Torque Read Online Free PDF Page B

her do most of the work, saving his
reserves for when she wanted the back door stuff. Proud that he
hadn’t needed one of those blue pills, he did recall she’d used an
amyl nitrate ‘popper’ to bring him out for round two. Then they’d
both passed out.
    It hadn’t all been play. During their
time-outs she’d actually revealed a few facets of the job. He now
knew the target and the facility where it was kept. However, the
vagueness of crucial points like access and timing led him to
believe that much of her plan was still under construction. She had
a nice chest for holding cards close to, but it would be his ass on
the line, not hers.
    After a room service breakfast for one he’d
returned to his motel for fresh clothes. He would now take a
preliminary drive-by of the facility to see what else he might
learn. First, though, he had to stop at a bank machine. The
conniving bitch had registered the suite in his name. Hell, he
could've had three hookers for the price of last night’s adventure.
And they wouldn't have left bloody scratch marks on his back.
    Probably marking her territory.
    That thought brought a wry smile to his face,
one that vanished the moment he turned onto Pearl Street.
    == == ==
    Fenn's student had followed the verbal
directions precisely and docked neatly into the space behind the
Buick. Brandon was still facing the rear when the grey gabardine
came into view but Fenn saw the flicked cigarette land beside his
car like a warning shot. He maintained his even tone.
    “Well done, Brandon. Now just put on the
parking brake. Perfect!”
    Brandon nodded. Fenn thought it prudent to
give a heads-up.
    “This guy doesn't look too happy. If he sends
any grief our way, don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”
    The man stood beside the Buick projecting
evident if unjustified anger. Unlocking the sedan, he shot one more
withering glance their way then swung his bulk into the car and
slammed the door. The Buick's engine roared and the car launched
from the curb, though the intended effect was upstaged by the man’s
gabardine belt flapping wildly from the doorsill.
    “Well!” Fenn said, flashing a smile to relax
his charge. “I guess that's us told.”
    Brandon, still holding the wheel with both
hands, stared at the vacant spot ahead.
    “He reminds me of my dad,” he said
quietly.
    == == ==
    Three consecutive green lights helped to
diminish Svoljsak’s fire, and by the time he had passed the Joseph
Brant Hospital he was wishing he’d kept his cigarette. The ramp
onto the Queen Elizabeth Way, locally known as the Q.E.W., was at
the foot of the Skyway Bridge. He applied gas gradually through the
curve then floored it to merge, enjoying the rush of acceleration
as the car powered its way up the steep incline.
    At this hour, traffic crossing the canal from
Burlington to Hamilton was light. Cresting the peak Stanislaw
snatched postcard glimpses of the panoramic view beyond the iron
girders. To the left lay the vast expanse of Lake Ontario, its dark
blue surface flecked with white. The absence of pleasure craft
marked the lateness of the season but Stanislaw was able to pick
out the receding stern of a Laker.
    To the right, across a short stretch of
choppy water, sat the steel-production plant that anchored the
city’s economy. With clouds tethered to its towering chimneys, the
hulking structure absorbed the remaining sunlight with its
industrial layer of grime and rust. Svoljsak found the stark vista
behind the embankment of slag fascinating and had christened it
Armageddon’s Camp.
    Ahead, flashing taillights on an
eighteen-wheeler broke his reverie and he changed lanes to overtake
it. Thirty seconds later he changed back to make his exit ramp.
    His route now ran beneath an overpass.
Peppered with poorly patched potholes the uneven paving was
intermittently dissected by train tracks. Farther on, a few small
homes dwarfed by the mushrooming shadow of manufacture clung
tenaciously to tiny parcels of land. There