“I got a lead on the next motherfucker.”
“Who might that be, Larry?”
“Fuck outta here.”
I tossed the photos onto the desk in front of Henry. He picked up a picture of Micheal Sanders getting into his Ford Bronco after leaving the bank.
“You mind telling me who the fuck this is?” he said before taking a puff of his cigarette.
“Micheal Sanders. He’s the guy who holds and manages Victor’s money. I think we can fuck with Victor’s money if we threaten Micheal into moving it somewhere else.”
Henry turned his chair around, took the cigarette out of his mouth, raised an eyebrow, and said, “You’re telling me that if we rough up or even kill the motherfucker, then Victor’s either gonna send his goons after us or kill us himself. Sounds like the best way to get killed. Yeah, fuck off.”
Henry extinguished his cigarette on the desk, got up, climbed into the passenger seat, and reclined it. I walked out the side door and headed to the diner. I opened the diner door and sat down at a booth where a waitress greeted me.
“Hi, welcome to Brad’s Diner. What can I serve you today?” she said while holding her notepad and pen, waiting for my order.
“Y’all sell burgers?”
“Yes sir, we do.”
“Gimme a cheeseburger, a side of fries, and a sweet tea.”
“Alrighty O, I’ll be right back with your drink.”
After a while, the door opened, alerting the restaurant. I stared at the tall man dressed in all black attire. He looked around the whole restaurant and locked eyes with me. He reached into his coat, pulled out a pistol, and pointed it at me.
I dropped behind the booth as a shot rang out.
I pulled out my pistol and fired blindly over the booth in front of me. A grunt answered back. I fired again, and this time I heard a thud.
I stood up from behind the booth and looked at the man’s dead body.
Everyone in the diner was hiding under booths and behind the counter. I chuckled before pulling a twenty out of my pocket and tossing it onto the counter as I walked out.
Henry stood at the diner steps with his pistol in his hand. One of my eyebrows raised. I snickered and walked past him with my hands in my jeans pockets. I opened the van’s driver door, climbed in, and cranked the engine to life.
Henry climbed into the van.
“What the fuck was that?” Henry asked.
“Dunno,” I said as I pulled onto the next street.
I heard a car speeding up beside the van. I looked to the right and saw a red car full of armed men. Next thing I knew, they caught up and started shooting at the van.
I swerved to the right and slammed into their car. The people inside got pushed back for a second but regained control and continued shooting. Bullets rattled through the van.
I slammed on the brakes, tires screeching, then threw the van into reverse and floored the gas.
The car pursuing us slammed on its brakes after noticing we had stopped, then whipped into a U turn. I hurried and turned the van into an alleyway.
The car’s tires screeched as it stopped and turned into the alley, blocking the exit.
Surrounded by brick walls, bullets ripped through the metal frame of the van. Me and Henry dropped to the floor as bullets tore through the cabin until it suddenly stopped.
I leaned toward Henry and whispered for him to get ready.
We pulled out our pistols and aimed at the back doors.
The doors swung open, exposing the sunlight, and we started shooting. Bodies dropped one after another until there wasn’t a single person left standing.
“Henry, trail me with that car.”
Henry nodded and climbed out of the van and into the other car. I jumped back into the driver seat and turned the ignition.
The engine sputtered but wouldn’t start.
I tried again, but nothing happened.
Suddenly oil started leaking into the driver’s footwell.
The engine got hit.
Sirens started wailing in the distance.
I grabbed a match from the cupholder and lit it. I climbed out of the driver seat and flicked the match into the leaking oil.
Fire erupted instantly.
I grabbed a backpack and stuffed as much equipment, pictures, and folders into it as I could until the flames got too close. I hurried out of the van and climbed into the car with Henry.
We backed out of the alleyway and headed outside the city limits.
Henry pulled into an abandoned drive in movie theater gate. The place looked like nature had reclaimed it. The brick that was probably once bright red now had a dark faded tone with moss crawling across it.
Henry climbed out of the car and approached the gate, pushing it open. The vines holding it shut snapped apart.
I leaned over, turned the ignition off, climbed out of the car, and followed him inside.
“Close the gate behind you,” Henry said.
I did.
I looked around at the environment. Everything felt abandoned and forgotten.
Henry waved me over. I jogged toward him. He motioned for me to stay quiet and draw my gun.
I unholstered my pistol and held it with both hands as I approached him. I took one side of the doorway while he took the other.
He looked at me.
I nodded.
Henry slowly opened the door. He checked the right while I checked the left.
Clear.
I walked over to Henry, who was standing in the office. I knocked on the doorframe. Henry aimed his pistol at me before lowering it.
“Scared you, huh?”
“Fuck off,” he said with a scoff.
“So what do we do now?”
“Well, whatever we had on him is gone, along with half the equipment.”
“Not all of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember that backpack I grabbed?”
“Yeah.”
“Go get it.”
Henry walked out to grab it and came back with the bag.
“Open it,” I said as I pulled a cigarette and lighter from my coat pocket.
Henry opened it, and his eyes widened.
“Good shit.”
“Don’t mention it,” I said with the cigarette hanging from my lips.
“Got anymore?”
“What, cigarettes?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, here.”
I handed him one from the pack. He lit it, took a drag, and started laying the equipment across the table.
“Look through this,” he said as he handed me a vanilla folder labeled “Wilson.”
“Who’s Wilson?” I asked, holding the folder in the air.
“Open it and find out. And flip the breaker in that security room. There should still be power here,” he said while setting up the equipment.
I walked into the security room and flipped the breaker switch. The lights flickered to life. The AC unit groaned awake, and the TV screens buzzed on, showing different angles of the movie theater.
I tossed the folder onto the table and sat down in the chair. I leaned back, propped my foot on the desk, and opened the folder.
Wilson. Full government name Louis Wilson. Works at Wells Fargo as a bank teller. Been there for five years. Has two kids and a wife he barely talks to. He has a connection with Micheal, which makes him a good lead. Maybe he’s the inside man. Lives in an estate not too far from here. Drives a ’92 Cadillac Brougham d’Elegance.
I closed the folder and tossed it onto the table. I got up and walked to Henry’s office.
He was sitting in his chair drinking coffee with a makeshift evidence board behind him made from old driftwood around the building.
Suddenly the fax machine started printing.
I grabbed the paper and took a quick glance before handing it to Henry.
“Find anything that caught your eye?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“Well, if you actually paid attention, you’d see this is Mr. Wilson’s work schedule. I’m surprised you missed that,” he said before taking another sip of coffee.
My eyebrow raised.
“So when does he go to work?”
“Tomorrow at eight sharp.”
“Bet. I’m taking the car.”
I walked out of the theater and toward the car. I climbed inside and turned the key. The engine started immediately.
I put the car in reverse and drove to a nearby hotel close to the bank, about a thousand feet away.
I parked, opened the glovebox, and found a notebook, loose papers, and a pistol with extra ammo.
I shut the glovebox, walked to the reception desk, and rented a room for the night.
I went into my room and called it a night.
ns216.73.217.39da2
and then Add to home screen.