Page 75 of The Battle of Maddox
“American?”
“Yes.”
“Cleared,” he said. “I’ll see you at the airport in an hour and a half, Smoke. Good job, Agent Gillam.”
There was no goodbye. The phone just cut off.
“I always do a good job, you dickhead,” Smoke mumbled. “Anyway, no repeating that. He doesn’t know you heard and the guy is a scum bag. I happen to like his handlers, so I deal with him. Jerk.”
Maddox pointed to a sign. “Half an hour.”
“I wouldn’t be shocked if Cheung made friendly with the border guards,” Smoke said. “So, we may have to deal with some live fire when we barrel through.”
I swallowed. “Haven’t actually pulled the trigger in years. And never at someone.”
“Oh, no. You’ll just have to shoot at their feet and the tires on the vehicles,” Smoke said.
“What a relief,” Maddox mumbled.
“I’d make a comment about what the hell did you expect when you’re riding with a spy, but then…you didn’t expect to have to flee back into the former Soviet bloc. So…” He shrugged.
I looked at Maddox. “Does this happen to you often? Because if it does, I’d like an upfront warning that you’re friends with spies.”
“Thieves and former junkies too,” Maddox said.
“Christ.”
I shook my head, chuckling, and leaned back in the seat. I really hoped there was an actual plane waiting for us at the airport, and Smoke wasn’t jerking us around. He didn’t seem the type, but I’d been jerked around by the best.
Twenty minutes later we started seeing signs for the border and directions on how to line up for the crossing.
“What’s the plan here?” Maddox said.
“We’re blowing through on a service road,” he said.
We waited for a minute.
“That’s it?” I asked. “We’re blowing through?”
“Yup.”
“Dude, there’s got to be more.” Maddox stared at him.
“Nope.” He paused. “Okay, maybe have your guns ready?”
“Jesus Christ,” I grumbled, and pulled the 9mm from my waistband to settle it on my lap. Maddox just scrubbed a hand down his face and shook his head.
The signs started to get more numerous, and I could almost feel Smoke tensing up. This wasn’t going to be as simple asblow through. I knew it.
The lanes for customs were off to the right and there were cones directing us that way. Smoke eased up off the gas, but only a little, to take us down to eighty instead of one-twenty. He dodged between the cones and followed the road that led to the right and against the manmade pond butted up against the edge of the road.
There were air horns going off instantly and I ducked in the seat.
“I don’t know what lies we’ve got going on here,” Smoke said, “so I don’t know the level of alert he’s had them pull out. Just hang on.”
“Is there any chance they’d not do anything assuming Cheung got here first?” I asked.
“He’s got friends in places. Not high places, but places I won’t go. Dirty as hell. I’m sure there’s—”
