From Manhattan With Revenge Boxed Set Read Online Free Page B

sound of the traffic.
    She told
him.
    “Are you
sure that will work?”
    “I’m
open to better ideas.”
    He shared
one with her.   She shot him a
sidelong glance and was quiet for a moment while she thought it through.   “What if we joined the two?”
    “How?”
    She told
him.  
    “That
could work.”
    “It has
to work.   Do you have your
camera.”  
    He
patted his pants pocket.
    She
looked ahead of them down the street.   They were approaching the restaurant.
    “Are you
nervous?”
    “I’m
concerned he’ll recognize us.   When
we’re inside, we’ll keep to the corners and wait for our chance to get him
alone, if that’s even possible.   If
it’s not, we’ll figure out something else.”
    “Jean-Georges
doesn’t turn out for just any gig.   With him here, you can be sure the governor also will be here.   Likely the mayor and other dignitaries.   We need to be careful because if that’s
the case, the security has been vetted and approved by each camp.   It’ll be tight.”
    The
driver slowed beside the restaurant’s entrance.   Alex paid the man and, as they stepped
out of the car, the driver checked the tip, paused and then looked over his
shoulder at them.   It was too dim to
see his face, but the edge in his voice was clear when he spoke.
    “Au
revoir, monsieur et madame,” he said.   “Bonne chance avec votre muertre.”
    A chill
went through Carmen.   He just wished
them well on their murder.
    Before
she could act, Alex already was in the car’s back seat.   He shut the door, removed his gun,
pressed it against the back of the man’s head and told him to drive forward
while Carmen, stunned, stood watching from the sidewalk.

 

 
 
 
 
    CHAPTER EIGHT

 
    When
Alex shut the door, the driver began shouting for help, but Alex was
quick.   He slammed his gun against
the side of the man’s head and told him to shut up.   When he didn’t, Alex struck him again, harder
this time, until blood flowed from the man’s right ear.
    “Drive
forward,” Alex said.   “Move to the
curb at the end of the street.   There’s a no parking zone there.   Pull next to it.”
    “Don’t
kill me.”
    “I don’t
plan to.”
    The man
was shaking.   He pulled over, parked
the car and put his hands in the air.   They were trembling.   In the
rearview mirror, he watched Alex with terrified eyes as traffic passed on 52nd
Street.  
    “Put
your hands down.”
    “Please
don’t kill me,” he said.   “I have a
wife.   A son.   Don’t kill me.”
    “Put
your fucking hands down.”
    He did,
but he didn’t seem to know where to put them.   He was too rattled.   They went into his lap, then to the dash
and finally they rested on the steering wheel, where Alex could see them.
    “What
did you hear back there?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Tell me
the truth and you live.   Did you
hear anything?”
    “No!   I heard nothing!   I swear!”
    “Why are
you lying to me?”
    “I’m not
lying!”
    Alex
asked the question again, only this time in French in an effort to trick him
into proving he knew the language.
    “I told
you I’m not lying!”
    “Right.”
    Alex
buried his gun into the back of the man’s seat and fired twice.   The seat was so thick, it muffled the
sound to the point that Alex could hear the man’s shirt tearing open as the
bullets ripped through and lodged into the dash.   The man slumped over, dead.   Alex reached forward, pulled him up,
turned off the cab’s lights and then switched off the car itself.  
    He
looked around on the sidewalks, which were empty, and then patted the man on
the shoulder.   “Au revoir,” he
said.   “Et bonne chance pour votre
voyage.”

 
 
    *   *   *

 
 
    He put
his gun away, stepped onto the sidewalk, smoothed his hands down the front of
his jacket and started moving toward the restaurant, where he could see Carmen
waiting for him just outside the entrance.   It was chilly.   Her arms
where wrapped around