Drawpoint (Blake Brier Thrillers Book 4)

by L. T. Ryan

Blake waved Haeli into the living room.

  From somewhere around the other end of the hallway, they heard a woman’s voice call out. It was weak and raspy. Most likely elderly. “Henry, is that you?”

  Haeli opened the door. As he guessed, it led to the common hallway. They both slipped out, and Blake closed the door, trying not to make a sound.

  They headed to the stairwell and hiked the ten flights to the top. The door to the roof was unlocked.

  “Okay, now what?” Haeli asked.

  Blake walked to the edge of the roof and kneeled. He turned and motioned for Haeli to come next to him.

  “We’ve got a good view of the activity from here. As long as we stay low, they shouldn’t see us up here. Unless they have a helicopter, then we’ll have to hide out in the stairwell.”

  “And if the dogs track us here?” Haeli asked. “We’ll be trapped.”

  Blake looked to the right. The next building over was twenty times too far to jump. To the left was the corner and another street. Haeli was dead right. They would be trapped.

  “All we have to do is make it until dark,” Blake said. “Then, as long as they aren’t camped out down there, we’ll move. The more time that goes by, the further they’ll assume we travelled. It’ll widen their search radius and make it unmanageable.”

  Haeli spun and sat on the roof with her back against the two-foot ledge.

  “You good?” Blake squeezed above her knee.

  “Sorry, first time getting chased by the cops.”

  “Something tells me that’s not true either.”

  Haeli leaned her head back on the lip of the ledge, and chuckled. “Nope. Couldn’t begin to count.”

  37

  Blake unloaded items from the green plastic basket. Two bottles of water, four energy bars, two phone chargers, two pocket LED flashlights, and a package of bobby pins.

  With all the disinterest of a part-time college-aged cashier, the kid scanned the items and waited for payment.

  There hadn’t been much concern in the decision to make the pit stop to the chain drug store. It wasn’t Blake’s picture that had been released, after all. But that wasn’t to say there wasn’t some risk.

  After the cab driver called police, the authorities would have considered Blake a possible accomplice. Of course, Andrej would have provided a physical description. But even if the description was broadcast, there was little danger of being recognized. Without Haeli standing next to him, he was out of context.

  While the freedom of movement was helpful, he hated leaving Haeli alone. Curled up behind a dumpster at the back of the building, she might as well have been on an island, a thousand miles away.

  Blake entered the cash-back amount. The cashier handed him the money, closed the drawer, and then wandered off. People didn’t seem to be much for, “Bye now, have a nice night,” in this country.

  Outside, he made his way around the building and found Haeli where he left her. Tucked into a shadow, she melted into the background. For a split second, he had felt a surge of panic that she was gone. But no, there she was, looking up at him with eyebrows raised.

  “Found everything,” Blake said.

  “The bobby pins too?”

  “Yep.”

  Neither had been sure bobby pins were a thing in Switzerland. Funny how people tended to view other cultures as somehow lacking in the conveniences of their own. The people of Switzerland couldn’t possibly possess such advanced technology as bobby pins. What’s next, McDonald’s?

  “Here, these had the most protein.” Blake handed her two of the bars and a bottle of water.

  They both dug in, forcing down each chalky bite with a swig of water, until both bars were consumed. Unsure if they would get another chance, it was much needed fuel for what lay ahead.

  “Ready?”

  They pocketed the remaining items, discarded the bottles and wrappers, and hit the road. Their destination was within a five-minute walk.

  On the roof, he and Haeli had come up with a decent working plan. They knew where they needed to go next and why. And by the time it got dark, police activity had fallen off dramatically.

  A helicopter did patrol the area for about an hour, but the chopping of the rotor blades gave them ample warning before each pass.

  Two hours after sunset, they decided it was time to move.

  Almost every hit-and-run mission Blake could remember was conducted at night. The moonless kind, when possible. The darkness always provided an advantage to the one who knew how to use it.

  As they neared the address, they could already make out the sign. Arabesque. Theatrical supply.

  Like the rest of the shops in the strip, it was dark and shut up tight. Having closed six hours earlier, its employees were long gone.

  When Haeli suggested the idea, it seemed a bit unhinged. But the more Blake thought about it, the less absurd it became. They were savvy enough to get themselves out of the country. They had the experience and the resources to pull it off. The only thing they had to worry about was being recognized in the meantime.

  So, a disguise.

  And what better place for that than a professional costume shop. Wigs, clothing, makeup, accessories. The sky was the limit. They just needed to get in and out, undetected.

  Around the back of the strip, they located the door for Arabesque. There were no cameras visible. But it didn’t mean there weren’t any inside.

  Haeli went to work bending the bobby pins into shape, while Blake located the electrical meters.

  There were two things which concerned him. Cameras and alarm. Cutting the power to the shop would help mitigate, but not eliminate them. While it was uncommon for consumer grade camera systems to run on battery backup, alarm systems were often equipped with the feature. If that were the case, and they tripped the alarm, they’d be forced to abandon the plan. This they wouldn’t know until they got inside.

  Assuming the meters were arranged in the same order as the shops, Blake counted over four from the right and yanked it. The light above the door blinked out.

  Haeli waited with pins inserted into the deadbolt. There was enough ambient light from the other shops for her to still operate. Blake gave her the thumbs up.

  Two minutes, manipulating the pins and tumbler, was all it took. Then they were in.

  As they slipped inside, they fired up the pocket flashlights and listened for the beeping prompt of a security system, demanding the disarm code. There was none. Blake was hopeful that cutting the power had been enough to disable it.

  “You look for the panel, I’ll map out the cameras,” Haeli said.

  Blake ran along the wall, through the main showroom, into the small sewing room, office, and bathroom, until he had circled the entire perimeter and reached his starting point. No panel.

  Haeli found him by the rear door. “Only one camera. Above the till.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. Looks like they’re more worried about the employees stealing than about us.”

  “Unbelievable. And who has a retail business without an alarm system? I’m gonna put the power back on.”

  Blake went outside, seated the meter, and then returned. Haeli was already flipping through a rack of clothing.

  “What should we be?” Holding her flashlight with her underarm, she lifted a fist full of red fabric and white lace. “Seventeenth century British royalty?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, should be able to breeze right into the airport with that.”

  “How about a mermaid?”

  Blake ignored her, flipping on the light switch just inside the sewing room. An overhead light came on, spilling into the showroom enough to make the flashlights unnecessary.

  Haeli passed Blake carrying a small black purse. Something out of the nineteen twenties, perhaps. She placed it on the worktable, next to the sewing machine, then began emptying her pockets. He watched as she shoveled handfuls of raw diamonds into the bag. She was loaded up with them. Front pockets, back poc
kets, even in her bra.

  When she was done and had double checked each location, she began to strip off her clothing, until she was down to her bra and her thong.

  “What are you waiting for?” she asked. “Let’s go, drop ‘em.”

  Reluctantly, Blake stripped down to his jockeys and socks.

  Careful to avoid the area of the cash register, he selected a few pieces of clothing and tried them on. Nothing that fit.

  Haeli had already donned a full ensemble. Black halter top, with a long sleeve fishnet shirt over it. Pants with chrome studs running along the seams. She stuck her thumbs through the holes in the end of her sleeves, such that the fishnet covered her knuckles.

  “What are you supposed to be?”

  “I’m a goth girl. Just wait, you’ll see, the look’s not complete yet.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  Haeli thumbed through a rack of men’s clothing. “We should match. I mean, it should make sense that we’re together. Here, try this.” She pulled a black long sleeve shirt from the rack and handed it to him. Then a pair of black pants.

  Black shirt and black pants. That he could handle.

  “Put those on and then we’ll accessorize.”

  Great. Accessories.

  Haeli walked over to the wall where rows of plastic heads modeled wigs of every color and style. She selected one. Jet black, shoulder length hair with bangs.

  “Come here, Mick, pick one out.”

  Blake perused the selection. As he looked closer, he was amazed at how real they looked, even on the plastic dummies. The hairline wasn’t stark like a Halloween wig. Fine hairs were woven into a mesh that made it look like the hair was growing out of the plastic. After looking at the price tag, he knew why. Three thousand francs for a wig?

  Blake didn’t really want to choose any of them. Haeli knew it, which was why she had already chosen for him. He pulled her selection onto his head.

  He looked into one of the several mirrors and burst out laughing. The shaggy black mop of hair looked ridiculous. Realistic, but ridiculous.

  Haeli flitted about, collecting costume jewelry and makeup, then led Blake to the sewing room for a little extra light.

  He put his boots back on.

  “Bend down.” She lassoed his neck with a pile of five or six silver chains of varying lengths, then pulled out a black eye liner pencil.

  There was no use fighting her.

  Haeli colored his eyebrows and added thick lines around his eyes.

  “If we’re questioned, I’ll just tell them I’m one of the members of Motley Crue.” Blake tried not to move. Getting stabbed in the eye with the point of a pencil was just about the only thing that would make the situation worse.

  “Done,” she said. “No, wait. One more thing.” She picked up a black ring off the table and clipped it to his lip.

  Blake looked in the mirror again. He had to hand it to her, he was a different person.

  Haeli did her own makeup and clipped one of the rings to her nose.

  When she was done, the transformation was amazing. She looked completely different. And strangely sexy.

  “We should have a backup in case we’re blown. Something we can switch into on the fly.”

  “Agreed,” Haeli said.

  They worked together to select the various pieces. Haeli picked out a tight blue dress and a blonde wig, Blake, a tweed suit that was big enough to fit over his current clothes, a brown seventies style wig, turtle shell frames, and a bushy walrus mustache.

  “How does this thing stick on?”

  “Spirit gum.” Haeli ran to the makeup section and brought back a bottle of the skin-safe glue. “Good thing you shaved.”

  “You’re not kiddin.”

  Haeli completed her look with a pair of thick heeled dance shoes, which was the only style of shoe the shop seemed to carry.

  “We may not mesh together as well,” Haeli said, “but we’ll make it work if we have to. See if you can find something to carry this stuff in.”

  While Blake ripped the guts out of a makeup caboodle, he heard Haeli firing up the sewing machine in the back room.

  It wasn’t until he finished loading up the gray plastic carrying case with their chosen items and joined her at the sewing table that he realized what she was doing.

  Cutting a slit in the edge of the purse’s lining, she had created a hidden pocket. Which, she was now sewing closed.

  She spoke over the machine. “How is it that you’re all bent out of shape that I stole, yet here we are helping ourselves to thousands worth of stuff.”

  “This is different.” He would have thrown out a sturdier argument if he had one. But the truth was, aside from value, it was the same thing. They made a choice to do what needed to be done. Because they could. Because they wanted to.

  “Uh huh.” Haeli formed her lips into a line and puffed out her cheeks. “Right.”

  “So what’s your name, goth girl?”

  “Stormy.”

  “Eww, Stormy. Sultry.” With dramatic flair, he lifted the back of his hand to his face and peered through his fingers. “I’m Draven.”

  They laughed. A deep, stress-relieving, life-loving laugh. Hey, if the costumes didn’t work like they hoped, at least they’d have some fun with it.

  “All set.” Haeli shutdown the machine and picked up the purse and the caboodle.

  Blake gathered their clothes, to be discarded in one of the trash bins out back.

  “I’d say we’re ready to hit the station.” Blake fingered the light switch and gave one last look to make sure they hadn’t left anything out of place.

  “Yep. Paris, here we come.”

  38

  Blake and Haeli milled around the platform. The train would be arriving in four minutes.

  They had arrived at Zurich HB station by a quarter to six. Although there was a train leaving for Paris at 6:01, they decided to wait for the later, but faster train.

  The 6:01 was a nearly seven-hour trip and would require them to change trains. The 7:20 high-speed express was direct to Paris Lyons. Four hours and four minutes. It was a no-brainer.

  On top of the direct path and lack of a change, the route had only three stops. Basel SBB, Mulhouse Villa, and Dijon-Ville. Which meant, including Paris, there were only four opportunities for law enforcement to intercept them once they were underway. Four may have been three too many, but it was the best they would get.

  When they arrived, they secured their tickets within minutes, which left them with another hour and a half to kill.

  Blake had been to this station before on several occasions, but only in passing. He remembered thinking it impressive at the time, and that hadn’t changed. Doubling as a multilevel high-end mall, it was organized, modern, and beautiful.

  Initially, they had spent a few minutes wandering around and popping in and out of the stores. But after spotting the third officer, they decided it would be better if they stayed further out of the way.

  On a mission to become inconspicuous, Blake bought a pack of Parisienne cigarettes at one of the newsstands. Outside, among the smoking crowd, they melded in nicely. Although their outfits were unique compared with the other degenerates hanging about, they only added to the variety of counter-culture style. Just another couple of weirdos.

  In a way, it was liberating. Dressed up as the kind of person he would have probably beat up in high school, he felt a freedom to do and say whatever he wanted. As if taking a step away from normal society was a free pass to completely disregard its expectations. The way he saw it, he had reaffirmed a few things he already knew about himself. First, while Haeli could pull it off in spades, he was way too old to be wearing eyeliner, even with the aging punk rocker vibe. Second, he was just as much a misfit as the rest of them. And lastly, he never had, and never would, beat someone up who was minding his own business, no matter how weird they were.

  “Behind you, by the stairs,” Haeli said.

  He didn’t have to look. They
had been alerting each other to the location of the cops for the past hour.

  “Just one?”

  “Yeah, but he’s looking for something.”

  “It’s fine, Haeli. Train will be here in another minute.”

  The platform was crowded. Hundreds-of-people crowded. In his opinion, the chances of being picked out of the herd were slim to none.

  Haeli kept her head low, and a screw-the-world look on her face. Her black lipstick, punctuating her pout.

  Blake had to admit, she was good at being Stormy. And committed. A method actor who refused to break character between scenes.

  She shoved her hands in her pockets and her eyes flitted between the ground and a distant part of the platform. “There’s two of them now. They’re definitely looking for someone.”

  “I know angst is part of the character, but you might wanna dial it back.” Blake said, only half-jokingly. “Remember the mantra. You’re only suspicious—”

  “—if you believe you are.”

  The truth was, underneath it all, Haeli was a block of granite. Every bit as much as he was, and probably more so. Clutch, as they’d say on the teams.

  For them, there was a threshold. A certain level of stress at which they stopped operating as living, breathing human beings and became more relatable to the trains flowing in and out of the station. Relegated to a single set of tracks, emotion, empathy, and fallibility became foreign concepts. A robotic arm, oblivious to the world outside its programming.

  Pick up bolt, insert bolt, ratchet bolt, next.

  Haeli hadn’t yet hit the threshold.

  The nose of the train broke the daylight at the opening to the tunnel. As it squealed to a stop, the blank LED screen lit up with a number. 9222. To Paris.

  The doors opened. People began funneling inside. Blake took a step.

  “Wait. I’ll get on, you hang back for a minute. Watch what they do.” Haeli gave him a peck on the lips and boarded, pausing for a moment to wave a fake goodbye.

  Blake hung back and watched. There were still only two officers, and they hadn’t moved.

  Haeli was being overly anxious. Under the circumstances, he couldn’t blame her. Anxiety is often defined as an exaggerated attention to threat. For the average person, this unwarranted threat bias is detrimental. For Blake, it was just the opposite. Threat bias is what had kept him alive all these years.