Not a man moved, including Adam.
Max swung her attention to the wide-eyed soldiers who’d been caught by surprise, their weapons hanging uselessly in their hands. “Drop ’em.”
They checked out the size of her gun, saw the emerald death flashing in her green eyes, and didn’t have to be asked twice. The guns clattered to the floor. Their hands went up and they stood absolutely still.
“Adam, get their guns, please, and the brunette has my phone.”
Adam grabbed up the guns, then took her phone from the man’s pocket.
Once Adam was out of the line of fire, she said to them, “Now, I’m going to ask you two some questions, and before you think you can lie, let me explain something. This gun has a high-tech lie detector built into it and will automatically send you to hell if you tell one.”
Their eyes widened.
Behind her, Max heard the short man in the rumpled suit, scoff, “That’s preposterous—”
Max swung the gun, blasted out a chunk of the wall behind him then swung it back. The man screamed like a little girl. Max growled, “You’ll get your chance to talk next!”
The ashen-faced Oskar slid down what remained of the wall to the plaster-strewn floor.
For the next few minutes Max asked questions and Gibbons and Crane answered. She learned that they, like Pearl, were imposters. They weren’t soldiers, but house painters. They first met Pearl six weeks ago in a Miami bar in response to an ad he’d placed in a third-rate soldier-of-fortune magazine soliciting men wanting action and adventure. He told them that they were going on a secret mission on behalf of the Pentagon and that Dr. Gary was to be taken into custody for offering the prototype to terrorists secretly hiding in the States. During Max’s interrogation their eyes never wavered too far from the muzzle of her big gun. They seemed terrified by the idea of saying the wrong thing and being blown away, and as a result they gave her answers that were clear and succinct.
Max turned her wintry glare to the short man still sitting on the floor. “Name and country of origin,” she snapped.
He hesitated, and Max shot up the wall beside him. He screamed and got on his knees.
“Answer me!”
Cringing and crying, he called out in a frightened voice, “Vlad! Vlad Oskar! Germany! Please don’t shoot me!”
Max’s smile was sinister. “Why are you in this country?” Then she added, “Remember what I said about this gun. Lie, and you die.”
He whimpered in response to that then confessed, “I represent Afrikaners who want to set up their own country.”
“Where?”
“On land taken from the present government.”
“Taken, as in by force?”
He nodded. “They don’t like the evolution of the South Africa their ancestors founded.”
“So they want their own enclave.”
Again he nodded.
Max shook her head. “Do they believe the South African army is going to just let them do this?”
“The group has weapons and pledges of support from military officials in the West. If there is a fight, they believe the present government will eventually capitulate and agree to their demands in order to restore peace.”
“Tell me about this western support.”
“Many of your own generals are not happy with the way your country has evolved, either.”
“Our President, you mean?” Max knew that some Americans refused to accept the reality of the great-grandson of slaves being their duly elected commander in chief, but members of the Pentagon, too?
“Yes.”
“So unhappy they’d risk treason?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Three, as far as I know, but we are gaining new supporters every day.”
Max didn’t like the sound of any of this. Even three rogues was an unacceptable number. “So why go after the prototype?”
“One of our scientists is convinced that in addition to its energy benefits, it can be converted to a powerful weapon. The sales of both would form the basis of the new country’s economy.”
Max had to admit it was a grandiose plan, but it wasn’t going to work, not if she had any say, and from where she stood, her say was all that mattered. She studied him, the fear in his eyes plain.
“What’s Pearl’s real name?” she asked, hoping he was bleeding to death.
Rumpled Suit seemed surprised by the question and again hesitated. Max’s gun blew out a portion of the wall a few inches to the right of his head, then took out the wall to the left. “You don’t want to play chicken with me!” she barked. “His name!”
His eyes were wide as plates. “Jan Kruger!” He was covered with plaster dust, and the wet stain covering the front of his pants revealed just how terrified he’d been by the weapon fire.
“Country of origin?”
“South Africa. He works for the ambassador to the U.S.”
“I want the names of those generals.”
He hesitated only long enough for Max to tighten her grip before firing. Seeing that, and knowing she wouldn’t hesitate to reduce him to plaster, he cringed. “Brunner. Calhoun. Brice.”
“Thank you.”
She glanced around at the rest of them. Each man seemed to be holding his breath. “Adam, are you ready?”
He answered grimly, “Yeah.” He’d never seen anything like the display she’d just put on, and again he was glad she was on his side.
Max hoped Adam now understood why fearing for her safety was unnecessary. She could take care of herself. Carrying the guns that had belonged to Crane and Gibbons, he joined her at the door.
She told the men, “If I were you, I’d stay here until we’re gone. I’d also find another line of work.”
That said, she and Adam departed. As they hastened to the Escalade, Max took a moment to blow out the Hummer’s tires.
Finished and satisfied, she looked to make sure they weren’t being followed when fire exploded in her back and shoulder. The force buckled her. Surprise and confusion filled her face, then she saw the staggering Pearl, gun in hand, poised to fire again. Fury overriding her pain, Max gritted her teeth against the agony and opened fire, hoping to blow him to hell. Blood spewed from his chest and he went down. Apparently they’d had guns stashed away in both rooms because now the others were firing too. Turning on them, she sent lead their way. They ducked back inside the doorway, out of sight, as Adam was yelling, “Max!”
Then he was at her side, helping her to the car and in.
While she rested against the door, each breath seemingly made of fire, Adam was behind the wheel. He roared them away while the shooting furious men did their best to make them stop.
Adam’s adrenaline was pumping overtime. Shocked and shaken, he tried to keep one eye on her and one on the road. He looked for signs that might lead him to a hospital. The dogs were whimpering and crying, and he was so blown away he couldn’t think. He told her this could happen! Told her! Dammit!
Max was having trouble breathing, “Stupid,” she whispered. “I should’ve checked the rooms. Stupid and cocky.”
“I’m taking you to an E.R.”
“No!” she protested. “Portia. Portia.”
“Hospital!”
“Portia’s or so help me I’ll get out and walk.”
Adam sighed with frustration. There was no doubt in his mind that she’d do just that.
“Call her from my phone.”
By now the dogs had jumped into the row of seats behind Adam and Max and were doing their best to see Max for themselves. Max wanted to reassure them, but reaching up sent heat hot as napalm up and down her arm and back. She gritted her teeth. “Don’t worry,” she told them. “Adam will get us to Portia and everything will be fine.”
They whimpered. Ruby threw back her head and her mournful keening filled the interior.
Adam met Max’s sleepy-looking eyes, and she gave him a soft crooked smile, then whispered, “This is what I get
for showing off for the smart cute boy next door.”
He lowered his head, trying to hide his smile, but couldn’t do it. “You’re a mess, do you know that?”
“No other woman like me in the world.”
“You got that right.”
She then asked, “Portia’s?”
“Let me look at the wound first.”
“I’ve been shot before, Adam,” she said sluggishly. “This is bad, but not fatal. I’d know, I think.”
Adam steered the car to the shoulder, got out and ran around to her side. He pulled open the door and she slowly leaned up so he could see. The gray upholstered seat was red with her blood. The thin blouse had been no match for the bullets. The fabric over her shoulder was as torn up as her flesh. It was an ugly wound. He probed it gently, using his medical training in an attempt to determine if she were in mortal danger. “Let’s clean it up, if we can.”
He went around, looked into the cooler built into the well between the backseats and grabbed a bottle of water.
“Lean forward again for me, sweetheart.” He gently poured a slow stream of water over the black-edged wounds, and she sucked in a long breath that let him know how painful the bathing was. “Sorry. I have to clean it.”
“I know.”
He could see how much effort she was using to move and speak, and he wanted to get her to a hospital so bad he could taste it. Using some clean toweling from a roll resting on the backseat, he did his best to mop up her wet back, but stopping the bleeding was a priority. Because he had nothing else on hand, he immediately stripped off his shirt, bunched it up and gently placed the mass against the wound. “Lean back now.”
She did and said, “Hurts like hell, but it feels better.”
“You need to go to the E.R. How far are we from Portia’s?”
“Two hours, tops.”
“You could bleed out by then.”
“Only if we stay here arguing.”
He sighed. Her point taken, he fastened her seat belt, then closed her door. Getting into the driver’s seat, he told the dogs. “Guess we’re going to Portia’s.”
He put the car in gear, merged it back into the evening traffic, and headed south for the drive to Dayton.
Jan Kruger was dying and he knew it. Every inch of his body was in pain. His life’s blood seemed to be pouring from everywhere. Damn that bitch! He could see Oskar and the others standing over him. They were wavering as if they were made from smoke. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. He was supposed to be triumphant and feted for restoring the glory of a new world, not lying on the grounds of a ramshackle motel. He wanted to scream his rage! He wanted to curse that bitch through time! Instead he closed his eyes, thought about his wife and sons, and then the world went black.
Eighteen
Adam got Portia on Max’s phone. He put her on the speaker so he could concentrate on driving. She sounded surprised to hear his voice. “Has something happened to Max?”
“She’s been shot and we’re headed your way.”
“Oh dear. How bad is she?”
“Bleeding pretty bad, and she won’t let me take her to the E.R.”
“That’s because she shouldn’t. Technically, Max doesn’t exist. Unless she’s near death you’re right to bring her here. I’ll have a surgeon ready.”
Adam shook his head. “What do you mean she doesn’t exist?”
“All of her records have been purged. Because of her job, she isn’t registered anywhere anymore. No Social Security number, legal billing address, none of that.”
Adam remembered Pearl mentioning the same thing. At the time, he hadn’t seen that as something he needed to be worried about. Now? “How do I get to you?”
Portia gave him the directions, and he punched the coordinates into the GPS system. Once that was set, he relaxed a bit, safe in the knowledge that he could get where he needed to be so Max could get help.
“Tell me what happened,” Portia said.
Adam told her the story. He began with their capture at the checkpoint and ended with their escape. She asked a few questions to clarify some of the tale, then took down the names of the rogue generals: Brunner. Calhoun. Price.
“I’ll put this on the wire right away,” Portia said. “It shouldn’t take long to get this mess cleaned up now that we have some names. Thank you.”
“I’ll celebrate when I know she’s okay.”
“She alert?”
“Not really. She’s been nodding off and on.”
In truth, Max could hear the entire conversation quite well, but she felt as if she were floating miles and miles away. Getting too close to full awareness unleashed the dragon fire in her upper back and shoulder, so drifting was better.
“How’re the dogs?” Portia asked.
“As worried as I am.”
“Hang in there. You’ll be here shortly. Call back if you need to.”
“Thanks, Portia. I’m looking forward to meeting you.”
“Same here.”
And she was gone.
Adam glanced over at Max. Her eyes were closed but her breathing appeared to be as even as it could be, considering the circumstances. He looked up into the mirror at the dogs and saw that their attention was trained on her. He shook his head. What a crew.
For the next two hours he drove as fast as the early evening traffic would allow. He kept an eye out for Ohio Highway Patrol cars because the last thing he needed was a ticket and to explain Max’s condition. He hadn’t checked the bleeding since giving up his shirt. He didn’t want to take the time to stop.
He finally saw the signs for Dayton and followed the GPS prompts to the suburbs west of the city. After passing them, he found himself driving through farmland down a pitted and rut-filled dirt road that caused Max to moan every time the Escalade rocked. Concerned, he reached over and placed his palm on her forehead. It was dewed with sweat and her skin was hot with fever. He didn’t dare drive faster for fear of causing her more discomfort, so he grimly plowed on. Five miles later he made one last turn and came to a stop before a two-story farmhouse sitting beside a large weathered gray barn. He punched up Portia. “We’re here.”
“Great,” she said, her voice filled with relief.
“Drive into the barn. The back wall will open. Follow the tunnel.”
Adam was confused. During the ride, he’d taken on the habit of talking to the dogs the way Max often did, and he asked them now, “Did she say follow the tunnel? What tunnel?”
Ruby barked excitedly. Ossie, miserable from the ride, looked up once then laid back down.
“Okay,” Adam said, shrugging, and slowly steered over to the barn. The door looked to be made of a corrugated metal. While he waited for whatever might happen next, the barn door began to rise as if it were a window shade. He drove in.
The lighting inside revealed hand tools hanging neatly on the wall. In the corners were heavier equipment like tillers, lawn mowers, and snow blowers.
As he sat there trying to figure out where this tunnel Portia mentioned might be located, the wall in front of them slowly split in half and opened like the doors of an elevator. Before him now stood a metal-clad passage that shone under the bright lights mounted on the walls. “This must be it,” he said aloud, but inside he asked himself, Where the hell am I?
Adam slowly steered down the incline and past the shiny walls. It reminded him of one of the top secret installations in Hollywood movies, but this was real, and so were Max’s injuries.
He gave her another concerned glance, and seeing her lying against the door so silent and still, his heart twisted. He drove another few feet and saw the tunnel end. A middle-aged woman with Hispanic features and long black hair threaded with silver was waiting there. Beside her stood two men and a woman, all of them wearing what appeared to be white medical coats. Propped against the wall was a stretcher.
Filled with relief but still worried about Max, he opened his door and stepped out. The medical people rushed to the passenger
side, and while Adam and the dogs looked on, they helped Max out and gently assisted her into lying down on the stretcher. She opened her eyes, smiled at Adam and whispered, “Thanks for getting us here in one piece. I told you you were a great sidekick.”
He took her hand and gave it a tender squeeze. He placed a kiss on her fevered brow and knew in his bones that he wasn’t going to be okay until she was better. She squeezed his hand back with all the strength of a baby bird, then gave him another smile before they whisked her away. Adam knew he’d take that parting smile to the grave.
“Dr. Gary?”
He’d all but forgotten the presence of the woman he knew by the sound of her voice to be Portia. He shook her outstretched hand. She was very beautiful, but the long scar running from just below one eye to her chin was startling. He forced himself not to stare. “Thanks for your help,” he said genuinely.
“No problem, and don’t worry about my face. The cut draws attention wherever I go, so I’m used to the stares.”
“My apologies.”
She waved him off. “Not necessary.”
She then said to the dogs that had trotted to her side, “Hello, my babies. Dr. Adam got your mama here in one piece. It’s good to see you.” He could see the happiness in their eyes as they jostled to be the one she petted the most. She scratched their necks affectionately. “Jesse and James aren’t here,” she said, “so you’ll have the place all to yourselves.”
They barked. Portia grinned and said, “Dr. Gary, come, let’s get you settled so you can relax.”
He was more than happy to comply. Still looking around in wonder, he followed her and the dogs up a short flight of stairs. To his surprise, they exited inside of a large well-stocked pantry and then stepped out into an even larger kitchen.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
Adam checked out the old-fashioned wooden table in the center of the room and the sleek modern appliances. “I am, but I need to come down for a minute first. Where’d they take Max?”
“We have a small operating theater here.”
Adam found that amazing. “I’m medically trained. I can help.”