LOS ANGELES

I love this scene where Brooke and Pay are working out a plan. -Myles

“Hey big guy. Can I suggest a couple refinements to the go all Defcon 4 plan?”

“Sure.”

“If there are people inside the home, we are going to want to interrogate them, right?”

“Likely.”

“We will also need to search the house for anything that can lead us to Jordan.”

“Yes.”

“And, there’s going to be a lot of shooting in a house that has already had one reported gunshot today.”

“Yep.”

“Well, we can’t hang around inside and interrogate the hostages. And we can’t just throw a few people over your shoulder and toss them in the car. There won’t be enough room. And someone from the neighborhood is likely to report us.”

Pay nodded agreement

“Well, that’s going to be an issue. Not enough time to interrogate the hostages and no way to take them with us.”

“So, we need something to throw the hostages in. And a place where we can interrogate them, too.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“How about that?” Pay pointed across the parking lot at a beat-up tan pickup with a camper on its back and a red For Sale sign in a side window. “Let’s go take a look.”

Up close, the fading, tattered sign read:

’89 Ford F-250. Engine replaced 30,000 miles ago. Ugly outside. Runs excellent. Mechanical records avail. Inside Camper is redone. Everything works. Sleeps six.

Brooke dialed the number in the lower right corner and waited for it to be answered. She winked at Pay and pitching her voice higher than normal said using an accent carrying more than a hint of Boston. “High, my name’s Sally. I’m in the parking lot and I saw your truck. How much are you asking?”

Pay heard a voice on the other end utter a short sentence.

“Nice to talk to you, too Robby. I gotta say though, five thousand. Hmm. Seems a little high for an 89, even with a newish engine and a camper.”

More indistinguishable words from the owner.

“The campers a 2005. Completely remodeled including special mods. Hmmm. Firm you say. Man, I just don’t know. Looks like it’s been on the market for a long time. The tape holding up your sign is a riper yellow-brown than a three-month-old banana.”

More murmurs on the other end.

“How about this. You come out and show it to me. If it starts okay, the engine compartment looks good and the inside of the camper is sound, I’ll give you $4000 cash, right now. Assuming you’ve got the pink slip. And I’m only doing that because I need a car, now.”

A few more murmurs.

“OK. $4500 if the inside of the camper is as good as you say. And I can wait until you go on break in thirty minutes. We can meet at the truck.” She hung up and smiled at Pay.

“You heard that?”

“Yeah, Sally, I heard enough.”

“I’m guessing you have your emergency five k with you?”

“Never leave home without it.” Pay pulled out a money clip full of fifties and hundreds. “When the shit hits the fan, you don’t want to have to go looking for an ATM.”

“Give me $4500. Then disappear for about an hour.”

“Shouldn’t I stay here with you?” Pay’s eyes showed a concern Brooke couldn’t decipher.

“Come on Pay. Neither of us really knows anything about cars.” Brooke smiled. “What do you always say? Let the best team member do the job?”

“Yeah. Just don’t like us splitting up.” The concern was still there. Unidentifiable but there.

“You also say, we are a small team. We can’t afford to send two people to do a job that one can do better. After I buy the truck, we’ll have an extra vehicle. While I’m negotiating with Robby, you can return the motorcycle and refill your emergency fund. Then get a taxi or Uber back here. That’s the smart, efficient approach.”

“I agree with the principle. But I don’t like splitting up.”

“C’mon Pay. There are a whole bunch of reasons you shouldn’t be here.”

“A whole bunch?”

“You tend to be memorable. There’s no real way to hide you being six-foot-five and two hundred and eighty pounds of muscle. I on the other hand am wearing a head covering, shapeless skirt, shapeless blouse, dark glasses and flats. He won’t even be able to tell the color of my hair.”

Pay frowned.

 “I’m the best person for this job. When it comes to non-violent situations, I can read people a little better than you. And when it comes to subtly manipulating people, I’m much better than you. Especially when it comes to men.”

“I can’t argue with that.” He smiled. But his eyes still looked sad.

 “I’m going to make this guy feel sorry for me. A woman, alone, who needs, right now, transportation. I’ll insinuate that as much as I need transportation, I also need a place to live. By the time I get done he’ll feel like he’s selling his vehicle to a Muslim Mother Teresa.”

Pay’s grimace told a story Brooke still didn’t understand.

“Come on big guy. What are you really worried about?”

 “I think I should stick around to protect you. $4500 is a lot of cash. Guy might try to rip you off.”

Brooke squeezed her purse, confirming her Glock was where it belonged. Then she touched the center of her chest where the Judge Derringer hung in its bra holster. “He better not.”

“What if he hurts you?” Pay’s face angled toward the ground, eyes closed. His back slumped as he sighed and shook his head, no, no, no.

“Aw honey, you’re worried about me.” She rose on her tip toes, hugged him, then kissed him on the cheek and murmured in his ear, “That’s so sweet.”

Dropping back to her normal height, she swatted him on the butt. “Now get your handsome, scary self out of here and let me do my job.”