Kitty Hawk

by Roland Smith

  The thing at the rest area was like the three-cup magic trick, but it was done with four Tahoes instead of three cups, and sixteen people instead of three balls. Sixteen people had pulled into the rest area, but there were already two people there. Sixteen people left in the four Tahoes, but they weren’t the same sixteen people. They had made a switch.

  I turned again to look at Croc. He was still in the back, but he was no longer looking out the window. He was staring at me, his weird blue eye drilling into me like he was reading my mind. Behind him the road was black. No sign of the eighteenwheeler Croc had been barking at. I hadn’t thought to look at the side of the truck, but I was certain there was a giant red crab on it with The Maryland Fish Company below.

  The itch was gone.

  Malak and Bethany were behind us.

  Left Turn

  The semi-trailer smelled like old fish and rattled like a thunderclap with no end.

  When they were switched to the semi at the rest area, Malak thought about shooting Scuffed Boots and his partner, ending the operation right there. But she thought better of it when she saw how gently Scuffed Boots handled the yogabreathing Bethany Culpepper. He picked her up, still wrapped in the tarp, and laid her in the back of the truck as if he was afraid to wake her.

  “You’re supposed to ride back here,” he said apologetically and with a certain amount of fear. The deference and fear didn’t surprise Malak. She had grown to expect this from people who learned she was Anmar, the Leopard.

  Like she had with Willing and Able, she wanted to ask him where he was taking them, but didn’t because that would show weakness. It would tell him that she didn’t know where they were going, and this would tell him that she wasn’t in the upper echelon of the cell.

  “I know exactly where we are supposed to be,” she said. “And we’re behind schedule.”

  “I’ll need that disposable cell back,” he said.

  She tossed it to him without complaint, happy he hadn’t asked her for her gun. She climbed into the back. Scuff Boots closed her and Bethany into the pitch-dark metal box. She waited until they were moving before she uncovered Bethany and removed the hood.

  “Are you okay?” She had to raise her voice to be heard above the thunderous rattle.

  Bethany sat up.

  “That yoga breath works pretty good,” Malak said.

  “I’ll give you a lesson when this is all over.”

  “I could use it,” Malak said, hoping they were both still breathing when this was all over.

  “Where are we?” Bethany asked.

  “We’re in the back of a semi-truck.”

  “I know we’re in a truck,” Bethany said. “What I want to know is where we are geographically.”

  “I’m sorry,” Malak said. “I think we’re heading south on I-95 toward the North Carolina border.”

  “What do you mean you think?”

  Malak could hear the panic in her voice. She found Bethany’s hand and began to brief the president’s daughter. She told her about the discovery of her identical twin sister and her sister’s death at Independence Hall. She told her about the ghost cell and becoming Anmar, the Leopard. She told her about her kidnapping and the SOS team. When she finished, Bethany lay completely still. Malak couldn’t tell if she had heard her or not. She couldn’t see her. She couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face. The only visible light was from the luminous hands of her Seamaster watch. She wished now that she hadn’t taken out the tracking device J.R. had put in it. She pulled Q’s iPhone out of her pocket and hit the wake button. Nothing happened. She hit again. The screen was as black as the inside of the truck. The phone would have given them a little light, but more importantly it was their only tie to the SOS team. She doubted the team had caught the switch at the rest area. Not keeping the disposable cell phone had been a terrible mistake. The Leopard could not afford to make mistakes.

  Bethany finally spoke, but her words were lost in the noise of the trailer. Malak leaned in closer. “I didn’t hear.”

  “You’ve sacrificed so much,” Bethany repeated, squeezing her hand.

  Malak closed her eyes, happy for the dark now, so Bethany could not see her trying to hold back tears. She had sacrificed a lot the past four years. Seeing Angela in Philadelphia and D.C. had reminded her just how much this fight had cost her. If she didn’t discover the leader of the ghost cell and take him out, it would all have been for nothing.

  “I’m sorry you’re involved in this,” Malak said.

  “I probably wouldn’t have volunteered for it,” Bethany said. “And my dad would have never allowed it, even if I was crazy enough to say I’d do it. But now that I’m here I’m …”

  The vehicle slowed. They grabbed on to each other to stop themselves from slipping across the wooden floor. The truck came to a stop, swung to the left, then accelerated again.

  “We’ve left the interstate,” Malak said. “We’re heading west.”

  Incognito

  The last time I’d been to a hospital Angela had shattered someone’s knee and cracked Eben Lavi’s tooth with two strategically placed tae kwon do kicks. I was hoping she’d keep her feet to herself this time, because Eben had paid her back by sticking a knife in my neck. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. I was also hoping that my dad would drop me off at the entrance and continue his trip down to the Florida Keys without looking back. No such luck. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, he spotted the coach and made a beeline for it.

  “They’re not in the coach,” I said. “They’re in the hospital. You can just drop me out front.”

  “I’m not going to just dump you off like your worthless roadie did, man. If he’s not in the coach, I’ll go inside the hospital with you to find him. Is what’s-his-name’s daughter traveling with you?”

  I’d already told him that she was and if he knew what’s-his-name had a daughter, then he knew what’s-his-name was Roger Tucker, and probably everything else about him, and Mom, and the band, and how their album was doing on Billboard.

  “Angela,” I said. “She’s with us.”

  He parked the Hummer in front of the coach. “How’s that going, man?” he asked.

  “How’s what going?”

  “The daughter, man. What’s she like?”

  I wanted to tell him that she could kick his teeth out and that her mother was a notorious terrorist.

  “She’s okay,” I said. “We get along.” I didn’t want to tell him that I actually liked Angela quite a bit. That what we had been through together in the last few days had made us more than brother and sister. That I’d do anything for her and thought she’d do anything for me.

  “That’s cool,” he said, and shut the engine off. He looked at the coach through the window.

  The coach was dark. The wind was blowing. It was raining.

  “See if they’re in there,” he said.

  “They aren’t. Boone’s checking on the drivers.”

  “Just check, man. You gotta key?”

  “There’s a spare in a hide-a-key in the wheel well.”

  I opened the door. Croc was over the front seat and out before I could take my hand off the handle. I thought about how he had caught up to me on the overpass. I guess he was quicker and more agile than he looked.

  “I’ll wait here,” Dad said, ridiculously.

  Of course you’re going to wait here. It’s raining. You have ombrophobia. Which is going to work to my advantage. Shouldn’t be too hard to ditch someone who can’t go outside. But not yet and not here. We aren’t going anywhere with the Hummer parked next to the coach. The ditching will have to take place somewhere else.

  I jumped out. Croc wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  He’s probably looking for a good tire to pee on. He’ll show up at the right place at the right time, like Boone always does. That’s one thing they have in common. That and their uncanny ability to sniff out terrorists. How’d Croc know that Malak and Bethany were in the fish truck going s
eventy miles an hour? How’d I know that? Did I know that? I mean, did I really know they were inside? Maybe Boone and Croc have itches too. Croc’s always scratching himself. How am I going to explain the itch to Boone? He’ll think I’m crazy. He’ll…

  “Stop!” I yelled, and nearly grabbed my head to still my thoughts.

  I didn’t have time for a brain race. I needed to ditch my dad. We needed to get back on the road and find that truck. I hurried over to the coach door. It was locked. I knocked to make it look good in case my dad was watching, which I was sure he was. No one answered. Big surprise. I thought about grabbing the spare key and looking inside, but what was the point? I jogged back to the Hummer and opened the passenger door.

  “They aren’t there,” I shouted above the wind. “I’ll just run over to the hospital. Great seeing you.”

  “I’ll drive you,” he said. “Hop in.”

  It would take me twice as long to argue with him than it would for him to drive me the two hundred feet to the entrance. I hopped in. But he didn’t drive to the entrance. He drove into a parking structure. It took us forever to find a spot because the Hummer was so big.

  We got out, walked into the hospital, and began winding our way down long hallways and steep stairways. There weren’t too many people around this time of night. Most of them were sleepy-looking nurses, doctors, and technicians wearing pink, blue, or green scrubs. Not surprisingly, we got some double takes as we made our way, but no one stopped us or said anything. I got the feeling that Dad was a little disappointed by this. He wasn’t exactly trying to hide who he was as he clacked down the hallways in his ten-thousanddollar snakeskin cowboy boots. His hair was halfway down his back, highlighted with red and gold streaks and carefully placed exotic bird feathers. I hadn’t noticed it in the Hummer, but he was wearing about eighteen pounds of gold around his neck and a diamond in his ear big enough to buy a hospital wing. Couple this with his thousand-dollar pair of jeans, professionally ripped and torn in all the right places, and his orange silk T-shirt, he was the exact opposite of incognito. He looked like he was back stage at a sold-out arena waiting to make his guitar sing for his screaming fans.

  We finally found our way down to admissions. Angela was sitting in the waiting room with her ratty pack, which looked like it was ready to burst at the seams. What did she have in there?

  Dad gave her a big capped-toothed white smile. She returned it and put out her hand. Dad sidestepped the hand and moved in for a big hug. She was startled. I should have warned her that he was a serial hugger, although he hadn’t hugged me when I got into the Hummer, but that was probably because I was wet.

  He broke off and looked at her. “I’m Speed Paulsen.”

  “I can see that,” Angela said.

  Everybody could see it. And I suddenly knew how I was going to ditch him. I was going to use the one thing he craved more than junk food.

  He looked around the waiting room. We were the only people there.

  “Where’s Boone?” he asked.

  “He’s checking on the drivers,” Angela answered without missing a beat.

  “At this time of night? Kind of late for visiting hours.”

  There was a definite pause after this question. An uncomfortably long beat with Angela just staring at him. I jumped in.

  “He’s probably talking to the doctor, trying to figure out when they’re getting out.”

  Dad nodded as if that was reasonable, then looked back at Angela. “Bad accident?”

  “I guess. I mean, the drivers are in the hospital.”

  “When did it happen?”

  “This afternoon.” Angela glanced at the clock on the wall. It was a little after 3:00 a.m., and corrected herself. “I mean yesterday afternoon.”

  “Where?”

  “South of here on I-95. I guess the trailer and all the equipment is okay, but the tractor is a wreck. Boone has another tractor on the way, but it won’t be here for a couple hours.”

  Dad’s cell phone rang. The ringtone was one of his most famous guitar riffs. He pulled it out, looked at the screen, and frowned. “I better get this.” He walked over to the farthest corner of the waiting room.

  “Where’s Boone?” I asked quietly.

  Angela shook her head. “I don’t know. He had me grab a bunch of stuff from the coach and told me to meet you in here. We’re supposed to meet him out front as soon as we get rid of your dad.”

  That explained the bursting pack. But why not leave the stuff in the coach?

  “I don’t know about getting rid of him,” I said. “But I think I have a way of distracting him long enough for us to sneak out of here.” I looked over at Speed. He was still on the phone. “If he comes back before I get back, tell him I went to the restroom.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to get him a cheeseburger.”

  “I doubt the cafeteria is open this time of morning.”

  “It’s not that kind of cheeseburger.”

  I left her there with her mouth open and walked out to the admissions area. The woman in pink scrubs sitting behind the admissions counter was one of the many who had given us the eyeball as we walked past. She wasn’t alone. She was talking to a man and another woman, both in scrubs, and all three of them looked at me when I came out. I gave them a friendly smile and a nod, then wandered over to the front doors as if I were checking out the storm. I stretched my arms as if I were stiff, then wandered over to them.

  “Heck of a storm,” I said.

  “The worst has passed,” the man said. His name badge said Dan. “It’s been downgraded from a hurricane to a tropical storm. There’s been some damage on the Outer Banks to the west of us, but nothing too serious.” He waved his hand at the empty admissions area. “As you can see, if it was really bad out there we’d have a full house.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I said.

  “What brings you in?” the woman behind the counter asked. Her name badge said Betty. “Is someone you know here?”

  I gave her a sheepish smile. “Actually no. My dad and I were heading down to Florida. He got a little sleepy and wanted to get out and stretch his legs and wake up a little bit. Everything else was closed so we pulled in here. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Better than nodding off and getting into an accident,” the second woman, Mary, said.

  “We call that preventative medicine,” Dan said.

  They all laughed.

  “I noticed your dad when you walked by,” Betty said.

  “He’s kind of hard not to notice,” I said.

  This got another laugh.

  “He kind of looks like Speed Paulsen,” Betty said.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” I said. “Because he is Speed Paulsen.”

  “I knew it!” Betty said.

  “He thought it was a little weird that no one said anything to him,” I said.

  “We like to give people their privacy,” Mary said.

  “If someone was visiting a loved one, that makes sense,” I said. “But Dad and I are just here to wake up and get out of the rain. Dad’s just the opposite of private.”

  “It must be interesting to have Speed Paulsen as a dad.”

  “It’s more than interesting,” I said.

  “I’m a huge fan,” Dan said. “I have every one of his albums on my iPod. I listen to him all the time.”

  “You should go in and tell him. He loves meeting fans and talking to them. I’m sure he’d sign an autograph for you, or for anyone else that wants one. He didn’t come in here incognito. In fact, talking to him might help him wake up.” I looked at my watch. “We probably won’t be here too long, so if you want to say hello …”

  “Does he drink coffee?” Betty asked.

  “Are you kidding? Dad loves coffee.”

  “Lattes?” Betty asked.

  “You have a latte maker?”

  “The doctors do, up on the second floor. I’ll order one right up. I bet he has some fans up
there too.”

  “That would be great,” I said. I had no idea if Dad liked lattes or not. Betty picked up the phone.

  I turned to Dan and Mary. “Do you want to meet my dad?”

  They did. I led them into the waiting room. Dad had finished his call and was standing next to Angela. It was time to see how serious he was about his alone time. Time to see if Dad was hungry.

  “I have a couple of people that want to meet you,” I said.

  Dad’s eyes lit up. His smile broadened. He stepped forward and gave Dan, then Mary hugs. Mary’s hug was a lot longer than Dan’s.

  “I love your music,” Dan said.

  “And I love you for saying that, man.”

  Another hug for Dan. Four more scrub-clad hospital workers came in. A couple of minutes later, Betty joined them, carrying the latte like a golden goblet, followed by a half dozen more scrubs. My dad took the paper cup and thanked her by kissing her on the lips.

  The only thing my dad likes more than junk food is attention. Pink, blue, green—a feast of fans were pouring into the room, making me wonder who was looking after the patients. It was MacPeople time.

  I motioned to Angela to get her things. Dad had finished hugging and kissing the first course and had started telling a road-tour story I’d heard a hundred times before. Angela and I backed our way out of the crowd. I looked back as we squeezed through the jammed doorway. Dad wasn’t paying any attention to us. He looked like he was enjoying himself. He was the brightest flower in the center of a pastel bouquet of scrubs.

  Old Dog, New Tricks

  “Cheeseburger, huh?” Angela said as we stepped outside.

  “More like a people burger. And we need to get out of here before the restaurant closes.”

  The coach was easy to spot in the windblown parking lot. It hadn’t moved. The windows were still dark.

  “What’s your dad doing here?”

  “He followed us from D.C. He’s on his way to Florida. Let’s head over to the coach.” I stepped off the curb.