by Jeff Abbott
‘Way where?’
Evan took his laptop and left the room. Gabriel didn’t deserve an answer. Evan sat down in the darkened hall, put his head in his hands, weighed his options. Gabriel knew the complete truth, but wasn’t talking. He could stick a gun up to Gabriel’s head and threaten to kill him if he didn’t talk. But he and Gabriel both knew that Evan wouldn’t murder him in cold blood. Gabriel saw it in his eyes.
So another tactic, and a better one that would give Evan his dad and stop Jargo. The man behind his mother’s death, if Gabriel wasn’t lying.
But Evan had a call to make. His cell phone was with the Austin police, but Gabriel’s phone sat on the breakfast counter.
He picked the phone up and dialed Carrie’s number.
12
They had rocketed south on I-35 from Austin, veering west onto Highway 46, through the old German town of Boerne. Live oaks and twists of cedar covered the hills. The sky began to cloud.
Carrie sat in the front, Jargo in the back, Dezz drove. The highway sign read BANDERA 10 MILES.
Carrie’s phone hummed in the silence. She had set it to vibrate, not ring, and she thought, Oh, no.
‘I hear a phone,’ Jargo said.
‘Mine.’ Carrie’s palms went slick with sweat.
‘Evan. Hallelujah,’ Dezz said.
‘Answer it. But hold the phone so I can hear.’ Jargo leaned forward, put his chin over the seat, his head close to hers.
Carrie dug the phone from her purse, flipped it open. ‘Hello?’
‘Carrie?’ It was Evan.
‘Sweetheart. Oh, my God, are you okay?’
‘I’m fine. Where are you?’
‘Evan, for God’s sake, you were kidnapped, where are you?’
‘Carrie. How did you know I was in danger when you called me?’
Jargo stiffened next to her.
‘Three men were at your house when I came back with breakfast for us. They said they were with the FBI, but I thought… I thought there was something fishy about them. I didn’t like the look of them.’ She chose her words carefully, aware she had two audiences to please. ‘They looked like thugs trying to act like government agents. I didn’t let them in the house, Evan.’
‘What did they want?’
‘They wanted to ask you questions about your mom. Where are you, what’s happening?’
‘I can’t really talk about it.’ Evan seemed to give a sigh of relief. ‘I just wanted to be sure you were safe.’
‘I’m fine, I’m just afraid for you. Please tell me where you are. I’ll come, wherever it is.’
‘No. I don’t want you involved. Until I figure out what’s really happening.’
‘Goddamn it, tell me where you’re at, babe. Let me help you.’ Jargo’s hand touched Carrie’s shoulder.
‘Where did you go yesterday morning, Carrie?’
‘You’ – she closed her eyes – ‘you gave me a lot to think about last night. I went for a drive. Then to get us breakfast. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I didn’t mean to send a mixed message to you.’
‘You should leave Houston. Put space between your life and mine. I don’t want you hurt by… whoever is after me.’
‘Evan. Let me help you. Please. Tell me where you are.’
Jargo eased her closer, put his ear even closer to the phone. ‘I love you,’ she said.
A moment’s silence. ‘Good-bye, Carrie. I really love you. But I don’t think we can talk for a while.’
‘Evan, don’t.’
He hung up.
Jargo shoved her hard against the window. ‘Goddamn you stupid bitch!’ The glass smacked hard against her skull, the barrel of his Glock pushed against her throat.
‘Should I pull over?’ Dezz asked.
‘No.’ Jargo yanked the cell phone from Carrie, read the call log, dialed Galadriel on his set, ordered her to trace the number. He hung up and stared at Carrie. ‘You called to warn him? You told me you didn’t call him.’
‘No, I called to give him a reason to stay away from the FBI or the CIA if they came looking for him.’
‘I didn’t tell you to do that,’ Jargo said.
‘Initiative. I wanted him to shut up, about everything, until we could get to him. You didn’t get to him in time. You let the police get a hold of him. But I didn’t get to tell him the entire spiel. Gabriel attacked the police cruiser just as I’d gotten him on the phone.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because you’d freak out, just like you’re doing now. I didn’t get useful information, but I didn’t put us at risk.’
‘If the police recovered his cell phone, your phone number’s on the log.’
‘I used a backup phone. Stolen. Untraceable.’
‘It was stupid,’ Jargo said.
‘You want him alive so you can get the files. If his mother told him about you or the files, I didn’t want him saying a word to the police about the CIA. It was to protect him and to protect you. Our interests coincided.’ She watched Jargo’s gun, wondered if she would be dead in the second it took to see the bullet launch from the barrel.
He lowered the gun. ‘This is really not the time for me to worry about your loyalty. We clear?’
‘Crystal clear.’ She gripped his arm. ‘The CIA killed my parents, you think I want them killing Evan? If he’s with Gabriel, and we can get Evan back, let me talk to him. It’ll be much easier if you let me handle it. Please.’
‘You think you can recruit him.’
‘I think I can start the process. He’s lost everything. Except me. He’s vulnerable. I can win him over, I know I can.’
‘He said he loves you,’ Jargo said.
‘Yes. He told me that last night.’ She faced the front of the car.
‘So you’re his weakness,’ Jargo said with a laugh.
‘Apparently.’
‘Him loving you should make things easier,’ Dezz said with a laugh. ‘Bring him over with a good screw, and we’re set.’
‘Shut your stinking mouth,’ she said. She wanted to smash Dezz’s nose in, break the teeth in his smirk.
Jargo’s cell phone beeped. He answered, ‘Galadriel, don’t disappoint me.’ He listened. Nodded. ‘Thank you.’ He clicked off. ‘The cell phone is owned by one Paul Granger.’
‘Same name as the e-mail,’ Carrie said. ‘How far away are we?’
‘Less than five minutes,’ Dezz said. And then the sirens were wailing, the blues and reds of a police car flashing behind them.
13
Carrie was safe.
Thugs trying to act like government agents, Carrie had said. Was it really the FBI? Or could it be the CIA, looking for him? How would they know about him, about his parents and their connection to these damnable files? It didn’t make sense to him, but nothing did this morning. What mattered was Carrie was safe and sound. He would have to resist the urge to hear her voice and keep her at arm’s length, clear of this nightmare.
I find you and lose you, all at once, he thought. But just until he could find his dad, find out the truth of what had happened to his family. Then they could be together.
He went back to the bedroom where Gabriel was chained. Now Gabriel was sitting close to the headboard.
‘My girlfriend said the FBI was looking for me yesterday morning.’
‘Quite possibly,’ Gabriel said. ‘What do you want me to do about it?’
‘She didn’t believe they were real FBI. Could they have been CIA? You pull in my mom in Austin, they pull me in Houston.’
‘If they wanted you, they would have grabbed you earlier and taken you. I don’t know who it was. Sorry.’ Gabriel rattled the chain. ‘Are you leaving me here?’
‘I don’t know yet.’ Evan locked Gabriel in the bedroom. He hurried down the hall. Gabriel could be lying about not having help, the CIA or any friends of Gabriel’s could arrive at any moment. He ran into Gabriel’s bedroom. Opened the first suitcase. A few clothes. A lot of cash. Enough t
o make Evan stare. Neatly bound bricks of twenties and hundreds. No ID in the bag, but the luggage tag read J. GABRIEL. and an address in McKinney, a suburb of Dallas.
He searched Gabriel’s other bag. A few clothes, two guns, neatly oiled and disassembled. He dumped the gun pieces in with the cash. In the corner he spotted a small metal box.
He tried opening it. Locked. Locked meant important. He needed tools to crack it open. He dumped his damaged laptop into the suitcase with the cash. Ran downstairs to the garage. He loaded the bag into the rear of the Suburban, clearing out space. He hurried back inside and retrieved the small locked box, put it inside his duffel bag, went back down to the garage, and stuck the duffel in the passenger seat.
He went back upstairs. Getting Gabriel downstairs in the handcuffs would not be easy. He would stick Gabriel in the back of the SUV, hit the road, and call Durless. He thought Durless would listen. He was probably mortified and furious at losing Evan, and then losing the case to the FBI. Evan would give him a chance to save face.
He unlocked the door and walked into the bedroom.
The bed was empty. The handcuff dangled from the bed frame. The drapes danced in the breeze allowed by the open window.
Evan ran downstairs. His own breathing, panicked, filled his ears. CNN warbled in the den. He opened the door leading to the garage. Ducked inside. No sign of Gabriel. He edged in the dimly lit garage over to the Suburban.
Where the hell was Gabriel?
The garage door powered upward in sudden motion.
14
Evan knew he would be seen in a matter of seconds.
The Suburban was parked farthest from the house. As the garage door motored up, Evan slid over the hood of the SUV, putting the Suburban between him and the rest of the garage. He huddled down close to the front right wheel. He pulled the gun he’d taken from Gabriel from the back of his jeans.
Gabriel ran into the garage.
I have his keys, he went out the window, this must be his only way back in the house, Evan thought.
Either Gabriel had seen him or hadn’t and Evan would know in a moment.
Footsteps. Heading toward the door that led to the kitchen. Evan heard that door open. Then the garage door powering downward along its tracks. Gabriel cutting off his escape that way. He believed Evan was still inside the house.
Evan risked a peek above the Suburban’s hood. He’s probably got more guns in the house, and he’s heading for one, because he knows I’ve got one and now I’ll have heard the garage door, wherever I am in the house. Evan eased inside the Suburban from the passenger side, slid into the driver’s seat, inserted the key into the ignition. He found the garage door opener clipped to the sun visor and hit the button. The garage door stopped.
He hit the button instantly again and the door crept up as he started the Suburban. Evan thought, Please, let him have run upstairs already…
The door to the house flew open; Gabriel stood in the doorway, gun in hand. The garage door still motored upward.
Gabriel slammed his fist onto the door control; it stopped. He ran past the motorcycle. Heading right for the driver’s door.
Evan shifted into reverse and hit the accelerator. The Suburban roared backward, metal screeching as it scraped the lowered garage door.
Gabriel fired. The bullet pinged off the roof, his aim too high. Evan spun the wheel, slamming backward into metal in the wide stretch of driveway. In the rearview mirror he saw the stolen Malibu.
Gabriel sprinted toward the car’s front, aiming at the tires, bellowing, ‘Stop! Evan! Give it up!’
Evan wrenched the car into drive. The Suburban rocketed forward; Gabriel screamed as he went over the hood and off the side of the car.
Jesus, I hit him, Evan thought. He aimed the Suburban down the driveway, which cut down a sizable hill studded with cedars and live oaks. It looked like the Hill Country. Gabriel had mentioned Bandera. For once he’d told the truth.
The driveway snaked down to a closed metal gate that fenced the property off from a small country road. Evan pressed the other button on the garage door opener, hoping that the gate was electronic. The gate didn’t budge. Then he spotted a loop of chain locking the gate shut.
He searched in the dividing console of the Suburban, then hunted on the car key ring. No extra key.
Evan grabbed the gun from the passenger seat, got out of the Suburban, left the engine running. He aimed at the hefty lock on the chain, took two steps back, and fired.
The gunshot thundered across the silence of the hills. The lock rocked, a hole blasted in its edge. He tested the lock. It held.
He heard the whine of a motorcycle. The Ducati, revving down through the driveway.
Evan steadied his aim and fired again. The bullet chocked through the lock dead center. The lock fell open under his hands, and he unwound the chain, dropping the links onto the gravel at the road’s edge. His breath grew heavy and loud in his ears. He shoved the gate open.
The whine crescendoed. He saw the Ducati arrowing down the driveway through a break in the trees, then roaring toward him. Gabriel raised his pistol. The warning shot kicked up dust near Evan’s feet.
No place to hide. Evan, the chain in one hand, the gun in the other, slid under the Suburban at the passenger side, into the grit and gravel.
He had taken cover in panic. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The Ducati stopped ten feet away. Limestone dust from the gravel coated the bottom of its wheels.
‘Evan.’ Gabriel sounded as if he were talking around broken teeth. ‘Toss the gun out. Now.’
‘No,’ Evan said.
‘Listen to me. Don’t be an idiot. Don’t run. They’ll kill you.’
‘Back off or I’ll shoot you.’
Gabriel’s voice lowered. ‘You shoot me, you’re completely alone in this world. No money. No place to go. The cops hand you right over to the FBI, and then you know what happens.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘FBI comes and collects you on behalf of the CIA. Takes you into federal custody. And then they lose you, Evan, because the government wants you and your family dead. You’ve become a hot potato ain’t nobody touching. I’m your only hope. Now come on out.’
‘I’m not talking to you. I’m counting. When I hit the magic number, I’m shooting you in the foot.’ He wanted out from under the hot, dusty car, the heat of the engine pressing against his back.
Gabriel kept his voice calm, as though trolling his options and seeing which one would lure Evan into sunlight. ‘Evan, I know what it’s like to have no place to go.’
Evan waited.
‘I know how these people work, Evan. How they’ll hunt you. I can hide you from them. Or get you to a place where you could negotiate a peace settlement with them.’ Slowly moving, slowly circling the Suburban. ‘Best of all, I have a plan to get your dad back.’ Gabriel’s voice was low, buddy-intimate.
Evan aimed at Gabriel’s feet. His heart hammered against the gravel.
‘Your mother trusted me, and I failed her. I feel responsible. But remember, I shot through the rope, I saved your life.’ Gabriel’s voice dropped lower. ‘I’m talking with you. I’m not dragging you out by your heels to fight you.’
Because I hit you with a car and because I have a gun, and you know it. You heard me shoot the lock. And you’re hurt, bad hurt from hitting the car, but you still chased me down here. You need me. Because you want Jargo so bad, and I’m the bait.
‘We need to go to Florida,’ Gabriel said. ‘That’s where I was taking your mother. That’s where she expected to find your dad.’ Tossing Evan a bone.
‘Where in Florida?’
‘We can talk about details when you come out. I’ve got a great idea on how to get your dad back for you.’
‘So let’s hear your plan,’ Evan said. Keep Gabriel talking. Let his voice give away any sudden effort, like rushing toward the Suburban.
‘Jargo wants your dad, to lure you in and ensure you can’t hurt hi
m with the files. The CIA wants your dad or those files, to nab Jargo and whoever’s in the CIA that works with him. I suggest you offer deals to both sides, get them face-to-face. Then you threaten to expose both sides – Jargo as a freelance spy, the CIA as dealing with him, which is an embarrassment to them – and negotiate the return of your dad. Play them against each other. We can work out the details. But come out and let’s talk.’
And what does that plan buy you? Evan wondered. He could not figure out what Gabriel wanted – revenge, but against both Jargo and the CIA? It made no sense. Unless he really was ex-CIA and the disgruntled employee of the century. ‘All right,’ Evan said. ‘I’m coming out now. Don’t shoot me.’
‘Toss the gun out, Evan. Flick on the safety and toss the gun out.’
Evan, lying flat, aimed with care at Gabriel’s foot. His hand trembled and he willed it still. Make it count. But the surface of the road, all rough edges of gravel, made him worry the bullet might not fly straight into Gabriel’s leg. Hurt him just bad enough so you can get the hell away.
He aimed. But before he squeezed the trigger, a single shot rang out. A smack of bullet slammed into flesh, and Gabriel screamed and fell to the dirt.
15
Carrie glanced back at the whirling sirens and lights. ‘It’s a cop. I told you to slow down.’
Dezz said, ‘Just be cool and follow my lead.’
‘Dezz,’ Jargo said. ‘Take the ticket. You’re a model citizen. We leave slowly and quietly, you got me?’
Dezz pulled over and the county deputy sat behind him, lights spinning, for a minute.
‘He’s calling in the license,’ Jargo said. ‘Goddamn you, Dezz. If we lose Evan over this, you’re dead.’
‘It’s all cool,’ Dezz said.
Carrie tensed, turning to watch as the deputy unfolded himself from the cruiser and walked up to the driver’s side. Just let us go, please, she thought. Please.
Before the deputy could say a word, Dezz held his forged federal ID credentials up for inspection, saying, ‘Special Agent Desmond Jargo of the FBI. I’m heading to Bandera to locate a person of interest in a case based out of our Austin office.’
