Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
“…And that’s the third exit on this floor. The fact that I didn’t think of this until your little visit is beyond me, but if I say so myself, the idea is brilliant. An actual photo fucking journalist…” He couldn’t believe how his misfortune had turned into golden luck. “You fell right into my lap… just wow.”
She kept her eyes on the screen, but he knew she was resisting an urge to look at him. He was so close, his mouth would be mere inches from hers if she raised her gaze. And he so wanted her to do that…
“Okay, but what about right over here? That’s a dead-end hall, right?” She pointed to a narrow pathway.
“You aren’t going down that way for any length of time. You’ll have your consultation farther down the way and only walk through there to leave the lobby, but once the appointment is over, you will ask about the restroom, and afterwards start your investigation. Just like I said, I have all the insider information. I want this done right, so it wouldn’t serve me to send you on a suicide mission.” She nodded, her gaze still on the image. “He keeps his booze in the basement. Right here.” He tapped the screen. “It’s completely off limits to patients and even other staff, but I have the access code. It’ll be hard to find it initially because he has it disguised well with supplies and what not, but it’ll be way in the back, in another room altogether. A hidden area. That entry has a cryptogram for the lock. I have that code, too.”
“How’d you get it?”
“Don’t worry about that. You’ll have exactly fourteen minutes to get all of the evidence. One minute to get back to your car and drive off. Fifteen total. If you’re moving quickly, it takes about thirty-nine seconds to get from the basement to the nearest exit.”
“Fifteen minutes to go around a three-story building with locks, bolts, and coded door deadbolts in a dark basement full of medical supplies? That’s impossible, and why fifteen minutes? Will the whole place self-destruct? This isn’t exactly a James Bond movie!” She scoffed.
“Because that’s when the cameras will flip back from the main office to the parking lot. They’re on a circulating timer by default. He can zoom in and look at all cameras at once, but doesn’t tend to do that. Don’t make him do that… so play it cool. The timer will start its fifteen-minute increment cycles. After your appointment, you let me know as soon as you’re released, and I will tell you when to leave the bathroom. It’ll be right when the new cycle begins.”
“Do you really think he’s checking the cameras?”
“He watches… If your car is still there well after your appointment, he’ll send someone to look for you. This is definitely do-able if you stick to the schedule and don’t deviate. You’re going to blow his cover, make it front page news. I can see the headline now… ‘Once regaled surgeon turned smuggler, taken down by a shot in the dark.’” He chortled for it tasted so good, the words flavored in savory sauces. Rich and delicious.
“You really hate this man, don’t you? Why is he your enemy?”
“That’s none of your business, and hate isn’t a strong enough word.” He placed the iPad away. “We’ll keep going over this for a while. Make sure you got it. We’re even going to do a practice run. You’ll see what I have set up later. Once I think you’re ready, we’ll move forward.”
“All of this for booze, cigars, and cigarettes.” The lady shook her head as if sorely disappointed. After all she’d endured, her mouth was still running around unchecked. She let whatever she wanted fly out of it. If he didn’t need her to do this, he may have decided to cut her tongue out. Silence this lamb. “What does your mother think about her son being a heartless smuggler?” She smirked as her eyes darkened.
His lips curled at her curt words. “She’d say, ’atta boy. You made Mom proud.” The woman’s smirk withered away. “What would your boss, who hates your guts, say about you snoopin’ around where you don’t belong, and ending up being smuggled yourself? Is that a ‘A, ‘I told ya fuckin’ so’ moment? She told you the truth about yourself, and you contemplate lawyering up if shit doesn’t go your way, you fucking brat.”
Her face morphed into a ball of fine lines and a frown. He almost expected her to start growling like a wounded cat.
“I can promise you that both your boss and your mama wouldn’t be proud if your newest vocational path, Honey, but that boss of yours would damn sure be satisfied…”
Honey sat in a room with a concrete floor and black furniture with sharp lines and angles. It smelled like bergamot and sweet cigar smolder. A large canvas showcased violent, rolling waves of jet-black water. The painting took up practically an entire wall. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, intense. Yet quiet. Like him…