Mamaroneck was a small town and there weren’t too many options if one was aiming to leave it. North or south on the Boston Post Road if you wanted a slow amble, or the thruway if you were on any kind of schedule. Most people going anywhere took Mamaroneck Avenue up to the thruway’s on-ramps. He caught up with the Jeep just as it was turning onto the Post Road and stayed well back, not wanting to give his quarry any chance of knowing he was there. Then he remembered his cash-only employer and what he’d been asked to do. As the Jeep turned left onto Fenimore, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number. As before, the man answered promptly. “What’s going on?” “I’m on Chaykin’s tail,” Lendowski told him. “She’s on her way to meet Reilly.” “We know,” the man said. “We have an asset waiting there.” This surprised Lendowski. “Waiting? Where?”
