The Nightmare Thief

Chapter 4 (#u56a388bd-0a2b-5c12-a4f7-b9292ffe3811)

The limo pulled off the freeway into a sketchy industrial area of warehouses and machine shops. Autumn saw cracked asphalt, rusting cars, trash, men in dirty clothes. They passed a vast parking depot for empty big rigs: truck after truck after truck.

“So not five-star,” she said.

Kyle glanced in the rearview mirror. “This ain’t the destination.”

His voice twanged around the limo. It had an unpleasant echo. I’m driving, and that’s that. Peyton took another swig of champagne. Grier turned up the stereo. Sinatra, “Come Fly with Me”— he was taking the Rat Pack theme to extremes.

Autumn knew the contours of the game. Terry Coates had outlined it and sent her forms to fill out, on everything from medical conditions to nut allergies. She’d had to sign on every dotted line. She hadn’t been told that adulthood would involve so much paperwork. She didn’t like it.

But she did like the crime spree scenario: She was the head of an international criminal enterprise that trafficked in pleasure. She was on the run after breaking out of prison. Running with her were Lark, her enforcer; Grier, her consigliere; and Dustin, her deputy and prime piece of beef. They would attempt to escape Peyton and Noah, the federal agents hunting her down.

And she wasn’t just going to escape from federal custody. She was going to take down the enemies who had betrayed her and sent her to prison. She was going to destroy their centers of power, rob them blind, and collect booty. Loot, swag, pillage. Because it was her birthday.

She felt nervous and excited and—hungry. She couldn’t wait to get going.

But she didn’t know why the scenario had to start in such a dismal neighborhood. The Hummer sped by a huge parking lot, a sloping black prairie of asphalt, and she saw stadium lights. Candlestick Park came into view. It was a grimy concrete Frisbee plastered with billboards for the ’49ers. An endless line of aqua blue Porta-Potties bordered the whole empty, sagging affair.

Then Autumn spotted golden fields dotted with stubby pines and caught the sparkle of sunlight off the bay. Kyle swung the Hummer through a gate. He gunned it through a long, empty parking lot and stopped sideways across four slots. The engine coughed and hacked until he shut it down.

He turned. “Okay, kiddies. We’re here. Sack up.”

Dustin squinted against the sunlight. “This is Candlestick Point?”

Kyle got out, opened the passenger door, and beckoned the group out. Noah held out his hand for Lark. She shook her head. “Opposite teams, Noah. I let you grab my hand, next thing you’re slapping a pair of cuffs on me.”

“You take that risk.” Smiling, he gripped her hand and got out.

Peyton followed, tugging Grier along. “Hey, I’m a U.S. Marshal. If anybody plays with handcuffs, it’ll be me.” She tucked a finger under Grier’s belt. “And I’m talking to you.”

Grier popped the collar of his shirt. “You won’t get me. I pay people off. That’s my job. If I can’t, I run.”

Kyle looked like he was trying to keep a straight face. “If you like shackling prisoners, Miss Mackie, shouldn’t you be wearing a police uniform?”

She smiled, patently coy. “You like handcuffs?”

He smirked and poked up the brim of his cap. “Knots are more my style.”

Autumn pushed Peyton forward and climbed out. “Move, Mackie.” Before you start doing a pole dance.

Candlestick Point State Recreation Area was virtually deserted. The grass was unmown. The trees were gnarled by the wind. On the sand at the water’s edge, a man was performing tai chi. In the distance an elderly couple ambled along, pushing a baby stroller that held their tiny white poodle.

Past the glittering water, on a spit of land that protruded into the bay, giant loading gantries and cranes stood idle at the abandoned Hunters Point Naval Shipyard. On the bay, a container ship steamed toward Oakland, its wake as white and frothy as cake icing. The wind battered Autumn’s hair away from her face. She pulled on a Marine Corps utility cap and smoothed down her gold cashmere sweater.

She inhaled the strong sea air and shivered. All at once she felt great.

Dustin came up behind her and nuzzled her neck. “Last kiss before battle?”

She leaned her head back. “Last kiss till one of us takes the other as a prize.”

On the asphalt next to the limo, Grier and Noah shadowboxed. Lark’s phone rang, and she answered, “Reiniger Cartel World Headquarters, Sobieski the Assassin speaking. How may I direct your call?” Then, giggling, “Hi, Mom.”

Kyle scanned the parking lot, one hand steepled over his brow. After a minute he reached inside the Hummer and took out a walkie-talkie.

“Ritter calling base.”

Static.

“Ritter calling base, come in.”

More static. He got his phone, made a call, and frowned. Autumn knew that look. It was the one she got when she called her father. Voice mail.

She tugged on Dustin’s sleeve. “All that crap from my dad about getting here on time, and we have to stand around waiting for the game to start?”

Dustin shrugged. His smile was slippery, like it had been oiled. “They’re going to spring things on us. It’s cool.”

“Ask the driver what’s going on.” She pinched him. “Dustin. This is boring.”

Dustin raised his hands in submission and walked toward Kyle. “Hey, man, thought your team was supposed to be waiting for us here. What’s going on?”

Kyle looked up, sheepish behind his sunglasses. “Coordinating with HQ.” He frowned again at his phone. “It’s just . . .” His lips, full and red, had constricted. He looked baffled.

Autumn crossed her arms. “Where are the other game runners?”

Ritter raised his hands, a mollifying gesture. “Guys, I’m as new to this as you. Let’s just ride it and see what happens.”

“New?” Autumn said.

He smiled, greasy and uncertain, trying to play it. “I’m Edge’s most recent addition to the team.”

“You’re brand-new on the gig?” Dustin said.

“First time for everybody, man. It’s no biggie. And I’m sure this delay is just a glitch.” Kyle gave one more beseeching glance at his silent cell phone.

“Are you telling us we came to the wrong place?” Dustin looked around, weaving.

Autumn’s voice rose. “This has been planned for months. And you came in at the last minute?”

The others stopped horsing around and walked over. Noah said, “What’s going on?”

Autumn pointed at Kyle. “Did you screw up? Because if you did, my dad will have your ass on a skewer.”

Kyle’s expression dried, like a chunk of Sheetrock. “I did not screw up. We changed plans at the last second, thanks to a specific request by your father for Edge to provide this limo. My boss called me at seven A.M. We had to scramble to get this Hummer and pick you all up,” he said. “So no offense, Miss Reiniger, but if there’s a problem, it’s your dad . . .”

Autumn stiffened, but Kyle caught himself.

“Let’s all cool down.” He forced a smile. “It’s just a hiccup. I’m sure the rest of the team will be right along.”