by Abbott, Jeff
‘That’s way too much missing,’ Luke said. He was fourteen and easily mortified in public by parental affection. He wanted to get back to the car, crack open his computer game, finish the level he was on. He let his impatience show with a sigh, an eye roll.
‘When you have a kid, you’ll understand what it is to miss someone each moment.’
‘You’ll be relieved to know I just got a girl pregnant.’
‘Ha, ha.’ His father said, then looked at him with mock surprise.
‘Kidding,’ Luke said. ‘Two girls.’
‘Funny man.’ His father kissed the top of his head. ‘Be a good boy. I got to go catch up with the others.’ Then a quick, firm kiss for his mother, and his father had gone. Walking away, with his fellow professors, for a fishing trip in North Carolina. Gone forever. Luke did not even get to see him in the coffin. The Atlantic had hoarded his father’s body in its gray clutches. He had walked on the beach closest to where the plane had gone down, wondering if he could hear his father’s gentle baritone in the crash of the surf. It had been a crazy thought, but after the long darkness of his grief and the long weeks wandering the roads as a runaway, being close to where his father died had been a strange comfort.
His father had become a regrettable haze, defined by only a few sharp memories - swimming at home in suburban Virginia, walking on the Georgetown campus to his father’s office, enjoying a Redskins game when Luke was five, hoisting Luke on his shoulders, a finger moving across the night tapestry, naming every star in the constellations. That light, Dad said in his quiet voice, it’s taken lifetimes to reach us. Starlight is long-term. Big picture. Always remember long-term and big picture, Luke.
He needed his father’s advice now. He knew he was facing a crossroads in his life.
Luke parked the BMW Henry had bought him as a graduation gift in the short-term parking lot. On the passenger side, Henry huffed out of the car. His appointments had run long and they were running late. Luke pulled Henry’s small bag from the trunk of his car.
‘I put a copy of my latest report in your bag, and a copy of the current database,’ Luke said. ‘You can scare your fellow passengers by reading the report aloud. Fun for everyone.’
‘What did you call it?’ Henry gave him a smile as they boarded the parking garage elevator.
‘A Drive Down the Night Road.’
‘It sounds like a bad heavy rock album.’
‘Yes, but the subtitle’s pure jazz: A Continuing Analysis of Extremists on the Internet.’
Henry laughed. ‘Thanks for all your work on this, Luke. Seeing you was the best part of my trip; trying to convince my fellow academics about the threats we face was much less fun.’
‘Your peers won’t listen to you?’
‘I believe huge attacks are coming. But they’re treating me like I’m saying the sky is falling.’ Henry couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. They walked toward the main terminal of the Austin airport; the spring breeze was cool but the sunshine was bright and hard against their eyes. ‘So. What about the job offer?’
‘If I take it, then my job is now to officially … think. Mom would be amused.’
‘Your mother would have been incredibly proud of you.’ Silence then, for always about ten seconds, when they both spoke of Luke’s mother. ‘Proud of us working together.’ They waited for a security officer to wave them across the walkway, stopping traffic with a gesture. Henry gave the officer a polite nod.
‘I’m not sure this is going to put my psychology degree to real use. But playing tag with the crazies is slightly addictive.’
‘Danger is addictive,’ Henry said. Luke thought Henry’s sense of danger was probably double-parking or placing a five-dollar bet at a casino. ‘But what your research is, Luke, is important.’ Henry stopped in front of the terminal. His sharp-planed face made a frown. ‘The hinges of history are at a critical turn right now, Luke. The world has grown far smaller than we ever dreamed it could be. It’s easier than ever for people with certain … violent intentions to find each other. You could help us find ways to understand them, and fight them.’
‘Us. I wish you’d tell me who your client is.’
‘Take the job and you’ll know.’ They’d stopped at the American Airlines checkin touch screens. Henry tapped in his info and the kiosk spat out his boarding pass. Luke followed him to the line of people waiting to thread through the security checkpoint.
‘I don’t want …’ Luke stopped.
‘What, son?’ Henry didn’t often call him son. Only when he was worried about Luke.
‘I don’t want a pity job offer, Henry. Just because you made a promise to Mom.’
‘Good, because pity doesn’t play with me. You’ve done brilliant work for me, Luke, on researching the, um, Night Road, as you charmingly call it. But I would never offer you a career out of pity for you. I respect you and my company far too much.’
Nice, Luke thought, how does that shoe taste? Your one family member offers you a job and you manage to insult him. ‘I didn’t mean that. I know you’re serious.’ Luke cleared his throat and his stomach gave a nervous lurch. ‘Yes. I’ll take the job.’
A surprising relief lit Henry’s eyes. ‘You’ve made me happy. And proud. Us working together, it’ll be, you know, cool.’
Luke couldn’t resist a smile. Henry’s definition of cool was singular. Monographs on political economics, treatises of the history of terrorism, all qualified as Henry cool. And maybe it would make their relationship easier … more adult. He wouldn’t be seen as just a kid any more. ‘You’re right. It’ll be cool.’
Henry did a poor job of keeping the happiness from spreading across his face. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll get the paperwork started.’
‘Thanks, Henry.’
‘Go home and get some sleep. Stay clear of the Night Road for a while. Hang out in the sunshine.’
‘I’ll miss shaking the tree and seeing the rotten fruit fall.’
‘You and me, we’re going to change the world.’
‘Tall order.’
‘We can change the world. Trust me.’ And then Henry shook his hand, gave him an awkward hug. Luke hugged him back. Then Henry turned and joined the security line.
Luke walked back out into the glare of the afternoon and headed toward the parking garage.
We’re going to change the world, Henry said. At least he didn’t lack for ambition.
Luke stopped at the edge of the parking garage, trying to remember where he’d left his BMW.
‘Luke, hey, how’s it going?’ A heavy arm went around his shoulder. A man’s face - thirtyish, brown-haired, a crooked, nervous smile - was close to his. Too close. Luke started to pull back.
A metal object darted into the small of his back.
‘Don’t yell, Luke. Don’t run. You have a very large gun against your spine. Can you stay calm for me?’ The man had pulled Luke close, so he could whisper in his ear. He was dressed in an expensive pinstripe suit, a conservative navy tie. His face was a little fleshy and soft; he did not look like a man who routinely carried a gun. Luke could smell his mint-drenched breath, his nervous sweat.
‘Don’t—’
The man pressed the gun harder into Luke’s back. Luke hushed. He could not remember how to breathe. Not with a gun in his back, against his spine, up under his jacket. This couldn’t be possible. It wasn’t happening.
‘You parked in row H. Let’s go. Easy. Stay calm.’
‘Take the keys. Just take them.’ Luke found his voice. He held up the BMW keys with a tremble. Panic swept through him. That was what you were supposed to do; just let them have the car. The car could be replaced.
‘No, you keep the keys, Luke. You’re driving.’
‘What do you—’
‘We’ve got places to go, people to see.’ He steered Luke toward row H. ‘It’ll all be fine.’
A family, young mom and dad, two daughters maybe six and four, approached them from a minivan. The you
nger girl was singing loudly off-key, dancing in the rows.
‘I’ll make you a deal,’ the man hissed. ‘You yell, you run, and I’ll shoot all four of them in the head. Be good and they live.’
This cannot be happening to me. Luke made his mouth a tight thin line. His skin prickled away from the gun’s barrel. He tried not to look at the parents’ faces while the girl mangled her tune with off-key gusto. He just kept walking.
Five feet away from the family now, and the man with the gun said, in a calm, business-like voice: ‘So, what I need for you to do when we get back to the office is to review all the accounts …’
‘Yes,’ Luke managed to say. ‘I understand.’ Every fiber in him wanted to run, to get away. But the family. Jesus. He couldn’t risk their lives.
The oldest girl, moving away from her sister’s annoying singing as it echoed in the concrete garage, met Luke’s eyes.
She smiled, and they moved past, the mother chiding the youngest, ‘Emma, okay, enough with the singing. Mommy’s getting a three-pill headache.’
‘Well done,’ the man hissed into Luke’s ear. ‘We’re going to get into your car. Fight or yell and I’ll shoot that nice dad dead.’ Luke heard a click in the man’s throat as he swallowed.
‘The car’s yours, just take it, please …’
‘Do as you’re told.’ He forced Luke to enter the BMW from the passenger side, awkwardly scooting across the gearshift, the gun firmly planted in his back. Luke settled into the seat and the man closed the passenger door.
‘What the hell do you want? Please just let me go …’
‘Drive. Don’t draw attention to us, or I’ll kill you and then I’ll kill whoever notices us.’ He pulled out a steel knife from a holster under his coat. The edge looked brutally sharp. Luke’s throat turned to sand. ‘You see? It’s worse than a gun. I can hurt you and keep you alive to hurt some more. Start the engine.’
Luke, hands shaking, breath coming in hollow gulps, obeyed. He told himself to stay calm. He thought of those long weeks he’d spent on his own, fourteen years old, running away from his grief, hiding from the police, walking along the back roads, hitching rides, desperate to get from Washington, D.C. to Cape Hatteras. To the beginning of the long stretch of ocean where his father had been lost. He’d seen knives and guns then, once, and he’d gotten away. He could get away again. The key was to wait for the right moment.
‘Head out. Say nothing to the attendant.’
Luke backed out of the parking space, drove out of the garage, blinking at the sunlight. Two of the tollbooths were open; it was mid-afternoon, the rush of late-day flights not descending yet.
‘Here’s money for your parking,’ the man said. ‘My treat.’ He stuck a five-dollar bill under Luke’s nose and the money trembled slightly.
He’s scared, too, Luke realized and the thought did not comfort. A panicked man with a gun and a knife was more frightening than an icy calm kidnapper.
Luke closed his fist around the money, powered down the window.
‘Your ticket, sir?’ the attendant asked. He was a big kid, college age, dark hair cut in a burr, a wide friendly smile.
Luke dug into the pocket of his coat and felt the knife nestle into his ribs, where the attendant couldn’t see it. He yanked the ticket from his pocket, handed it to the attendant with the crushed fiver.
The attendant returned his change in ones. ‘You all right, sir?’
Most people would never notice. Luke heard himself say, ‘Airsick. Rough flight.’ He sounded unsteady.
‘Feel better.’ The wooden gate rose and he drove forward.
The bite of the knife went through his shirt and he nearly drove off the road. ‘Do you think I’m stupid, Luke? Do you? Were you trying to make him remember you?’
Luke winced at the sharp pain. The knife withdrew from denting his flesh and he now felt the barest trickle of blood ease along his ribs. ‘No, I didn’t mean anything, I did what you asked …’
‘You just paid for short-term parking but you complain of a rough flight. Flyers don’t park in short-term. You tried to stick in his memory. For when he talks to the police.’
Luke flinched, then put his eyes back to the road. ‘I didn’t know what to say. You cut me … are you crazy?’
‘I’ll make you a deal.’ This was apparently the guy’s favorite phrase. ‘You cause trouble and I’ll cut your stomach open and you can see what your guts look like. Do you understand?’
‘Yes. I understand.’
‘Exit the airport. Head east on Highway 71.’
‘Look, seriously, I didn’t know what to say …’
‘Don’t pretend to be stupid. It will just piss me off.’
Luke turned onto Highway 71, which threaded through the outskirts of Austin and eastward toward Houston. He eased into the traffic. The knife left his side but the gun returned to his ribs.
‘Drive to Houston.’
Three hours away, three hours sitting next to this lunatic. The suggestion unnerved him. What did this guy want? He knew your name. He knew where you parked. ‘Houston … why?’
‘You’ll find out when we get there. You pull over or try and wreck us, or get brave and fight me, you’re dead. You obey me, you get out alive. Now shut the hell up and drive.’
‘You’re crazy, man. Please, just let me go!’ Crazy. The word thudded past all his fear. A guy who looked ordinary, but had a single-minded mission of violence. Luke glanced at him again.
‘I’m not crazy,’ the man said, and Luke saw that he wasn’t. Not a glint of madness in his eyes. He was utterly and completely intent on what he was doing.
Are you one of them, Luke thought? One of the people I drew out of the darkness?
The Night Road, Luke realized, had found him.
3
Highway 71 curled past the towering lost pines of Bastrop County, crossed over the Colorado River as the waterway snaked south and east toward the Gulf of Mexico. The land was rolling as it slowly flattened into the coastal plain. Traffic was light.
I am being kidnapped. The realization cut through the shock in Luke’s brain. No one would be missing him until tomorrow. Henry said he’d call tomorrow - an eternity, now. No one else would be expecting him or looking for him. Maybe the doorman at his condo, but if he didn’t see Luke, he wouldn’t think much of it. He wasn’t on duty every day. Maybe, Luke thought hysterically, the doorman’ll think I’ve finally gone out to party.
He drove in silence.
Luke ran the options through his mind, trying to calm his nerves. Stopping the car and simply running would get him a bullet in the back. He rejected the idea of crashing the car; if other drivers stopped to help, he’d be putting them in danger. Brawn couldn’t beat a gun. He needed to figure out how he might reason with the guy. But everything he knew about the psychology of violence seemed to evaporate from his brain. He kept thinking about the knife and the gun.
‘Don’t quit your day job to play poker,’ the man said. He had not spoken since ordering Luke toward Houston. Forty minutes of gallows silence.
‘What?’
‘You’re thinking it through. How soon you’ll be missed. How long it will take for someone to realize you’re not where you should be. Plan A is obeying me. You’re trying to hatch Plan B.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘You live alone in a tower condo in downtown. You’re sort of friendly with your neighbors, but not so much that they’ll notice you’re not around today or tomorrow or even the day after. It’s spring break; you don’t have classes.’
‘You know a lot about me.’ Maybe, Luke thought, because he’s one of the people you went looking for. He played out the times when the Night Road responded to his postings via private messages to his online accounts, engaged him in long conversations about their obsessions and agendas. He’d been most careful not to reveal any real information about himself. But this man had still found him.
‘What do you want from me?’ Luke’s voice was steadier
.
‘I just want you to come with me. Play nice and you don’t get hurt.’
Draw him out, Luke thought. Draw him out the same way you would if he was on the other side of the computer monitor. ‘If I understood what you were trying to accomplish …’
‘You don’t.’
‘Have we talked before? Maybe online?’
The man gave a soft laugh. ‘I’m not one of your research projects.’
He definitely knew about the Night Road, then, at the least he knew what Luke was doing for Henry. ‘My stepfather will call me as soon as he lands in New York.’
‘Give me your cell phone.’ The gun’s barrel dug into his ribs.
Luke winced and fished his smartphone out of his jacket pocket. The man took it and tossed it to the car’s floor. He crushed it under the heel of his heavy shoe. ‘Instant peace of mind.’
Luke glanced at the radio. Above it was a button to a locator/monitoring service - one that would call him if the car was in an accident or that he could call if he needed directions or assistance. But he remembered, with a jolt, that he hadn’t bothered to renew the service contract last summer. The monitoring service was useless.
‘If you let me go,’ Luke said, ‘I won’t tell the police. We’ll pretend this didn’t happen. I never saw you.’
‘It can’t work that way.’ The man’s voice went quiet and low, but not calm. ‘I’m sorry for you. But this is going to happen.’
Going to happen. He thought of all the empty side roads that lay between Austin and Houston. The woods. Places a body could be dumped. He made himself stay calm.
‘Doesn’t have to,’ Luke said. ‘We’ll say … You let me out here, by the time I walk to a town you’re already halfway to Houston. I’ve already forgotten what you look like …’
‘No negotiation.’ The man wiped his lip with his finger.
‘Trust me, I don’t need to remember you, I won’t. I am very practical that way.’
‘We’re already past the point of no return.’
‘Wrong. You can always turn back.’ He didn’t want this guy feeling more desperate than he already was. ‘You have a choice.’
