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He ignored my question. “Is there anybody else with you? Any backup?”
“No – hey, could you point that gun somewhere else?”
“No,” the man said. “You see anybody following them?”
It took me a second to realize he was saying it into the headset, not to me and Jack.
Apparently he got a satisfactory reply, because he said, “Okay, stay by the road and holler if you see anybody.” Then he yelled, “All clear, guys!”
Two other men in bulletproof vests and headsets came out from behind the boulders, both with military-style assault rifles aimed at our chests.
Jack was looking like he wished he’d never agreed to go along with my plan.
The lead guy looked at me and shook his head in exasperated disgust. “You fuckin’ went and told Jack Pollari,” he said, like You have GOT to be kidding me.
“How do you know my name?” Jack asked.
“Oh, I know allllll about you.”
“Jack’s what I want to talk to Eddie about,” I snapped.
“That and twenty years in prison for blowing an agent’s cover?”
“Jack can help us take down Lou.”
The lead guy laughed. “Really. That true, Pollari? You gonna turn rat on your boys to save your own skin?”
Jack just stared back at him in hatred.
“Where’s Eddie?” I demanded.
“Actually, we wanted to ask you the exact same question,” the lead guy said. “Especially you, Pollari.”
I stared at him in horror. “Wait – what happened to Eddie?”
“We’ll ask the questions. Now get down on your knees – slowly – and put your hands behind your head,” the lead guy ordered.
With a couple of semi-automatic rifles at our backs, there was nothing to do but comply.
50
They handcuffed us first and confiscated our guns and phones.
“Planning to sweet-talk us with this?” the lead guy asked as he held up Jack’s .45.
“Just exercising my Second Amendment rights,” Jack said, with a heavy undercurrent of Fuck you, asshole.
“Maybe you forgot, but you gave up those rights when you went to prison. This right here?” he asked, waggling the .45. “This is another felony, asshole.”
Jack looked at him in surprise, then at me. I could read the question in his eyes: How the fuck does this guy know my prison record?!
Because he’s been hunting you for years, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud.
A white panel van drove up over the dirt road. Lead Guy and his minions put bags over our heads that smelled like burlap and sweat. Then he forced me into the back of the van and chained me to a bench along the side.
“Jack?” I called out nervously as soon as the van started.
“I’m here,” he said, only five feet away, his voice reassuring.
