Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

escort for the walk from the parking lot to the hotel safe.
    Whatever the protocol, it wouldn’t matter to Kirby. He would be in and out of the trunk in twenty seconds. Thirty-five seconds, max. By the time the courier and escort came back to the parking lot, Kirby would be on his way to Sky Harbor to dump the rental car and the itchy disguise.
    He turned down one aisle between parked cars and stopped when he was a row over and directly opposite the courier’s vehicle. He put the SUV in park and left the engine running with the key inthe ignition. With the expertise of a surgeon or a dentist, he snapped on exam gloves. A few quick yanks on the stretchy hosiery pulled it into place, blurring his features. He put the cowboy hat back on, furthering hindering any useful identification. Then he hit the key he’d programmed with the courier’s code.
    The courier’s rental car flashed its lights in reply.
    Party time.

Chapter 41
    Scottsdale
    Friday
    5:40 P.M .
    A man came in through the employee door, brushed by Sam and Kate without a look, and hurried down the corridor leading to the lobby. The door closed hard behind him, emphasizing his rush.
    At the same moment, both Sam and Kate reached out to open the door leading to the employee parking lot. Gently, he pried her fingers off the hand bar.
    “Men first,” he said.
    “Since when?”
    “Since I became your bodyguard, remember?”
    She stared at him.
    He leaned toward her and said quietly, “When you’re undercover, you’re never out of your role, remember?”
    She blew out a breath. “Right. You go first.”
    “Oh, shit! I can’t believe I did that!” echoed down the corridor.
    Sam and Kate turned around to find out what was going on. The man who had been in such a hurry to get into the hotel a moment ago was now in a fever to get out.
    “Excuse me,” the man said running down the hallway. “I have to—right now!”
    “Last time I heard that,” Sam said to Kate as they jumped back out of the way, “it was in a men’s room with all the stalls occupied.”
    The door slammed.
    Sam opened it again. Kate made an ironic “after you” gesture to him and followed him out the door to the employee parking lot. Sam’s car was across the lot, near the miserable shade of light pole. They started for the car, cutting between the rows.
    Thirty feet down the third aisle between rows of vehicles, a small SUV sat in the center of the lane like a cork in a bottle. The driver’s door was partly open, as though someone had given up on finding a closer parking spot and simply parked illegally to go into the hotel for a quick errand.
    “What a jerk,” Kate said as she started across the blocked aisle. “What if someone comes back before he does and wants to leave?”
    Sam didn’t answer. He was suddenly, intently, studying the rows of cars to their right.
    “Hey! What are you doing?” yelled someone off to the left.
    It was the man from the hallway, the man in a hurry. He was running and yelling.
    Sam turned and took it all in with one quick look, time slowing to a crawl, everything sharp and distinct in the reddish light of the setting sun.
    Thirty feet away, a man in cowboy hat, boots, and surgical gloves had a crowbar under the trunk lid of a parked car.
    The man from the hotel was dashing toward him, shouting.
    Then it all speeded up as the cowboy bent down and yanked a gun from his boot. The courier went facedown. The cowboy leaped toward the illegally parked SUV. The engine revved and tires squalled.
    The car was coming right at them.
    Sam yanked Kate just as she literally threw herself away from the parking aisle to get clear of the speeding SUV. She slammed into the side of a parked car so hard her wig flew off.
    Sam was a heartbeat behind her, covering her.
    “What—” Kate asked breathlessly.
    Metal caromed off metal with a sound like a thin scream.
    A nearby windshield turned into a maze of cracks.
    Sam didn’t need the hole in the center of the web to tell him what was going down. With one hand he shoved Kate to her hands and knees between parked cars. His other hand held his weapon. He didn’t expect to hit the cowboy, but he could at least keep the bastard too worried for any more wild shooting. Ignoring Bureau policy, Sam fired two fast shots at the fleeing SUV.
    Unlike the cowboy’s gun, Sam’s made enough noise to bring men pouring out of the FBI motor coach.
    Sam grabbed his badge with his left hand. He held both hands high and in