Quinn

  Except, now, Jacobs was on the run, too.

  “Make up your mind,” Nixon said. “Do I get the money?”

  “I’m thinking about it. I can’t decide without studying all the consequences.”

  “My time is valuable. I can take care of Gallo and the woman tonight and move on to my next job. Yes or no?”

  “I should be able to make a decision within the next two days. Just stay close to them.” He hung up.

  He mustn’t let Nixon know he was weak in any way. But Jacobs knew he’d have to find a way to rid himself of Gallo and the woman. He couldn’t dangle Nixon for more than the two days for which he’d bargained. He had to move and move—

  His phone dinged to signal an arriving e-mail.

  It could be the confirmation on his hotel room at the casino. They’d better confirm his reservations. He’d given them enough of his business.

  It wasn’t the hotel.

  I warned you, Jacobs. I warned you both. Did you think I’d forgotten? Did you think I wouldn’t find out what was going on?

  You’re a dead man.

  No signature. Jacobs didn’t need a signature.

  * * *

  SHIT. SHIT. Shit.

  His heart was beating so hard, he felt dizzy.

  You’re a dead man.

  He had thought that his luck couldn’t get any worse when he’d found out that Gallo and the woman were on his trail.

  This was worse. This was deadly.

  He felt so scared, he was sick to his stomach.

  He had to get control of himself. He could get out of this. He’d made up his mind that he had to disappear anyway. It was just reinforced by that damn e-mail. He would tell Nixon to take care of Gallo, and that bitch, and that would rid himself of one threat. Then he would run and hide and not surface until he thought it was safe.

  But to do both of those things, he’d have to have money.

  Money was always possible, always just around the next bend in the road. He’d pick a place that had always been special for him.

  His luck was due to change. It always did.

  And this time he was sure he’d score big enough to set him up for life.

  Then he’d have the money to give Nixon.

  Then he’d be able to squash Gallo and Catherine Ling as if they were vermin. Then he’d be able to keep that bastard from finding and killing him.

  Just as soon as his luck changed.

  * * *

  “WE’RE BEING FOLLOWED,” Catherine said quietly. “Three cars back, far left lane.”

  Gallo nodded. “Gray Mercedes.”

  “And he knows what he’s doing. Slow down. I’m going to try to get his plate number.”

  Gallo slowed, but it took her three attempts to get the number on the front of the Mercedes. The person tailing them was sliding in and out of traffic like an eel. “Very slick. Jacobs?”

  “No, Jacobs wouldn’t be doing his own dirty work. Not unless he was forced into it.” He glanced at the mirror. “But he would have a large number of lethal personnel to call on to do the job. It wouldn’t be anyone from Army Intelligence. Jacobs has blown that cover.”

  “Another killer like Paul Black?”

  “That’s my guess. Jacobs set up someone to protect his back. He knew that he’d be on the run.” He pulled off the freeway. “And this might not be so bad…”

  She nodded. “Whoever is following us would probably know where Jacobs is hiding.”

  He smiled. “Two minds with a single thought.”

  They did think along the same lines, she thought. It was perfectly natural when they had been trained in the same violent schools of engagement. She had discovered that truth when she had been hunting him through the forests. “Then we need to gather him in and squeeze him for information. Pull over to that Holiday Inn, and let’s let him find us.”

  “If he wants to find us,” he murmured. “I might have to go find him.”

  “We’ll see.” The gray Mercedes was not coming after them, Catherine noticed. Yes, he was as good as she’d thought. It would have been foolish for him to do anything as obvious as driving into the parking lot. He would come back later, check out their room locations, and perhaps position himself for an attack. “In the meantime, while you check in, I’ll try to verify his license plate.”

  “Probably a rental.”

  “It will be a start.” She got out of the car and glanced at the side mirror. A streak of silver-gray Mercedes shot by the motel entrance. Come a little closer. We’re waiting for you. “Let’s get inside and work on it.”

  * * *

  “EDWARD HUMPHREY.” Catherine looked up as Gallo came in the adjoining door from his bedroom. “Avis Rental. Residence is in Detroit, Michigan. Venable is contacting the FBI and trying to dig deeper. It’s not unusual for a suspect to use the same pseudonym any number of times. There may be a way we can sift it and come up with the right identity.”

  “Or not.” He strolled over to the window and pulled back the drape to look down into the motel parking lot. “It may be better to do a little probing ourselves.”

  “Is he down there yet?”

  “No.” He let the drape fall back in place. “But it’s still early. He may want to give us time to get settled.” He dropped down in the beige easy chair beside the window. “I’ll be the one to go for him. Okay?”

  “No, it’s not okay. How do I know that you’d do a better job than me? We’ll discuss it later.” She wearily rubbed her temple. “But right now, I’m going to take a shower and change my clothes. I still smell of earth and bark and shrubbery.”

  “And rotting leaves.” He smiled slightly. “What a shame. I’ve grown to like it.”

  “Which only proves how weird you are.” She got to her feet and moved toward the bathroom. “Call me if you need me.”

  “Oh, I will. You’ll be the first to know.”

  She inhaled sharply as she looked back over her shoulder. Sensuality. Intense and unexpected. Everything had been pragmatic and commonplace. Yet suddenly there was this searing awareness.

  Don’t address it. Ignore it.

  She quickly closed the bathroom door behind her. Ignore it? Her body was responding the same way it had when she’d watched him wading out of the lake and coming toward her.

  She threw off her clothes and stepped into the warm shower. A few minutes later, she was soaping her hair and body. The clean white tile surrounding her was completely different from the primitive lake and forest. No comparison.

  Except for the way her breasts were swelling as she thought about Gallo. Except for how her skin felt flushed and silky … and ready to touch.

  She had thought that she had overcome the sexual magnetism that had so shaken her. She had coolly separated her emotional and physical feelings from logic, instinct, and reasoning. Had she just been fooling herself?

  No, she wouldn’t accept that she would deceive herself just to get what she wanted. The desire might still be there, but it wasn’t what had caused her to embark on this search for Jacobs.

  But it could get in the way, dammit.

  And Gallo wasn’t going to try to tamp it down or walk away from it.

  She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack.

  That was okay. She’d do whatever she thought was right for her and let Gallo please himself. She was only responsible for her own path. Catherine had never asked anyone for help except Eve. But there had been no question that she would ask Eve to help her find Luke. Her son was Catherine’s life, and she’d been willing to sell her soul to find him.

  And she hadn’t called Luke for the last three days, she realized. It had been toward the end of the hunt, and she’d been completely obsessed with capturing Gallo. Which was another reason why she should distance herself from him. Nothing should keep her concentration from her son. They had not been together for nine years; she owed him all her attention.

  She threw on a pair of black pants and white T-shirt and was tow
eling her hair dry as she opened the door.

  Gallo was still lounging in the easy chair, his legs stretched out before him. “Now you smell of lavender. Pleasant, but I miss the—”

  “Rotten leaves,” she inserted. “I wish I’d never told you about them.”

  “I’m not. It fascinated me learning about Hu Chang and your Hong Kong connection. I studied your dossier before I met you, but it’s the details that create the 3-D image.” He added, “I ordered sandwiches and coffee from room service. Would you like anything else?”

  She shook her head as she took out her phone. “I’ll eat later. I have to call my son.”

  “It’s nearly ten. He won’t be asleep?”

  “He’s a night owl. I don’t try to force him into a neat little cubbyhole. He lived a rough life while he was away from me. I’m just grateful he’s doing as well as he is.” She was dialing as she spoke. “And that he lets me stay in his life.”

  “Would you like me to give you a little privacy?”

  “Why? I’m not ashamed of our relationship. It is what it is. We’re working our way through it.” She spoke into the phone as Luke picked up. “Hi, how are you doing? Are you reading?”

  “No, I was having Kelly teach me about how she does her patterns.” He paused. “I don’t understand it. I don’t think I’m dumb, but she sees things that I don’t see.”

  “You’re not alone. Kelly is extraordinary. Her professors say that she’s another Einstein. She can start at the beginning of a theory or puzzle and forecast exactly where it’s going to go.”

  “I know all that.” Luke’s voice was slow, thoughtful. “But she says that if I go back and tell her all about the years that I was away from you, she’ll draft a pattern that will help me see things clearly.” He added haltingly, “And if I understand it, then I’ll be able to forget it.”

  Catherine had known that Kelly was going to try to help Luke in that way. It was the next best thing to psychological therapy, and Catherine would be eternally grateful if it worked. “Maybe not forget it, but it may help you to let it go. Sometimes, bad things help you to grow, and you wouldn’t want to give up the growth. That would mean you’d gone through it for nothing. I don’t think Kelly would want you to do that. She’s gone through some rough times herself.”

  “She told me her father was murdered. She saw it.”

  “And she’s trying to learn from it. So maybe she’s the right person to talk to you about all of this.” She paused. “Unless you want to talk to me. You know I’m here for you, Luke.”

  “I know.”

  But he still couldn’t talk to her, she thought in pain. No matter how much she loved him, she was part of the problem. She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “How are your studies going?”

  “Okay. I finished Midsummer Night’s Dream. But I didn’t care much for it. I’ve started Julius Caesar, and I understand that better.”

  “Yes, I can see you appreciating Julius Caesar.” Ambition and murder and revenge. Luke would comprehend all of those nuances of character from his own experience. “Midsummer Night’s Dream would have a little too much whimsy for you.”

  “Maybe I’ll go back to it later and read it again if you want me to.”

  “I don’t want you to read it to please me. It doesn’t matter.”

  “I … want to … please you.”

  “That’s good, I want to please you, too. But let’s work on kindness and understanding instead of trying to shape each other’s tastes.”

  “Okay.” Another pause. “Are you … well?”

  “I’m fine. I should be able to get home soon.”

  “I’d like … I know Kelly wants to see you.” He added, “Do you want to talk to her, should I go get her?”

  “No, don’t bother her. Tell her I can’t wait to see her and give her my best. I’ll let you go now. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were all happy. I love you. Good-bye, Luke.”

  “Good-bye.” He hesitated. “I want you to be happy, too, Catherine.” He hung up.

  Someday, he would say he loved her. Someday it would happen.

  “You said you were working your way through it,” Gallo said quietly. “It appears that sometimes it’s straight uphill.”

  “You think that I mind that?” She swallowed hard to rid herself of the tightness of her throat. “We’re doing fine. Do you know what he went through? Every day that Luke was held by that son of a bitch, Rakovac, he was told that I was to blame. Every time he was whipped or thrown into a solitary cell, it was all my fault. It’s a miracle that he managed to realize that I wasn’t to blame. But there have to be residual effects from all that brainwashing. He can’t trust me even if he wants to.”

  “What a bastard,” Gallo said grimly. “He’s dead, I assume?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Slow and painful.”

  “Good, then I won’t have to offer to do it for you.” He was studying her face. “You had to deal with finding him alone? Your husband?”

  “He was murdered the night my son was kidnapped.”

  “So you had to handle it by yourself. You might have had to do that anyway. He was in his sixties, right?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know why people keep bringing that up,” she said impatiently. “Terry was a good man and great father. That’s all that matters.”

  “If that was all that mattered to you.”

  “Venable turned me over to him after I was recruited, and Terry taught me everything he knew about being an agent. We were good together.”

  “As partners or as husband and wife?”

  “Both. I wasn’t some romantic kid who didn’t know what was important. We had a good, solid marriage and had a beautiful child together. I couldn’t ask for anything more.” She defiantly met his gaze. “So it wasn’t anything like what you had with Eve. She said it was crazy and pure sex and nothing else. But in the end, it wasn’t about what you were together, it was about the child you had.”

  “And was that what it was about with you and your husband? Your child, Luke?”

  She was silent a moment. “I don’t know. We were together for such a short time. Terry wanted a child right away, and that was okay with me. But then, after Luke was born, my son was everything. I guess children change everything.”

  “Yes.”

  “You agree with me, but you never knew Bonnie,” she said. “I can’t believe all that ghost business, you know. You had me going for a little while, but I’m too hardheaded to really think that could happen.”

  “Hardheaded.” He repeated the words reflectively. “What would happen if you’d lost your Luke, and he’d suddenly ‘returned’ to you? What if he was so real to you that all your doubts were crashing down around you? Would you reject him? Or would you let down the barriers and invite him back into your world?”

  She shied away from even thinking about Luke taken from her in that most final way. Yet she’d had to face that possibility for the entire nine years of Luke’s captivity. It was clever of Gallo to bring the comparison with Luke into her rejection of the concept of the spirit Bonnie. “I don’t know what I’d do.” No, that wasn’t honest. “I can’t imagine a situation like that, but if it existed, I’d never shut Luke away from me even if it meant being locked up in the booby hatch.”

  “The defense rests.”

  “But the situation doesn’t exist, and what you and Eve are experiencing could be a hallucinogenic product of the emotional trauma that you’ve both suffered. Understandable, but with no basis in reality.”

  “That sounds very slick,” Gallo said. “And not at all in keeping with what I’ve learned about you.”

  “No, I’m not slick.” She wearily shook her head. “The opposite. I’m just trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, and I’m coming up short.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He pulled Jacobs’s Rolodex out of his jacket pocket. “We’ll try to put this puzzle together instead.”

  She came toward him and wa
tched as he flipped the pages of the Rolodex. “Anything?”

  “Nate Queen’s address and phone. Several officers’ names who probably worked at Army Intelligence.” He flipped to the T. “No travel agency. I was hoping to save some time, but no luck. Evidently, he makes his own travel arrangements.” He flipped to C. He gave a low whistle. “An entire list of casinos.” His finger ran down the list. “Las Vegas, San Juan, Lima, Rio, New Orleans, Mobile, Rome, St. Louis, Monte Carlo…” He flipped the page. “And another entire page. Jacobs evidently traveled the world to satisfy his addiction.”

  “Too many choices. No indication where he might have gone? No preferences?”

  Gallo shook his head, still flipping pages. He reached a list of letters with telephone numbers beside them. “M. S. J. N. It seems that he didn’t want to be careless with these particular names.” He handed her the Rolodex. “Why don’t you give these numbers to Venable and see what he can come up with.”

  She nodded and started dialing her phone. “No H for Humphrey.”

  “Surprise. Surprise.” There was a knock on the door, and he stood up and moved to answer it. “That should be our food.” He checked the security view before opening the door. “I can use that coffee…”

  Two hours later, Venable called back, and Catherine scribbled down the information.

  She hung up and turned to Gallo. “He couldn’t trace the S, but they were able to pull up info on the others. Juan Martinez, hit man for the San Juan Mafia, Edward Nixon, no gang association but suspect in three murders in the U.S. and two in London, Randy Jason, former Army Ranger now suspected of two killings for hire in Jacksonville, Florida.”

  “Martinez is Hispanic?”

  She nodded. “And the name Humphrey doesn’t sound in the least Hispanic. It would catch attention and be remembered if Martinez didn’t look the part. So the gray Mercedes is probably Jason or Nixon.”

  “Unless Jacobs found another errand boy.” Gallo went to the window again. “Still no Mercedes. Maybe he’s not ready to move yet.” He turned to face her. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep. I’ll stand watch.”