I called Caitlin, but I didn't expect her to answer it. I left a message in her voice mail box to make her be cautious about the FBI's plan of action. At 7:0, the shallow window of a black sedan stopped two bodies behind me. Okay, my FBI is handed down.
After I let him stand outside the car for nearly a minute, I opened the door and walked out. Professional courtesy or something. My Fed is a young man about 5 years old. He has short black hair and almost orange eyes. Except for the thin scar on his right face, he could have become Colin Farrell's stunt stand-in.
We shook hands.
"Thomas Prescott, two t."
How close.
Gary smiled, and I asked, "How about the road?"
He shook his head, "There are twenty-seven black Capris in a row, and it's not for the funeral. You might think that Mangrove went to the government by himself."
I like this kid, he doesn't seem to like his peers very much. We had a lot in common, exchanged a few FBI jokes, and none of us noticed Alex's jeep until she almost ran us over. Gary quickly saluted, and we both walked briskly to our respective cars. From all around me, I think I perceive Gary's gait a little distorted. Nothing is obvious, just heavy.
I have never heard of the restaurant that Alex mentioned. It ended up in Old Portland or Old Port. Alex parked his car in Freddie's fish parking lot, where there were two other huts with similar themes. I parked the car on the side of the road closest to the restaurant, and Gary of the Fed turned around and parked the car far away.
Alex got out of the jeep, wearing blue jeans and a lime green vest. She didn't look at me, I wondered if she was really dating someone. Where's my gun
One minute passed. I knew I would go in eventually, and the point of contention was whether before or after Alex ordered the appetizers. I buckled two buttons and opened the hood, trunk and gasoline latch. When I unfastened my seat belt and closed these three accounts, Alex had already taken out her credit card, right
I rolled down all the windows, opened the wipers, and locked the doors. I bought myself 0 seconds. When I opened the moon roof, a car passed by and drove into the restaurant parking lot, parked next to Alex's jeep. Passat's door opened and Caleb walked out. He walked around the passenger seat and helped a beautiful young lady get out of the passenger seat. It is said that her vision is 0/0. I don't really believe in the yīn conspiracy theory, but there is something wrong here.
When I unfastened my seat belt, closed the wiper, closed the window, opened the door (and then locked the door), and closed the gas latch and box, Caleb and Lacey had already passed through the weather-affected doors.
I put the phone in my pocket, grabbed the spare walkie-talkie from the back seat, and walked across the street to the black car. The deep car window rolled down, and I said, "I'm going in and stay a while." I handed him an extra walkie-talkie, "If something happens, I will be on Channel 9."
He nodded.
I crossed the street, took a deep breath, and then approached the place. I asked: "Are there three people waiting for someone named Thomas Prescott?"
She checked the list and said, "Come with me."
We don't need to go very far. Alex, Caleb, and Lacey sat in the nearest seat, all three huddled together against the window. Alex pried open the wooden curtains with his hands, and I asked, "What are we looking at?"
The three of them turned around in unison. Alex smiled and said, "Oh, it's just an idiot who left the car cover on his Range Rover."
I know what I forgot. I stared at Lacey, the smirk on her face said it all. I asked: "Is this your stupid idea?"
"I just want you to roll the sheets brother"
We all smiled comfortably. This is what our Prescott family is best at. Unless other people's faces are red and they are suffering from heart palpitations, we will not feel comfortable. I said: "It's not that I don't like it, Liz, but can you tell me in advance next time?"? If you send me a memo, I can ask Tristen if we can spy/murder together next week. "
I can't be so frustrated. Lacey is only one arm away from Caleb, and I don't mind that Alex is only one arm away from me. We put the surveillance work in a secondary position, and the four people eat together, as if the whole world is in the hands of PBS executives. I broke up with Caleb after drinking a glass of beer, and my daughters made up for our lack of alcohol intake.
Alex and Lacey drank the second bottle, and Calebra opened the blinds and said, "A guy just crossed the street, closed your hood, and got into a black car."
"Oh, that's Gary. He is Alex's FBI follower."
Caleb looked a little dazed. He looked at Lacey. "Didn't Connor say that the FBI can only investigate twenty men, so they wouldn't send a man to investigate the women Thomas has investigated?"
She nodded. "Yes, Connor said he told a guy named Gleason that you let your students work for you, and Gleason is pulling tails for those women."
This can explain why a black sedan did not track Caleb's car into the parking lot. That's why Gleason called. He wanted to confirm the women I reported. However, he was not so cruel and ruthless, dragging a man off Alex or Lacey and putting it on the bookstore owner Marguerite. Then again, he is essentially a Federal Reserve.
It's very simple, I just need to call Gleason and ask him to look up Gary's name. I am sure this is just a simple communication error. The problem is that I forgot what Gary’s last name was. I took out the intercom from my hip and said, "Hey, Gary, are you there?"
Then there is static interference, "Where can I go?"
"Yes. What do you say your last name?"
"Straint, two e. Why?"
"Just curious." I turned off the radio and said to myself: "Gary Sterling, two e."
I took out my phone and Caleb grabbed my arm, "Wait a minute. I need a pen."
Alex took a pen from her purse and handed it to him. He scribbled something on a napkin, then looked up, his mouth wide open, "You might want to see this."
He pushed the napkin in front of me, and I stared at it in horror. Caleb crossed out the letters:
Gary Sterling is Triston Greer.
Caleb closed the shutters, but strangely, the black sedan was gone.
I can not believe it. I shook hands with Triston Greer. I shook hands with the devil. How rude is this guy? He is irritating me. "Come, take a good look, because you will never be so close to me again, Thomas Prescott. Let me shake hands with this poor idiot, his life is being ruined by me, he even a little There are no clues."
We both know that the next time we meet, only one person will survive.
I started to notice the unknown things about my friends. There is a thin scar from his right temple to the lower jaw. I looked at my right thumb and recalled the large amount of skin they scraped from under their nails. At the same time, the gait was very clumsy, he dragged the clip back into my head with his left leg. Interestingly, I shot a man in the left kneecap a year ago. People will not forget the sound of bullets bubbling on their knees.
I got rid of the anger and passed it on to my friend at the FBI. This is a typical example of the FBI's stinginess. If they tell me they are going to remove their agents, I might find Gris a bit suspicious, maybe, just maybe, his name is an anagram. To be honest, if he said his name was Griston Treyer, I would piece my doubts together, but I wanted to be angry with my friend Todd Gregory. Wait, Gleason pried the news out of my mouth. Damn it, Gris.
Caleb asked: "What should we do?"
We can jump into the car and search the nearby residential area carefully, but there is very little chance that we will park the car next to Mr. Greer at a red light. I can call Wade Gleason, tell him what happened, and see how he wants to play. Or I can try to contact by walkie-talkie. I am not in the mood to exchange information with people from the FBI, and I feel that Tristen wants to talk to me.
The three of us squeezed into the Range Rover. Lacey walked quietly to Alex's back seat, and Caleb jumped up from the passenger seat. Lacey asked: "Where is Baxter?"
"He is nearby." I hope.
We were looking for the pug, but it was actually not nearby. I pulled up the intercom and everyone fell silent. I pressed the button and said, "Tristen, stealing a blind girl's pug is immoral even by the standards of a serial killer."
A voice broke in, "I didn't steal him. I went to close your hat, and when I came back, he was sleeping on my dashboard. Listen, you did a good job of investigating just now."
"You're welcome." I don't know what else to say.
"Not you. That kid Caleb. You may have invited me back to Alex's after-dinner drink. Tell me, Thomas, will you be with her tonight? I will. Don't worry, I will."
I looked at Alex in the back seat, her lips trembling. I shouted into the microphone: "What you did to these girls is nothing compared to what I did to you. Just keep this idea in your head."
Lacey snatched the walkie-talkie from me. "Listen, you bastard, if you dare to touch that dog, I will let you choke you to death." (to be continued) (end of this chapter)