Strak tilted his head, a ghost of a smile playing on his thin lips. He reached into his inner pocket, but instead of a passport, he pulled out a silver lighter. He flicked it open, the flame dancing in his dark eyes.
"Run away, Casey," Strak whispered, almost tenderly. "Give me a reason to make this interesting. I’ll give you a ten-second head start." Run Away, Scene 2 - Casey Flip, Johnathan Strak...
The air in the alley turned ice-cold. Casey gripped the satchel tighter. "If anything happens to me, the drive auto-uploads to the feds in sixty minutes. You kill me, you kill your employers." Strak tilted his head, a ghost of a
Strak took a step closer, the lighter’s flame reflecting in the polished wood of the floor. "That’s the thing about 'auto-uploads,' Casey. They require a signal. And I brought a jammer." "Run away, Casey," Strak whispered, almost tenderly
He tapped a small black device on his belt. Casey’s heart plummeted. He looked toward the exit, but the heavy steel doors were bolted from the outside.
"Traffic’s a bitch when you’re avoiding the main roads," Casey shot back, trying to keep his knees from knocking. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a battered leather satchel. "I have the drive. Everything’s on it. The ledgers, the offshore accounts, the names of the board members who signed off on the 'cleanup.'"