We were sitting in the ‘10 version of the Shelby GT 500. Sitting in the car in a big Wal Mart parking lot with the windows down and the smell of rain in the air. Cars filled with kids and mothers moved around us. People pushing shopping carts wheeled to their cars and unloaded s**t in the back seat and discarding the shopping carts haphazardly before climbing into their car and driving away. But we sat in the Mustang in silence and eyed the people around us and waited. Waited. Waited for a phone call. We knew it was coming. Pre-arranged. Knew it was coming from Yank’s office. Yank himself would be calling. Calling on the phone which sat on his desk to his right.
The phone we knew the Russian had bugged.
Just like we knew the Mustang we were sitting in was bugged.
I eyed Frank yet kept s
