“How do we find out which one is with her?” Montgomery asked.
“Until we're sure, I think we have to assume that she has the real Tyler with her.”
“I need to know if either one of them has any friends, family, a house, some land, a car, or a favorite petting zoo anywhere in the region where they're heading,” he demanded, “but I think it's doubtful they'll continue in that direction. They’ll probably head to a naval base or South Carolina. What about Bravo?”
“They've secured the facility and are preparing to transport.”
Montgomery put his hand on the seat back of her chair and studied the screen. “Which ones?”
“The chimps, Professor Yeoum and Doctor Tiong.”
“The chimps?” Montgomery asked incredulously.
“Why would they take the chimps?” Pew asked.
“Probably because Tyler and the clone aren't there,” Montgomery reasoned, “but why Tiong?”
“If they've taken the chimps, then they'll need him to take care of the animals,” Pew reasoned. “What about the others in the lab?”
“All but one of the Air Force personnel, and the NCIS agents, are alive and secure,” Toni reported. “They're tranqued and being moved outside. They should be found in a day or so.” She smiled widely, unable to contain her excitement. “I can see why you guys like your jobs so much. I mean, it's been really, really boring up to this point, but now”—she closed her eyes and held her arms out wide—“this stuff is so cool!”
Montgomery sighed. She was far from the professionals that he had worked with before. But then again, that was one of the reasons he’d recruited her. There were three things she did well—logistics, research, and following his orders. And now he was depending on her for information to track the fugitives. He needed her, at least for now.
Montgomery sat on the unmade bed in the corner. At least we have Yeoum, Tiong and the chimps. They ought to be worth something. He looked at the girl again. “Turn Alpha around and send them back to the safe house. Tell them to sit tight there. As soon as you can establish secure communication with Rigby, I need to talk to him.”
“Gotcha.”
Montgomery turned to Pew. “I better call Casas and give her a status report.” There were many ways to spin the facts.
23 What Goes Around …
COVINGTON RAN AS FAST and as far he was able toward town, stopping when he finally saw a set of headlights in the distance. His shoulder was throbbing from the wound he had suffered in the exchange of gunfire with Rob, but he was relieved that it had passed through the meat, missing tendon and bone. He staggered out on to the road and began waving down the unsuspecting driver.
The man saw blue lights flashing on the horizon and assumed that there had been an accident. Upon seeing the rain-soaked man wearing an Air Force uniform, he meant to pass him by and let the emergency crew provide the stranger with assistance. But when the sergeant fell on the road in his path and lay very still, he knew that he was trapped. He rolled to a stop.
“Great! Now if I don’t help the cops’ll arrest me.” Grabbing a flashlight that was stowed under his seat, he got out. Tentatively, he approached the prone figure. “Hey, buddy. You alright?” When there was no response, he took a few more steps. “Hey man, help’s on the way. Hey, can you hear—”
In the blink of an eye, Covington aimed and fired two rounds into his reluctant helper’s chest. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he dragged the man's body just past the wood line and then turned to discover that his new ride was a bright yellow Hummer H2. He looked back at the dead man. “Could you have possibly been driving a more conspicuous car?” He climbed in and wheeled the big vehicle around, speeding in the direction of the fleeing couple.
Miles up the road, Covington came to the scene of an accident. A black SUV was lying upside down in the front yard of a man who’d had the unfortunate experience of being shot by the driver of the wrecked GMC, the thanks he had received for trying to help the victims.
Martin Rigby was still dazed from a blow to his head and bleeding from a gash on the left side of his nose that he had suffered when the SUV flipped. Covington found him wandering down the road, a gun in his hand, having just shot the homeowner whose yard he had landed in. When Rigby finally came to his senses, he was grateful for being picked up by the sergeant, but unable even to secure himself in the vehicle without Covington's assistance. After settling Rigby in the Hummer, Covington did a cursory inspection of the wreck and found that its other occupant was wedged between the passenger seat and the doorframe, dead and impossible to move.
“Always wear your seat belt, my friend,” he scolded the dead man as he collected his weapon and spare magazines. Turning his attention to the man who was laying in the wet grass, he checked for a pulse. “Lucky you,” he said when he found one, not sure if he felt relieved or threatened by the revelation. But he was unconscious, so Covington was satisfied that the man would have few tales to tell to the police when he awoke. He considered checking to see if anyone else was in the house, but the sirens in the distance told him it was time to leave. He jumped back in the Hummer, sped off down the dark road, and told his new partner, “Get Toni on the line.”
* * * * *
ROB HAD BEEN DRIVING south on Interstate 75 for nearly an hour and a half, stopping only long enough for them to choose which direction they should go. By the time he wheeled into a truck stop in Tifton, Georgia, the volume of questions floating around in his head had become innumerable.
The parking lot was large and, thankfully, sparsely populated. He maneuvered the SUV around its entirety to make a mental note of all the exits, and then proceeded to a secluded spot under a couple of trees on the side closest to the interstate and away from the semis parked in rear of the building.
He checked the clock. It was 4:17 a.m.
Earlier, Rob had instructed June to use the car’s navigation system to plot out a course to Apalachicola, Florida. She hadn’t understood his choice of destinations, but she had done as he asked and had found what looked like the most direct route. Rob couldn't explain why he was compelled to go to the small town on the Gulf coast, but he’d remained adamant.
When she had finished, he had pulled off the road, disabled the GPS, and searched the Toyota for any other devices that they could be tracked with. It hadn’t taken long to find the magnetic gadget hidden under the rear bumper. He’d considered placing it on another vehicle, but had decided to smash it instead. No need to drag anyone else into this mess.
He sat for a long time, staring through the cracked windshield as the occasional early bird stopped in for fuel. All the while, June watched him. He was trying to make sense of his compulsion to go to Florida. He didn’t remember ever going there, but he had fleeting thoughts and disconnected images flashing through his mind. It was like trying to remember a dream. There was something in Apalachicola that he needed desperately. But he had no idea what that something was. The only thing he was sure of was that the feeling was centered in the pit of his stomach and growing stronger as time passed. That, and a foreboding sense that they were still in danger. Nearly an hour had passed when he looked over at June and found her quietly studying him. “We'll stay here and get some rest until we can find another car, an older one that they can't track. Why don't you climb in back and stretch out.”
June looked at him incredulously. “Don't you have questions about what I told you?”
He chuckled. “You have no idea.”
“Well?”
“Now's not the time.” He began rummaging under his seat, hoping to find an atlas or anything that might help them on their journey.
June was dumbfounded. “Less than two hours ago, I told you that you lost nine years of your memory, that there's an exact copy of you out there somewhere, and that we’re running from who knows who trying to kill us … and you don't wanna talk about it? What else are we gonna do?”
Rob didn’t find anything of any real us
e except a tidy stash of money in the glove compartment. “I don’t know. Sleep?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Try.”
“Tell me about your wife.” She wasn’t that interested in Carol at the moment. She just wanted to get an idea of what he could remember.
With an exaggerated sigh, he accepted the fact that she wasn’t going to give up. After a moment, he smiled his first genuine smile since the chaos started. “Okay … June, what is it you want to know?”
“Your wife. Tell me about her.”
“He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor from the Lord.”
June smiled slightly. “From Proverbs.”
Rob nodded. “Proverbs 18:22. I read that at our wedding, after we took our vows.”
“Did she read anything?”
“Something out of the book of Job as I recall.”
June laughed. “My parents are missionaries in Africa.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Where do they serve?”
“In Ethiopia. In fact, that's where I was born. A little town called Arba Minch.”
“So it was your daddy who taught you how to drive like a maniac?”
She gave him a superior look. “Now, why wouldn't you assume my mama taught me?”
“Your mom, then?” he asked apologetically.
June smiled. “Neither, actually. It was the chief of a Tuareg Imashaghen clan who was friends with the people in the village.”
“How old were you?”
“Eight.”
Rob looked at her skeptically. “Eight?”
“Yup,” she replied proudly and then added, “I've had a few refreshers since then.”
“So, what makes Tuaregs such good drivers?”
“Well, they're nomads. They get harassed and robbed by a lot by people claiming to be Sunni Muslims. Either convert to Islam or pay a road tax. Chief Taderfit didn't want to convert to Islam. He didn't want to be a Christian either,” she added, smiling. “But believe me, Mom and Dad tried. Imashaghen means ‘the free people.’”
“Free, but lost,” Rob said.
June shrugged. “So, you’re a religious man.”
“Religious, no. I was born Catholic, but I got baptized by a Methodist preacher in a non-denominational base chapel last month, right before Christmas.” Then he made a face, something between a revelation and amusement.
“What is it?”
“Well, if what you're tellin' me is true, then that was nine years ago now. I wonder how I turned out.”
June thought the question profound. What would anyone think of a future self, given the opportunity to see it? What would I have thought of my life to this point?
She was less than thrilled with her conclusion.
They stared silently at each other for some time after that. Rob noticed a quality in her eyes that made him feel uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, he leaned back against the door. He held up his left hand and said, “Happily.”
June blushed. “You said those very words to me a week ago, Commander Tyler,” she said. And then, she noticed that his wedding ring was missing.
Seeing her confused look, he suddenly saw that the most important piece of jewelry he possessed was gone. “Where is it?” He turned on the overhead light. “I gotta find it.”
June stayed silent. How could he have lost his ring? Did I make a mistake? Is this the real Rob? Have I been imagining—? June’s thoughts were interrupted when she saw the stitches on his thumb again, exactly as she remembered. Relieved, she said, “You must've lost it in all the confusion.”
“Carol is gonna kill me,” he lamented.
June smiled and attempted to comfort him. “Oh, honey, under these circumstances, I'm sure she’ll understand.”
Rob's willingness to talk ended with the revelation of his lost ring, so June decided it best to take his suggestion and try to get some sleep.
She woke with a start when Rob touched her on the shoulder. Her body ached from sleeping in the cramped confines of the back of the Toyota, having used a headrest from one of the seats for a pillow. She realized her thirst as she sat up and brushed her hair, damp from the heat, from the side of her face. She didn't remember falling asleep or even lying down as she rubbed the kink in her neck and sat up. Her stomach growled. She needed a serious shower and change of clothes. The sun was low in the sky as she saw Rob sitting in the driver’s seat looking back at her. “Wakie, wakie. Our new ride’s here,” he said. He looked again at their prize.
Following his gaze, all she saw a young man she guessed to be no more than eighteen with stringy, shoulder-length blond hair, dressed in a pair of worn out cut-off cargo shorts and a dirty white tee shirt, pumping gas into a seventies model Ford barely fifty feet away. His car looked like a wreck. It was covered with gray primer with hints of pale yellow peeking through here and there. It rested on tires with huge chrome wheels that, in June’s opinion, made the car look hideous. Surely Rob didn’t mean that car. Close by were a couple of kids skateboarding among the parked cars.
June was climbing up to join Rob in the front when he opened the door and shouted, “Hey, kid!”
One of the teenagers stopped skating to look over at them.
“Come 'ere.”
The young man walked to the bumper-less front end. “Yeah?”
Rob opened the door wider. “Here's fifteen bucks. Go in there and buy me a map of Florida. You can keep the change and I've got another ten for ya when you come back.”
The kid looked doubtful. “Seriously?”
“And some crackers,” added June.
Rob fanned the bills out.
Seeing the cash, the teen said, “I'll do it for fifty.”
“Fifty!” Rob and June exclaimed in unison.
“Take it or leave it,” the kid said with a straight face.
Rob narrowed his eyes as he counted out the total he was holding. “I'll give ya forty. No more.”
“Done.” He held out his hand.
“Oh no,” Rob shook his head. “Fifteen now. The rest when you come back.”
The teenager accepted the down payment. Dropping his skateboard to the ground, he turned and skated towards the store, ignoring the calls of his friend.
Rob shook his head. “Greedy kid.”
June settled herself in the passenger seat. “What time is it?”
“It's almost seven thirty.”
“How long was I asleep?”
“All day.”
“What? Seven thirty p.m.?”
“See that car?” he said, ignoring her outburst.
“Yeah?” she said doubtfully.
“That's our ride.”
June smiled “You have got to be kidding me.”
Rob smiled. “Nope. That's the one. When he got out, he didn't have the keys in his hand. They must still be in the ignition. All we need is for him to go into the store to pay.”
June's smile faded. “You're not serious. That thing won't get us fifty miles.”
“When he drove in, it was purring like a kitten. It looks like crap, but I'm betting that it'll get us there,” he assured her.
June was still skeptical. “It'll stick out like a sore thumb.”
Rob gave her a doubtful look. “Would you report that thing stolen?”
“If it was mine and someone stole it, I would.”
Rob scoffed.
They watched as he continued to pump gas.
“That thing must have a huge tank,” June commented.
“Twenty-two gallons,” Rob said. “My dad had one like it. A Gran Torino.”
“Is that why you want this wreck? Because your dad had one?”
Rob only smiled.
Finally, the young man with the stringy hair finished pumping the gas and hung up the nozzle. When he started toward the store to pay, he was moving slowly and coyly, methodically attempting to impress a car full of young girls who had pulled in front of the store and taken no
tice of him. At the same time, the skater was returning with what Rot sincerely hoped was a map of Florida.
“Now we need some godly timing.” Rob handed the kid the balance of his promised payment and then waving him away. “Don't forget to share.”
“Hey, where’s my crackers?” June called after the kid, who kept on walking. June then turned and stared at Rob. Godly timing, huh? I wonder if Catholics have a patron saint of car thieves.
“Get ready.” Rob closed the door. They watched as the driver of the Ford flirted with the girls, every now and then looking back at and gesturing to the Torino.
“That boy loves his car.”
“Oh, for Pete's sake! Go and flirt somewhere else, why don'tcha?” June said.
“Be patient,” Rob said. Minutes later, the kid resumed his course into the store with one of the girls in tow.
June opened her door, but Rob grabbed her arm. “Wait.” The young man took one last admiring look at the old car and then disappeared inside.
“Now,” Rob said.
They trotted over and wasted no time jumping in. Rob looked at the ignition and his heart sank. “Where’re the keys?”
“What now?” June asked, and then they heard a low, threatening growl from the back of the car.
Rob looked into the mirror. The rear seat had been removed, and crouched in the trunk was the largest pit bull he had ever seen, with teeth bared, ears flat, and saliva pouring from its mouth as it glared at the back of his head. “June—”
“Aww, c’mere baby,” she crooned.
He looked over in horror. She had turned in her seat and was beckoning to the dog with an outstretched hand. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?”
The dog barked wildly and lunged at Rob. June intercepted, grabbing the dog’s collar. “No, no, baby. He’s our friend. It’s okay.”
Rob, finding the door handle missing, was half way out the window when June grabbed his pant leg. Thinking it was the pit, he kicked wildly, nearly falling backward and causing June to recoil. “Oh crap!” he cried.
“Wait, Rob. Look,” she said.
He stopped squirming and looked back into the car. The monstrous dog was licking June’s face, its stub of a tail wagging happily. “What did you do?”