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Asher pressed the key fob, the car beeped and unlocked. Asher put his bag in the backseat, Harry kept his by his feet in the passenger side, and in no time at all they were driving.
Could it have been that easy?
It wouldn’t have been if Asher’s informant hadn’t sent the man with the keys to a car.
“I have a lot of questions,” Harry said.
Asher patted down his pockets as he drove. “Like how I could be out of mints? We’re going to have to stop.”
“We’re not going to stop for fucking mints.”
“They keep me calm,” Asher said.
“How do you not have diabetes? Or rotten teeth?”
“What is it that you say to me all the time?” Asher pretended to have to think about it. “Oh, that’s right. Shut the fuck up.”
Harry ignored that. “First question. Who is Four?”
“My informant.”
“What is the number? Is it like some lame James Bond shit? 007? Or is it some identifier he was given instead of a name in some brutal cyborg factory?”
Asher shot him a wild glance. “You are never choosing which movies we watch. Those are terrible guesses.”
“Watch your speed.”
“Do not tell me how to drive.”
“So are the mints a replacement for cigarettes? Because you’re a little grumpy.”
Asher’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I never smoked.” Then he nodded pointedly at Harry’s pocket. “Can you please look on a map and tell me where I’m supposed to be going?”
Harry took out his phone. “You need to get on the N1. Follow the signs to the N1.”
Traffic was beginning to bank up but still moved, thankfully. Just then, a swarm of police cars went screaming past, sirens wailing. Harry held his breath, Asher kept his eyes on the road until they’d gone past, and then he watched them in the rear-vision mirror. Harry turned to see, and thankfully, they kept going.
“Do you think they’re looking for us?” Harry asked. Those cops were racing toward the Casbah, after all.
“Hard to tell.” Asher put the radio on. It was in Arabic, naturally, so not understanding much, Harry kind of tuned it out.
He was just happy to keep putting miles between them. They made it to the N1 and, in a consistent line of traffic, made their way south and out of the city. The traffic thinned, the city became green farmland, and they weren’t being followed. For a good long while, Harry watched the scenery pass by, beautiful green mountains in the fading daylight... Until he realised he was admiring the fucking scenery like he’d admired the architecture...
Christ.
That was Asher’s fault. One hundred percent. Harry shot him a scathing look when he realised Asher had been quiet for a long time.
Harry assumed Asher was listening to the radio, just thankful that it kept him quiet. But maybe it was something else. It was the longest Asher had gone without speaking...
Was something wrong?
“You okay?” Harry asked.
Asher nodded.
“Well, that’s not convincing.”
He was quiet for a few more miles. “I need to speak to my informant.”
