Page 71 of No Safe Place

“I can also subtract and multiply, too, believe it or not.”

“I’m sure you can, J Lo. I’m listening,” Shaw said.

“Thought so. You looking for her or do I hang up?”

“We’re looking for her. We get her, you get your life back. That’s why we’re having this conversation, right, J Lo? To get your life back? You don’t want to end up like Big Joe, right?”

“I get my life back and...” she said.

Shaw squinted, confused.

“And what?” he said.

“And what does my retirement package look like?” she said.

Shaw almost laughed out loud. This J Lo was playing for all the marbles.

“Whoever is willing to go to these lengths has got the kind of pockets that don’t quit. That college’s got billions. I want three million dollars in bitcoin delivered where I say and then and only then do you get Jodi on a silver platter.”

Three million? Shaw thought wide-eyed. This lady did not lack chutzpah.

“That’s a tall order. Where you getting your numbers, lady?”

“Two for me and one for Big Joe’s widow is where, you filthy disgusting murderer.”

“I’ll see what I can do but you have to give me something first. How many people are with you?”

“Go figure your end out, and I call back in five so you can send the coin.”

“We can come in in four and take care of things ourselves you know,” Shaw said.

“Yeah? We’re armed to the teeth in here with all the shit your dead guys left the last time you failed so I doubt that,” she said and hung up.

62

Down in the old factory’s basement, the barrel-mounted flashlight of the stolen MP5 cut through the darkness.

The circle of its light revealed wire mesh fronted storage bins that contained an amount of stuff that didn’t seem possible.

Inside were dartboards, Persian rugs, china, nutcrackers, license plates, comic books, a porcelain Bugs Bunny cookie jar, Mickey Mouse slippers, Barbies, a Happy Days lunch box next to a Charlie’s Angels one, old board games.

Every fossil of Americana from 1970 onward that still existed seemed to have been gathered here to molder, I noticed. It was like a Gen X childhood museum. One bin we passed was filled only with old Cabbage Patch dolls lined up on tables like an army regiment.

“Now, there’s something you don’t see every day,” said Colleen behind me.

Scotty led the way toward the tunnel with me close behind with the MP5 followed by Colleen, Daisy and Jodi.

I was also carrying one of the salvaged ballistic shields. Why not? Whatever the heck happened next, not getting shot seemed like a good idea to me.

I had another curious item that we had stripped off one of the tactical guys. An M67 fragmentation grenade. I say curious in that police SWAT teams didn’t tend to go around tossing grenades when civilians were about. These psychos were clearly geared up for a guerilla war. I was almost surprised we hadn’t found a flamethrower and some claymore mines.

Sticking with the escape plan we’d cobbled together, once we found the tunnel and made it to the town museum, the ladies could wait there safely. Then Scotty and I would head back and join Mathias and Mario in the old factory.

A successful escape would have to be all about the timing, I knew. We needed the bad guys to start laying siege on the factory. As they came at us, we would let off some rounds in the air to make them think we were truly pinned down. Then as they went through the laborious process of searching room to room, we would boogie down here to the basement, escape through the tunnel in the chaos and be well on our way in my truck before they figured it out.

That was the plan, anyway.

Someone grabbed almost painfully at my back a split second later as there was a clang ahead.

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