The Hours in Between - The Devereaux Case Files Book 5

Chapter 5

Amilo and Fred had been working together for far too long. With the added pressure of Seth and Sammy sharing their 'leader' status, and the whole thing really meaning nothing any more, the tension between them was flaring. They were on a very important mission, driving through the streets of New York, tailing a guy they suspected of having just ordered a rather large shipment of fertilizer off the internet. Unfortunately, because they weren't the FBI, they had to wait until they had more evidence before arresting him.

What was even more unfortunate, was that although Seth had caught sight of the transaction at the time of purchase, a few hours later when the FBI barged into his home, their technician found no such order. Seth deducted that the guy was a computer genius and had not only hidden his tracks but deleted all information concerning his order, as soon as it had been placed. He was too smart for Amilo's liking, so they were tailing him, hoping to catch him in some, non computer related, criminal act.

"I told you...this is a stupid idea. One glance back and we're spotted. Slow down!" Amilo complained with a grunt. Fred reacted to his complaint by putting his foot down on the accelerator even harder, sending him jerking forward into the dashboard. He glared at his 'old friend' and wondered when their friendship had soured. There was no love lost between them anymore.

"And like I told you, we'll lose him if I go any slower. This is New York traffic here. We're not in the bloody Cotswolds." Fred answered back, just as angrily. He was the one doing all the driving and he didn't appreciate being told what to do. When another yellow cab pushed in in front of him, he slowed to a stop, hung out the drivers side window and gave him the finger before flashing him an official badge, that they now all carried in case caught by another agency. "Move out the way!" He ordered, only to have the frustrated sentiment returned in kind. The cabbie moved his taxi over to the right, just enough for Fred to get through. Their target was now two cars ahead, and glancing very suspiciously in his rear view mirror, much too often for Amilo's nerves to handle.

"You're going to get us caught and then the case will be up the creek." He sighed, not appreciating the supposed humor of his companion.

"When did you go all British on me?" He laughed at him. But the only answer he had to that, was given in anger, and the sad reminder of all that he had given up to have the life he now had.

"Since I was surrounded by a bunch of the idiots when I joined this agency. That's when. Would you like me to put it into Russian? I thought not." The words came out a little more strangled that he had intended, as Fred took a corner at speed, skidding the car to the side before straightening up again. Amilo saw a good sized side road that he figured would get them out of their target's view, and in a better spotting position, so he mentioned it. "I suggest, that if you don't want to get us killed, you take an alternate route. Go round that alley, across the road behind it and through the parking lot and you'll come out ahead of him." He suggested in aggravation for the fact that Fred drove straight past it, despite having had enough time to make the turn. For all that the terrific hindered them, Amilo saw it as no reason for his colleague driving like a lunatic.

"I don't need backseat driving from you." Fred snapped, pressing down hard on the brakes when a cyclist veered in front of him. They both slammed forward in their seats, correcting themselves with a frown. He had suffered whiplash from his own driving before, so he kept quiet and allowed Amilo to grumble beside him.

"I'm in the passenger seat, dummy." They were stalled by the cyclist, who swished across the road, unable to find his balance and continually put his hand out to apologize, which only made it worse. Amilo caught their target turning right round and staring at them. "What did I tell you? He's spotted us." He motioned for Fred to do something, anything, to get away from the cyclist and catch up with their target.