Page 54 of Above ’N’ Beyond

A low chuckle came from the driver’s seat. “Cops are such idiots,” Marco said.

When the rest of them laughed, Jamie laughed with them.

And one is sitting right behind you. Idiot.

The rest of the drive north passed in relative silence. Aside from Nicky’s occasional belching and Paulie chomping on sunflower seeds, the shells of which he spat out the window.

“Take the next exit,” Jamie said. “Turn right at the stop sign and go straight.”

Another aspect of their plan had been to stick to local roads. It added another twenty minutes to their trip, but Route 9 was busy. With other vehicles directly in front and behind, they’d blend in more than on the major highways where troopers were notorious for running radar.

When Marco slowed on the exit ramp, Jax sat up from where he’d been happily snoozing. Jax was as eager to get to work as Jamie was, though for totally different reasons. Jamie wanted to get this rip behind him. Jax wanted his reward—a freeze-dried lamb treat—after his role was executed.

“You said he’s gonna guard the cops.” Paulie gave Jax a scratch behind his ears. “How’d ya train him to do that?”

In the rearview mirror, Marco’s shrewd gaze pinned Jamie before returning to the road. The man’s distrust set the hackles on Jamie’s neck swaying back and forth. If there was any part of the plan that could become problematic, he had a feeling Marco would have something to do with it.

“A guy I know got Jax from a trainer. Turn left up here.” He pointed through the space between the headrests. “He wanted more protection for his family, so he bought a dog already trained to guard and attack.” A true story. Some of it, anyway.

Jax had come from a trainer in Texas, and he had been trained to guard his family and attack if necessary. The part of Jax’s history Jamie didn’t expand on was the trainer was a certified K-9 instructor, and the family to be guarded was the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey and all the innocent civilians who traveled through the myriad of Port Authority access points.

After Marco made the left turn, again his gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. There was no way he knew Jamie was an undercover. If he did, Jamie would already be dead.

The closer they drove to the incinerator, traffic decreased to the point where there was nothing but empty stretches of road in front and behind. Population density had thinned to nothing, until they were surrounded by a dense forest of deciduous and evergreen trees. After all, who would want to live near an incinerator and suck in all those emissions?

The beauty of this isolation was it also played perfectly into their plans. This far from the center of Peekskill, not a single telephone or utility pole housed a camera.

A dusty brown sign indicated the Peekskill Incinerator lay half a mile down the next cutoff. Without being told, Marco turned onto the narrow dirt road that was barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass, let alone a car and a tractor trailer like the one Steve and Artie were driving. On either side of the road were steep drainage ditches and beyond that, thick stands of trees. All key elements of the plan.

The Expedition lurched and dipped as they continued down the bumpy, rutted road. Clouds of dust swirled around them. Jamie had the plan down to the precise time and location. He glanced at his watch. Within minutes, Steve and Artie would be turning down the same road.

“Stop here,” he ordered when they were approximately twenty feet from a cutout.

After Marco stopped in the middle of the road and shut off the engine, they all got out. This early in the morning, the heat wasn’t too bad, but the humidity made the air feel thick enough to wade through.

Jamie went to the back of the SUV and opened the door. Jax hopped out, then spun three times, his jaw cracked as if he were smiling, and his tail whipping back and forth. Jax didn’t know the difference between work and undercover work. It was all the same to a K-9.

As the four other men disappeared into the woods, Jamie sat in the driver’s seat, then popped the hood. Beneath the hood, he opened the fuse box, then removed the electric fuel injection relay and stuffed it in his pocket. Without the fuel pump relay, no fuel would get to the engine.

Meanwhile, Jax busied himself sniffing the ground, then lifted his leg on a large rock. To make it look good, Jamie rested his palms against the hood, leaning over the engine block and scratching his head, doing his best to look like the Expedition had really broken down. Five minutes later, he was still there. Steve and Artie were late, and with every minute that passed, his adrenaline spiked a little higher.

Movement in the trees told him Tony and the boys were getting antsy. Not good. The longer they had to wait, the more amped up everyone would be and the greater the chances one of them would do something stupid. As long as Jamie was the only one with a firearm, there was only so much damage that could be done.

Rumbling came from the end of the main road. A green truck hauling a gray container made the turn, then drove slowly down the dirt road toward him before coming to a stop. With the deep ditches on either side of the narrow road, there was no way the truck could squeeze past.

Behind the wheel, Jamie could just make out Artie Masamoto. The passenger door opened. The second Steve Palos hopped out, Jamie caught Jax’s tail starting to wag, a problem he’d anticipated. Jax was expecting the organic sweet potato treats Steve always had for him.

He needed to down his dog and keep him there. “Jax. Down.”

“Car trouble, huh?” Steve strolled over. The top of his head was barely level with Jamie’s pecs, but he was built like a tank and tough as nails. A gleaming gold badge hung on his belt next to a holstered Glock.

“Yeah, stalled out on me,” he said, knowing Tony and his guys were listening to every word. “Been giving me trouble for the last week. Probably should have brought it in sooner. Do me a favor, would ya? Try starting it while I look under the hood.”

“Sure thing, buddy.” Steve played his part like an Oscar-winning actor and got into the driver’s seat. With no fuel getting pumped, the engine tried but didn’t turn over. After a few more attempts, Steve rejoined him at the hood.

Jamie tugged the brim of his ball cap lower. “Heading to the incinerator?”

“Yeah.” Steve looked at the drainage ditches on either side of the road. “I don’t think we can get around you.”