Free The 13: Fall by Robbie Cheuvront, Erik Reed, Shawn Allen Page B

counterpart. Being late was as good as saying,
My time is more valuable than yours.
    The first of the visiting limos—fifteen minutes late—arrived, two armed guards stepping out and surveying the area. Once they were satisfied they were alone, one of the men spoke into a radio and watched as the remaining vehicles approached.
    Three more limos lined the curb, and several armed guards stepped out, all checking the area. Finally, a small, elderly man exited the next-to-last vehicle. He wore a finely tailored Italian suit, accented with a red Hermès tie. A gold Rolex rested securely on his left wrist. Fine, hand-tooled leather Italian shoes completed the ensemble.
    After a short pause to check out the surroundings, the elderly man walked inside the warehouse. The woman was waiting impatiently for him at a small table, set with two chairs. He nodded to the other man and sat down.
    “Mr. Chin.” She nodded.
    “Ms. Smith.”
    Ms. Smith leaned back in her chair. “I must say your people’s lack of punctuality is disappointing. I thought that with business and money being your god, you would respect its nuances.”
    The man smiled a perfunctory smile. “Madam, I apologize for our tardiness. One can’t be too careful when meeting like this.”
    “No, I guess not.”
    “Then let’s get down to business, shall we?”
    The woman nodded as Chin took his seat.
    “Is everything in order?” Chin asked.
    “Everything is as I said it would be. Do you have my money?”
    The diminutive man turned in his chair and took the laptop from one of his men. He set it on the table and opened the lid. After a few seconds, a screen appeared that had a box in the middle with a waiting cursor.
    “Just type in the account number and the funds will be transferred,” Mr. Chin said.
    The woman carefully took her hands out of her coat pocket and produced a set of latex gloves. She pulled them on and brought the laptop closer.
    “Can’t be too careful.” She raised an eyebrow.
    Chin smiled and nodded.
    She typed on the keyboard, hit E NTER , and scooted it back to the man. “So I guess our business here is done.”
    Chin stood up and took the laptop. “For now, Ms. Smith. Good day.”
    He gave a slight bow and walked back to the waiting car.
    The woman watched as the small caravan of cars pulled away. She waited a few more minutes and then pulled out the disposable phone she’d purchased a month ago. She punched the numbers in and waited until it was answered.
    “It’s done,” she said.

   CHAPTER 19   
    T aylor returned from the lavatory to the front of the plane, where she’d left Keene and Boz. More than anything, she’d wanted to give the men time alone to do whatever it was that macho former military men did when they obviously didn’t like each other and were thrust into working together. She’d been sure fireworks were coming and just didn’t have the energy to listen to it. So she’d excused herself.
    What she found was a surprise. She had heard about these Gulf Stream jets before but had never been on one. The bathroom was ridiculous! It was nicer than her first apartment.
    She sat back down and looked at the two men she’d left a few minutes earlier. They were both still alive, and there wasn’t any blood, so she thought that was good.
    “You two have a nice chat?”
    “We’re fine,” Boz said. “Aren’t we, Jon?”
    Keene nodded. “All good.”
    Boz undid his belt and stood up. “I’m gonna grab some shut-eye on the couch. Rule number one.”
    “What’s that?” Taylor asked.
    “Always eat and sleep when you can,” Keene said. “Never know when you’re going to get the chance to do either again.”
    Boz smiled. “That’s right.” He stepped out from the seats and moved around to the back. “Wake me up if you need me.”
    Taylor sat there for a few minutes, looking out the small window at the vast openness. She wondered how it was possible that this Prophet had been able to pull off what he