Page 114 of Secret Love
Lawrence stands up, purposefully stretching as tall as possible. “Wait here,” he says to me as he snatches Dani’s statement off the table. “I’ll check this out myself.”
“Due diligence is the mark of all good police work,” Boxcar says with a wink. “We’ll wait.”
Lawrence glares at the two of us until he steps out into the hallway and slams the door.
I deflate. “Boxcar, what are you doing here?”
He takes Lawrence’s empty chair. “I owed you one, so I figured I’d give you two.”
“I thought you were leaving the country.”
“You tell me you’re going to turn yourself in, and I do nothing? What do you take me for?”
I smirk. “The guilt tore you up, huh?”
“From the inside out,” he says, nodding. He reaches into the briefcase and pulls out his laptop. “Also, I was thinking...”
“Well, that’s never good,” I joke.
The laptop screen reflects off his glasses as he looks at me. “Are you serious about exposing Snake Eyes?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer. “And no, you can’t talk me out of it. It’s the right thing to do.”
“I figured.” He exhales hard. “In that case, it should come from a reputable source. Not that I don’t trust the fine police officers of the ICPD, I just think there’s a better way.”
“You already have my attention, Box,” I say.
“Do you have the file?”
“Yeah.”
He opens his hand for it. “I’ve done a fair amount of deep-throating with the media, so to speak,” he says. “I can put it in the hands of people the world will trust.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hey...” He smiles. “I’ve got plenty of targets on my back already. What’s one more?”
“This is Snake Eyes, Box,” I warn.
“I know. That’s why I can’t let you do this alone.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Besides, if they’re going down, I want a front-row seat. No more running.”
I nod. Truthfully, if anyone deserves to be here with me now, it’s Boxcar.
I take the flash drive from my pocket and drop it in his open palm. “All right,” I say.
Boxcar sticks it into his USB port and cracks his knuckles. “Just need a minute...”
He gets to work, his fingers furiously tapping away at his keys.
“It’s still chipped, right?” I ask.
“Not for long...” His lips twitch. “Just need to cross a T, dot an I, and...” He firmly slaps the delete key. “Chip no more.”
I smile as his hands go right back to it. I know better than to try and follow along. Not that I would ever be able to understand what he’s doing anyway.
“Carry the one, and... voila.” He turns the laptop toward me again. “Just hit send.”
I look at the screen. He typed out what looks to be an email, but not with a standard email service. Must be one of his own programs, something to keep his identity and location heavily encrypted. The recipient’s names are, as he mentioned, reputable. Even I recognize their bylines.