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The situation probably wasn't that dire yet, but on that endless, uncomfortable drive, it felt like it was.
Jack stopped at a car rental agency. Quinn went inside to get a vehicle matching his specifications - full-size, neutral color, no obvious rental stickers. Jack stayed behind with me, making sure I knew how to use the wireless earpieces.
"Don't bother with the bugs. Concentrate on these." He waved the earpieces and the transmitter. "You want to add anything? Ask a question? Change our tactics? Just say so."
I nodded.
"No need to whisper. Just talk normally."
"Okay."
"Sure? Last chance for questions."
"I'm sure."
He opened his door.
"Jack?"
He glanced over his shoulder at me.
"I'm sorry."
He shut the door. "Nothing to be sorry - "
"Yes, there is. You're here, helping me with my investigation, taking risks for me, and I'm goofing off with Quinn - "
"Doesn't matter."
"It does and I'm sorry. I'm also sorry for asking you about Montreal in front of Quinn. I didn't mean anything by it. I was just trying to make conversation."
He released the door handle and twisted in his seat, frowning as if trying to remember what I was talking about.
"Oh. That. Those damn left turns. Concentrating on them. Wasn't really listening. Montreal, right? Been there a few times. Had a job once. Middle of a fucking snowstorm."
I smiled. "They get those."
"In October?" He shook his head. "Wasn't prepared. Get right behind the guy. Pull my piece. Fucking gun's frozen."
I choked on a laugh. "A gun can't - "
"You telling the story? It was cold. Fucking cold. Did I mention that?"
"No, just the fucking snowstorm, which I'm sure, combined with the fucking cold, froze your fucking gun."
"Fucking right. Where was I? Right. Gun fails. But the guy hears something. Turns around." He shook his head. "Wasn't pretty." He squinted through the windshield. "Huh. There's Quinn. Better go."
He reached for the door handle. I grabbed his sleeve over the seat, then stopped, unsure, but when he turned, I saw the glitter of amusement in his eyes.
"How'd you pull the hit if your gun was supposedly frozen?" I asked.
"Grabbed an icicle."
"A what?"
"Icicle. You know. Long, sharp piece of ice..."
"Bullshit."
