Delgado's person reached inside his coat, slowing down the passage of time. Ethan's muscle groups tensed, preparing for movement. However, before he could respond, a big palm clamped down on the person's shoulder.
"Night, fellas," Charlie's gravelly voice cut through the tension. "Having a touch get-collectively?"
The guy inside the match turned around, his hand still buried in his jacket. His eyes widened as he observed Charlie's length. He screamed, "This doesn't concern you," and tried to pull Charlie's preserve loose.
Charlie's grin became all teeth, with no sensation. "That is where you're mistaken. My friend here," he nodded to Ethan, "invited me for a late-night snack. How about you go back and tell your supervisor we'll be in touch?"
For a 2d, it appeared like the guy could also dispute. His gaze darted between Charlie and Ethan, as if assessing his potential. Then, with a somewhat restrained roar, he backed away from Charlie's grasp and dashed out of the diner.
Ethan expelled a breath he didn't recognize and shifted into retention as the bell above the door rang. "Thanks, Charlie," he mumbled, his voice trembling.
"You owe me," Charlie said quietly, settling onto the seat next to him. "add it on your tab."
Then, losing his voice, Charlie said, "Now, care to explain why one of Victor Delgado's goons is following you?"
Ethan's intestine lurched as Delgado's call ended. He opened his mouth to speak but halted, looking anxiously across the cafe.
Charlie nodded in understanding. "Let's go for a walk," he muttered, rose to his feet. "I recognize a place wherein we are able to talk privately."
As they ventured out into the darkness, Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that someone was looking. Every passing vehicle appeared to be a threat, and every shadow a capable enemy. Charlie led him down a series of side streets, pausing sometimes to ensure that no one was following them. Finally, they arrived at an old, decaying rental building.
Charlie entered a code, and they slipped within. They walked four flights of stairs alone since the elevator broke down. Charlie's house became modest yet neat. He motioned for Ethan to sit on a ratty sofa as he closed the door and pulled the shades shut.
"All right," Charlie mumbled, settling into the chair across from Ethan. "Spill it." "What kind of mess have you got yourself into this time?"
Ethan took a big breath and told Charlie the whole story—the poker game, the outstanding debt, and Delgado's outrageous request. As he persisted, Charlie's expression darkened.
Charlie brushed a quit across his face as Ethan concluded. "Jesus and Ethan. "You really stepped in it this time."
"I recognize," Ethan muttered, just above a whisper. "But Charlie, I didn't know who else to show to. "You are the only person who can help me get through this."
Charlie's eyes narrowed. "And what makes you think you researched me to want to be engaged in this suicide attempt? If you forgot, I'd left that existence behind."
Ethan drew closer, excitement in his voice. "Because you already know Delgado's capabilities. "You have seen it firsthand."
A shadow moved across Charlie's face. For a brief second, Ethan saw something—pain? Guilt?—a spark in his friend's eyes.
"That was a long time ago," Charlie replied kindly.
"However, you never forgot," Ethan insisted. "Come on Charlie. I understand you despise Delgado. "Help me take him down."
Charlie rose hastily and began pacing the small room. "You don't get it," he retorted. "Ethan, this is more than simply a few sports. Delgado isn't searching for the rock. He is setting you up to fail."
Ethan blinked in disbelief. "What do you mean?"
Charlie paused his pacing and looked carefully at Ethan. "Think about it." The midnight superstar? in 48 hours? It is impossible. "He's using you as a pawn for something bigger."
The realization struck Ethan like a blow to the stomach. He had been so concerned on preserving his own pores and skin that he had overlooked Delgado's true goals.
"Why me?" he asked, his voice shaking.
Charlie shakes his head. "I do not comprehend. However, I'm going to discover." He moved to a table and took out a computer. "Give me some time." I still have some connections who owe me favors. Perhaps we can figure out what Delgado needs."
Ethan felt a surge of hope in his chest. "So, you'll assist me?"
Charlie gave him a sour grin. "In contrary to my superior judgment, yes. But if we're doing this, we'll do it my way. No last-minute bets or cowboy stunts. Were they given it?"
Ethan nodded fortunately. "honestly. "Anything you say."
"Desirable," Charlie murmured. "Now, sit tight while I dig around. Use the visitor's room across the way. "You seem like hell—get some sleep."
Ethan rose, relief enveloping him. However, Charlie's remarks stopped him as he approached the door. "One more component," Charlie added, his tone critical. "We can't do it by ourselves. We need someone on the museum who is healthy and has a mild contact."
A face appeared in Ethan's mind—the lady he had seen outside the restaurant. He paused. "I might recognize someone," he said softly. "but it's... complex."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it continuous? "Who is she?"
Ethan swallowed hard. "Her name is Nina. Nina Reynolds. We used to do paintings together. "She's the best con artist I've ever encountered."
"And permit me to bet," Charlie said dryly, "things ended badly?"
Ethan grimaced. "You can say that. According to what I've heard, she now runs a business in Miami. However, it has been a long time.
Charlie nodded and proceeded to his laptop. "I'll see what I can dig up about her. Now cross and get some slumber. Tomorrow is going to be a challenging day."
Ethan made his way to the guest room, exhaustion suddenly flooding over him. As he lay down on the mattress, his mind was racing with the events of the day. He was just a loose guy this morning. Now his lifestyles are on the road, entangled in a web of falsehoods. He closed his eyes, hoping to quiet the stream of thoughts racing through his mind.
But every time he got closer to falling asleep, he spotted Delgado's chilly grin and heard the ticking of an imagined clock counting down his fatal hours.
At some point in the early hours of the morning, Ethan fell into a restless sleep. His dreams have been a chaotic combination of gambling playing cards, shining jewels, and Nina's green eyes, all of which are constantly out of reach.
He awoke with awe at the aroma of coffee and the sound of murmured discussions. For a brief moment, he forgot where he had changed into. Then everything came tumbling back—the sport, Delgado, and the impossible robbery.
Groaning, Ethan pushed himself out of bed and proceeded to the kitchen. Charlie became engrossed in his iPhone, as if he had not slept at all.
"Yeah, I got it," Charlie modified his words. "Just get right here, brief." "And protect your lower back."
He hung up and looked at Ethan. "Sleeping beauty's wide awake," he smiled. "Espresso is on the desk." "You'll want it."
Ethan poured himself a cup, and the harsh drink cleared the haze from his mind. "Any luck?" he asked.
Charlie nodded reluctantly. "a few. And none of this is correct. Delgado has been requesting favors all throughout town. "Whatever he has planned is massive."
"And Nina?"
Charlie's face became inscrutable. "That's... complex," he replied. "She vanished off the grid two years ago. However, I was able to send her a message through an old friend. If she wishes to meet, it will be at lunchtime."
Ethan looked at the clock. It was already past 10 o'clock. "wherein?"
Charlie grinned. "The Metropolitan." I figured we might as well start casing the area."
Ethan's pulse quickened as he considered seeing Nina again. Might she show up? And if she did, would she really need to help?
Charlie patted his shoulder, as if he knew what he was thinking. "One problem at a time, youngster. First, we figure out how to get through the museum without being detained."
The next hour flew by as they studied designs and safety standards that Charlie had somehow gotten. The more Ethan looked into the task, the more intimidating it appeared—laser grids, strain-sensitive floors, guards on constant patrol.
"How are we imagined to get beyond all this?" Ethan queried, sadness pouring through his words.
Charlie smirked, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "We don't," he said back. "We lead them to allow us to in."
Before Ethan could ask what he meant, Charlie's phone rang. He looked at it and stood up. "Time to go," he said. "Our experience's here."
They persevered to the street, where a basic automobile awaited. The driving force, an apprehensive-looking individual Charlie disguised as Milo, murmured sparingly as they jumped in. Ethan's nerves were on edge as they walked through the late-morning site visitors. Every police car made him quiver, and every passing pedestrian was seen as a threat.
They then pulled up a block away from the Met. Charlie looked at Ethan, his face serious. "Don't forget, we're only tourists now. Don't do anything to grab attention, but keep your eyes alert. Were they given it?"
Ethan nodded, attempting to relax his racing heart. As they approached the museum's main entrance, he looked around for an acquaintance.
And then he noticed her.
Nina was lying effectively against a pillar, sunglasses on, her purple hair reflecting the light. She hadn't noticed them yet, but just seeing her made Ethan's intestine coil in knots.
Charlie drove him. "Showtime."