Page 60 of In Too Deep

“So what if I didn’t like him? I worked with him. And he’s dead. That’s enough. We have to be civilized, or what do we have left? Did you love everyone whose funeral you went to?”

—

The van thatKnight and the others were being transported in belonged to the Mount Pleasant Tennis Club, from just outside Wichita, Kansas. The club was indeed pleasant. It had six courts, a clubhouse, a convenient parking lot, and a line of mature trees that separated the site from the nearby highway. The trees also screened off the pair of old shipping containers that had sat on the adjacent lot for so long that most of the members had ceased to notice they were there.

The two guys in the cab were the owners of the tennis club. They were looking forward to getting back, especially since they now had two extra guests. The driver turned to his partner and said, “Worth it?”

The guy shrugged. “The property developer thing? Easy money. This side gig? I don’t know. The jury’s out. Seems too good to be true. How can one report be worth so much? And Cone Dynamics? What kind of a company name is that?”

“You might be right, but where’s the harm? Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“We’re going to—” The passenger’s phone started to ring. He picked it up, glanced at the screen, and answered. He listened for a moment then hit the speakerphone key.

The voice on the line said, “We have a problem. You have to go back. Return the goods.”

The passenger said, “Really? Why?”

“That’s need to know, and you don’t. But you do need to go back. Now. Today. The goods need to be returned in three hours.”

“Not possible. We’re already on the road.”

“Then go back.”

“Tell whoever’s squeezing your nuts that we need more time. A couple of days, minimum.”

“You have three hours. Not a minute more.”

“We’re not actually returning anything, right? We’re playing along and adding to the collection. That takes time to prepare.”

“No. We’re returning everything. In two hours fifty-five, now. Sooner if possible.”

“What’s gotten into you? If there’s some kind of problem—”

“Just do it. No debate.”

The passenger sighed. “OK. I guess. But it’s going to cost extra.”

The line went silent for a moment, then the voice said, “How much?”

“Fifty percent.”

“Thirty.”

“Fifty. Or we keep driving.”

“Fine. Now listen up. There are some special instructions this time. They need to be followed to the letter or all hell’s going to break loose.”

Chapter25

The Tennis Club guys arrivedat the cave twenty-five minutes ahead of their deadline. They bounced along the track between the spoil heaps, skirted around another panel van and a Land Rover that were parked close together, and pulled up a couple of feet shy of a white Ford truck. The driver shut off the engine. He left the keys in the ignition and climbed out. The passenger joined him. They looked around for a moment, taking in the rock and the gravel and the shiny metal door. The driver nudged the passenger and pointed to a spot above the center of its frame. He mouthed the wordcamera.

The passenger nodded and said, “Come on. Let’s go.” He climbed up into the Ford.

The driver got in behind the wheel and turned the key. The engine took a moment to catch. He said, “What a piece of garbage. I can’t believe we’re stuck with this.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell the property guy he owes us a bonus.”

“A big bonus.” The driver nodded toward the back of the van. “I was looking forward to some fun.”

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