Undeniable Proof

He'd waited too long. They knew. The realization turned his blood to ice water. If they knew that he had the disk, then they also knew what he planned to do with it.He felt the full weight of the disk in his breast pocket. In the right hands, the disk was gold. In the wrong hands, it was a death warrant.Simon didn't look back but he knew they were behind him, following him. Two of them. He could hear them. Feel them working their way along the dark street.All he could guess is that they weren't sure where he was headed. They would want to know who he'd planned to give the disk to. He had a pretty good idea that they knew exactly who he worked for -- but just wanted proof.He'd changed course the moment he'd heard them behind and now found himself headed for the beach. Ahead was the artsy part of St. Pete Beach, the small southern Florida town at the edge of the Gulf of Mexico.Art galleries, studios, little shops. All closed this time of the night.No place to hide.He had to ditch the disk. It was his only chance. He was probably a dead man either way, but he might be able to talk his way out of this if the disk wasn't found on him.Ahead Simon spotted a light burning in one of the art studios. Was it possible it was still open? Could he be that lucky?He could hear the quickening of the men's steps behind him as he neared the shop entrance. Inside, the light silhouetted a figure at the back of the shop apparently working late. His good luck. That person's bad fortune.It took everything in him not to run. But that would make him look guilty. That would get him killed before he could hide the disk.Simon reached the front door of the shop and grasped the knob. He could see a woman working in the studio at the back. The men behind him were so close he thought he could feel their collective breaths on his neck. As he tried the door, he expected to feel a hand drop to his shoulder and a cold steel barrel press against his backbone.Locked!He couldn't catch his breath. He jiggled the doorknob. His heart pounded so hard, all he could hear was the blood buzzing in his ears.The woman who'd been working at the back looked up. Obviously she hadn't been expecting anyone.Simon waved and called to her in a voice he didn't recognize as his own, "Sorry I'm late."Surprise registered in her eyes, but she stopped what she was doing and walked toward the door.He thought he heard the two men slide back into the darker shadows as the woman opened the door."I'm sorry I'm so late," he said, stepping in, forcing her to step aside as he pushed past and into the shop. "I was afraid you'd already gone home. I called about one of your -- " he glanced to see what kind of work the woman did " -- paintings," he said, and stuffed his hands into his pockets so she didn't see how badly they were shaking as he turned to look at her.He'd thought her twenty-something but she could have been younger. It was hard to tell her age with such pale skin sprinkled with golden freckles and blond hair that she had pulled back in a single long braid that trailed down her back. She wore a sleeveless T-shirt, peach-colored, and a pair of denim cropped pants. He caught the scent of vanilla."I'm sorry," she said, looking confused. "Are you sure you have the right gallery?" Simon could see that she was scared. If she only knew. But she closed the door behind her, failing, he noted, to lock it, though. Would the two men come in here after him? He couldn't be sure.But if they did, the woman was as good as dead. "Yes, this is the shop," he said, improvising as he moved to look at one of the Florida landscapes done in pastels. "My wife said she was told someone would be here late." A man with a wife would make her feel safer, he hoped, as he saw that she hadn't moved. In fact, she seemed to hover by the phone on the desk by the door.He thought of the real wife he'd had. She'd left him because she couldn't take the line oDaniels, B. J. is the author of 'Undeniable Proof ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373229369 and ISBN 0373229364.