Sor (Voodoo Guardians #29)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

DeWitt stood at the curb outside his hotel, waiting for the taxi to arrive. He looked down at his watch four times in less than three minutes, his impatience showing through.

“Sir, the taxi should be here any moment. There’s just a lot of holiday traffic,” said the doorman.

“I get it, but I need to get to the airport,” said DeWitt. The man only nodded, most likely thinking that they should have left thirty minutes earlier. New York City, the week of Thanksgiving, was not exactly a place you should be if you were in a hurry.

When the taxi pulled up, DeWitt jumped into the backseat, and they took off. Just before they reached the tunnel, he tried calling Beck again but had no luck.

“Asshole,” he mumbled to himself. Inside the tunnel, the traffic stopped to a complete standstill, and Beck nervously bounced his leg. Once through, it shouldn’t take long but getting through was the issue. Suddenly, the back doors opened, and two men pushed in on either side of him as the driver stepped out of the taxi.

“Hey! Hey, what the fuck!” he yelled.

“Relax, Mr. DeWitt,” said the Asian man. “We only wish to speak with you.”

“Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter my name. What matters is that you promised our country something, and you haven’t delivered. Where are the weapons?”

“I’ve got them. I’m headed to get them now and bring them over,” he lied. He wasn’t sure whether they would be there or not, and he damn sure wasn’t certain that he would be able to get them overseas. He was hoping Beck could help, but so far, he hadn’t answered his calls.

“Mr. DeWitt, this might be just another business deal to you, but to us, it’s life or death. Ours and yours. You allowed the children to be taken, stopping the work in the caves. The damage was so severe we can’t even dig down with the right equipment.”

“I didn’t,” he started, but the man held up a finger, the other man pressing a sharp blade against his ribs.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t know or do. I care that we are out millions of dollars and still have no weapons. Get those to me, Mr. DeWitt, or you’ll find yourself digging through the caves on your hands and knees.” The man who had done all the talking stepped out of the taxi, but the second man only stared at DeWitt, then plunged the knife between his ribs.

“It won’t kill you, but it should make you think twice before screwing with us.”

As quickly as they’d arrived, they were gone, and his driver was suddenly back in his seat, and the traffic was moving once again. DeWitt pressed his scarf against his side, hoping to squelch the bleeding from the narrow wound. When they arrived at the airport, he reached for his credit card, and the driver grinned at him.

“It’s alright. Those men took care of it,” he smiled.

“I’m sure they did, you asshole. Fuck you!” Grabbing his overnight bag, he entered the airport, got through security, and rushed into the bathroom to check his wound. Opening the small first-aid kit, he grabbed his trusty superglue and sealed the wound.

He made the gate just as they were boarding, taking his seat in first class and closing his eyes. He never felt the jet take off, and he damn sure hoped he wouldn’t feel it landing. He needed sleep. Sleep and time to think.