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From
"Thirteen
Minutes"
by
JJ Sargent
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The black van
was following them, Abbey was sure of it. She and Kelly
had recovered
the mask and were headed back to the museum in the heavy
rush hour traffic.
So far no one had gotten hurt. It was a simple recovery
job - nick the stolen
mask from Gregori the Fence down in the Bronx and get it
back to the Met before
the insurance company was forced to dispense the $5 mil
to cover the loss. A
few minutes with an amateur crew and they’d be half a
mil richer. That was the
plan.
These guys were no amateurs. The black Chevy van
snaked along parallel to the
girls’ Aston Martin Lagonda. Abbey traced the edge of
the golden mask with her
forefinger and stared forward, though well aware the van
was closing on them.
The metal was warm and the rim along the underside of
the face was ribbed.
She scraped her nail across the grooves and enjoyed the
faint vibrating clicking
sound it made. Kelly swerved into the exit lane on the
Henry Hudson Parkway
that would toss them into the belly of the City at 72nd
and Riverside. It would
be a drive through downtown, but a possible escape from
their tail.
No such luck. The van was on them. Abbey raised her
9mm and squeezed a round
at the vehicle’s blacked-out windshield. It
ineffectively bounced off. The van
clipped the back of their car and Kelly fought to keep
control. She was driving
too fast for the traffic and the small car was forced to
funnel between a taxi
and a produce truck and wedge tight against the sides.
Stopped. Abbey
dropped the mask between her legs and fought to pull
herself through the
narrow space between her window and the truck nudged up
against the side of
the car. A bullet hit Kelly and instantly her shoulder
was a mess. Abbey fired a
shot into the open window of the van.
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