JК
The Third Option :: Flynn Vince
Страница: 39 из 267Rapp went to the busy carousel, meandered about for a minute as if he was looking for his wife, and then walked out the door to the cab stand. Seven cabs were lined up, and when Rapp raised his hand, the first one in line pulled up twenty feet to his spot on the curb. Rapp sank into the back seat and pulled out his wallet. A quick glance at the dashboard told him the tank was full. In German he asked the man how much it would cost to take him to Essen, about an hour and a half one way. The cab driver smiled at the opportunity. Rapp paid the man and thanked him with a good tip. Before replacing his wallet, he took out some additional cash. As he eased back into the seat, his left hand slid under his jacket and found the grip of his 9-mm Glock.
The car pulled away from the curb, and the cab driver radioed his dispatcher that he had a fare to Essen and would check in after he dropped off his passenger. When they had cleared the airport and were back on the autobahn, Rapp slid forward, switching his gun from his left hand to his right. He placed the tip of the pistol against the back of the driver's head and in German told him to keep both hands on the steering wheel.
The driver, a tall, thin man who was close to forty, stiffened at the sudden development but kept his hands on the steering wheel. The man was a heavy smoker. Rapp could smell it on his doilies and his hair.
«If you do exactly as I say, nothing will happen to you. If you fuck up, just once, I'll put a bullet in your head and dump you in a ditch.» Rapp didn't raise his voice; he wasn't sure what words to stress in German, so he pressed the tip of the gun into the man's head and said, «Am I making myself clear?»
The driver nodded his head slowly. «Good,» Rapp replied. With his left hand, he took the cash he'd held and stuck it in front of the man's face. «Take it. We are not going to Essen. You're taking me to Frankfurt.»
After taking the money, the cab driver nodded slowly, and Rapp pulled the gun back an inch, allowing the man to straighten his head. Rapp checked the driver's credentials on the glove box. His name was Geoffrey Herman.
«Geoffrey, you're going too slow. Speed it up, and keep your eyes on the road.» Rapp watched the speedometer and asked, «Ever had this happen before?»
The driver nodded his head and croaked his reply through a pair of parched lips.
This was a good development. The man had walked through the desert and survived. «Well, I can promise you this. If you do everything I say, nothing will happen to you. I will get out of your cab, and you will have made a lot of money for driving someone to Frankfurt. If you try anything funny, you're dead. That's our deal. No negotiating.
The car pulled away from the curb, and the cab driver radioed his dispatcher that he had a fare to Essen and would check in after he dropped off his passenger. When they had cleared the airport and were back on the autobahn, Rapp slid forward, switching his gun from his left hand to his right. He placed the tip of the pistol against the back of the driver's head and in German told him to keep both hands on the steering wheel.
The driver, a tall, thin man who was close to forty, stiffened at the sudden development but kept his hands on the steering wheel. The man was a heavy smoker. Rapp could smell it on his doilies and his hair.
«If you do exactly as I say, nothing will happen to you. If you fuck up, just once, I'll put a bullet in your head and dump you in a ditch.» Rapp didn't raise his voice; he wasn't sure what words to stress in German, so he pressed the tip of the gun into the man's head and said, «Am I making myself clear?»
The driver nodded his head slowly. «Good,» Rapp replied. With his left hand, he took the cash he'd held and stuck it in front of the man's face. «Take it. We are not going to Essen. You're taking me to Frankfurt.»
After taking the money, the cab driver nodded slowly, and Rapp pulled the gun back an inch, allowing the man to straighten his head. Rapp checked the driver's credentials on the glove box. His name was Geoffrey Herman.
«Geoffrey, you're going too slow. Speed it up, and keep your eyes on the road.» Rapp watched the speedometer and asked, «Ever had this happen before?»
The driver nodded his head and croaked his reply through a pair of parched lips.
This was a good development. The man had walked through the desert and survived. «Well, I can promise you this. If you do everything I say, nothing will happen to you. I will get out of your cab, and you will have made a lot of money for driving someone to Frankfurt. If you try anything funny, you're dead. That's our deal. No negotiating.