Get Us There Quick

 258.

"Doesn't matter as much as where YOU are," she answers.

"Why might that be?" Cyrus asks.

"Because if you happen to be anywhere near Orlando, there is something you need to know."

"Why would you even suggest that?" he says tipping his annoyance and interest.

"Because…"

"Any how the fuck did you manage to escape that FBI raid in Bozeman, the one obviously set up with the aid of inside information?" He interrupts. "And for that matter, how did you suddenly re-appear in anything other than a body-bag or orange jump suit, tonight of all nights?"

"It's a long story, and I…"

"I don't have the time - or the patience - for a long story. You are a fucking rat and I should have had Blitz finish the job…"

"Hey asshole, what do you think I am calling for? To wish you a Happy Fucking New Year? I am offering you the quid pro quo of the century, so if you play your cards right you might get what that sick Nazi pal of yours couldn't get outta me no matter how hard he tried; and trust me - he tried." She plays.

I am monitoring their conversation as we head in an Easterly direction counting down the seconds remaining until Julie cues us with the GPS. The atmosphere inside the SUV is like halftime in the locker room of the biggest game of the year. Mustang, sitting shotgun has her hand in a fist pulsing the "come on, come on" language known to all serious competitors. Julie needs only a few more seconds for the trace. Drysdale is driving. I am talking with Mutt about chatter being intercepted by the FBI. There has been substantial activity naming Epcot and The Orlando International Airport as hot-spots. We are on Interstate 4 waiting for more specific directions.

"Like what?" Cyrus finally asks, stepping to the center of the trap.

"Like the Helmet codes, like the precise plans to spring Big and like the final piece of the Big Board algorithm."

"For what?" He asks, interested.

"All I want is for you to call off the dogs, I'm tired of all this cloak and dagger shit, you know how I got your number? From that loser goony friend of Covington's, the one you hired to snuff Sarccino, another bad call, by the way. So muzzle the dogs and I'll give you the goods, plus, of course…and this is the big part…"

Julie informs me we have coordinates. Mustang enters the address into Google Maps as Drysdale stomps on the Escalade's accelerator moving to the fast lane in one fluid orchestration of speed and urgency. "Twelve minutes out, maybe ten," He tells us.

"This is the big part…YOU NEED TO STAND DOWN ON THE SECOND BOMB," The Queen moves deftly to check.

I am hoping she has the presence to allow the gambit to play out. She has made the offer, boldly presented the deal and now needs to simply remain silent and allow Cyrus to chew the fat from his own greed.

I use the time to update Mutt and have him move his team into place, including the elite FBI bomb squad. He tells me that forensics has indicated the likelihood that the detonation device used in the first bombing appears to have been triggered by cellphone, perhaps even the one currently tied up in the conversation between Cyrus and The Queen.

"Can we jam the line?" I ask him.

"Not without cutting service to the entire area, and that would take a warrant." He tells us.

Julie updates that she thinks there is a way to disable the phone Cyrus is using, but that it will take another few minutes of connectivity with the device The Queen is using in the office.

"OK, let's give it a go," I direct, keeping Mutt from the tactic. I look at my watch. It is midnight plus twenty seconds. "Please hurry."

Cyrus, finished with his inner debate, comes back to The Queen with another question, "How is it that you know about the second bomb?"

"Big told me."

I reach over the seat and place my hand on Drysdale's shoulder, "Get us there quick."