Page 38 of Mann Hunt
Charlie stared for a moment. His mouth fell open in disbelief. It was a white Toyota Sienna minivan.
“You have got to be kidding.Thisis your car?”
“What were you expecting—an Aston Martin?”
“Well, yeah!”
“Look, this blends in, it’s got great visibility over other vehicles and its manoeuvrability and pick-up are incredible. And it gets great gas mileage.”
“It’s a minivan! Who are you—James Bond’s mother?”
“It’s the perfect surveillance vehicle, now get in.”
“And you have the nerve to criticise my car Francine,” Charlie muttered as he climbed into the passenger seat.
“No offence, but Francine has shitty pick-up and wouldn’t hold half the equipment I need.”
“Does this have a name?” Charlie asked. He hoped it was something he could mock.
“The van,” Declan said, smiling as he punched the accelerator, throwing Charlie back into his seat.
A few minutes later they entered Bar-None. Declan waved at Mickey. Charlie followed close behind, like the caboose of the world’s shortest train. He also waved, but one of those child-like waves where the fingers did all of the work while the palm remained stationary.
Declan chose the table. It was in the rear, out of hearing range of the few denizens who inhabited the place.
Mickey arrived moments after they landed in their seats. “What’ll you two have?”
“It’s a moment of celebration, Mickey,” Declan announced. “Charlie’s been through a trial by fire these last few days and passed with flying colours. I’ll have the Declan Special.”
“And you?” Mickey asked Charlie.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” he answered naïvely.
Mickey smiled and turned to Declan. “He has no idea, does he?”
Declan laughed. “He’s a man now, Mickey. Time he drank like one.”
Mickey returned to the bar.
Declan smiled at Charlie and asked, “So…come here often?”
Charlie was on a high. He was sitting across from the most beautiful man in the bar, who had hired him into one of the coolest, sexiest businesses he could think of, and he had no idea how to carry on a conversation with him.
“Uh…actually, I come here a lot. Well, not exactly a lot. Okay, I’ve only been here a few times…”
“Oh.” Declan was still smiling.
Mickey swung by and dropped off the drinks.
“Thanks,” Charlie said, picked up his glass and took a swig.
Charlie had never swallowed liquid fire before, but suspected that this was what it felt like. For once in his life, his instinct for self-preservation woke from its near-permanent slumber and he didn’t spit up all over Declan and the table.
“So, is this a regular thing, going out for drinks after a tough spell of work?” Charlie wheezed out.
“Mrs B would have approved,” Declan said. “Here’s to Mrs B and her health.”
“To Mrs B!”
