by L. N. Carson
“I didn’t realize you’d charged one of the burners.”
“I thought about it after you’d gone to sleep last night.” He put the phone back into his pocket. “Anyway, he’s gonna get us to Norfolk.”
“I’d like to call my sister and let her know I’m all right. She must be worried sick.” Kathleen waited for Sam to hand over the phone, but he didn’t.
“Sure.” He avoided her eyes. “As soon as we get to the admiral, the phone is all yours.”
“Don’t you trust me anymore?” She took his arm. “What’s up?”
“The DPA knows who you are. The less you tell your sister, the better off she and her family will be.” He put his hand on the small of her back and walked her closer to the curb.
“I haven’t told my sister anything about you.”
“These people don’t care.” He expelled a breath. “I gave you every opportunity to turn back. We’re almost there. Once we’ve delivered the research to Admiral Harper, you’re welcome to phone your sister and tell her the whole sordid story. I just—I need to finish this.”
“All right,” she said.
Sam hailed a taxi.
* * *
Hathor was mesmerized by the broken white lines on the road passing under the SUV in rapid succession. She didn’t understand the point of chasing Atum all the way to Norfolk. If his plan was to destroy the research, he’d already had plenty of opportunity to do that. Besides, she was certain Amun-Ra had already taken the necessary steps to ensure no other person or entity could use the research without the express permission of the DPA. All government agencies had non-compete clauses, didn’t they? Even if Atum had begun his research while he was in school, he’d honed it while working for the DPA, making the research government property.
Maybe her defeated mood was due to being on the fourth day of this idiotic chase without having had a decent meal, a good night’s sleep, or a hot shower. And while she and Montu had tried to freshen up in restroom sinks, they both smelled pretty rank.
She stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Even if Atum’s research was lost forever, given enough time, the new kid could replicate it. It might set the program back a few months, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Amun-Ra didn’t have a pressing deadline for which he needed his weaponized cyborg animals, as far as she was aware. Or did he?
Hathor glanced over at Montu. “You holding up all right? Need me to drive for a while?”
“I’m fine.” He kept his attention on the road.
She sometimes wondered if Amun-Ra hadn’t experimented on her partner, making him some sort of mechanical, controllable bodyguard. “Do you think there’s more to this thing with Atum than we know?”
He barked out a laugh. “There’s more to everything than we know. Which part, specifically, are you asking about?”
“Well, the new kid can probably copy Atum’s research given enough time. But Amun-Ra acts like a man on a deadline. Why do you think that is?”
“Time is money,” Montu said, whipping over to pass a semi. “It’s a cliché for a reason, and Amun-Ra doesn’t like to waste either one. And that’s what we’ve been doing letting that little shit and his girlfriend stay one step ahead of us.”
“Yeah.” Hathor went back to staring at the lines on the road. She was still certain more lay behind this story than Amun-Ra was telling them, but she knew better than to confide her concerns to Montu.
* * *
Sam and Kathleen stayed quiet as they rode the short distance in the back of the taxi. The sun beat down on the pavement ahead of them causing wavy lines to appear. Not even ten o’clock in the morning, and the heat was already making mirages on the road. Sam sure hoped they wouldn’t be forced to take any long walks today. He wished he could’ve stretched out his aching body on the bed at the hotel and rested the entire day. But, as it was, the time he and Kathleen had taken had cost him.
She was staring out the side window. He wanted to take her hand, but he didn’t. From the manner in which she’d turned away it was evident she wanted some distance. For now? For good? Who knew?
John would have. His brother had always been better at reading women than Sam was. A people person, plain and simple, he’d wept while telling Sam about the explosion that had cost him his sight. He was sorry he’d made it home when others hadn’t.
Sam had felt so furious and frustrated, seeing his big brother broken. He wanted to put John back together somehow, make him feel like he’d been spared for a reason.
“I’m working on this technology,” he’d begun. And from there, he and John had talked for hours about how nanotechnology and animals could be used to the benefit of others. A team of rats sent ahead of the convoy could have sniffed out the mines and averted the tragedy.
He rested his head on the back of the seat. He’d wanted to make a difference—a worthwhile contribution. And he wouldn’t. Not yet anyway.
The taxi pulled over to the bus terminal. After thanking the driver, Sam paid him, and he and Kathleen exited the cab.
Sam bought two seats on the next bus leaving for Philadelphia.
“I take it we’re not going on an impromptu visit to the City of Brotherly Love,” Kathleen said quietly, when they were far enough away from the ticket counter to avoid being overheard.
“I’m not. The tickets are a diversion to throw off the people following us. Feel free to go, if you’d like.” Sam handed her one of the tickets. “Or I can give you the money to ride or fly somewhere else.” He searched the faces in the terminal to see if any of their fellow travelers seemed familiar. He couldn’t be sure a team of Amun-Ra’s people hadn’t gotten the jump on them while he and Kathleen had spent the night in the hotel.
“So, that’s it? You’re ditching me?”
He blinked at the tone of Kathleen’s voice. “Stop.”
“Fine.” Her voice was quieter but as sharp and cold as an icicle.
“I’m giving you an out.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “You can call your sister, you can go home, you can finish your vacation—you can do whatever you’d like to do. I appreciate all your help—”
“But you don’t need me anymore.” She wrenched away from him. “I’m slowing you down.”
“You’re not.” He took her hand and led her around the back of the terminal, through the parked buses, to the street beyond.
Glaring at him, she wrenched her hand away.
“We were drawing too much attention back there.”
“And that’s why you’re ditching me,” she said.
“Kat, stop it!” He wanted to shake some sense into her. Instead he turned his back. “You’re not an irrational person. What’s the matter with you?”
“I want to help you.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. “You’re doing something good, and I—” She stopped.
She pulled into herself and stared down at the ground. Closing the gap between them, he took her in his arms. “I want your help, but I don’t want you to feel obligated. You’ve done more than enough as it is.”
With her head against his shoulder, she asked, “Where do we go from here?”
He nodded toward a strip mall. “Troy’s meeting us over there.”
“The coffee shop?”
“Yeah. We’ll go in there and have a drink. He’ll come in and order. We’ll wait five minutes and follow him out.”
She smiled. “Sounds like a solid plan.”
* * *
Miranda sat beside her daughter on the sofa. A small bowl of dry oat cereal rested between them, and a children’s movie they’d watched half a dozen times played on television.
She used her phone to check for any reported accidents involving red sports cars or young Jane Does. She didn’t want to let on to Mark, but she was worried about Kathleen. Sure, her sister could be flighty, and she’d been known to go off for a day or two without a word to anyone. But this was different. Kathleen was in some kind of trouble—she could feel it. Miranda’s mind wouldn’t be a
t ease until she was home.
The innocent peal of Rachel’s laughter brought Miranda out of her reverie long enough to smile at her baby’s sweet face. If not for Kathleen, Rachel wouldn’t even be here since Miranda’s eggs hadn’t been viable. Her sister, whom Rachel called “Kiki” since she couldn’t say her aunt’s name properly, adored this child. Kathleen loved that Rachel had her own special name for her. Miranda felt a stab of guilt at the resentment she felt over the pair’s closeness; but should anything ever happen to her and Mark, she’d want Kathleen to raise Rachel. Kathleen sure as heck had better be all right. If she wasn’t, Miranda was going to throttle her.
She ruffled her daughter’s downy hair, kissed her head, and swore to herself for the umpteenth time that Rachel’s life would be happy and normal. It would bear no resemblance to the upbringing she and Kathleen had endured. The Freemont slice of Americana would’ve been better represented by Edvard Munch than Norman Rockwell. Their mother even refused to come visit Rachel in the hospital until Kathleen had vacated the premises. A dozen years had passed since “the incident.” She couldn’t help but question if Mom would’ve forgiven Kathleen long ago had she been a better shot.
* * *
Kathleen breathed in the intoxicating aroma of ground coffee mixed with the scents of vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate. Moving to the back of the line, she wondered if Sam’s friend was already in the parking lot, watching and waiting for the best time to make an appearance. If so, Sam hadn’t given any indication he’d seen him, but of course he wouldn’t. He was obviously far more skilled than she in the art of subterfuge.
Maybe Sam was giving his employer too much credit, though. There was no way this DPA group could be so far ahead of Sam as to anticipate his every move. Were they like the FBI or the US Marshalls? Did they have people everywhere?
Sam stepped up beside her and gave her a little nod. She’d been unaware the line had moved.
“Sorry,” she murmured, as she approached the counter. “I’d like a medium vanilla latte and a chocolate chip biscotti please.”
“And I’ll have a small black coffee.” Sam took out his wallet.
She grinned at him as he paid. “Neanderthal.”
“What? You love my caveman ways.”
Following Sam to a table, Kathleen’s mind drifted back to their conversation in back of the bus terminal. At first, she’d wanted to help Sam because it was a new adventure. But once she’d found out he had a noble cause, well… It was still exciting, but what if he received some kind of accolades? Maybe—since she’d helped—she would too. Wouldn’t that be a punch in the gut to Mom and Dad? Screwup Kathleen getting recognized for her bravery and service to her country. If it made the newspapers, she’d make sure to send two copies of each one to her mother. So what if the old bat used them to start a bonfire? She’d know. Not that anything would change between them, but Kathleen would be able to show her mother she was worth something after all.
Sam chose a table with an excellent view of the parking lot without being seated at the window.
“I like your caveman ways, huh?” she teased as she sat to Sam’s right.
“No. You love them.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you, Mr. Grant?”
“It could be a case of wishful thinking.” He winked.
Kathleen broke the biscotti and handed half to Sam. “Here. Dunk this into that hot tar to at least sweeten it a little.”
“I’ll have to in order to avoid a broken tooth.” He tapped the biscotti. “This thing is as hard as your head.”
She smiled and dipped her piece of the cookie into the latte. “What time do you expect your friend to get into town?” Arching her brows, she hoped he’d understand what she meant.
“About five. I can hardly wait for you to meet him.”
Sam had emphasized the word five. He expected his friend to be here in five minutes.
* * *
Amun-Ra answered his phone with an impatient, “What?”
“Good morning, sir.” It was the Lynchburg agent. “My men are currently interrogating those former sailors. Henderson was a washout—he didn’t have a clue about anything. Akers, on the other hand, is a fount of information.”
He smiled and put his feet up on his desk. “What’ve you got?”
* * *
Sam stared into the barely touched liquid before him and wished he had the ability to scry Troy’s location from it. Kathleen sat patiently, the lines between her eyebrows the only indication she was concerned about Troy’s failure to arrive. She took a drink of her latte and pushed the cup away. Troy should have been here twenty minutes ago.
He gave her a weak smile and checked his phone again. Nothing. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“So what now?”
“I’m going to check on him. I have to.” He put away the phone.
“All right.” She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, pushed back from the table, and stood.
“I admire your tenacity, Ms. Thornhill, but—”
“No buts,” she said. “Lead the way.”
Chapter Three
When they were standing outside the café, Kathleen asked, “How are we gonna do this?”
“I need to disguise myself somehow.” Sam spun in a slow circle. The café was in the middle of a strip mall, and he was obviously taking in the other storefronts. He nodded to his left. “That drugstore might have something.”
They hurried down the sidewalk and into the store. She could see Sam was getting frustrated as they perused the aisles.
“Too bad it isn’t closer to Halloween.” She picked up a packet of bobby pins. “But with these and some reading glasses, I can pull off a decent disguise.”
“What? No way.”
“Yes, way. The only way. You can’t be seen, and we don’t have a lot of time to kill here. I have to be the one to go in and gauge the situation.” She located a pair of reading glasses, put them on, and twisted her hair up in a bun. “The agents haven’t seen me before, and there aren’t any photos of me online looking like this.”
Arms crossed, he looked as if he wanted to contradict her plan, but instead he sighed. “Fine. I’ll call for a taxi; you get ready.”
In addition to the reading glasses and hairpins, Kathleen bought a makeup pallet with shades more dramatic than those she typically wore. After paying for her purchases, she went into the bathroom and pinned up her hair. She applied the makeup but put the glasses in her purse until they got to Troy’s office at the airfield.
Sam had the taxi waiting at the curb, so Kathleen was able to step right into the car.
“You look good,” he said.
She smiled. “Thanks.”
After dropping them at the address of a location on the opposite site of the street from the airport where Troy’s business was housed, the taxi drove away. As the car disappeared into the traffic, Kathleen and Sam walked to the side of a nearby church.
Fishing the glasses from her purse, she asked, “Where will you be while I’m checking to see if Troy is in his office?”
“Hiding right here in the churchyard.” His lips tightened. “I wish I could go instead of you.”
“I’ll be back as quickly as I can.” She put on the glasses and walked purposefully down the sidewalk to the light and crossed to the other side of the street.
The airport was small and would be used primarily for private planes and charters. Kathleen strode into the building and located the offices of Akers Charter Flights. Seeing that the lights were off and finding the door locked, she went to the administrative office.
A thin woman with ridiculously long nails sat at the reception desk. “May I help you?”
“Yes,” Kathleen said. “I’m Cary Thornhill, and I have an appointment with Troy Akers. I’m running a few minutes late, but his lights are off, and his office is locked. He didn’t even call to ask if I was on my way.”
Nail lady frowned. “Mr. Akers hasn’t been in at all this morni
ng, and that’s unusual for him. He must be sick or something.”
Not wanting nail lady to sound the alarm to have police checking on Troy, Kathleen took a piece of paper from her purse. Looking at it, she said, “Oh, my goodness. I’m sorry. My appointment with Mr. Akers is for tomorrow. He couldn’t do it this morning because he had a conflict.”
“That’s good.” Nail lady breathed a sigh of relief. “I would’ve been worried had he stood you up. He’s definitely not that kind of guy.”
“Please don’t let him know I was here. This is really embarrassing.”
Nail lady pretended to button her lip.
As soon as she was outside the building, Kathleen removed the glasses and dropped them into her purse. It was all she could do not to run across the street toward the church, but she knew she had to appear normal. That was hard, given the way her heart was pounding and the fact that her shaking hands were clenched into fists.
* * *
Amun-Ra answered his phone with, “I hope you have good news.”
The Lynchburg DPA agent replied, “My people got everything we need to know from Troy Akers. Sam called Akers and asked him to fly him to D.C. Akers didn’t see any reason to say no. They’re supposed to fly out tonight.”
“How difficult was it to obtain this information?”
“Not hard at all. My people are good.” The agent’s voice was infused with pride.
“What kind of pressure did you put on Akers?” Amun-Ra asked.
“They didn’t have to put any pressure on him. He’s a good, upstanding guy—wanted to help his government catch a fugitive.”
Amun-Ra uttered a low growl. “He’s lying, and I want the truth. Hurt the man and see if his story doesn’t change.”
* * *
Sam raked his hands through his hair as he and Kathleen stood at the side of the church, hidden from the road by an evergreen tree.
“I need to get to Troy’s house as quickly as possible.” He spotted a convenience store near the church. “Maybe someone over there will drive me.”
