New York Deep

by Andrew J. Morgan

  It was over before Josh had a chance to realize what was happening. The airbags had gone off—there had been an explosion in among the crash somewhere—and both Edwards and the driver were currently untangling themselves from the great white balloons deflating around them. The air was acrid, like gunpowder.

  Josh's door swung open. His ears rang. Hands grabbed him, the headlights of the car they'd avoided glaring in. He wrestled his seatbelt off as he was pulled out and dragged across the tarmac.

  'Get in the car!' Lionel shouted, and all of a sudden sound overwhelmed Josh, the hiss of the SUV's destroyed engine, the blare of its horn, stuck on, the rush of blood in his head, all filling him with sound until his skull felt like it wanted to crack open.

  Lionel pushed him into the car and closed the door behind him, running around the hood and jumping in himself as Edwards emerged from the SUV. He looked furious, but they didn't get to see him for long, as Lionel stepped on the gas and sent his Toyota hurtling up the street with the squeal and scrabble of tires clawing for grip.

  Chapter 6

  'Jesus Christ . . .' Josh said, blinking to try and right his vision.

  'Sorry,' Lionel apologized, both hands gripping the wheel hard. 'I didn't know what else to do. When that SUV pulled up, I called you, but you didn't answer. I had to go. I waited on Northern Boulevard until you pulled out, then followed you around. While you waited at the lights on 108th, I circled the gas station and headed you off. I only wanted to stop the SUV, not make it crash. I wanted to get you out of there.'

  'Shit . . .' Josh said, the two images before him almost returning to one. 'I guess that makes us fugitives now or something?'

  'I guess . . .'

  Josh checked behind them, to make sure no one was following. They were okay for now.

  'Look, Josh,' Lionel said, fidgeting. 'Don't think I've done anything rash here, okay? That driver, before I pulled away, he got out of the SUV and he made a call. I wound my window down to hear it, and he was talking to someone about you. He said they were going to be as quick as they could, and that he hoped there were no more deaths.'

  'Deaths?' Josh repeated. His heart had only just begun to slow, and now it was back pumping at full tilt. 'Whose deaths?'

  'He didn't say. But I tried to call the others, and I didn't get an answer from a single one of them.'

  Josh's stomach turned. Carlos Garcia. Edwards had mentioned him; he'd caused trouble. Had they killed him? Had they killed the others? 'Oh God . . .' he whispered.

  'Exactly!' Lionel screeched. 'You see why I did what I did now? Once that driver was back in his car, I was gone!' Lionel paused, and when Josh looked at him, he seemed ashamed. 'I damn nearly left you there, Josh. I was scared. Terrified. Who are these guys to go around killing innocent people? I sure as hell didn't want to find out.'

  Josh patted Lionel's arm. 'It's okay, bud. I'd have probably done the same. But you didn't go; you came back for me. And here we are.'

  Lionel nodded, tense. 'Here we are.'

  'And we've got to get out of here, like to Mexico or somewhere.'

  'Mexico?'

  'Yeah, like in the movies. That's where you go when you're in trouble like this, right? Mexico?'

  Lionel looked affronted. 'How am I supposed to know? Because I'm black I'm supposed to know where federal criminals go to hide out?'

  'No, that's not what I meant . . .'

  Lionel sighed. 'Sorry, man. I know you didn't. Just stressed, you know?'

  'I hear that. So, what do you think?'

  Shrugging, Lionel said, 'I don't know. It seems . . . ridiculous.'

  'This is ridiculous.'

  'I know, but—'

  'Do you have a better idea?' Josh interrupted.

  Lionel was quiet for a minute, focusing down the road. 'No. I don't know.' He thumped the steering wheel. 'This is messed up!' he yelled.

  Nodding, Josh said, 'Yeah, it is, but we've got to make a decision, and quick. So . . . Mexico?'

  Lionel was shaking the hand he'd hit the steering wheel with. He sighed again. 'I suppose so. Mexico it is.'

  Decision made, Josh retrieved his cell from his pocket and looked at flights online. It was seven o'clock now; the next flight out from JFK to El Paso left in an hour and fifty minutes, and would get them there via Houston in just under ten hours from takeoff. It was the last flight of the day, but there was just enough time to catch it. He dialed Georgie.

  'Josh, is that you?'

  'Yeah, it's me.'

  She sounded scared. 'Where are you?'

  'I'm with Lionel. I—the CIA are gone. We need to go.'

  'Go? Where?'

  'Mexico.'

  Georgie paused. 'Mexico?' she said finally. 'Why are you going to Mexico? What's going on, Josh?'

  'I can't explain now, but I need you to get to JFK, you and Joseph, right now. I'll sort the tickets; I just need you to be there. It's incredibly important that you do this, Georgie, do you understand?'

  'I—I don't know . . .' she said. She sounded close to tears. 'I just want to know what's happening . . .'

  'I'll tell you when you get there, I promise, but right now you need to get in a cab and get to the airport. I'll meet you at the American Eagle desk, Terminal 8. Can you do that for me?'

  'Wh—what do I need to take? I—'

  'You don't need to take anything, just you and Joseph. Leave now, okay? Don't stop for anyone.'

  'Okay . . .' She was definitely crying now.

  'It'll be okay, I promise. I love you.'

  Those last words just slipped out, but it was too late. He was under pressure; it was an old habit. Georgie didn't say anything.

  'Georgie, are you there?'

  A sob. 'I'm here.'

  'I'll meet you at JFK, right? The American Eagle desk, Terminal 8.'

  'Okay. The American Eagle desk, Terminal 8.' She hung up.

  Josh leaned back in his seat and sighed a sigh that should well have collapsed his lungs. The weight of exhaustion on his shoulders felt like it would pin him into that seat until the day he died. He hoped that day wouldn't be today.

  'That's rough,' Lionel said quietly.

  'It's all rough.'

  'Nah—I mean what you just said.'

  Josh looked away. 'What did I say?' he said, playing dumb. 'I didn't say anything.'

  Lionel said nothing for a moment, but Josh knew he was looking at him. 'All right, whatever you say. But I know what I heard, and you do too.'

  Josh didn't respond. As Lionel drove them out of Queens and toward JFK, Josh felt an overwhelming sadness fall on him. Everything had changed, and yet everything was still the same. He still loved Georgie, still missed her, and yet he'd let it take a thing like this before he'd tried to get her back into his life. Now he wanted to cry too, just let it flow and blame it on the crash or something, but he knew the tears wouldn't come. His emotions were like the tunnels he'd worked in for so long, buried and invisible.

  'You sure we're doing the right thing?' Lionel said after a while. Josh watched the streetlights flash along the hood of Lionel's Toyota, wondering the same thing.

  'What else can we do?'

  Lionel's silence was his answer. If Josh had felt a year older earlier, he felt several more by now. Signs for JFK rolled overhead, and Lionel took the exit. Josh hoped the CIA wouldn't be there waiting for them. Would they know where they were going? Could they tell? The idea of going to Mexico was so ridiculous that he hoped Edwards wouldn’t even consider it.

  The traffic was just as heavy as if it had been the middle of the day, and they stop-started their way into the perimeter of the airport. Airplanes rumbled overhead, lights blinking, undercarriages hanging down like great, cumbersome legs. Soon, Josh hoped, they would be on board one of them, sitting behind one of the tiny points of light along its fuselage. What would they do when they arrived? He hadn't even considered it. He didn't want to consider it. He just wanted out. The air would taste so sweet across the border. Not like the stench of death
that filled his lungs here.

  'Should I head for parking?' Lionel asked as he read a sign directing them to the long stay car park.

  'No point,' Josh said. 'We'll leave the car in the drop-off zone and just go in.' He looked at Lionel, and he seemed sad.

  'I guess so . . .' was all he said in reply.

  They peeled off the Van Wick Expressway, following the signs for Terminal 8 and American Eagle. The terminal loomed over them, the gateway to their freedom, and until they had parked up and got out of the car, not another word was said.

  'I wonder if Georgie's here yet,' Josh thought aloud. 'Let's go inside and check.' She wasn't. He had no missed calls, either. She would've had to wait for a cab, so she was probably still a few minutes behind. Josh could use that time to get the tickets.

  They went inside, the blast of warm air as they went through the sliding doors making Josh realize how cold he was. He shivered. The large space was bustling with people, their chatter and footsteps an indecipherable hum.

  'American Eagle is over there,' Lionel said, pointing.

  'I see it.'

  They headed for the desk, where they were greeted by a beaming assistant.

  'How can I help you two gentlemen this evening?' she asked them.

  'I need four tickets to El Paso International, three adults, one child please.'

  The assistant tapped the details onto her screen. 'Okay, and when would you like to be flying?'

  'The next one, please; eight-fifty I think.'

  More smiles, more tapping. 'We have space for you on that flight. There's a stop-off in Houston, is that okay?'

  'That's fine.'

  The assistant beamed. 'Okay then! That'll be eleven hundred and forty dollars. Would you like to pay cash or card?'

  'Card please.' Josh reached into his pocket, but Lionel stopped him.

  'I got this,' he said.

  'Why?'

  'I got us into this, so I'm going to get us out of it.'

  Josh, sensing that no wasn't going to pass for an answer, let him. As Lionel paid, Josh watched through the glass as a cab pulled up outside. His heart leaped as he saw Georgie climb out, cradling a sleepy Joseph. 'She's here!' he told Lionel as he collected the tickets.

  'All right, I've got the tickets,' he said. 'Let's go meet them.'

  'Have a nice flight!' the attendant called out after them as they headed for the entrance.

  Josh couldn't help but run over to Georgie as she and Joseph came in from the night. 'You came!' he said as he flung his arms around them both, squeezing them tight.

  Georgie wriggled away as best she could while holding Joseph. Her expression was not one of happiness: she wasn't pleased to see him. 'I nearly didn't come. The CIA, Josh—the C-I-A! You owe me an explanation for why I'm at JFK in the middle of the night and for why you're being asked questions by the federal government! And what's Lionel doing here?'

  'Hi, Georgie,' Lionel said.

  'Hi, Lionel.'

  Josh looked around, hoping no one had heard the mention of the CIA. Not only had no one heard, no one cared, sweeping past them as though they weren't even there. He ushered them all to a quieter corner of the hall, watching over his shoulder to see if anyone might be paying more attention than they should.

  'It's complicated,' Josh said once they had more privacy.

  'Complicated?' Georgie repeated, with sarcasm.

  Lionel, presumably sensing a perfectly reasonable outburst, stepped in. 'We found something, Georgie. In the East Side Access tunnels. Something that had the CIA so interested that they were there within a few hours. They won't tell us what it is, but they've gone to great pains to come and find us.'

  'Well, where are they now?' Georgie asked. 'The CIA?'

  Lionel looked to Josh for help.

  'We gave them the slip,' Josh told her.

  Georgie wasn't buying it. 'You gave the CIA the slip?' she said, her anger and frustration barely held together. 'You, a tunnel engineer from Queens, gave the CIA the slip?'

  'Well, sort of . . .'

  'Sort of?'

  Lionel cleared his throat. 'I intervened,' he said. 'I pulled out in front of the SUV they'd taken Josh in, and they . . . they crashed.'

  Georgie looked shocked. She looked between them, mouth open, cradling Joseph tight. Her eyes were wide and wild, her eyebrows contorted such that it seemed she didn't know what to feel. Josh didn't know if she was going to scream at him or ask him if he was okay. He'd never seen her like this before.

  'Please understand that we've done nothing wrong,' he said, trying to calm her down before it was too late.

  Georgie nodded, lips pursed. 'Nothing wrong. You forced a CIA vehicle off the road and escaped custody, and you say you did nothing wrong?' She stared unblinking at Josh for a while, and Josh held the stare as long as he could, hoping she could see his honesty. She must have seen something, because after a long few minutes, she sighed, the madness in her eyes fading. 'Did you get hurt?' she asked Josh. 'In the crash?'

  'No, I'm okay. Shaken up, but okay.'

  'And you're sure you've done nothing wrong?'

  'Positive.'

  She shook her head, bobbing Joseph up and down, and he shifted in his sleep. 'So how did this get so out of hand? Why didn’t you just go with them and answer their questions?'

  Josh had hoped he hadn’t needed to tell Georgie this, but he didn't want to lie to her either. 'What we found . . .' he said slowly, trying to be tactful, 'they don't want us to know about. It's something big, like, really big, and they want us gone. They—they said they'd killed the others. Took them away. I went to Garcia's house and the neighbor said she saw them dragging him off. Said she'd heard shouting before. It's messed up, Georgie, and when I got home, they'd broken in and—' He couldn't say any more. Georgie was clearly scared now, the bobbing stopped, her body rigid.

  'They'd what, Josh? What had they done?'

  Josh swallowed. His eyes hurt. The crash was beginning to fill him with ache. 'They'd threatened you. They'd threatened both of you. They've got this big secret, and they're going to stop at nothing to protect it. That's why we've got to go to Mexico.'

  Standing there in tracksuit bottoms, Joseph in his pajamas, Georgie looked a mess, yet Josh loved her more now than he ever had. He was a fool to have let work get in between them, and the small glimmer of hope that came from a life together again, even if it was at the cost of leaving their home and being on the wanted list of an international agency, made him feel a twinge of happiness.

  'Will you come?'

  Georgie shut her eyes, as though righting her mind. When she opened them, they had a new calm. 'Okay,' she said, nodding. 'If you think it's best, I'll come.'

  Chapter 7

  Josh smiled. He'd always admired Georgie's tenacity. 'We've got an hour before takeoff. Let's get through to the gate before the CIA puts us on some no-fly list or something.'

  'How long does it take to get someone on one of those?' Lionel asked. 'Do they have to get a warrant or something?'

  'Who knows,' Josh replied. 'Let's just hope the paperwork is a mile long.'

  They joined the line to check in and shuffled forward, the sentry scanning tickets exhibiting completely the opposite demeanor of the person selling them. Josh could feel a sweat coming on, the walk toward this man a shuffling march to his own doom.

  He watched as the man, scowling, held out his hand for the next ticket, scanned said ticket, waited for the machine to go beep, stared at the screen for a moment—scowl intensifying—then turned his stare to the ticket's owner. Satisfied that he'd stared enough, then—and only then—would he hand the ticket back and allow the person through, waving the next person up. It was a tedious and unnecessary process at the best of times. Today it was agonizing.

  Josh turned to the three others behind him, giving Georgie as comforting a smile as he could muster—which she did not return—and Lionel a look he hoped would generate the kind of strength and solidarity that would get them through, s
uspicions unraised. If the look Lionel returned matched the one Josh was giving, they were screwed.

  Thinking it best to face forward again, Josh marched onward, one pace at a time, a funeral procession. Ticket, scowl, beep, ticket. Ticket, scowl, beep, ticket. Josh slipped into a daydream, tiredness and a creeping pain switching him to standby for a minute.

  'Sir, I need to see your ticket, please.'

  The scowl was directed at him now. 'Oh! Sorry. I was miles away there.' Josh handed the man his ticket, which was snatched away from him and scanned without fanfare. Beep. The man stared at the screen. He didn't so much as blink. He stared and he stared and he stared, longer than Josh had seen him do for any other ticket before.

  'Okay, that's fine,' the man said, handing back Josh's ticket without so much as a second glance. As Josh took it, the man was already leaning around to see who was next.

  As calmly as he could, Josh shuffled forward, heart beating so loud he couldn't believe the man wouldn't hear it and call him back. He had to remind himself that he hadn't actually done anything wrong, because all this tension was starting to make him feel like he had.

  Once he had shuffled far enough away from the check-in desk, Josh turned to see Lionel being handed back his ticket. They were all through, although deathly pale. Josh scanned around the other passengers to see if anyone had taken any notice, but they hadn't. To be honest, they all looked as sick as he felt, if not worse. They all marched on in their own little worlds, oblivious to anything. It was a relief.

  Josh grabbed a tray from the carousel and dumped his keys, cell and belt into it to be x-rayed. One by one they marched through the metal detector; one by one they were let through. Georgie set the alarm off, but it was just the buckles in her shoes. She took them off, they went through the x-ray machine, and all was fine.

  On the other side, re-shoed, belted, keyed and celled, they gathered in the atrium, where the bustle of people was magnified from the hushed tension of check-in. People were laughing, shouting, running, sleeping, shopping, all at once.

  'What gate are we on?' Lionel asked, looking at the departure board.