Indigo Man

by M. J. Carlson

  “Yes, it is.” She nodded. “To be sure. It is crazy.”

  “We’re criminals.” He cleared his throat. “We’re… I… You,” He leaned back, took a deep breath, and rubbed his hands over his face. When he opened his eyes to the inside of the same stolen car he rode in with the same Secret Service agent, he had to admit it was real. “We are so screwed.”

  A full-throated laugh exploded from her. “You should see your face. You look like you can’t decide whether to puke or pass out.”

  He leveled his sternest glare in her direction. “Your assessment skills are impressive, but perhaps you could explain what the hell that was all about?” He was shaking all over by the end of the question.

  Her laugh quieted to a smile. “The shaking is adrenaline. It usually comes with a headache. It’ll burn off in a few minutes and you’ll feel tired.”

  All he could do was nod.

  Sara stopped the car behind his Mitsu, the car’s squealing brakes made the steering wheel vibrate. “Okay,” she said. “Follow me, but not too closely. We’ll stop at the third business north of, and on the same side of the road as GenTest and prepare. If we get separated, head there, if I haven’t arrived in thirty minutes, I’m in custody, and cannot help you. Understand?”

  He nodded. “I’ll see you there in thirty or less.” He opened his door and shifted.

  “Wait.”

  He turned back to face her.

  She touched his forearm and gave it a quick squeeze. “Non-threatening, friendly gesture. For luck.”

  He stared at her.

  “Go.” She gently pushed him out the door.

  He dropped into the driver’s seat of his car, still in shock. The system woke up as the sedan Sara drove stopped at the mall’s entrance to the main road. Without a clue if ‘follow that car’ was even an option with the software, he grabbed the steering wheel, shifted the car into forward, and pushed the accelerator pedal with his foot.

  “This is crazy,” he said to himself when he’d calmed enough to think clearly.

  “Yes, it is,” he replied. “But you’ve never done anything crazy in your whole life, though, so you might not be the best judge.”

  “True,” he continued in his one-participant dialog. “But, you have to admit, something which will, in all probability, ruin your career and hers and land both of you in prison is pretty crazy, by anyone’s definition.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s that.”

  “Why is she doing this?”

  “Throwing her career away, risking prison and possible death?”

  “Yeah.” He hesitated. “Because you’re irresistibility hot, and she can’t help herself?” He snorted out a laugh. Around him, traffic was unusually light and he hadn’t even seen a police car. Had it not been for his own anxiety, he could have used the Auto-drive function and taken a nap.

  “You think she’s shitting you, trying to suck you in and then step aside while her buddies bust you?”

  “Nah,” he said to his reflection in the vanity mirror. “If she wanted to bust you, she could’ve done it without running a car into her colleagues and setting you up for stealing and blowing up a car.”

  “You bought the stuff she used. If they slap your image on the feeds and the clerk recognizes you, the cops will check the security cams and again, you’re hosed.” He followed her into the industrial park where GenTest was located. The streets were deserted.

  “Yeah, but she badged that guy before zapping him.” He went silent for a long moment, as the night rolled past. “Comes down to do you trust her or do you not? The rest is just noise.”

  Ahead, Sara sat in the parking lot of one of the businesses with darkened windows a few buildings away from Zach’s lab, “And this is me, making my decision,” he said, switching off the lights and guiding the Mitsu in behind her.

  ***

  He stood next to Sara as they leaned over the sedan’s open trunk.

  “We can use that,” she indicated an old, rusted wire hanger and a broken broom handle. “And that.” She pointed at a tattered blanket under it.

  He gathered the items. “How about that?” He picked up an old leather boot.

  “Funny,” she said, closing the trunk. She handed the hanger to him. “Please undo this and straighten it.”

  Sara stepped to the rear quarter of the car, popped the gas cap, and dropped it onto the rear seat. She ripped a couple of lengths off the blanket and tied them together. When she was done, she stuffed one end into the fuel inlet, using the coat hanger to wedge it in, leaving an opening for fumes to vent. Twisting the cap off of the bottle of degreaser, she poured half of it over the fabric and onto the metal around the inlet.

  “Hand me the plastic.” She formed the hanger into a crude circle wrapped plastic around it, and wound the hanger around the broom handle. Then, she hooked the other end of the hanger over the visor and draped the rest of the blanket over the broom handle.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  She looked up from draping the blanket over the steering wheel. “If you have a better idea, I’m open.”

  “No,” he whispered. “It just occurred to me how incredibly dangerous this plan is, and I…” he trailed off.

  “We’ll be fine.”

  “Really?”

  “No, but I wouldn’t sound confident if I said we were going to crash and burn, now would I? What do you think?”

  He had to admit, in the dark, it did resemble a man’s form—sort of—if he squinted—a lot. No, he shook his head, it looked like an impromptu scarecrow.

  She poured more of the degreaser onto the blanket, and drizzled it over the back seat and out to the trunk lid. She dropped the container on the rear seat. “Where’s the guard?”

  He checked his watch. “Just went to the far building.”

  “Okay. Go take your position. You have five minutes.”

  “Hey.” When she turned toward him, he took her head in his hands, gently pulled her closer, and brushed her hair from her forehead with his fingertips. “You’re bleeding, again,” he said, pretending to check her injury.

  “Go,” she said. “Fix it later.”

  He hesitated for a long moment. Fear welled up inside him, burning his throat. “God, I wish you didn’t have to do this.” He stared at her eyes until the stinging in his forced him to blink.

  “You’re wasting time.”

  “Please don’t die,” he whispered.

  She stared at him without expression. “Please go. Get your backup drive. I’ll meet you at your car in fifteen minutes.”

  Without another word, she straightened her suit jacket, turned, and slid into the sedan’s passenger seat.

  Holding his side against the aching with each breath, he trotted across the front of the feed supply store where they were parked, and cut across to the health food store. When he found the path in the underbrush he checked his watch. Three minutes, he thought, standing at the overgrown right-of-way standing between him and the flash drive in the lab.

  At two minutes, he stepped into the brush again.

  He held his breath as he crept through the overgrowth between the properties.

  He crouched in the shadows and counted to twenty. At the front of the property, the sedan’s brakes ground it to a halt. He crossed his fingers.

  The building loomed ahead. He crept across the neatly trimmed grass, along the side of the building, around to the rear entrance. The first flames from the sedan flickered orange over his shoulder through the dense overgrowth between the properties.

  He found the cement block behind the landscaping bushes next to the rear door. After he’d accidentally locked himself out last year during a rainstorm, Laz started using the block to prop the door open when he went outside to smoke. The memory brought a smile to his lips. So many memories.

  Beyond the front of his lab, the flames climbed, fed by the flammable degreaser Sara had poured inside the passenger compartment. An alarm sounded from inside the building. He checke
d his watch again—the guard was still next door. Good, he thought. It had to be Newman.

  Pain in his chest made him wince as he hefted the cement block and waited.

  A fireball of red and yellow billowed into the sky above the low oak trees, sound rumbling across the front of the property. A cloud of oily, black smoke rose into the air. He grunted and launched the brick against the glass door. The block sailed through the safety glass, landing on the inside carpet amid a shower of glass nuggets, the reverberating echo of the explosion and alarm hiding the sound.

  He reached through the shattered pane, unlocked the door and stepped inside. He entered Laz’s code to disarm the intruder portion of the alarm, allowing the fire alarm program to run to add to the confusion. The fire lights strobed through the short hallway and into the darkened laboratory, lending an eerie effect to the familiar interior of the building.

  Shielding his eyes from the intense flashing, he ignored the screech of the alarm, navigating past the bathroom and the storage rooms on the other side of the hall. The faint chemical smell from the big room wrinkled his nose.

  It was a mistake, but the room pulled him like a magnet. He stood for a long moment in the midst of the familiar instruments. The investment in equipment and supplies flashed through his head. Everything appeared normal, but it all felt foreign, like he didn’t belong any more. Laz’s empty chair, his white lab coat still draped over the back, reminded Zach of the laughter they’d shared working here over the past two years. He wiped tears from his cheeks. For him, everything they had worked so hard for was ruined, finished. He would never voluntarily set foot in this room again. “Doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “It’s only stuff.”

  He retraced his steps through the short hall to the break room. Once there, he stepped across to the refrigerator and opened it. The lunch box was in the left lower vegetable drawer where he’d left it. He popped the latch on the insulated metal box, removed the thermos, and closed the refrigerator. Zach checked his watch and started toward the rear of the building. The plastic top of the thermos made a small sound against the carpet in the hall when he dropped it.

  With a slow, deep breath against his rib’s screaming, he stepped out into the pine-scented night air, glad to be rid of the building. He wondered where he’d be working next. “Probably pressing license plates,” he whispered, allowing himself a chuckle at the idea. No matter what, he would never go to prison. Sara was right. He’d be killed long before then. Walking across the open space, he tilted the thermos up, smiling at the weight of the crystal drive as it dropped into his palm. He tossed the thermos into the weeds behind the building.

  A couple of yards from the concealing safety of the thicket where Sara had tackled him, he slipped the flash drive into the right front pocket of his pants. A voice from the shadows startled him.

  “That’s far enough, Dr. Marshall.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Zach spun in the direction of the voice, his breath catching in his throat from the sudden movement. A man stepped out of the shadows. It wasn’t the big guy who’d pointed the hand cannon at him earlier tonight. This guy was a few inches shorter and maybe ten pounds heavier than Zach. His black hair was combed back, with a laser-straight part. He had a round face with a heavy brow line. Most of the man’s features were lost in shadow. Zach guessed he was the driver of the SUV, because a white strip of tape was strapped around and under his nose.

  “I should blow your friggin’ brains out right now,” the man said, his voice sharp as a knife edge. “But Murphy wants to talk to you.”

  “I bet,” Zach said.

  “Yeah, you bet, dick head, and you lost. We’re gonna find out who punched into our vehicle tonight, fuck-wad, and he’s gonna be your cell buddy.” The man let out a low, menacing chuckle. “For as long as you live.”

  Zach blew out a breath, his suspicion about the plan for him confirmed. “Listen, whoever you are, you seem like a reasonable guy. I can’t hurt you. My life is trashed. What do ya say we call it even, you and I wish each other a good night and walk different directions?”

  “Are you on drugs, Doc? I have people to answer to. They’re gonna be ecstatic to see your face, even if it is bruised. I’m gonna be a friggin’ hero. My car’s in front of the building. How about you put your hands on your head and start walking?”

  Zach did as instructed. After a few steps, he spoke over his shoulder. “Can I ask your name, at least, so I know—”

  “Newman. Special Agent Robert fucking Newman with the Secret Service.” The man stepped out of the bushes toward Zach.

  He nodded. “Listen, Special Agent Newman, I know what this is about. You guys took the computer. How about if I give you the password and you just turn around and count to fifty?”

  “Oh, yeah. You give me a bogus password and I go back with a handful of beans I traded for the family cow? I don’t think so, Doc. I already called Murphy, so how about if you just put one fucking foot in front of the other until we get to my car?”

  There was a sound of movement behind them. Newman twisted. Electricity crackled. Zach ducked away, risking a glance over his shoulder. Newman dropped to the ground, moaning, Sara standing over him. She lifted his gun and tossed it into the scrub. Then, she reached to his ear, grabbed his receiver and yanked his secure communicator out of his jacket. She pressed the taser to Newman’s chest once more. One long, chattering moan escaped through his gritted teeth as he went rigid on the ground. She dropped his equipment into her own jacket pocket.

  “Go,” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

  They pounded through the brush and across the three parking lots to the Mitsu. Zach gritted his teeth and grunted against the pain each step brought to his ribs. As they approached his car, the parking lights flashed once, unlocking the driver’s door. He pressed the button on the key fob and unlocked the passenger door. As they climbed in, the car’s dash lights came up with the computer systems. Throwing the car into gear, he floored it, rocketing them out of the parking lot and onto the street. At the corner, he shot around onto a main road in front of several cars. The cars swerved, horns blaring, but managed to avoid ramming the Mitsu as Zach and Sara sped away.

  “That was close,” he panted, as he shifted into the left lane and inhaled deeply. Pain seared through his chest. He couldn’t get enough air. Zach released the wheel, lifted his foot off the accelerator, and doubled over in the seat, each exhalation a groan.

  Sara grabbed the wheel from the passenger’s seat and threw her leg over the console, straddling it. When traffic opened up, she hit the brake and whipped the wheel to the left. “Hold on.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” he wheezed, barely able to get the words out. He grabbed the door handle to keep from falling over on top of her. The little car slid, tires chirping, across the pavement and into the opposite direction, toward the lab.

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  Sara slowed the Mitsu and guided it into the parking lot of a drive-through burger place.

  “I… you… oh, shit. We’re gonna die.” He covered his face with his hands. He leaned back in the seat, trying to catch his breath.

  “Shh.” She pulled the car into the queue for drive-through, slipped the shifter into park, and returned her leg to her side the console. Behind them, a black SUV sped past toward GenTest. “Don’t be such a wuss.”

  “I can’t…” he panted, still unable to catch his breath. “believe we’re not putting… distance between us… and the lab… as fast, as this thing… will go.”

  Sara had Newman’s earpiece in place. “Will you please be quiet? I’m having trouble hearing.”

  Speechless, Zach slouched in the seat, holding his side.

  “Here come the reinforcements,” Sara said, as behind them, a fire truck and a police car sped by, lights strobing.

  He gestured to the stolen secure communicator in her ear. “Where’s yours? Don’t you have one?”

  She raised her eyebrows at hi
m and laughed. “Must’ve misplaced it. Wait, I think I left it in Murphy’s Caddy. Want to go back and check?”

  He grunted at her.

  They moved up in line one car length. “We are not driving away as fast as this car will go because right this second, every cop car within five miles is headed toward the lab. It’ll take Murphy about a minute and a half to figure out the fire was a decoy and you went back to the lab for something. I figure it’ll take him another two minutes to find Newman.” She paused to listen. “Oh, yeah, he’s pissed.” She bared her teeth in a fierce grin. “Anyway, Newman’ll take about fifteen minutes to regain coherent speech, but Murphy won’t wait, won’t need to wait for confirmation. He knows who was there, but his resources are limited. I’m guessing there’s two, maybe three people max in on this little party of Murphy’s, so he’s at a disadvantage.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “We’re in a car he knows, in line at a burger place a quarter of a mile from the explosion we set off, and he’s at a disadvantage? Oh, please, explain that one.”

  “Murphy may be okay with working alone, but let me clue you in on reality.” She stared at him like she could bore a hole into his head. “Whoever else is in on this with him has been trained in a federal team mentality. Rugged individualism is not a highly praised trait in government circles. Knowing that gives us the advantage.”

  “Sounds simple when you put it that way.” At least, he realized, he wasn’t panting anymore, but his side still hurt like hell.

  She held up an index finger, pressed a finger from the other hand to her ear. “Wait a sec,” she said. After a few moments, “They know there are two of us, but not…” She giggled. “Newman is conscious. My stunner definitely needs to be recharged. He’s convinced I’m a man, because I overpowered him.” She listened again. “Okay, Murphy took off. Newman’s playing dumb about the car so they won’t question how he knows. The police are looking for two males, in a mid-sized car, color, make, and model of car unknown, heading away from the scene.” She stuck her head out the window and peered at the overcast sky. “No satellites, good.”