The Lights of Tenth Street Read Online Free PDF Page B

around the office again, muttering to himself.
    Tyson listened for a moment, then jerked in surprise. “You’re certain?” His eyes flickered to Snoop, and he bent to open and close a few drawers, looking for something. A flat smile appeared on his face as he listened. “I concur, sir … Where? … Okay, sure …”
    He talked quietly for another few minutes, then put down the phone and continued to rummage in his messy drawers. Across the room, Snoop gave a derisive snort and meandered back to stand again in front of Tyson’s desk.
    “So, noisy man, you gonna tell me when the next run is, or do I have to find out where Proxy lives and go ask him?”
    Behind Snoop, the door to the office silently opened, and a man in an elegant black wool coat slipped inside. He looked at Tyson over Snoop’s shoulder, and nodded.
    Tyson stopped his drawer searching and leaned across the desk, his face close to Snoop’s. “You want to ask for a promotion from Proxy himself, do you?”
    “Sure thing. For two years I been dying to meet the big man. I don’t even know his real name.” Snoop cocked an eyebrow. “Say, why do they call him Proxy, anyway?”
    “Because,” the man at the door spoke softly, and Snoop whirled around, “I do all my work by proxy.” He nodded at Tyson.
    Snoop swung back toward Tyson, who lifted a gun from the desk.
    “Recognize this?”
    He smiled as he pulled the trigger. Snoop stumbled backwards and landed in a heap at Proxy’s feet.
    Five minutes later, Tyson watched as two other men shoveled a sheet-wrappedbundle into the back of the truck in the empty bay. Proxy was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, as Tyson gave brief instructions to the two helpers.
    Tyson walked over to his boss as the truck rumbled out the massive doors and into the quiet dusk. “That’s one problem solved.”
    “And one created.” Proxy detached himself from the wall and stretched. “But necessary, of course. Let me know what you hear through your channels, and I’ll see you next month before the gathering. It’s imperative that this transition goes well.”
    Tyson hesitated. “Of course. But … if I hear something urgent …?” He let the unspoken question hang in the air.
    Proxy smiled slightly. “Just give me an e-mail or voicemail report as usual. The rest will have to wait until a regular contact point.”
    “Certainly, sir.”
    The two men went their separate ways in the growing darkness, and Tyson studiously avoided watching which streets Proxy’s small car took as its lights faded from sight.
    Proxy checked his rearview mirror and backtracked several times, then headed onto a packed main road, convinced no one was following. On the thoroughfare, he kept a cautious eye on the cars around him, more out of habit than concern.
    The Atlanta rush-hour traffic was heavy as usual, and he fiddled with the knob on the radio, hoping that this little rattlebox would even pick up a signal. Surprised by the clear reception, he listened to the local traffic report and made his decision.
    One mile up the road, he abruptly turned left just as a traffic light was changing and pulled into a massive mall parking lot. He drove around the perimeter of several high-traffic department stores, then cut right and made his way up the ramp of a parking deck. He wound his way through the structure and out the other side, swinging back into traffic on a facing street. Five minutes later, after a few more maneuvers, he turned into a hotel entrance and drove up to the valet stand.
    An earnest-looking young man stepped forward and opened his door, handing him the valet ticket stub. Proxy nodded his thanks, pulled his briefcase off the seat beside him, and stepped out with a dollar in his hand. He pressed it into the young man’s palm, discreetly returning the ticket stub, and stepped into the hotel.
    Tyson’s people would retrieve the car, clean it, and dump it, and he would have new wheels before their next meeting. Proxy