by R. T. Wolfe
Samuel leaned in toward Jess and started whispering again. They'd been doing a lot of that. Jess cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Nickie, Duncan. You might want to rethink some of this."
Duncan nodded and kept his eyes on Jess. Samuel pulled a folded paper from his pocket. Nickie recognized that paper. It was the one the big dudes handed him last night on the mountain. He held it out for Duncan.
He took it and opened it slowly. It was bad. She could tell by the look on his face. Really bad. Nickie did everything she could not to rip it from his hands. This patience thing was for the birds. After the longest damned time, he turned it for the group to see. Some words were at the top. She didn't need to be able to read what they said. It was a frigging wanted poster, and Duncan's picture was in the center.
"How much is 750,000 pesos?" she asked.
"About forty grand American," Samuel answered.
"So, you can't be seen," Nickie snapped. "No shopping with the doc. You have to stay hidden." Why didn't the men on the mountain take Duncan then and there last night? Forty grand. That must be three lifetimes worth of money for them. Duncan was right. Samuel was a key player in all of this.
"Or maybe come back with me to the States. It's saf—smarter," she said.
"Thank you, Samuel," Jess said. "This is very helpful."
"You're a good man." Duncan understood the magnitude of what Samuel had done too.
"I leave tonight to work the operation stateside. Gloria's son and Duncan's uncle arrive in six days to help with manpower." More like because they had browbeat, threatened and insisted their way into all of it. "There are three phases to this plan. Phase one, Gloria gets into Fu Haizi as a buyer and keeps the attention of key Fu Haizi players as—" She held up her thumb. "Duncan plants... distractions and—" Keeping her thumb up, she added her pointing finger. "Andy hacks the database—" She added a third finger. "And the doc prepares his piece in this. Phase two, the distractions are ignited. Andy gathers the rest of the records as Byrd finishes his prep work. Final phase, the doc dismantles the compound and Duncan, Nathan and Gil save all the children." She took a look around and realized she was the only one who carried doubts. These people believed in her, even though she would be in Vegas when all of this happened.
She turned to face Jess. "Which brings me to your question. Obviously, much of this is covert. Although we will gratefully accept and appreciate your hospitality, we are going to also find a remote location to complete some parts of the operation I... we refuse to involve you with."
"I agree, but you need a better code word for explosives than distraction."
She grinned. "Understood."
* * *
"Have you slept since yesterday, son?" Dr. Byrd asked Duncan.
"No, and calling me son will not help with an amicable partnership." Duncan stood next to the doctor at the end of the drive that led to and from the safe house. It was where Duncan requested pickup from the cab company Jess had recommended to him. Jess also gave him the address of a motel he knew was safe and in a tourist area of the city.
"Right-o," Byrd said.
Children who should be in school ran between the corrugated metal rooms that doubled as entire homes for their families. They wore sweatshirts and sweatpants, but their feet were bare. One stopped to stare at the two white men who stood at the edge of the road as if they were lost. He was a boy about eleven years old. His shirt read, Kiss Me. I'm Greek. Duncan winked, and the boy smiled and ran away.
"So, you keep a low profile, Duncan." The doctor enunciated Duncan's name, then laughed as if that was funny. "That's quite a ransom you have on your head. Here is my list."
He handed over a handwritten, laminated index card. Duncan took the time to memorize it before handing it back to him.
"Oh no, no, no," Byrd said and held up a hand without taking the card. He stuck his hand in his pocket, then pulled out another laminated list. "I have my own."
Duncan's nostrils flared. "If one of those were to become misplaced, it could cause a national emergency."
"Oh." The smile faded from Byrd's face. "I can see what you mean."
Had he truly not thought of this before? The doctor stuck his hand back in his pocket just as the cab arrived. He pulled out a pile of matching, laminated index cards. Duncan rubbed his hand over his face, and then opened the door to the back of the cab.
"Hola," Duncan said to the driver. There was no barrier between the front and back bucket seats, so he held a hand over the seat. The driver took it and began the same complicated shake Duncan had witnessed between the men on the mountain and Samuel. He remembered it, of course, and returned the gesture.
Duncan handed the man a paper with their first location written on it. Lines formed on the driver's forehead, but he nodded and took the paper.
The car reminded Duncan of Samuel's VW van. Old and worn, yet tidy. It was cleaner than any New York City or L.A. cab he had been in. "Gracias, amigo," Duncan said to the man.
As they pulled away, Duncan held out his hand with his palm up and said to the doctor, "It would be best if you handed each of the cards to me. I will store them in my money belt. It is quite secure." Or he would throw them away in the first garbage can he found.
"I am thinking a few pieces at each store." Byrd winked at Duncan as if the driver couldn't see them in his rearview mirror. This was going to be a long day.
The landscape changed as they drove. Downtown Lima was waterfront to the Pacific Ocean. Tall buildings, restaurants with valet parking and people who filled every corner. This was definitely not the casino strip Gloria would need to infiltrate.
The first place they came to was a common drugstore. On a side road, it nestled between a hairstyling business and a coffee shop.
"Ah, yes, the basics. This is good." Byrd bounced.
Duncan needed a few personal items as well as the ones for Byrd's device. He considered dying his hair, since he was a wanted man.
"Stay close," Duncan said to him. The prospect of losing the man was better than if he'd brought the child with the Kiss Me sweatshirt.
Chapter 23
Nickie stood in the center of the motel room. It was accessible from the ground floor. The car could back right up to the door. Jess had given her the names and addresses of three motels that he considered safe. She chose the one that seemed the most under the radar. The desk clerk spoke decent English. Nickie booked it for ten days, no housekeeping needed.
For the next several days, this would be home for Duncan, Andy and Dr. Byrd. They had work to do here, things to build.
She hadn't slept in going on forty-eight hours. When Fu Haizi was finally dismantled and her parents and Jun Zheng in prison, she was never going to miss a night of sleep again as long as she lived. If everything went to hell and she ended up six feet under, her sleeping problems would be solved regardless. Six more hours before her flight back to the States.
She eyed the beds. The room had two along with a pullout sofa. Very American. There were several nice hotels in this city. This was not one of them. It was clean but worn. It reminded her of Samuel's van.
She would just pull back the comforter and rest her eyes for one short minute. Reaching for the one on the bed closest to the door, she heard his voice. She would be able to pick it out in any crowd. Instead of pulling back the comforter, she turned and pulled back the blinds. He carried a small box in one arm and two bags in the other. The doc dragged his feet and reached for the door with his free hand.
She opened the door wide and used the chair as a doorstop. The doc wasn't nearly as spunky as usual, and although that was probably a bad thing, she looked on the bright side. Silence.
"There you are," Duncan said to her after he paid and thanked the driver.
He passed through the door, blowing the scent of his barely there cologne and male shampoo over her. It was a much-needed reminder of home amid the uncertainty.
"Is this it?" she asked. "I expected more bags."
"This was trip n
umber one. Purchasing all of the materials at once for an EMP would bring unwanted attention." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him. PDA was not generally her thing, but she was leaving in a few hours and appreciated that he could read her need. "I stayed in the cab. I am a wanted man, you know."
She pushed him away. "That's not funny. What about the cab driver? Cabbies would be the first to know about wanted men."
He pulled her back and clamped his arms around her. "The driver was a friend of Samuel's."
"He seems to have a lot of connections."
"Indeed."
"What does EMP mean anyway? I get the zing and the woosh and then the nothing, but not how that works without killing everyone in radius."
"Electromagnetic pulse," the doc said from the doorstop/chair. He didn't seem to be sleepy now that the bags were all in. "Is a transient electromagnetic disturbance. A short burst of electromagnetic energy."
Duncan let go of her to drag the doc's seat away from the door, letting it shut.
Doc didn't seem to notice the hostility, scooted his butt to the front of the seat and kept right on talking. "Although it may be a natural occurrence, in this case, the origination of the pulse will be a man-made, radiated electric current." Oh yeah, he was awake now and talking with his hands.
"If large enough, the electromagnetic pulse interference, or EMP, will not only damage any and all electronic equipment in the radius of the pulse, but can damage buildings and aircraft structures." Byrd rubbed his hands together and spoke faster and faster. "The type of energy along with the range and spectrum of frequencies present can be manipulated regarding the materials and creation of the device. Shape, duration and amplitude, each is a product of development and interrelated depending on the Fourier transform." He shook his head. "It's basically two different ways of describing the same pulse." He snorted. The doc snorted. "These devices can be nuclear or non-nuclear." He held up his hands, palms out as if he were offering a compromise. "Ours will be non-nuclear, of course. Non-nuclear."
She looked at the pitiful box and bags and said, "So, you have a lot of shopping trips left."
Duncan grinned. "My wife is succinct."
"Indeed we do, Detective. Duncan here thinks we need to shop at a minimum of six separate stores using six separate cabs."
"Okay." She faced her fate and turned to Duncan. "This is goodbye for now."
He looked at her and lifted a brow. "Absolutely not. I will be taking you to the airport. I will pick you up at ten. That should leave us plenty of time for your twelve thirty flight."
Why did this bring her such joy?
* * *
It was after ten. Duncan had the cabbie pull all the way up to the safe house this time. "We'll be right out," he said. The driver must have understood his meaning. He nodded and shifted the car into park.
The house was quiet. His Nickie waited just inside the door. Her hair and makeup were done, but it could not hide the loss of color in her face or the dark rings beneath her eyes. She was the most magnificent, beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.
Her bottom lip. There was a time he considered it too large for the upper. His mind was shallow then, his interests more into L.A. and painting for politicians or Oscar Award winners than it was in helping others.
Her perfect lips opened as if she was going to speak, then she simply stepped to him and reached an arm toward his ear. She took hold of a lock of his hair and twirled it in her fingers. "This is interesting. You look older."
"Gray does that," he said and kissed her on the forehead. "I dyed it between trips to tradesman stores. I think the doctor fell asleep before his head hit the pillow. I don't want you to be late. Do you need to say your goodbyes?"
She shook her head. "Already done. Everyone is sleeping. It's been a big day."
Peru was only an hour behind Northridge, yet between the plane ride, adrenaline and mission, people could only take so much. "For you as well."
"I'll sleep on the plane."
"No, you won't." Not unless it was on the sofa affixed to the center of his private plane.
She took his hands and laced their fingers together. "There will be time for sleep later." She smiled as if she thought of a joke, but then decided against sharing it.
Turning to her luggage, he said, "Shall we?"
She nodded. They may have ridden in silence, and she may have looked out the window as they drove in the dark, but her grasp on his hand was tight. It was much the same for him. "This is the right thing to do," he said as they approached the exit to the airport. He wasn't sure if he tried to convince her or himself.
"I know." Her voice was without inflection.
"And we are sure this is right?"
Her chin still faced the window, but he could see as her lids closed before she answered. "Yes."
She would go to the States and coordinate with Special Agent Hurst. Duncan suspected he was already angry with Nickie that she had been inaccessible for the past forty-eight hours. It wasn't as if she was going to tell him where she was headed or what she was doing in the midst of the national operation she requisitioned.
"I won't let you down," he said. This caused her to turn to him and squint.
She glanced toward the cab driver. "Pull over here, please," she said.
He did. Duncan tried to come around and open her door, but by the time he motioned for the driver to wait once again, she'd already gotten out and had her luggage in her hand.
"You never let me down," she said. Her chin stood tall, her shoulders back. Her eyelids closed halfway as they did when she closed off her feelings and relied upon her autopilot. "I love you, and for whatever reason, you love me back. I want to get this over with. I'm tired, Duncan. I want to be normal. A wife. A mother. I want our own little Ariel someday."
"About tha—"
She put her fingers on his lips. "I can't. Please. Let me walk away now while I can still make my legs leave you."
She squeezed the tips of his fingers, and his Nickie walked into the sliding airport door.
* * *
Even though Hurst yelled on the other end of the phone, Nickie had a hard time hearing him. Someday rental cars would come with built-in hands-free devices. Until then, her phone sat on the dash with the speaker on. "Hold on, I can't hear you."
Pressing the mute button, she turned to Slippery Jimbo. "And you can't hear a thing. Got that?"
He drew a pretend line across his mouth. "My lips are taped, man."
"Ears, Jimbo. You don't listen with your lips, and it's sealed, not taped." She couldn't believe she let herself get caught up in this conversation with him.
She turned off the air conditioner and the fan. There. No background noise. "Okay, go ahead." Go ahead and yell as she sweated in a hot car in Nevada with the windows up.
"Are you in or not? You make demands, then disappear. I'm starting to get questions about the prisoner." Hurst turned out to be a loud yeller.
"I'm on my way to him right now. I'll meet you at the Lyonses' home in Vegas tomorrow noon. Slippery Jimbo is with me."
"I want an update on Parker's condition. I want you at the Vegas location by twelve o'clock and the Daytona location the day after tomorrow."
Now might not be a good time to mention the grave sites, but Nickie didn't do wait-for-a-good-time well. "Will do, boss. And the Upstate New York grave site search is scheduled for tomorrow?"
Silence. That was okay. She was patient. Sometimes.
"If." He emphasized the word. It was ridiculous. "You show up in Vegas with an update on the prisoner. And a picture. I want a picture of him safe and sound."
"Oh, good grief."
"Sah-weet," Jimbo said from the passenger seat. She punched him in the shoulder with a single knuckle.
"Ow," Jimbo said.
The second Hurst disconnected, Nickie rolled down the windows and turned the air on full blast. She turned onto the driveway on the side of the Henderson location.
Nickie
heard voices. "Shh," she said to Jimbo, and stopped the car. Shit. She'd just told Hurst she had everything under control. Tire tracks had matted down the weeds in the drive. She didn't like that. It looked inhabited. And there were voices. "Shh," she said again as she listened.
Shifting into park, she cut the engine. Here would have to do. Holding up a finger, she said, "Wait here," and opened the door. She got out and pressed it closed again.
Two males. The voices came from the back. Setting one foot in the gravel, then the other, she placed her hand on the butt of her gun. As she reached the corner to the back of the house, she peered around enough for a single eye to see what the freaking hell was going on.
Eddy sat in shorts on a vinyl reclining lawn chair with his feet up. A boy stood next to him, shooting the shit like they were friends. "Where the hell is Park—" she started as she rounded the corner. "Our friend? Where the hell is our friend, and who the hell is this?"
"That would be her," Eddy said to the boy as she marched toward the two of them.
Chapter 24
Was Eddy giving away the location to everyone now? "This would be who?" Nickie asked.
"Detective Nickie Savage, this is..." Eddy gestured to the boy to answer in a way that said he had no idea who the boy was.
The kid said, "Blake." Dirty jeans hung from his bony hips. His shirt had a ring of sweat around the neck and under the pits.
She took a cleansing breath.
"They keep coming, Nick." Eddy crossed one foot over the other. "Say they want to talk to the cop who can hook them up in a safe place."
"Your name is Blake." She didn't know what else to say. This wasn't her jurisdiction. She had a hard enough time finding a place for Jonathan Cleary. Harder yet for the Sylvia girl.
