One-hundred-sixty-two deep breaths later, the radio clicked. “Your highness, this is Sergeant.” Clark’s voice was accompanied by background yelling. “Goldilocks has cried wolf, and we are set to move.”
“I hate it when he mixes his metaphors,” Tim said around a grin.
“Well done, Sergeant,” Lucian replied. “At your leave.”
The car began to move again, sliding by dumpsters, empty barrels, and piles of trash to emerge onto a two-lane side street. “Twenty-four miles to the next holding point, sir,” Tim said, returning to his position across from Lucian. He scanned his iPad. “Daniel tells me he’s in position and so is Officer Sorenson, and so far there’s been no activity on landlines at our destination. Too damned bad we can’t track cells.”
“We’ll do what we can.” Lucian leaned forward, tuck
