Page 40 of Witness Security Breach

Aiden peeled off a couple of twenties and took care of the cab fare, and then they walked to the shack.

“Looking to rent a car?” the older guy asked them.

Aiden nodded. “Yeah. Something with a navigation system. We don’t know the city.”

“Take a look at the five cars in the first row. Those have GPS. When you find something you like, give a holler. I’m Dealing Dan.” He tipped his fedora to them and then disappeared back inside like he could’ve just as easily been called Shady Dan.

Bypassing the BMW and Mercedes-Benz, they looked at the Toyota, Honda and Chevy Impala. They needed something fast that would blend in and not call attention to them regardless of the neighborhood they might find themselves in.

“The Honda is out,” Aiden said. “Too many scratches and dents.”

“I don’t like that bright cherry-apple red color of the Toyota,” Charlie said. Too memorable when they wanted to be utterly forgettable.

Aiden agreed. “I guess we have a winner.”

They walked to the shack and knocked on the door.

“Come on in.” A comedy show played on a television behind the desk, where Dan had his feet up and hands resting on his big belly. “What’d you decide on?”

“The black Impala,” Aiden said. “Is it reliable?”

“As reliable as it’s going to get,” Dan said, chuckling at the screen. “It’s a 2005, one hundred and fifty thousand miles, new timing belt and tires. Runs smooth. Shouldn’t give you any problems. How long will you need it?”

Aiden and Charlie exchanged a glance, an unspoken question passing between them. How long did Albatross have to live?

“Three days,” Aiden said.

“At the most,” Charlie added.

They did the deal using the licenses of Johnson and Benally, and Johnson’s credit card. Charlie filled out the paperwork, listing a fake phone number and bogus address. So long as Dealing Dan got paid, Charlie suspected he wouldn’t care too much if the information was made up.

Dan handed over the key. “Be sure to get some beignets from Café du Monde while you’re here and try the coffee with chicory. Nothing else quite like it. Enjoy your time in New Orleans.”

“One more thing,” Charlie said. “Would it be safe to assume with you working out here at all hours by yourself that you’re packing?”

Dan smiled. “Yeah, it would.”

“Willing to sell us your gun?” she asked.

“No can do. But I can offer some nonlethal options.” Dealing Dan pulled out a baseball bat and a crowbar and set them on the desk.

Neither were inconspicuous options, but they’d work under the cover of darkness.

“We’ll take both,” Aiden said.

At a significant upcharge, one hundred dollars bought them two weapons.

They climbed into the Chevy. The tints on the windows were a bit chipped and starting to bubble and the sagging seats creaked when they sat on them, but the engine turned over with no drama.

The address on Rampart Street was easy to find with the navigation system. The neighborhood had a bohemian vibe, colorful street murals, quirky boutiques and hip-looking restaurants.

Devlin’s place was a small shotgun row house on a residential street with a driveway alongside. They parked two doors down across the street.

Charlie dug out two sets of plastic gloves from the box she’d taken from the hospital and handed some to Aiden. “So we don’t leave any prints.”

Putting them on, he said, “You really do have quite the criminal mind.”

“What can I say? I’m a product of my environment.”