perhaps Mr. Darley? I'm confused."

So he knows about my first two fake passports, but not the last one.

While Blake is busy flapping his gums like a cartoon villain, I try to take in as much of my environment as possible. The problem is, there's not much to see. I'm in some sort of gutted out apartment. Blue is busy with some sort of medical kit.

"I thought we lost you in Providence," Blake says. "That little stunt you pulled with Doctor Libschitz was gutsy. How did you find out, hypnosis?"

"I've seen your men shoot," I goaded. "Where did you get the snipers?"

"Quid pro quo," Blake says.

Blue approaches me with a syringe.

"Quid pro merda if you wipe out my memory," I say.

"Don't worry, Zoomy. This is just something to help you relax," Blue says while rubbing my arm with alcohol and giving me the injection.

"So?" Blake says.

"You nailed it," I say. "You?"

"It's amazing the quality of people you can find in the private sector these days."

"How did you find me?"

"The million dollar question. The lion's share of the credit goes to Mr. White here." He points at the geeky kid.

Keep them talking. Buy yourself time. "I'm disappointed," I say. "No Yellow? Does he know what happened to the last White?"

"Shut the fuck up," Black says.

Blake lets out a quiet laugh. Something tells me that doesn't happen too often. "Mr. White has nothing to worry about. He's more of a specialist. What did you call Mr. Caine's methods again? Amateurish?"

"Provincial," White says.

"It must really fuck with your brain to have been outsmarted by a bunch of high school tricks," I say.

"I would take a better look at where you are before running off your mouth, shithead," White says.

"So that's what you do? You hang around these guys to get a dick by proxy?" I say.

"Fuck you!" White says.

"You'll have to ask one of these guys to do you the favor," I say, making the operators laugh. It's no surprise they don't like the egghead. I start to feel sluggish, like I've had one beer too many. What the fuck did he inject into me?

Blue pulls my head back and checks my pupils with a flashlight. "He's ready." He pushes my head away.

"I'm sure you must be wondering why we haven't killed you yet." Blake says.