The Death Of The Dark Blue Commodore

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“You know, there are other buses you can get, mate!” The middle-aged man in the driver 's seat called out to him in a thick Greek accent. “Looked like you run for your life. So I wait, you know?”
“Thanks!” Storm replied, stumbling into the seat as the bus lurched forward into the traffic. He peered through his window. Doing a run on Davenport had been the right decision. He just wasn 't exactly sure why. He looked again for the dark blue Commodore. There was no sign of Davenport.
He sat back in the seat and took out his phone. The signal was back. There were several messages from both Stella and Summer late in the afternoon. Ethan and Pete had called his phone. He selected a single text from Penny. It was the most recent. He stared at the cryptic message. It read 'U need Alistair 's help '. No word about Michael.
He pulled out his wallet and looked at the card Martyn had given him, memorizing the number.
“Martyn here.”
Storm hesitated then ended the call.
He wiggled out the sim card and slipped it into a spare sleeve in his wallet. Then he jammed the phone down deep between the gap between his seat and the one next to him.
The first stop once the bus reached the city was the front of a hotel. He got off and walked into the lobby, heading straight for a public phone.
Alistair told him to meet him beside the war memorial at the base of Mount Ainsley. “I 'll pick you up in two hours, around sunset. You might want to stand behind the monument where you won’t be seen from the

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