"What took you so long to call?" she asked. "I thought you were dead."
Daniel gasped. He stared at her, shocked.
"Getting set up. These things take time. I can't be everywhere at once--I had to plant a lot of cameras."
"A call would have been nice."
"I didn't know you guys were going to blow everything." His voice got suddenly much lower. "What did the idiot do? No, don't answer. I don't want him to hear. Just yes or no. Did he call someone?"
"No," she snapped, irritated.
"Wait--the truck is blown... he didn't leave the house, did he?"
She wanted to say, No one told him not to, but Daniel would know they were discussing him. She didn't respond, keeping her eyes straight ahead, though she wanted to sneak a look at Daniel to see if he'd heard any of it.
Kevin sighed. "Not an ounce of common sense."
So many things she wanted to say to that, but she couldn't think of a discreet way to phrase any of them.
He changed the subject. "Arnie... Was it bad?"
"No. He didn't see it coming. He wouldn't have felt anything."
"His real name was Ernesto," Kevin said, but it felt like he was saying it to himself rather than to her. "He was a good partner. We had a good run. A short run, but a good one." He cleared his throat. "Okay, now tell me everything that happened." Then lower: "Except whatever he did to set it off. He's probably traumatized enough."
Alex ran through the events of the evening, keeping it clinical and glossing over the gruesome parts. When she said simply, "I questioned him," Kevin would have a pretty clear picture of what that meant.
"So what happened to your face?"
"He was very flexible. And he had some kind of throwing blade in the lining of his sleeve."
"Hm, that's rough," he said gloomily, and she knew what he was thinking. Facial scars were bad news when you wanted to keep a low profile. They were too easy to remember and recognize. Suddenly the search changed from Have you seen a short, nondescript female, unknown hair length or color, or a man fitting that same description? to Have you seen a person with this scar?
"Well," she concluded, "it appears the people in charge pegged you for the win. I won't pretend I'm not insulted. We'll have to tweak the plan. The bait has to come from you, and it needs to go to the right person. Do you have any idea who that would be yet?"
Kevin was quiet for a minute. "When word gets back to my guy about what happened tonight... well, we might not need the e-mail. He's going to have to talk to your guy about this. I'm ready--I'll see them do it. Then we can decide if we need more."
"Sounds good."
"By the way," he said in his covert voice, "I know you sanitized the story for the kid. I want the whole thing when I see you again."
She rolled her eyes. "Right."
"Look, Ollie, don't let this go to your head, but... you did good. Real good. You saved Danny's life. Thank you."
She was so surprised, it took her a minute to respond. "I think we're quits. Without your dogs or your Batcave, we wouldn't have made it out. So... thank you."
"You could have taken off as soon as you saw that first newscast. You knew they thought you were dead, but you stayed to keep a virtual stranger safe, though I'm sure you'd love nothing better than to be rid of both of us. That's honor, right there. I owe you."
"Mmm," she said noncommittally. They didn't need to discuss everything tonight.
"Let me talk to him before you hang up," Daniel whispered.
"Daniel wants to talk."
"Put him on."
She handed the phone over.
"Kev--"
"Don't beat yourself up, Danny," she heard Kevin tell him. She wondered if Daniel had been able to hear just as clearly.
"Yeah," Daniel responded, morose, "I'm only responsible for getting Arnie murdered tonight, not to mention the dogs. Why should I suffer?"
"Look, what's done is done--"
"Funny, Alex said that, too."
"Poison girl knows the score. This is a new world, kid. It's got a higher body count. Now, I'm not saying that things like this won't affect you. You just can't let them cloud your vision."
Kevin's voice dropped into a lower register, and Alex was glad to know that Daniel probably hadn't been able to make out the quieter part of their conversation. But she also wanted to know what Kevin didn't want her to hear.
"I think so," Daniel said. A pause. "Maybe not... I will. Yes. Okay. What are you going to do about the dogs? We had to leave Khan."
"Yeah." Kevin's voice was back to normal volume. "I love that monster, but he's not exactly travel-size, is he? There's a breeder not too far away that Arnie's worked with in the past. He's more a competitor than a friend, but he knows the value of my dogs. Arnie made a deal with him that if we ever wanted out, we'd sell him our stock. Arnie also sort of implied that we might decide to do that suddenly, without any warning and in the middle of the night. I'll call him and he'll meet up with Animal Control before they do anything stupid."
"Won't the cops wonder--"
"I'll coach him. He'll say Arnie called when he heard shots or something. Don't worry, the dogs will be okay."
Daniel sighed, relieved.
"It does piss me off that he's getting his hands on Khan, free of charge. He's been trying to buy him for years."
"I'm sorry--"
"Seriously, kid, don't sweat it. You don't last in this life by getting attached. I know how to start over. Now, be good and do whatever the Oleander says, okay?"
"Wait, Kev, I had an idea. That's why I wanted to talk to you."
"You've got an idea?"
Alex could hear the skepticism from three feet away.
"Yes, actually. I was thinking about the McKinleys' cabin by the lake."
Kevin was silent for a second. "Um, now's not really the time for a trip down memory lane, kid."
"I'm actually two minutes older than you, kid, which I'm sure you haven't forgotten. And I don't want to reminisce. I was thinking that the McKinleys only ever used the cabin in the winter. And that your CIA people probably wouldn't know that much detail about our childhood. And that I know where Mr. McKinley always kept the key."
"Hey, that's not bad, Danny."
"Thanks."
"That would be about, what? Eighteen hours from the ranch? Just two nights' driving. And that'll bring you closer to my position. Didn't the McKinleys used to keep a Suburban out there?"
"We can't steal their car, Kevin."
In the darkness, though more than a thousand miles apart, Alex felt like she was exchanging a loaded glance with Kevin. And maybe an eye roll--on his part, at least.
"We'll talk about finding a car later. Tell the Oleander to take better care of her face next time. We're going to need it."
"Yes, because I'm sure she so enjoys having people beat it bloody that it will be hard for her to quit."
"Yeah, yeah. Call me if you have any troubles. I'll make contact when I know more about our friends in Washington."
Kevin disconnected. Daniel stared at the phone for a minute before putting it away. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"How are you holding up?" she asked.
"Nothing feels real."
"Let me see your hand."
He stretched his left arm out to her, and she took his hand with her right. His temperature was warmer than hers. She felt his wrist, and the pulse seemed even. The scratches and punctures on his palm were shallow; they'd already stopped bleeding on their own. She glanced over at him and then looked back to the road. It was too dark to be able to assess his coloring with any degree of certainty.
"What was that?" he asked as she released his hand.
"Looking for signs of shock. Do you feel nauseated?"
"No. But then, I kind of feel as if I should, if you know what I mean. Like I will when I can process everything."
"Let me know if you start to feel dizzy, faint, or cold."
"You feel cold. Are you
sure you're not going into shock?"
"Not entirely, I suppose. If I feel dizzy, I'll pull over and you can drive."
He reached over, took her gloved hand off the wheel, and held it loosely, letting their arms dangle in the space between seats. He took another deep breath. "I heard all those shots, so close together, and I thought--"
"I know. Thanks for staying in the car like I asked. It's good to know I can trust you."
He didn't say anything.
"What?" she asked.
"Well, when you put it like that," he said, sounding ashamed, "I don't really want to admit this... but I did get out for a few minutes. I was about to go into the house, but Einstein stopped me. And then I realized that one way or another, things were decided inside, and if they had got you, my best bet to kill the bastards would be from the Humvee. I wasn't going to let them walk away, Alex. Not a chance."
She squeezed his hand lightly.
"Do you remember what Kevin told me before, about visualization?"
She shook her head. It sounded only vaguely familiar.
"We were at the shooting range for the first time, and I said I didn't think I could shoot another person." He laughed a dark little chuckle. "He told me to visualize someone I cared about in danger."
As he spoke, it came back clearly. "Ah."
"Well, I get it now. And he was right. The second I realized someone had killed Arnie and that he was coming for you next..." He shook his head. "I didn't realize I was capable of feeling so... primal."
"I told you that you would get in touch with your instincts," she said lightly. The joking tone, recalled from that day at the range, felt all kinds of wrong the instant the words were out. Her voice was somber when she added, "I wish it hadn't happened like this."
He squeezed her hand this time. "It's going to be okay."
She made an effort to focus. "So, where exactly are we headed?"
"Tallahassee. We did a couple of Christmases there when we were kids. Some family friends kept a place there so they could get out of the snow. They must have liked their privacy, because the cabin is in the middle of nowhere. It's not actually on the lake, but it's swampy, and the mosquitoes will be murder this time of year."
"You should be in real estate. You're sure no one will be there?"
"I haven't seen the McKinleys since my parents' funeral, but they never went south in the summertime during all the years I knew them. It was always just their winter spot."
"Well, we might as well head that way as any other. If that cabin won't work, maybe we can find something else that's empty."
She saw a sign for State Highway 70, heading north.
"We'll have to turn east, go through Oklahoma City, then down through Dallas. It'll be good, if anyone's looking, to be headed back into Texas. Makes us look innocent."
"We only defended ourselves."
"That won't matter. If we got picked up for what just happened, the police would have to take us in. Even if we explained every detail and they believed every word--which is unlikely, to put it mildly--they'd still have to put us in a cell for a while. It wouldn't take long. The people who hired the hit men would have no trouble getting to us in jail. We'd be sitting ducks."
He felt the tremble in her fingers and rubbed his thumb soothingly across the back of her hand.
"So you're saying a crime spree is a bad idea right now?"
She couldn't believe he was the one trying to cheer her up. "Probably," she agreed, "but it might come to that." She glanced down at the gas gauge, then hissed. "This thing is burning through gas like it wants to piss me off."
"What can we do?"
"I'm going to have to go into a gas station, pay with cash."
"But your face."
"There's no help for it. I'll just pretend I was in a car accident... which, actually, is not pretend at all, is it? Anyway, there's nothing else I can do."
The gas-guzzling monster forced Alex to stop much earlier than she would have liked. She followed the signs in Oklahoma City to the airport, guessing that the gas stations around it would be somewhat busy even late at night. Also, if anyone noticed them there, he might assume they were planning to fly out. Any ensuing search would be concentrated on the airport.
She'd had Daniel find her oversize hoodie while she was driving. She slipped into it now, wishing it were cooler out so that she would look more normal. There were two other vehicles--one taxi and one work truck. Both male drivers eyed the Humvee, of course. She moved in her boy-slouch as she got out and stuck the nozzle into the tank. While it was filling, she slouched her way into the store. She grabbed a box of granola bars and a six-pack of bottled water and took them to the fifty-something woman at the counter. The woman had bleached-blond hair with an inch of dark roots, nicotine-stained teeth, and a name tag that said BEVERLY. At first she didn't pay much attention to Alex, just rang up the goods. But then Alex had to speak.
"Pump six," she said in the lowest register that wouldn't sound put on.
Beverly looked up, and her mascara-smeared eyes opened round.
"Aw, sweet hell, honey! What happened to your face?"
"Car accident," Alex muttered.
"Everyone okay?"
"Yeah." Alex looked pointedly down at the cash in her hand, waiting to count it out. From the corner of her eye, she saw the taxi drive away.
"Well, I hope you feel better soon."
"Um, thanks. What's the total?"
"Oh, is this right? Seems high. One-oh-three fifty-five?"
Alex handed Beverly six twenties and waited for the change. Another truck--a big, black F-250--pulled into the pump behind the Humvee. She watched as three tall thin men got out. As two of them walked into the minimart, she revised her assessment. They were very tall teenage boys; half of a basketball team, maybe. Like her, they wore dark hoodies. At least that made her unseasonable getup look more normal.
"That sure is a big truck you got out there," Beverly commented.
"Yeah."
"Must be a pain to keep that thing full."
"Yeah." Alex held her hand out impatiently.
The boys came in, noisy and boisterous. The smell of beer and marijuana drifted in through the door with them. Outside, the work truck pulled out of the lot.
"Oh, here you go," Beverly said, her voice suddenly impersonal. "Sixteen forty-five."
"Thanks."
Beverly was distracted by the newcomers. She stared over Alex's head, her eyes narrowed. The big boys were headed for the liquor aisle. Hopefully they would be a huge pain as they tried to get fake IDs past Beverly. Anything that would make Alex fade in her memory.
Alex headed for the automatic door with her head down. She didn't need more than one witness.
With a thud, her head knocked into the chest of the third boy. The first thing she registered was the smell; his sweatshirt reeked of whiskey. She looked up automatically when he grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Watch yourself, little playa."
He was a thick white kid, not as tall as the others. She tried to shake him off. He held on tighter with one hand, yanking her hood back with the other.
"Hey, it's a girl." Then louder, toward the boys by the refrigerated cases, "Looky what I found."
Alex's voice was ice. She was not in the mood for this nonsense. "Get your hands off me."
"You leave that gal alone or I'm calling the police," Beverly called shrilly. "I've got the phone in my hand."
Alex wanted to scream. This was all she needed.
"Relax, old bag, we got plenty to go around."
The other two, one black, one Hispanic, were already in place to back their friend up. Alex slid a thin syringe from her belt. This wouldn't help her stay under the radar, but she had to put this kid down and get out of here before Beverly called the cops.
"I've dialed the nine and the first one," Beverly warned them. "You all get out now."
Alex tried to yank herself out of the boy's grip, but the grinning idiot had both
hands locked around her upper arms now. She angled the needle.
"Is there a problem, son?"
Nooooo, Alex moaned internally.
"What?" the white kid said aggressively, dropping her and pivoting to face the newcomer. He then took a quick step back, and she had to duck out of his way.
She'd spent so much time around Daniel that she'd forgotten how tall he really was. He had an inch on even the tallest kid, and he stood with wider shoulders and much more assurance. At least he'd put a ball cap on, hiding his hair and shading his face a little. The beginnings of his beard were dark enough to slightly camouflage the contours of his face. That was good. But it was not good that he'd stuck a Glock--in a very obvious way--into the waistband of his jeans.
"No, no problem, man," the black kid said. He grabbed the white kid's shoulder and tugged him back a step.
"Good. Why don't you head on out, then?"
The white kid thrust his chest forward. "When we get what we came for."
Daniel did something different with the way he held his jaw. Alex couldn't quite put her finger on it, but suddenly his face was the opposite of friendly. He leaned in toward the troublemaker.
"Now."
There was no bluster in how he spoke, just absolute authority.
"C'mon," the black kid insisted. He shoved the white kid past Daniel while tugging on the sleeve of the third boy. They walked quickly to the truck, elbowing each other and scuffling a little. Alex kept her back to Beverly, nudging Daniel so he would turn that way, too. The boys got in the truck and the driver punched the gas, swerving around the Humvee with tires squealing.
"Hey, thanks, buddy," Beverly cooed at him. "I appreciate your help."
"Sure thing," he responded, holding one arm out courteously for Alex to exit first.
Alex hurried back to the Humvee. She could feel Daniel close behind her and just hoped he had the sense to keep his head down and not turn around.
"Well, I don't know how that could have gone worse," Alex said disgustedly when they were back on the road. "That woman will remember us for the rest of her natural life."
"Sorry."
"You just had to go in there like some cowboy, with a gun in your pants."
"We do have Texas plates," he pointed out. "And what was I supposed to do? That kid was--"
"Was about to have a violent and prolonged episode of projectile vomiting. It would have incapacitated him totally and perhaps made enough of a mess that Beverly would have forgotten all about me."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh, indeed. I can take care of myself, Daniel."