“At some point, yeah,” Spade explained.“We just… prefer to be ready when he does.Which is why we’re here.”
He pointed at a section of road near the edge of the city.“This is where the latest convoy rerouted.Two SUVs, one box truck.Small load compared to what he usually moves.Probably a test run.He wants to see who watches.Who bites.”
“You want us to bite?”General asked.
“Not yet,” Spade said.“We shadow.We track.We log everything.License plates.Faces.Times.We make sure he knows someone saw him without telling him who.”
“How?”I asked.
Spade looked at me.“I don’t know yet.”He jabbed his finger at the map.“Bridge is a good spot to set something up.The stretch near the north turnoff where the highway dips over the river.Narrow.No cameras.No pull-offs.Last night, the convoy crossed at two in the morning.If he repeats the route, we park on the access road above and watch.”
Atilla leaned back in his chair.“No guns.No motorcycles on the bridge.One car.Two men.The rest watching from a distance.”He turned his head.“General?”
He nodded.“I’ll take it.Falcon comes.”
“Obviously,” Atilla said.“Spade feeds you the route and times.We watch Diaz’s men do their test run.We watch them come back.And somehow, we make sure they know they’re being watched, then we go home.”
* * *
The bridge looked different at two in the morning.
I leaned against the hood of the car we’d borrowed from an aunt in town.Beige.Boring.Nobody would look twice at it.
The river rushed below, dark and wide.Trees pressed in on either side.No streetlights on the stretch above the water.The only glow came from the dash and the sliver of moon.
General stood beside me, gnawing strips of jerky with the same mechanical rhythm he once reserved for cigars before his doctor scared him straight.I leaned against our borrowed sedan, scanning the scene below.We occupied a narrow access road running parallel to the highway, elevated enough for the winter-stripped branches to frame a perfect view of the target lane.
Spade’s voice crackled in my ear from the small radio.“Convoy turned at exit twenty.Two SUVs, one truck.Same as last night.You see them yet?”
“Negative,” General said.“We’re in position.”
Jade sat back at the clubhouse, headset on in the office.I knew because Spade had yelled when she walked in, then sighed and handed her an extra pair of headphones.
“If you’re going to hover,” he’d said, “you’re doing clip checks and note-taking.”
I pictured her there now.Pen in hand.Foot tapping.
“You good?”General asked.
“I want this over,” I said.“Whatever ‘this’ is.”
“You and everyone else.We’ll get there.”
Headlights appeared at the far end of the bridge.Three sets.Tight.Disciplined.
“Visual,” General said quietly.
“Copy,” Spade replied.“Cameras picked them up a mile back.Same plates as last night.No extra tails.”
I watched the vehicles roll onto the bridge.Box truck in the middle.SUVs fore and aft.Dark paint.Blacked-out windows.
Even from up here, I could feel the tension.Men in those vehicles knew something had shifted in their world.Feds in their bar.Audits in their laundromats.Boss on edge.Most of them probably didn’t know about Roth yet.
We let them pass.Engines hummed.Tires whispered.
“Let them clear the curve,” Spade instructed.“Nothing behind them right now.Road’s empty for three miles.”
“Copy,” General replied.The taillights disappeared around the bend.We watched and waited.“Sometimes I forget this life wasn’t your first choice.”
