“Look, you may be right,” Gibson said. “It’s probably a stupid idea. But if so, then we have nothing that’ll work. And that means running. And if we run now, we run for the rest of our lives. That’s what I call a stupid idea.”

That quieted them all. Yes, it was a terrible plan, and it was their only option.

Hendricks chuckled. “Goddamn, Vaughn. When did your balls drop? I like the new you.”

The phone rang. They stopped and stared at it. It was painful letting it ring, but that was the arrangement. After a while the phone buzzed to tell them that they had a voice mail.

Jenn took up the phone and listened to the message. When she was done, she shut it and looked up at them.

“We’re on.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Denise Greenspan stood on the far street corner, looking less than thrilled. She checked her phone every thirty seconds. Down the street, Gibson watched her from the window of a coffee shop, wishing Hendricks had tried a little harder to talk him out of this.

“If she’s got a tail, they’re good,” Jenn said through his earpiece. She was on a nearby rooftop that gave her line of sight of the intersection in both directions.

“That’s very reassuring.”

“I don’t remember saying anything about ‘reassuring’ when you proposed this crazy plan.”

“I figured it was implied.”

“Implied? All right, well, the average life expectancy of a white American male is seventy-six point two years. So statistically, you’re probably going to be fine.”

“You’re really bad at this.”

“Look, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a damned good judge of character. I just hope Mrs. Lombard’s still the woman you remember.”

A long pause came over the earpiece.

“Any last words?” she asked.

Nothing leapt to mind. He dropped the earpiece in the trash—wasn’t getting inside the hotel with it anyway—and stepped out onto the street. Time to get accustomed to dangling in the breeze. On the way across the street, he glanced up at Jenn to give her a nod, but she was gone.

Denise Greenspan stiffened when he walked up to her.

“You’re that guy from the restaurant. You sat next to me.”

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“How’d you get my password?”

“You sit in the same seat every day. I videotaped you.”

“Unreal. You take anything else?”

“No.”

“As if I’m going to believe you.”

“I wouldn’t.”

She pursed her lips. “What happened to your neck?”

“Someone tried to hang me.”

“Serves me right for asking. Come on.”

The bruising around his throat had faded some, and his beard was thick enough now to conceal the worst of it, but he pulled his collar up and readjusted his tie.

“Are we alone?” he asked, trying to judge her intent.