| boys’ weekend while we can still do it. The list there has ten names and e-mails, stuff you already have. It also has the name of an outfitter in Beckley, West Virginia. I’ve done all the homework.” Joey nodded as if nothing made sense. Kyle pressed on. “The purpose of the trip is to shake the surveillance. Once we’re on the river and in the mountains, there’s no way they can follow me. We can talk and talk and not have to worry about being watched.” “This is crazy. You’re crazy.” “Shut up, Joey. I’m not crazy. I’m dead serious. They watch me around the clock. They listen to my phone calls, and they’ve bugged my laptop.” “And they’re not cops?” “No, they’re much scarier than cops. If we spend too much time together now, they’ll become suspicious, and your life will get complicated. Eat some pizza.” “I’m not hungry.” There was a long gap in the conversation. Kyle kept eating. Joey kept watching the ESPN highlights. Springsteen kept singing. After a few minutes, Kyle said, “Look, we need to go. I have a lot to tell you, but I can’t do it now. If you’ll plan the rafting trip, we can have some fun and I’ll give you the full story.” “You ever been rafting?” “Sure. You?” “No. I don’t like the water.” “They provide life jackets. Come on, Joey, have some fun. A year from now you’ll be married and your life will be over.” “Thanks, pal.” “It’s |
gray trench coat. The composite of his face was remarkably accurate—slick bald head, a few strands of black hair greased down about the ears, long narrow nose, square jaw, heavy eyebrows over dark eyes. Joey swallowed hard, his head down, and squeezed the “on” button in his left hand. For eight steps, Bennie walked directly toward him, then veered with the marble walkway toward the front door and was gone. Joey twisted his upper body slightly so the camera could follow, then he switched it off, breathed deeply, and became engrossed in his newspaper. He looked up each time the elevator opened, and after ten long minutes stood and walked back to the men’s room. After lingering for half an hour, he feigned frustration with his tardy friend upstairs and stomped out of the hotel. No one followed. Joey plunged into the Saturday night chaos of lower Manhattan, strolling aimlessly with the thick foot traffic, window-shopping, ducking into music stores and coffee shops. He was convinced he’d lost his tail two hours earlier, but he took no chances. He hurried around corners and cut through narrow streets. At a used bookshop he’d scoped out late in the afternoon, he locked himself in the tiny toilet and washed his hair with a cleansing rinse that took out much of the gray. What was left was covered with a black Steelers cap. He dropped the fake eyeglasses in the wastebasket. The video recorder was stuck deep in his right front pocket |
