The Millionaires (25 page)

“What’s going on?” Noreen asked.

“Shhhh,” Joey whispered even though Noreen’s voice only came through the earpiece. The car was moving fast—but it wasn’t someone
passing through. Coasting past the van, the car bucked to a halt right in front of a fire hydrant. Joey shook her head. She
should’ve known.

The doors swung wide, and Gallo and DeSanctis stepped into the night air. Without a word, DeSanctis opened the back door and
extended a hand to Maggie Caruso. As she stepped out, her shoulders were slumped, her chin quivered, and her coat hung open
clumsily. DeSanctis led her toward the building, but even in silhouette, it was easy to see she was a mess. She wasn’t getting
upstairs without help. They must’ve torn her apart, Joey thought.

“I’ll be up in a second,” Gallo called out as he crossed around to the trunk. But the instant Maggie and DeSanctis disappeared,
he headed down the block, straight for the van.

The driver rolled down his window, and Gallo reached in to shake his hand. At first, it looked like nothing more than a thank-you
between friends—quick nodding; head back laughing—then just like that, Gallo stopped. His posture tensed and the driver handed
him something. “Since
when?
” Gallo asked in a quiet roar. The driver stuck his hand out the window and pointed up the block. Straight at Joey.

“Aw, crap,” she whispered.

Gallo whirled around and their eyes locked. Joey’s throat locked up. Gallo’s dark glare sliced through her. “What the hell
do you think you’re doing?” Gallo thundered, storming straight at her car.

“Joey, are you okay?” Noreen asked.

There was no time to answer. Joey thought about starting her car, but it was too late. He was already there. Thick knuckles
rapped against her window. “Open up,” Gallo demanded.

Knowing the drill, Joey rolled down her window. “I’m not breaking the law,” she insisted. “I have full credentials…”

“Screw credentials—what the hell were you doing inside that apartment?”

Staring straight at Gallo, Joey ran her tongue against the back of her teeth. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

“Don’t play stupid!” Gallo warned. “You know you have no jurisdiction!”

“I’m just doing my job,” Joey shot back. She pulled a leather ID case from her pocket and flashed her investigator’s license.
“And last I checked, there’s no law against—”

In a blur, Gallo whipped his hand forward, slapped the ID from her fingertips, and sent it flying against the opposite window.
“
Listen to me!
” he exploded in Joey’s face. “
I don’t care about your learner’s permit—if you interfere with this investigation again, I’ll personally drag your ass back
across the Brooklyn Bridge!
”

Stunned by the outburst, Joey stayed silent. Law enforcement was always territorial about jurisdiction… but in the Secret
Service… they didn’t lose their temper like that. Not without a reason.

“Anything else?” Joey asked.

Gallo tightened his gaze, shoved a closed fist into the car, and dumped a Ziploc bag of shattered electronics into Joey’s
lap. All her bugs and transmitters, wrecked beyond repair. “Take it from me, Ms. Lemont—this isn’t a game you want to play.”

M
y eye twitches when I’m nervous. Just slightly—a light flutter that’s strong enough to tell me my body’s in complete revolt.
Most of the time, I can turn it off by humming the theme song to
Market Wrap
or saying the alphabet backwards—but as I stand at the end of the line in Newark International Airport, I’m too focused on
everything in my way: the fidgety brown-haired woman in front of me, the fifteen people ahead of her, and most important,
the metal detectors at the front of the line and the half dozen security officials I’m thirty seconds away from facing.

If the Service put the word out, this’ll be the shortest trip we’ve ever taken, but as the line shuffles forward, nothing
seems out of pla—

Damn.

I didn’t even notice him at first. Back beyond the conveyor belt. The broad-shouldered guy in the airport security uniform.
He’s got a metal detector in his hand, but the way he’s gripping it like a bat, it’s like he’s never held one before in his
life. His posture alone… only the Service grows them that big.

As he looks my way, I lower my head, refusing eye contact. Ten people in front of me, Charlie’s craning his neck in every
direction, anxious for interaction.

“Long day, huh?” he asks the woman running the X-ray machine.

“Never ends,” the woman says with an appreciative grin.

On a normal day, I’d say it was typical Charlie small talk. But today… He may be yapping with the woman, but I see where he’s
looking. Straight at the broad-shouldered man. And the way Charlie’s bouncing on the heels of his feet—it’s the same as the
twitch in my eye. We both know what happens if we’re caught.

“No bags?” the woman asks as Charlie gets closer to the machine.

“Checked it,” he brags, holding up his ticket and pointing to the single claim check.

In Hoboken, a quick stop at the army-navy store got us a blue gym bag filled with underwear, shirts, and a few toiletries.
It also got us a miniature lead-lined box that—when stuffed in the bottom of the gym bag—became the perfect hiding spot for
Gallo’s gun.

No doubt, it’s a bad idea—the last thing we need is to be caught with the murder weapon—but as Charlie pointed out, these
guys are leaping for our throats. Unless we want to wind up like Shep, we need the protection.

“Keep it moving,” a black guard calls out, motioning Charlie through the detector.

I hold my breath and once again lower my head. Nothing to worry about… nothing to worry about… Two seconds later, a high-pitched
beep rips through the air. Oh, no. I look up just in time to see Charlie forcing a laugh. “Must be that erector set I ate
this morning…”

Please, God, don’t let him blow it…

“Man, I used to
hate
those erector sets,” the guard laughs, waving a handheld detector up Charlie’s chest and down his shoulders. “Couldn’t build
jack with ’em.” In the background, the guard with the square shoulders slowly turns our way.

“That’s why you gotta go with Lego,” Charlie adds, unable to stop himself. Spreading his arms, he waves hi to the guard with
square shoulders. The guard nods awkwardly and looks away. He wants two brown-haired brothers—not a flaky blond kid traveling
alone.

Finding nothing, the black guard lowers his detector. “Have a safe trip,” he tells Charlie.

“You too,” Charlie adds. It’s a great act, but there’s not a single ounce of color left in his face. Stumbling forward, he
can’t get out of there fast enough.

One by one, the rest of the line takes their turn. As I step through the detector, Charlie turns around and glances back.
Just to make sure I’m okay. Passing the two guards, I keep my mouth shut and glide by. And just like that, we’re in. Nowhere
to go but south. Nonstop to Miami.

G
laring at the back of Gallo’s thick neck, Joey watched him walk across the street, back toward the apartment building. Halfway
there, he shot a wave to his buddies in the van, who flashed their lights back. With a punch of the pedal, the van pulled
out of its spot and hummed past Joey’s car.

“Nice seeing you!” the driver shouted to Joey.

She forced a grin, pretending it didn’t matter. Typical tech losers, she thought as they disappeared up the block. Within
seconds, the black bag guys were gone. And as Gallo stepped inside the apartment building, so was her biggest obstacle.

“What was that about?” Noreen asked in her ear.

“Nothing,” Joey shot back. She kicked the car door open and crossed around to the trunk.

“Maybe you should call the boss—he’s got some buddies in the Service.”

“Noreen, not now,” Joey said, her voice echoing as she leaned down into the trunk. She pulled out a shiny metal suitcase and
balanced it on the edge of the trunk. Locks popped and flipped open. Inside, it looked like a high-tech tackle box, with folding
stackable trays filled with wires, mikes, and small metal gizmos that resembled miniature cellular phones. At the base of
the box was a bulky radio receiver and collapsible headphones.

“What’re you doing?” Noreen asked anxiously. “Where are you?”

Joey didn’t answer. She stuffed what she needed in her pockets and crossed the street.

“You’re not going back in the apartment are you?”

“Nope,” Joey said, picking up speed.

“I heard you fidgeting with the goody box—just tell me where you’re going.”

Joey stopped in front of Gallo and DeSanctis’s car.

“They took all my taps, Noreen—and you know what it’s like getting back in while they’re listening…”

“Wait a minute… you’re not—” The slam of a car door cut Noreen off. “Joey, please tell me you’re not in the Secret Service’s
car.”

“Fine, I’m not in their car.” Joey eyed her watch. There wasn’t much time. It may’ve looked like they were helping Maggie
back upstairs, but it was probably just Gallo’s way of getting another peek around the apartment. Over her shoulder, Joey
took one last glance at the building. Two minutes at the most.

“Joey, they can shoot you for this…”

Right next to the moon roof, Joey reached up for the dome light that lit the inside of the car, snapped off its plastic covering,
and quickly undid the two screws that held the tiny bulb in place. “They started it, Noreen.”

“
They started it?
You’re bugging the United States Secret Service! That car’s federal property.”

“It’s also the only place these bastards are too cocky to look,” Joey pointed out. “Hell, they’re so sure of themselves, they
even left the doors unlocked.” She connected a tiny microphone to the red wire that dangled down toward the bulb. It was a
trick she learned years ago. The dome light was one of the few places that always had power—even when the car was off. Hooked
in there, you could spy on someone for months. All it took was a little risk.

“Please, Joey—they’re gonna come any minute…”

“Almost done…” Snapping the dome back into place, she ducked down in the back of the car and reached under the driver’s seat.
There was one other easy-to-reach place that always had power. And thanks to an upgrade in law enforcement vehicles, Gallo’s
car was fully stocked with power seats.

Feeling around for the wiring that ran up from the floorboard, she clipped onto a red wire and quickly plugged the other end
into the black box that looked like an outdated cell phone, but without the keypad.

“Joey, they won’t hesitate to throw you in jail…”

She lifted her head to glance out the side window, and a bright light caught her eye. Inside the building. The elevator doors
slid open. Here they come. Less than thirty seconds. Fighting her hands from shaking, she pulled one last item from her pocket.
It was a shiny extendable pointer with a slight hook at the end of it. Opening it to its full three feet, she attached it
to the wiry antenna that ran out of the black box and tucked it under the base of the cloth-covered seat.

“Joey, get out of there…”

With a sharp shove, she threaded the pointer—and the an-tenna—straight up the back of the seat. Completely out of sight, but
still perfectly angled to send a signal through the moon roof. One homemade global positioning system coming up.

“Joey…!”

“Call him,” she whispered.

“What?” Noreen asked.

“
Call him.
”

Frantically stuffing the black box under the seat, Joey locked it in place with a magnetic thunk. That was it. Time to get
out.

From the back window, she could see Gallo and DeSanctis walking up the block. Less than fifty feet away. It was too late…

A high-pitched ring screamed through the night and Gallo stopped in his tracks. So did DeSanctis. “This is Gallo,” he answered,
flipping open his cell phone. The two agents turned back toward the building. That was all Joey needed. In one fluid movement,
she ducked out the back door and scuttled across the street.