King and Maxwell

by David Baldacci

  deafening crack of thunder.

  They got back to the Land Cruiser where Sean had parked it off the road. There were some blankets in the back cargo area. Michelle grabbed three of these and handed one to Tyler, who draped it around his shoulders. She handed another to Sean and wrapped the last around herself.

  “Thanks,” Tyler mumbled.

  He climbed into the back while Michelle sat next to him. Sean drove.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  Tyler told him.

  “Directions from here?” said Sean. “I’m not familiar with this area.”

  Tyler gave him turn-by-turn directions until he hung a left down a street where there were a few older homes located at the end of a cul-de-sac.

  “Which house?” asked Sean.

  Tyler pointed to one on the right. It was ablaze in light.

  Michelle and Sean exchanged a glance. Parked in the driveway of the house was a dull green Ford with U.S. Army plates. As they turned into the drive a woman and two uniformed Army officers came outside on the covered porch.

  “Why are they here?” she asked Tyler.

  “To tell me my dad was killed in Afghanistan,” said Tyler.

  CHAPTER

  5

  THE WOMAN RUSHED TOWARD THEM in the rain as Sean, Michelle, and Tyler climbed out of the truck. She slipped on one of the cement steps, but quickly righted herself and raced across the small patch of soggy lawn. Smoky air rose from her mouth with each breath.

  “Tyler,” she called out. She was short, about five-three and petite, yet she wrapped Tyler in an embrace that threatened to squeeze the life out of him.

  “Thank God you’re all right,” she said. “Thank God.”

  Both Sean and Michelle observed that Tyler was expressionless during all this. Then he quickly pushed her away.

  “Just stop,” he said. “You don’t have to pretend anymore. He’s gone.”

  She stood there, drenched with rain, mascara running down her face. Then she slapped him. “Damn you, Tyler Wingo, you scared me to death.”

  Michelle stepped in front of her. “Okay, that won’t help anything.”

  “Who are you?” demanded the woman, looking up at Michelle.

  Sean said, “Just a couple of people who happened on your son and brought him safely home. That’s all. We’ll be going now.”

  The soldiers on the porch were dressed in their Class A uniforms and carried dour expressions. One was a case notification officer whose thankless job it was to tell survivors that their family member was dead. The other was a chaplain whose task it was to help the survivors get through this most difficult of times.

  Michelle put one arm on Tyler’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  He dumbly nodded, his gaze on the two men on the porch. He looked as though they were aliens here to snatch him.

  Michelle took a card from her jacket and handed it to him. “You need anything, give us a call, okay?”

  Tyler said nothing but slipped the card into his jeans and headed to the porch.

  The woman said, “I didn’t mean to slap him. I was just so worried. Thank you for bringing him back.”

  Sean held out his hand. “I’m Sean King. This is Michelle Maxwell. We’re very sorry for your loss. Things like this are never easy, especially on the kids.”

  “It’s not easy on any of us,” said the woman. “I’m Jean Wingo, by the way. Tyler is my stepson.”

  Sean started to pull out the German Mauser, but Michelle froze him with a glance. She said, “Again, we’re really sorry, Mrs. Wingo. Tyler seems like a good kid. Anything we can do to help, just let us know.”

  “Thank you, but the Army will be there for us. They have a family care program the soldiers were telling us about. They’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

  “That’s good,” said Sean. “I’m sure they’ll be a big comfort to you now.”

  “How long had Tyler been gone?” Michelle asked.

  Jean said, “He ran out of here about two hours ago. I had no idea where he’d gone. I was so worried.”

  “I see,” said Michelle with a frown as she glanced up at Tyler, who was standing on the porch looking down at them. The two soldiers were trying to speak to him, but it was clear he wasn’t listening to them.

  “Again, we’re very sorry,” said Sean. He turned to Michelle. “You ready to go? I’m sure the Army and the Wingos have a lot to go over.”

  Michelle nodded, but her gaze stayed on Tyler. She held up one of her business cards as a reminder to him. Then she and Sean climbed into the Land Cruiser and drove off.

  Michelle watched in the rearview mirror as the Wingos and the soldiers slowly walked back inside the house. As Sean sped up, Michelle eased gingerly back into the seat. He noted her discomfort.

  “Little sore? You only have yourself to blame. Chasing a kid in a thunderstorm. You probably pulled every muscle you have. I know my knees are killing me and I didn’t run half as far or hard as you did.”

  “KIA,” said Michelle.

  “Killed in action, right,” replied Sean. “It sucks. One U.S. soldier dead is one too many in my book.”

  “Tyler and his stepmom don’t seem to get along.”

  “Just because she slapped him? He’d run off. And like she said, she was worried sick. She overreacted. They’re going through the worst stress a family will ever have to endure, Michelle. You have to cut her some slack.”

  “Right, she was worried sick. Yet Tyler was gone for two hours and she wasn’t even wet until she came down to slap him. If it were my kid I would’ve run down the street after him. It’s not like he took a car. He was on foot. She couldn’t go after him? What, was she afraid of a little rain?”

  Sean started to say something but then stopped. He finally said, “I don’t know. The soldiers weren’t wet either. But maybe it’s not their job to go chasing after a kid. We weren’t there. We don’t know how it went down. Maybe she went after him in the car.”

  “She still would’ve been wet. They didn’t have a garage. Not even a carport. And remember what Tyler said? After he pushed her away he said she could stop pretending now that his dad was gone. Stop pretending what? That she cared about Tyler’s dad?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But it’s none of our business.”

  “And why would Tyler take his dad’s collectible gun, of all things?”

  “What part of ‘none of our business’ did you fail to grasp?”

  “I don’t like things that don’t make sense.”

  “Look, we don’t know anything about him. Maybe the gun meant something to Tyler. Maybe the kid was so crushed finding out his dad was dead that he just grabbed the first thing he saw of his and took off. And why are we even talking about this? He’s back home where he belongs.” Sean glanced down at his waistband. “Crap, I’ve still got the gun. I was going to give it back until you gave me the evil eye. And why exactly did you do that?”

  “Because it gives us an excuse to go back there, preferably tomorrow.”

  “Go back? Why?” he exclaimed.

  “I want to find out more.”

  “We found the kid and brought him home. Our work is done.”

  “You’re not the least bit curious?”

  “No. Why would I be?”

  “I saw how he looked at his stepmom. I heard what he said. There was no love there.”

  “That’s life. All families are dysfunctional. It’s only a question of degrees. But it doesn’t make me want to jump into the middle of the traumatic situation they’re going through. Right now they need family and friends to support them.”

  “We could be Tyler’s friend.”

  “Look, why the hell are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Inserting yourself in the lives of people we don’t even know?”

  “Don’t we do that all the time as part of our work?”

  “Yes, our work. Not something like this. It’s not a case, so don’t treat it like one. No one has hired us, M
ichelle. So we move on.”

  “I feel like I know Tyler, or at least what he’s going through.”

  “How can you? Your dad is still alive—” Sean broke off.

  Michelle’s father was still alive, but her mother wasn’t. She’d been murdered. And Michelle had initially suspected her father of committing the crime. And that had eventually led to her coming to grips with a memory from childhood that had eaten at her like a cancer throughout her adult life.

  A psychologist friend of Sean’s had subsequently gotten through to her and had done some investigation into her past. With his help, coupled with some traumatic moments at the home where she’d grown up, Michelle had finally righted herself. But none of it had been easy. And he never wanted her to go through something like that again.

  The knife wounds had healed. The emotional scars she had suffered would remain just that. The weight of each one was immense. He didn’t know how many she could carry around before being crushed.

  Sean tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the rain on the truck’s roof. He glanced at Michelle. She was staring off, seemingly lost. And a part of him felt like he was losing her again, when he had just gotten her back.

  “We can at least return the gun,” said Sean quietly. He wiped wet hair out of his face. “Let’s do it tomorrow, hopefully when it’s not raining.”

  “Thanks,” said Michelle, without looking at him.

  They drove to Michelle’s apartment, where Sean had left his car, a Lexus convertible hardtop. In the covered garage they climbed out of the truck. Sean passed the keys over to her.

  “You going to be okay tonight?” he asked.

  “A soak in the tub and I’ll be fine. You should ice your knees.”

  “Sucks getting old.”

  “You’re not old.”

  “But I’m getting close.” He fiddled with his own keys. “Even though it’s cold you should go sculling tomorrow on the Potomac. That always makes you feel better.”

  “Sean, stop worrying. I’m not going nuts again.”

  “You never went nuts,” he said emphatically.

  “But I got close,” she replied, paraphrasing his earlier statement.

  “You want some company tonight?” he asked, giving her a sideways glance.

  “Not tonight. But thanks for the offer.”

  “I’m sure this Tyler Wingo thing is nothing.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “But we’ll take the gun back and see what we see.”

  “Thanks for humoring me.”

  “I’m not humoring you. I’m being diplomatic.”

  “Then thanks for being diplomatic.”

  She walked toward the elevator that would take her up into the building.

  Sean watched her until she was safely inside the elevator car. He needn’t have bothered. He had watched her take out five guys at the same time without breaking much of a sweat.

  Still, he watched her. Still, he worried about her. He guessed that’s what being a partner was all about.

  He walked to his car, climbed in, and drove off, at a slow, safe speed.

  CHAPTER

  6

  SAM WINGO STARED DOWN AT THE MAP.

  First, he’d lost his cargo and nearly his life. Second, the pickup truck he’d taken had run out of fuel halfway across Afghanistan, not where one would want to come up empty on petrol.

  His options from that point had been limited. To the north were three of the Stan countries, to the west was Iran, and to the east and south was Pakistan. Not a clear winner among them as an escape route. Being an American in one of the Stans was probably preferable to being an American in Iran or even Pakistan. But Wingo knew where he eventually wanted to get to: India. Yet going through one of the Stans and hooking around to India through China was not going to cut it for him. It was just too far.

  After he’d run out of fuel he had waylaid a man with a spare camel. He’d paid him far more in local currency than he had probably ever seen. Then Wingo had ridden the beast over some of the roughest terrain in the country, with the sun beating down on him, turning any bit of exposed skin red and dry.

  He arrived on the outskirts of Kabul in the morning hours. He finally had cell reception. He had turned off his phone on the trip to conserve his battery. The camel did not come equipped with a 110V outlet.

  He phoned his superior, Colonel Leon South.

  “What in the hell happened out there?” said South.

  “I was hoping you could tell me,” said Wingo.

  “Where are you?”

  “I got ambushed out there. A dozen to one.”

  “Where are you, Sam?”

  It was bothering Wingo that the man had asked that same question twice.

  Wingo said, “Where are you?”

  “This is beyond a disaster,” snapped South.

  “There was nothing I could do. Like I said, it was a dozen to one. And the leader had a cred pack that said CIA. It looked real enough, but I still didn’t buy their story.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Tim Simons. He said he was from Nebraska. Check it out.”

  “I’m not checking out anything until you come in.”

  “There was nothing I could do, sir.”

  “You had a fail-safe, Wingo. But since you’re talking to me I guess you didn’t deploy it when you were under strict orders to do just that if things went wrong. If you had doubts about who they were, why are you still alive?”

  “The cred pack said CIA. Even if I was skeptical, I didn’t want to risk blowing up our own guys.”

  “I don’t give a shit if the cred pack said Jesus Christ. Do you realize what you’ve done?”

  “Yeah, it had occurred to me.”

  “Where is the truck?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And the cargo?”

  “With the truck, last time I checked.”

  “This is not good, Wingo, not good at all.”

  “Yeah, that had occurred to me too.”

  “If you did something with the cargo—” began South.

  Wingo cut him off. “If I had stolen it, do you think I’d be wasting time calling you?”

  “If you wanted to cover your ass, you would.”

  “With that cargo, why would I need to do that?”

  “Couldn’t tell you. I don’t think like a criminal or a traitor.”

  “Of which I’m neither.”

  “That’s good to hear. No fallout then. But you really need to come in.”

  “Not until I know more.”

  “We recruited you especially for this mission. We laid all the groundwork, spent God knows how much time and money, took more risks than we ever should have, and now it’s all gone to hell. And you’re right in the middle of it. I knew we never should have just sent out one guy.