John Sandford: Night Prey

They'd tracked him from the moment Koop had left the jail. Took him home, put him to bed. Everything was visual: all the tracking devices had temporarily been taken off the truck. If he thought about his arrest, he might wonder how they'd picked him up at a liquor store.

The next day, he'd left the house a little earlier than usual. He'd gone to his gym, worked out. Then he drove to a park, and ran. That had been a nightmare. They weren't ready for it, they were all in street shoes. They'd lost him a half-dozen times, but never for more than a minute or two, when he was running hills.

"This guy," Lucas said when they watched him run back to the truck, "is not somebody to fuck with. He just did three miles at a dead run. There are pro fighters in worse shape than he is."

"I'd take him on," Connell said.

Lucas looked at her. "Bullshit."

The Ruger was in a mufflike opening of her handbag, and she slipped it out in one motion. Big hands. She spun the cylinder. "I would," she said.

After the park, Koop went home. Stayed for an hour. Started out again, and wound up pulling the team through the skyways, right up to Jensen.

"Where's he going?" Connell asked as Lucas caught up. She took his arm, made them into a couple, a different look. "Is he going after her?"

"He's headed in her direction," Lucas said. They were closing a bit, and Lucas turned her around, spoke into the radio. "Sloan, Del, you got him. He's coming through."

"It's ten minutes to five," Connell said. "She gets off about now."

Sloan beeped. "Where is he?"

Del: "He's stopped halfway across, he's looking down at the street."

Lucas pulled Connell to one side. "Walk across the entrance sideways, glance down there. Don't come back if he's looking this way."

She nodded, walked across the aisle that led to the skyway, glanced to her left, continued across, looked back, and said, "He's just looking out." She waited a moment, then crossed back to Lucas, again glancing down the skyway.

"He's moving," she said to her radio.

"Got him," said Del. "He's out of the skyway."

"Coming through," Lucas said. "Raider-Garrote's in the Exchange Building."

Another department store separated them from the Exchange Building, but Koop didn't linger. He was moving quickly now, glancing at his watch. He went through the next skyway, Sloan out in front of him, Del breaking off to the side, then dashing down half a block and recrossing in a parallel skyway, turning back toward the surveillance team.

Lucas and Connell split up, single again, Connell now carrying her huge purse in one hand, like a briefcase. Lucas put the hat on.

"Sloan?"

"It's going down, man," Sloan said, sounding like he might be out of breath. "Something's gonna happen. I'm going past Raider-Garrote right now. I'm gonna stop here, in case he goes in, pulls some shit."

"Christ, Del, move up…"

"I'm coming, I'm coming…"

Connell moved back to him. "What're we doing?" she asked.

"Get close, but not too close. I'm gonna call Sara." Connell strode away, her gun hand resting on top of her purse. Lucas fumbled in his breast pocket, pulled out the cellular phone, pushed the memory-dial and the number 7. A moment later, the phone rang and Jensen picked it up.

"It's happening," Lucas said. "He's right outside your door. Don't look directly at him if you can avoid it. He'll see the trap in your eyes."

"Okay. I'm just leaving," Jensen said. She sounded calm enough; he felt like there might be a small smile in her voice.

"You'll take the elevator up?"

"Like always," she said.

Lucas called the other three, explained. Del came up and they started off together, Sloan interrupting: "Here he comes. And Connell's right behind him."

"We're coming in," Lucas said. "Del's coming first. You better move out of sight, Sloan. What's he doing?"

"He's looking through the windows… I see Connell."

Del tottered on ahead, perfect as a skyway wanderer, a little drunk, nowhere to go, staying inside until the stores closed, and moving out on the streets for the night. People looked away from him-even through him-but not at him.

"I just went by him," he called back to Lucas. "He's looking through the window, like he's reading the numbers off their boards. Jensen's on the way out."

"I just walked back past him," Sloan said. "Del, you better get out of sight for a minute."

"I'm coming," Lucas said.

There was a moment of silence. Lucas was conspicuous, loitering in the skyway, and he crossed to a newsstand cut as a notch into the skyway wall. Sloan came on. "Jensen's out. He's walking away, same way I am, coming at you, Lucas."

"I'm going into the newsstand," Lucas said. "I'll pick him up."

A moment later Sloan said, "Christ, Lucas, put your radio away. I think he's coming in there."

Lucas turned it off, slipped it into his pocket, grabbed a copy of The Economist from the newsstand, opened it, turned his back to the entrance. A second later, Koop came in and looked around. Lucas glanced at him from the corner of his eye. The store was just big enough for the two of them plus the gum counter with a bored teenager behind it. Koop took down a magazine, opened it. Lucas felt him turn toward the skyway, glanced at him again. Koop's back was turned, and he was looking over the top of the magazine. Waiting for Jensen.

Sloan walked by, kept going. Koop was close enough that Lucas could smell him, a light scent of aging jock-sweat. People were streaming by the doorway as offices closed throughout the building, mostly women, a few of them still wearing the old eighties uniform of blue suit and after-work running shoes. Koop never looked at Lucas: he was completely focused on the skyway.

A man came in and said, "Give me a pack of Marlboros and a box of Clorets." The girl gave them to him, and he paid, opened the cigarettes, and threw all but two of them in a trash can and walked away.

"Doesn't want his wife to know," the girl said to Lucas.

"I guess." Shit. Koop would look at him.

Koop didn't. He tossed the magazine back on the rack and hurried out. Lucas looked after him. Just down the skyway, he saw Connell's blond hair and Jensen's black. He put the magazine back, and started after Koop, using the radio again.

"They're coming at you, Sloan. Del, where are you?"

"Coming up from behind. Sloan said you were pinned, and I stayed back in case he came that way. I'm coming up."

"Elevators," Connell grunted.

"I'm coming," Lucas said. "Del, Sloan, you better get your rides."

Sloan and Del acknowledged and Lucas said, "Greave, you guys ready?"

"We're ready." They were in the van, on the street.

"Elevator," Lucas said. He took the bug out of his ear, put it in his pocket.

Koop was facing the elevator door, waiting for it to return. He'd be the first on. Four other people waited, including Jensen and Connell. Jensen stood directly behind Koop's broad back, staring at the seam at his neck. Connell was beside her. Lucas edged in, just in front of Connell.

The elevator light went white, and the doors opened. Koop stepped in, pushed a button. Lucas stepped in beside him, turned the other way, pushed the button for Jensen's floor. Connell moved in on the other side of Lucas, in the corner, where Koop couldn't see her face. Lucas stood a half-step from the back of the elevator, quarter-turned toward Connell. Koop had never gotten a straight-on look at them, but they couldn't do this again, not for a couple of days. Jensen and another woman got on last, Jensen stepping immediately in front of Koop. The doors closed and they started up. Lucas couldn't see Koop, couldn't look at him. He said, "Long day," to Connell, who said, "Aren't they all… I think Del's coming down with a cold."

Elevator talk. The woman beside Jensen turned to look at Lucas, and Jensen stepped back a bit, her butt bumping the front of Koop's pants. "Sorry," she mumbled, flashing a glance back at him.