View Single Post
Old 11-09-2009, 08:45 AM   #11
Steven Lyle Jordan
Grand Sorcerer
Steven Lyle Jordan ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Steven Lyle Jordan ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Steven Lyle Jordan ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Steven Lyle Jordan ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Steven Lyle Jordan ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Steven Lyle Jordan ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Steven Lyle Jordan ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Steven Lyle Jordan ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Steven Lyle Jordan ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Steven Lyle Jordan ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Steven Lyle Jordan ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.
 
Steven Lyle Jordan's Avatar
 
Posts: 8,478
Karma: 5171130
Join Date: Jan 2006
Device: none
10: Drive-in

Checkpoint Francis required doubling back and crossing town. Amazingly, the feds still hadn’t twigged to Gail’s car. But that couldn’t last much longer. That’s why I’d picked the next Starbucks carefully: It was one of few in the area that had a drive-in window.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Gail asked me as we approached the shop. “I can see fed cars already here.”

“I know,” I replied, levering open the Toughbook as we approached. “Trust me, this should look completely innocuous to anyone watching. Just drive into the drive-through, and while you’re ordering, I’ll be doing my thing. In and out, nice and easy.”

To her credit, Gail pouted. “What fun is that?”

She drove into the drive-through, as I was already connecting to the web. As we pulled up to the ordering screen, a voice from a speaker said, “Gfudefftrrn, wuffumm Sorrfumms cummi feffer erder?”

“Great Scott,” I rolled my eyes. “Spend a buck on a speaker, why don’t ya…”

“Um, yeah,” Gail said to the speaker. “Um… grande chai latte, please, extra milk.”

I looked up at her. “I never pegged you for a chai person.”

“Never mind,” she said, nodding at the laptop. “You got it?”

I checked. “Um… not yet…”

Now Gail rolled her eyes. “See, this is what I was afraid of: We get stuck in a conspicuous spot while you wait for the next hit!”

“Shh!” I shushed, checking the connection. “We’re not stuck yet.”

We drove very slowly up to the pickup window, Gail making a big deal out of digging into her purse for exact change. She handed the money over, and gave me a quick glance. I had to shake my head… nothing yet. Another thirty seconds went by… and the barista brought Gail’s drink. “Thank you,” she said, and glanced at me again as she slowly raised it to her lips. I shook my head.

Gail immediately hunched forward, pushing the drink away from her. Then she turned to the pickup window with an angry glare. “I said extra milk! Is there even any milk in here?”

The barista immediately took on a confused look, then reached out for the cup. “Sorry, ma’am! I can make a better one for you.”

“Please do, thanks,” Gail replied, and waited until the barista had disappeared inside. “Well?”

“Nothing…”

“Oh, come on…”

By this time, three cars were waiting in the line behind us. Our inconspicuosity was drying up by the second. The guy right behind us, not being able to see what was holding things up, beeped. Gail looked back at the guy, smiled sweetly, and extended her middle finger towards him. As she did so, she glanced through her mirror at a nearby unmarked car. The driver, a man wearing a cheap suit and sunglasses, was getting out and crossing the street, headed in our direction. “Oh, Christ…”

My laptop beeped. “Here it is—”

“Here you go, ma’am.”

“Oh!” Gail jerked around to see the barista with her drink. “Oh… you startled me!”

“Terribly sorry, ma’am,” the barista said, extending the drink.

“That’s okay,” Gail said slowly, waiting for a high sign from me. I was typing furiously, but I needed a few more seconds. “Um… are you sure this is the real milk? Because I can’t stand the soy stuff.”

“We used whole milk, not soy, not low-fat.”

Another beep from behind. Gail sent a withering glance at the driver, then looked sweetly at the barista, who smiled sympathetically back (leave it to my baby to be able to find the last straight barista in town). “I want to thank you for all your help, uh… Brian. You’ve made my day.”

“Any time, ma’am,” Brian said, apparently thrilled that such a gorgeous customer had actually addressed him by name. “In fact, any time at all—”

“And that time is now,” I said quickly. The packet was off. “Get to the last stop!”

“About f**king time!” Gail snarled, throwing the car in gear and tromping the accelerator. As she did so, she nearly hit the cheap suit that was just about to cross in front of the car to her side… another few steps, and he would’ve seen me, too. But thanks to Gail’s burnout, it didn’t really matter anymore. He bellowed like we had run over his foot, he yelled into his shirtsleeve, he pointed, and he ran back to his car. Other unmarked cars all seemed to come alive at that point, but none of them happened to be pointed in the direction we were going, or quick enough to block us. Before any of them could react, Gail shot through the intersection, made the next right, and screamed away. I could hear the squealing tires of FBI men behind us, soon to disappear as we got around the corner.

I cranked my seat up. “About time, that was getting uncomfortable.”

“As uncomfortable as our jail cells are gonna be?” Gail complained.

“We’re not locked up yet,” I said. “The last packet is away. When BM tries another hit, the FBI will be able to trace it right back to the source. We just need to stay free long enough for them to keep watching for it.”

Gail glanced back in her rearview mirror. The FBI vehicles were almost two blocks behind us. Gail bit her lip. “I don’t think we’re gonna stay free that long, boss!”

“Have faith, Kato! —next left.”
Steven Lyle Jordan is offline   Reply With Quote