The Gambit (13 page)

I was headed west towards the city. Around thirty minutes ago I saw a helicopter flying behind me in the distance. Given the fact that I had already lost the police, if the helicopter were to stay with me I would have never been able to escape. I maintained a higher speed and took the exit to merge onto the less traveled Highway 64. Now, the highway had become I-495, and I knew within a few miles I would hit more congested roads from entering the city. It was time to
hide
.

I saw an exit sign.

I smiled when I saw the name of the road, and took it as a message to get off the highway. When I came to the stoplight I turned left and went south. The road was windy and had very few cars on it. It was relieving to see that. I came to an intersection. The street sign read
Poole Road
. I recalled going over a bridge just moments ago on the highway and a river ran beneath it. Contemplating my orientation, I took another left.

Poole Road was just as barren as New Hope. The road curved gently, and it was enjoyable after the hour-long blur of racing down I-95. After a mile, in the distance I saw what looked to be a small bridge; murky water slipped beneath it.

As I approached, I saw a small wooden sign for
Poole Road Park
. There was a tiny dirt parking lot on my left and I was beaming as I pulled in. There were only two other cars parked. This was exactly what I needed. A park—no security cameras and minimal traffic.

I idled as I drove around the lot. When I saw the river, I followed the walking trail along its edge. I wanted to be as far away as I could. Stealth was
key
. A half-mile of wandering later, I found an open, flat part of the forest which would be ideal for me to ride through. I followed it, and ended up a few feet from the water and surrounded by trees. I stepped off my bike and glanced back through the trees to see if anyone was around—no one. I exhaled and sat on the ground facing the river, leaning against a tree trunk.

The exhaustion I felt was overpowering. The nerves in my hands and wrists felt numb, almost shocked. Vibration from the throttle at such a high speed was the culprit. I could barely hear the river running past. The shrill growl from my bike still rang in my ears.

I closed my eyes—resting them. The woods surrounded me, and for the first time since hearing the news yesterday, I felt
safe
.

The lumpiness of my backpack was causing me pain. I slid it off and set it in front of me. Opening the flap, I actually laughed to myself as I stared at the huge bundles of hundred-dollar bills.

I fucking
robbed
a bank. What a day.

Out of curiosity, I took out one of the bundles and removed the paper bands. I began counting…ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one-hundred.

Ten thousand dollars. I shook my head in disbelief at the amount of money I was holding.

I guess this is what a big-time drug dealer feels
like.

I dug around my backpack and pushed around the different bundles. I glanced back at the woods behind me again—no one.

I set the bundles of money out in front of me in a line. Soon, it became two lines. When I was finished counting, I had one-hundred and twenty thousand dollars. I could hardly think straight. There was no
way
I would ever need this much cash, even in my escape.

I wondered if Grey had wired the money successfully.

1.4
million
dollars. I couldn’t fathom that kind of wealth. Then again, facing the federal government, our 1.4 mil was a drop of water compared to their ocean of funds.

I rested my arm on top of my helmet and zipped my jacket up tight. I had to let the time slip by, perhaps rest until the sun began to set…

The sun was gone and the twilight began fading away. After meandering around the outskirts of Raleigh for a while, I saw a small motel to my right. From the exterior, it appeared like it had seen its fair share of everything; it was a little run down. I was sure that anyone with a TV would recognize me, so I would have to approach check-in with caution. Maybe, just maybe, I could blend in for the night with the other locals who frequented this budget motel.

The parking lot was devoid of activity. As I pulled in, I noticed around the back there was a line of Leyland trees by the dumpsters. I hopped my bike onto the curb and tucked it behind the Leylands. There was a dark-colored fence a couple feet behind it, and as I walked away it was camouflaged perfectly.

I stuck my hands in my jacket pockets and walked towards registration. I kept my helmet on for anonymity, and I opened the entrance door. A bell jingled.

No one was at the counter. Even when I went to the desk, there wasn’t the slightest indication that someone was on duty.

I calmly waited.

Finally, a weary-looking guy came to the desk in a blue polo shirt and some khakis. He had dark circles under his eyes, and I could smell the mix of cigarettes and cologne as he stood across from me. He appeared to be my age.

“Do you have a reservation?” he asked.

“No, I need a room for tonight.”

My helmet muffled my words. He gave me a peculiar, contorted expression.

“I can’t hear you, sir. Could you take off your helmet, please?”

I swallowed. I was exhausted from being on the run, and I really hoped I could have a place to lie my head down tonight. In the corner of the room there was a TV on the wall. I couldn’t hear what channel it was on…but regardless, I still slid my helmet off.

His eyes grew wide as he saw my face. My heart sped up.

Fuck
…

He reached down behind the desk and I quickly grabbed his wrist with my gloved hand. I held it firm, yet lightly, and he froze from the shock.

“Sir, you’re going to have to let go of me, I’m going to call the cops.”

“No, you’re not,” I replied calmly.

“Let go of me!” he said, raising his voice.

“Not until I know I can trust you.”

“Trust me? You’re wanted. They’re going to find you anyway.”

“But
not
tonight,” I said firmly, looking him in the eyes.

“They’re offering a reward to whoever turns you in. Fifty-thousand dollars.”

I laughed. Beneath his sullen eyes, I caught the look of someone who was struggling, and maybe in his free time he used drugs. Perhaps pain pills or something similar. The reward was
alluring
to him. It was an easy way to get richer than he had ever been.

I tightened my grip on his wrist.

“Look…” I glanced at his nametag. “Larry, those people offering that reward? They won’t give it to you. You would never see that money.”

I could practically hear him in my head saying, “
Bullshit
.”

“How do you know?”

“Because they framed me. I am innocent. I didn’t kill any of those people.”

He didn’t believe me.

“But, why though? Why frame
you
?”

“That’s what I am trying to figure out. The
real
question though is, Larry, when their lie is exposed, what side do you want to be able to tell people you stood on? Helping the feds, the ones who allowed the Confinement, or helping me?”

He blinked and appeared more relaxed, but he didn’t respond.

“Larry. I am going to let go of your hand, and you are
not
going to pick up the phone. You are
not
going to call the police. Do you understand?”

He nodded, and I let go of his hand. He stood there with straight posture, just waiting for what I was going to do next. I saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. Behind him, near the ceiling, I saw a security camera. My instincts almost caused me to sprint out of the lobby and run back to my bike.

“Larry, does that security camera work?”

He glanced backward at it.

“Oh, that? No, it’s broken. Our owners are too cheap to fix it.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yes, it’s been broken for about a month now.”

I shook my head, still somewhat nervous to trust this stranger in front of me.

“So, what does a room run here a night?”

“Sixty-five dollars,” he answered and began clicking on his computer.

“All right, I’ll take it,” I said.

“A king bed?” he proposed.

“Sure, whatever you have.”

I saw in his facial expression he was nervous, and he was still hesitant to believe the truth I had told him—that I was framed.

“Can I see an ID, please?”

“I can’t have my name in your system, it’s too risky. I’m going to pay in cash, by the way.”

“Well, then what do you want me to do?”

He sounded frustrated. Like I was demanding too much.

“I don’t know. Get creative, for all I know I could be John Smith and live here in Raleigh.”

He blinked, and I realized he was able to do what I had asked. Before I took out the money, I had an idea overtake me.

“Larry, can I ask you something personal?”

He cocked his head to the side, surprised at my question.

“What?”

“How much do you make here?”

He paused, and I saw some disappointment in his eyes.

“Minimum,” he mumbled.

The new federal minimum wage was nine dollars an hour. It was upped to help boost economic activity and spending.

“So, what…in a year you make like, twenty-thousand dollars?” I ball-parked my estimate high for a reason.

“Less,” he said.

I put my backpack on the ground and unzipped it. I took two bundles out and slapped them on the counter. Looking around, there was still no one in the lobby.

Larry’s jaw dropped.

“Take my room rate from this, and keep the change.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, bewildered.

“This is yours. This is your
reward
for keeping quiet. I am trusting you to do just that.”

He scratched the back of his shaggy, sandy-blonde hair.