Burn was tense, checking his mirrors, nosing the Jeep into gaps. Then he made a visible effort to calm himself, and he slowed down, dropped to the speed limit.Benny Mongrel had a cell phone in his hand, looking at it as if it might bite him. He’d seen people using them, sure, the guards at Pollsmoor, many people since he was released. But he had never held one in his hand. Never mind used one. Burn had given it to him earlier, saying it was a spare he kept as a backup. It would allow them to keep in contact during the drop-off of the money.They had stopped at a light. Burn was looking at him. “You understand how to use it?”“Ja.”“Call my phone. Just to see everything is okay.”“It’s okay.”“Do it. Please. We can’t afford screw-ups.”Benny Mongrel shrugged and jabbed a finger at the tiny phone. Burn had showed him that he only had to push that one number, the three, and it would dial his phone. Burn’s cell, lying on the seat between them, chirped and flashed.“Okay, hit the red button.”Benny Mongrel’s finger searched, found the red button, and jabbed at it.
