17
Raines knew straight away what Horn was doing at the building on Stout Street. Knew that the FBI had their office here. He wanted to feel something about it. Felt nothing. He looked again at the gun sitting on the passenger seat beside him.
Raines watched as Horn climbed out of the back of the cab and went to the intercom at the side of the main entrance to the building. The place was locked up tight at this time of night, but there was a security guard inside in case anyone came around. He guessed that happened a lot. Given the FBI’s line of business.
The cab pulled away, leaving Horn alone with one hand pressed on the glass of the building’s door while he leaned in to speak to the guard through the intercom.
Raines grabbed his gun, opened the door of the car and stepped out. He walked around to the front of the car leaving the door open. He stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, thought about running over there and taking both of them out in an instant. No witnesses.
Horn leaned back from the intercom and Raines saw the guard inside get up from his desk. He looked like a retired cop. Carried himself that way.
Raines took a step forward into the road.
He tightened his grip on the pistol.
But the moment passed as the guard opened the door and ushered Horn inside. The guard looked over at Raines before turning to go inside the building.
Raines went to the car, sat inside and dropped the gun on the seat.
He picked up his mobile and dialled the number for the compound.
‘Change of plan for tomorrow morning,’ he said when his call was answered. ‘Bring everyone.’