Anarchy of the Mice

Chapter Fifteen

Durwood sat in the rear of the Vanagon, watching a monitor.

"Unbelievable."

Sue-Ann, sprawled between his boots, snuffled in her sleep.

Tonight had differed greatly from Durwood's expectation. For weeks, the Mice had been cautious. Textbook drops. Vanishing electronic accounts. Guarding the identities of even harmless go-betweens. Now they were letting a first-day recruit see a hunk of the group's membership? Participate in an escalation of tactics, some on-site attack?

So it seemed. Hard to say 100%. With Molly's earring dark, he had only long-range video to confirm.

Operationally you cannot plan for these moments, but you must capitalize. No telling when or if they'll come again.

He climbed forward to the Vanagon's driver seat. Drove without headlights through the ritzy subdivision. Closer. 200 yards out, shy of a gentle rise.

His hand laid upon the knob of the emergency brake, fisted.

Durwood had not observed Josiah on video. Too dark, lousy sightlines. If he was there, he'd take him. Let the rest scatter like chaff. This would fulfill their contract with American Dynamics, and likely end the Blind Mice as a functional unit.

Would it stop the broader unrest? No telling. Couldn't hurt.

Durwood shouldered his weapon.

"Stay," he commanded Sue-Ann.

The coonhound rolled over, drool slopping from one cheek.

Durwood's boot had just struck cobblestone when his phone rang. He expected Molly, calling from behind some bush.

Nope. Caller ID read QUAID2. Backup phone his partner kept in an inner sportcoat pocket.

Quaid: "Hey Wood, we need you, they grabbed us. I'm in the back of a semi."

Sounded more like the back of a cement mixer. Gears grinding, awful static. Quaid's voice had the familiar ring of drink.

Durwood asked who'd grabbed them.

"Dunno. I would say Finley sold us out, but he was tied up himself. Think they took him in a different vehicle."

"What's around?"

"I'm blindfolded but I can make out a little. I see maybe boxes? Crates?"

"Guards?"

"Yeah up in the cab. Not back here."

Durwood gritted his teeth. Considered these two events. Mice's escalation of tactics, and a kidnapping involving the mayor of New York City. Same night.

Hm.

"Where?"

"I, well, they have me next to some of these crate-things and Sergio—"

"The semi. Whereabouts is the truck?"

"Uuuuhhh ... lemme think, they snatched us from the Dakota ... then I thought we headed toward the Avenues. We've been driving what, ten minutes?"

Durwood waited out a consultation between Quaid and the mayor. On the monitor, the Blind Mice had left cover and were approaching the house.

"... conned us with girls," Quaid was saying, "and Sergio thinks the accent was Brazilian but with that club music—"

"Quiet." Durwood listened. "Them horns sound like Doppler. They take you in a tunnel?"

Quaid's answer was incomprehensible.