Collar Robber Read Online Free PDF Page B

upgrade.”
    Proxy accompanied that remark with a mini-smile. The security guard picked up the crack but not the smile.
    â€œWorking on it,” he said solemnly. “Cops are headed up, by the way.”
    A brief frown creased Proxy’s face. She wanted a copy of a police report on the incident, because heaven forbid any manila folder in her file on Pitt MCM Potential Claim should stay empty. At the same time, chatting up a cop right now had to be way down her priority list. I handed her the piece of hotel stationery where I’d written down descriptions of the Corolla and the two guys I’d scrapped with, along with the car’s license number.
    â€œHe’ll talk to you before he talks to me,” I said. “Maybe you can get him to call in the license number right away.”
    â€œCheck.” All business again—good sign. “Meanwhile, call what’shername, the lawyer, and tell her what happened.”
    It was pushing seven by now, so I figured I’d end up leaving a two-minute voice-message. Wrong. Still beavering away diligently at her desk, the shysterette answered on the first ring.
    â€œJakubek.”
    â€œJay Davidovich from Transoxana.”
    â€œYou have a counteroffer for me?”
    â€œNo. Transoxana counteroffers don’t come from muscle. Your client was right: someone in a Corolla was following him, just like he said.”
    â€œNot a complete surprise. He called me not long ago and said he’d for sure spotted the guy tailing him again on his way home tonight.”
    â€œHe nailed it. Now I’ll up the ante. That panhandler you and I ran into this afternoon tried to steal my colleague’s attaché case.”
    â€œHoly shit.” Alarm and interest now colored Jakubek’s voice. “Was there any dope about Willy in that case?”
    â€œDoesn’t matter. The thief stumbled over some muscle and left the attaché case behind while making his getaway—which he did in the Corolla that had been following your client.”
    I was kind of expecting a “thank you” right about then. I got one, but Jakubek didn’t exactly linger over it.
    â€œThanks. You got my attention with that ‘stumbled over some muscle’ line. Are we talking physical violence here?”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œWeapons?”
    â€œOnly if the attaché case counts.”
    â€œHmm.” I imagined Jakubek drumming her pen on her desk blotter during the six seconds or so that followed this syllable. “Okay. This really helps. But it sheds some new light on that one-week delay, doesn’t it?”
    â€œYou saying you want to back out of that?”
    â€œNope. A deal’s a deal. You bought a week and you’ve got a week. The sooner the better, though—from both our standpoints.”
    â€œI expect Proxy will see it the same way.”
    â€œGood. Thanks again. Anything else?”
    Not that I could think of. We exchanged goodbyes and hung up.
    The cop was still talking to Proxy, so I busied myself with getting her some bottled water over ice. She thanked me with a flash of perfect teeth without missing a syllable in her cop-chat. By the time I’d checked my Droid, the cop and Proxy were wrapping up. He made me part of the wrap-up.
    â€œHow sure are you about that license number?”
    â€œHundred percent.”
    â€œThe plate is assigned to a 2012 VW.”
    â€œSo it’s stolen.”
    â€œStolen,” he said, nodding gravely, “or you were wrong.”
    â€œStolen.” My turn to nod. “Any chance of spotting the Corolla just based on the description of the car?”
    â€œLong shot. Probably in a chop-shop by now.”
    â€œSo we’re dealing with real pros,” I said.
    â€œWell,” Proxy said after sipping some water, “you’ve dealt with pros before. And at least you won the first round.”
    â€œAnd I’m kind of looking forward to the second