by Peg Herring
She closed her eyes for a moment. “I think they are, Hua, but we’re not what you imagined. Our organization is...loose, and our plans are pretty vague.”
“But they are worthwhile plans nonetheless.” His dark eyes met hers. “Mrs. Taylor—”
She waved the name away with a gesture. “Call me Robin.”
“Mrs. Robin, whether you take me into your gang or not is up to you. If you have no place for me, I will continue on my own. However, I can help you succeed, and I am terribly weary of working for the bad guys.”
Chapter Twelve
Robin wanted badly to believe Hua. She was aware, however, that childhood memories of her father’s tyranny colored her judgment. Shared past abuse didn’t mean Hua should travel with her and Cam. She needed someone objective to advise her.
Taking Hua to a nearby hotel, she paid for a night’s stay. He was awed by everything he saw on the way. Though he’d lived in a luxurious apartment in Richmond for a decade, it was clear he hadn’t gotten out much. At the hotel she showed him the basic amenities, much as she’d done with Cam a short time ago, and instructed him to use room service for meals and stay put until she returned. When she left, Hua was unwrapping the soaps and sniffing the complimentary body lotion.
At the motel, Robin told Cam what had happened. “I can’t confirm he’s telling the truth,” she finished, “and even if he is, what would we do with him?”
Cam accepted Hua’s story at face value. “Who’d make up something that weird?” he asked. “You said you wanted somebody who could do computer stuff. It sounds like he could.”
“But he thinks we’re a gang.” She made ironic quotation marks around the last word with her fingers. “He has no place to live, no money, and no documentation. We’d have to take him with us.”
That brought a frown. “You mean, he’d, like, live with us?”
“Yeah, I guess.” She thought about what that meant. Another person I’d be responsible for. Life dealt him a bad hand, but that doesn’t mean I can fix it.
Cam’s brow furrowed. “What if he won’t take a bath? Mom said those people—”
A look from Robin stopped him from repeating his mother’s xenophobic prejudices. “Hua could have screwed us big time, Cam. Instead he kept his mouth shut and ran away to join us.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “That does sound pretty cool.”
Unable to decide what to do, Robin messaged Mink, using the KNP subject line they’d agreed on. When he called a few minutes later, she said, “I’m considering adding a computer expert to the story.” She gave an account of her meeting with Hua, framing it in terms of the story arc.
“If he’s working for one of the clowns’ targets,” Mink cautioned, “he could be setting them up.”
“I know. He might be sent to infiltrate the organization and get all the clowns arrested.”
She grimaced at her own words. Infiltrate the organization? They were a couple of ordinary people with big ideas taking advice from two experts past their prime. Hua’s skills seemed cutting-edge, but Robin reminded herself she was one of the “everyday idiots” Em claimed were clueless when it came to detecting hidden motives.
“I’d advise the clowns to keep him in the dark as much as possible,” Mink said. “And watch to see if he communicates with anyone.”
“He already knows a lot. I—the clowns—doubt they can keep him in the dark for long.”
When her conversation with Mink didn’t provide a satisfactory solution, Robin called Em. As the phone rang multiple times, she pictured Em making her way across the apartment to wherever she’d left it. She answered on the seventh ring, and Robin asked if she’d told anyone about her recent trip to Richmond.
“Nobody has a clue where I go, and nobody cares,” Em responded. “What’s the problem?”
When Robin told her about Hua and his request to be part of their “gang,” she became irritated. “Do you listen to me at all, girl? You should have played dumb and refused to admit anything.”
“Em, he knew which motel we stayed at, what we were driving, and the names Cam and I are using.”
“And how many Taylors are there in this country? I told you—until the police get involved, deny, deny, deny. When the cops arrive, demand to see a lawyer.”
“He seems sincere.”
Em made a rude sound. “I hear Ted Bundy came across as a real sweetheart—until it was too late.”
“What should I do?”
After a moment’s thought she said, “Put me in touch with the guy. If he’s got an agenda, I’ll figure it out.”
Somewhat reluctantly, Robin provided her with the phone number listed on the hotel receipt. Em wasn’t likely to be gentle, and it seemed mean to let her browbeat an escaped slave. Still, Em was an experienced interrogator. “He’s in Room 31.”
“I’ll get back to you.”
An hour later, Em called back. “Hua is in,” she declared. “I think he’ll be a real asset.”
“What made you decide he’s the real deal?”
“In the first place, he speaks Thai like a native, so that part of his story is true.”
“You speak Thai?”
“You don’t?” Em snorted a laugh at her own joke. “I served in the military near the end of the Vietnam era. Spent some time in Thailand.”
Robin played devil’s advocate. “Okay, he’s Thai. That doesn’t mean he’s not lying.”
“The computer expertise is real too. I can’t really do much with the dumb things, but I can make it sound like I do. Hua came through that part of the test with flying colors.”
“So we know he’s Thai and he’s a computer whiz. That still doesn’t prove he’s on our side.” When Em paused in surprise, Robin said, “You keep telling me not to be naive, so I’m questioning everything.”
“That’s good,” Em acknowledged. “My third test was loyalty to Buckram. I asked for a great deal of information about the senator’s affairs, and Hua gave me enough to boot the senator out of office and into prison if we wanted to use it.” She made a tsk of disgust at what she’d learned in the interview. “If Hua were a plant, he couldn’t afford to go as far as he did.”
“So Hua is what he says he is, but he’s an asset who will also be a liability. What do we do with him?”
Em chuckled. “The guy’s too good to lose track of. Whatever you have in mind for yourself and Cam, I suggest you add Hua to it.”
***
The addition of a third active member to the group increased the need for a permanent base. Two men traveling with a woman was more noticeable than a married couple. To make matters worse, Cameron was becoming restless. The motel had neither workout equipment nor a decent place to take a walk, and she’d noticed him stuttering more often. He needed a space to call his own.
Robin fetched Hua and brought him to their motel, telling him a little about the goals of KNP as she drove. Explaining her desire to make a difference caused a question to come to mind. “Maybe we could get back at the people who took you from home and sold you to Senator Buckram.”
He was horrified. “No, Mrs. Robin. This would be something very bad for you to attempt. They are not merely crooks like the senator. Those people are killers—very dangerous!”
“I get it,” she said soothingly. “It was just a thought.” We might not be ready yet, but someday.
At the motel Robin led Hua to where Cam waited, glad their room faced away from the office so the owners weren’t likely to see the new arrival. When he saw Cam Hua said, “The senator said you were a big sonofabitch, which is very correct, Mr. Cameron.”
“Not Mister,” Robin corrected. “Just Cameron. Or Cam.”
Hua nodded soberly, and Cam asked Robin, “Do you think he likes Pepsi?”
“I haven’t got a clue. Why don’t you ask him?”
There was a long pause before Cam stuttered, “W-w-would you like a Pepsi?”
Hua glanced at Robin before answering. “No, thank you. Maybe I would like
some later.”
Cam turned again to Robin. “He seems okay. I mean, he’s polite. That’s good, right?”
“It’s pretty important.”
“Do you think he likes the same video games as me?”
Robin sighed. “Ask him.”
Cam turned to Hua, who seemed confused about whether to look at him or at Robin. “What’s your favorite video game?”
Hua frowned. “I was never allowed to have such things.”
Cam’s eyes clouded as he pondered that atrocity, but after a few seconds a smile lit his face. “You can play all the games you want to now, can’t he, Robin? I’ll show you how.”
***
She left Cam and Hua alone for a few minutes, sensing they’d get to know each other more easily without an observer. Since Hua hadn’t eaten since leaving Richmond and Cam would eat as many times a day as food was offered, Robin went to buy sandwiches. She returned to find Cam and Hua playing some game that involved navigating a field of meteors. They were laughing and punching each other on the arm, so she guessed things were good on that score.
Once each man had a sandwich in hand, Robin opened the atlas she’d recently bought and turned to a map of the continental United States. “We’re going to buy a house, and it needs to be centrally located.” As she spoke she drew two vertical lines on the map, marking the nation’s midsection. “Em says rural areas are easier to hide in if you convince the locals you’re not very interesting.”
“How do we do that?” Cam asked.
“We’ll work on that later.” She handed Hua her laptop and a list she’d made. “Find houses like this.”
He scanned the list. “In the country. Near an airport. At least three bedrooms.”
“More if possible.” Robin rubbed her cheek. “Who knows who’ll want to join our merry band next week?”
In less than twenty minutes, Hua had three possibilities: Des Moines, Iowa, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma and Kansas City, Kansas. They agreed to start with the closest one, a short drive north of Kansas City.
“Shall we go look at it first thing in the morning?” she asked.
“I offer my services as driver for our gang, Mrs. Robin,” Hua said eagerly. “I am very competent behind the wheel of an automobile.”
“It’s not Mrs. Robin. It’s just Robin. And in public, try not to say our names at all.
“I understand.” Hua tapped his lips with a finger. “We are incognito, yes?”
“But we got good reasons for lying to people,” Cam cautioned. “We make bad guys straighten up.”
Right. A couple more superheroes and we’ll be the Justice League of America.
“Where can he sleep?” Cam asked.
Hua pointed to the couch. “It will be much more comfortable than a closet floor.” His casual tone made Robin wish she’d punched Buckram in the nose a few times when she had him taped to a chair.
Cam located the extra blanket in the closet, gave up two of his four pillows, and made a neat bed on the sofa for their guest. Hua seemed both pleased and embarrassed by the attention, and Robin guessed it had been a long time since anyone took pains to see to his comfort—if anyone ever had. As she left to get take-out for their dinner, Cam was explaining the basics of Jupiter Astronauts to Hua. “You have to kill the bad aliens,” he said as she closed the door, “but you don’t want to hurt the alien mothers or their babies.”
Very early the next morning, they loaded their belongings in the RAV and started for Kansas. Robin typed the address into the GPS, and it indicated they would arrive at the property just after 11:00 a.m.
As soon as they were out of the city, Hua began noticing things he’d never seen before. His bus trip to Indianapolis had taken place mostly at night, so the sights along the way were a delightful surprise for him. “Look!” he’d say, pointing out the window. “That is a horse!” or “Goodness! Do you see how flat the land is?” Hua tended to steer in the direction he was pointing, so what should have been an uneventful ride turned into an hour of terror. Twice Cam took hold of the wheel to keep them in their lane, and several times Robin grabbed his shoulder, urging, “Watch the road!”
“Of course, of course,” he said each time, but that lasted only until he saw something else new to him. After a herd of llamas that almost led to a collision with a rest area sign, Robin suggested they stop. When they’d visited the bathrooms, she claimed it was her turn to drive. Quick on the uptake for once, Cam agreed, as if taking turns was their long-established practice. After that it wasn’t so nerve-wracking to have Hua point out flowering trees or ducks on the roadside ponds. Still, he kept rolling his window down to “smell America,” half-freezing his companions. His behavior led Robin to choose Bubbles as Hua’s clown name.
“In this gang we are clowns?” he asked.
“Cam is Bozo; I’m Clarabell. Our lawyer is Pinky—because he had on a pink shirt the last time I saw him—and our researcher is Ronald, because he has red hair.”
“So red?” Hua asked incredulously.
She laughed. “No. Just reddish.”
“I like Bubbles,” Hua informed them. “Like them, I do not weigh much but still I am very pretty.”
Twenty minutes north of Kansas City, they left the freeway and took a state highway east. There was nothing at the exit but an abandoned gas station, but a sign said, Gardiner, ten miles. Cam, who had taken over driving duties at the last stop, followed GPS directions down a narrow paved highway for two miles and turned down the even narrower Bobby Road. He steered down the center, avoiding the worst of the potholes.
“Arriving at destination, on left,” the voice announced, but there was nothing around them but trees.
“What now?” Cam asked. Hua’s window hummed as he opened it and stuck his head out like a curious cat.
“Keep going,” Robin advised. “Some rural places aren’t in the GPS memory.”
“This could be very advantageous,” Hua said. “Hard for others to find, yes?”
They drove on for perhaps half a mile, seeing nothing but fields and trees. The road was built up like an old railroad grade, the land around it flat and muddy with spots of leftover, dirty snow tucked in depressions and corners. Slashed cornstalks stuck out of the ground, their dull gold turning to rotted black at the bottom.
“I don’t see any houses,” Robin said. “Should we—”
“There!” Hua interrupted. “That is a driving way, yes?”
It was and it wasn’t. A turnoff sloped drastically downward in the faintest resemblance of a driveway. At the bottom of the incline, a large puddle of melted snow covered an area at least twenty feet square. Beyond the water was a long patch of slime that brought to mind mud-run courses Robin had seen online. “Can we make it through that?”
Farm boy Cam took her question as a challenge. Shifting into low gear he said, “No problem.”
Robin grabbed the hand-hold and Hua gasped in dread as they descended toward the mud hole like a theme-park gondola hitting the water course. “You gotta give her gas and keep going,” Cam said, his eyes focused on the way ahead. “If you stop, your tires sink in and you’re stuck.” As he spoke the car bogged down, shuddered briefly, and caught on something solid enough to propel it forward. Sloshing sounds indicated water hitting the vehicle’s sides. The car slewed and bucked, but Cam kept steady pressure on the gas pedal. At the far side of the puddle the tires began making sucking sounds, and clods pelted the undercarriage as their rotation released mud from the treads. The ground ahead rose. They were safely through.
The driveway cut through the stand of maples that obscured their view of the house. “When there’s foliage, this place will be completely hidden,” Robin commented. Trees that hadn’t been trimmed in decades scraped the roof of the van.
When they reached their goal Cam turned off the engine, and they sat for a moment, taking it in. The hulking, dismal structure brought to mind the haunted mansions from Scooby Doo cartoons. Made of red brick, it consisted of a large, three-
story square with single-story wings on either side. Several chimneys, black with old stains, were visible along the roofline. The dignified architecture had seemed attractive in the on-line picture, but the photographer had wisely taken the shot through the trees in high summer. The photo was romantic. Reality was starkly different.
“It’s kind of r-run-down.” Cameron rubbed his hands over his jacket front.
Robin sighed. “We can go on to the next one.”
“No, no! This house is very perfect!” Hua gestured expansively at the windshield. “Very big! Location is excellent! And you have the senator’s money. You can buy what we need to make this a very good home.”
Robin wished they hadn’t given away half the ransom. Making this house “very good” would eat up their remaining funds in an unbelievably short time.
Hua sensed her lack of enthusiasm. “Let’s look in the windows. Maybe we will like it very much.”
Leaving the vehicle they approached the house, sidestepping puddles and a stubborn, gray-tinged snowbank in a shadowed corner. The air smelled of wet nature, not unpleasant but not exactly fragrant. Robin’s mom, a real estate appraiser, had often commented on what was important about a property. “Don’t look at the pretty details,” she used to say. “Look at the bones.” The frame of this house, its “bones,” seemed solid. The main roof was in decent shape. There were no telltale droops in its line, no bricks lying on the ground.
A sign nailed to a tree advertised the property’s availability for purchase, but the sign was almost as decrepit as the house itself. Realtors had long ago given up on this sale: too far out, too far gone.
The first-floor windows sat high enough off the ground that neither Robin nor Hua could see in. “Empty,” Cam reported. “I see a fireplace but nothing else.”
Robin could see corniced windows and fancy ceiling molding. “Nice detail in the trim.”
“I guess.” Cam was clearly unimpressed with architectural flourishes.
Hua had disappeared around the side of the house, and he called, “Here! We can go inside!”
Cam and Robin followed his wet footprints across what had once been a courtyard. Its cobblestone bricks had rolled as the earth moved below them, and they had to step carefully so they didn’t trip. At the end of the west wing, a set of French doors stood open. Inside, Hua gestured an invitation like a friendly doorman.
