They rang up Terry’s items in a silent store.
“Thanks. Be well.”
“You, too.” The clerk’s Christmas cheer had evaporated, and Terry could think of no way to revive it.
* * *
An icy breeze greeted Terry as he reached the sidewalk. He looked down the street and saw the old woman wheeling a cart along, pitiable in her isolation and despair.
He wondered if she needed, or would accept, a ride. Terry put his stuff into the car, then froze, a terrible realization striking him like a stone. “Oh shit oh shit oh shit” he said aloud, thinking, Oh my God. I forgot. I was thinking so hard about the woman that I handed Kermit my damned debit card.
He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. Looked both ways down the empty street. “Maybe it’s nothing,” he muttered to himself. “Maybe Geek missed it.”
Terry continued to drive, slowly and carefully. And then … an SUV barreled around the corner, squealing and throwing up snow as it did.
The battered green Geekmobile was instantly recognizable.
“Shit!”
He swerved to the side and made a right-hand turn. “Even if that’s something, they don’t know what I’m driving. They didn’t see me pull out of the lot…”
That faint hope vanished when the Expedition plowed around the corner, coming after him full-tilt boogie.
Cherokee and SUV slid, spun, and squealed through the empty streets. Patches of black ice broke his traction twice, and he slewed, rear wheels slamming against the curb before they dug in and shot him forward again. He was gaining on the Pirates when he turned left into a dead-end alley blocked with orange construction signs and an abandoned cement truck. No way out.
The Pirates pulled in behind him, blocking the alleyway. Terry fished in the glove compartment, found what he was looking for, and slipped it into his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he climbed out of the car to face them.
Lee, Pat, and Mark were out of the SUV in seconds, automatic pistols popping up from the low-ready to head shots—he could see squarely into each of the three barrels. They were spread out, bracketing him professionally. No human motion could be fast or skilled enough to survive the potential fusillade. Good old-fashioned overlapping fields of fire. Nothing better. “Well, Terry,” Mark said. “I told you we’d see you again.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Terry said. “I’m no danger to you.”
Pat’s narrow face sharpened in a sneer. “Not in a minute, no.”
“Why, damn it?” Mark said. “Why did you turn against us?”
Terry felt no fear. But along with the cool wind whistling through his bones, he did feel a measure of sorrow. “You wouldn’t understand. But it wasn’t turning against you.”
Mark’s eyes flickered to the groceries in the backseat. “That’s a lot of food. Planning a party?”
“There’s a family,” he said.
“Olympia?” Mark asked. “The kid?” His expression was unreadable, but not quite as flinty as it had been just a moment before.
He nodded. “They’re in trouble.”
Mark’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what this is about? The woman?” Terry knew that expression. Please. Help me understand.
“In a way.”
Lee shifted uncomfortably, keeping his weapon aimed at Terry’s face. “Let’s end this.”
Father Geek slapped the side of the SUV. “Wait a minute. Wait just a minute, all of you. Death lasts a long time. It doesn’t answer questions.”
Pat sneered. “Maybe not, but it does solve problems.”
Mark seemed to swell, as if he had swallowed his own shadow. He lowered his pistol, still at the ready but no longer lining up on Terry’s skull. “Pat, stand down, soldier. Terry, it’s not too late. We can do this together.”
“Yeah,” Lee said, “it’s too late.” His eyes said this was the worst kind of lie: one that half of him wanted to believe.
“Stand down!” Mark snarled. They glared at each other.
Mark sighed wearily, and looked as if he wanted to sit down. Fatigue radiated from him like a low squealing sound, only something felt rather than heard. “Terry. Do me a favor. It’s Christmas. Probably my last one. Give me a reason not to kill my friend.”
Terry shrugged. “Ask the cops pulling up behind you.”
The Pirates looked back over their shoulders. A police car had slowed at the mouth of the alley, and Terry waved merrily at them. The black-and-white backed up and then crept toward them. The Pirates slipped their guns back under their coats and assumed more casual stances, exchanging wary expressions.
“What’s going on here?” the first officer asked after the car rolled to a halt. None of them seemed to have seen the handguns or noted the aggressive body language. The two vehicles were facing each other at an angle, as if there had been a fender bender.
“This guy cut us off on the road,” Mark said, the very soul of reason. “We were just having a little conversation.”
They glanced at Terry. It was clear: the choice was his. Would these men live or die?
“Well,” the cop said. “I guess you did us a favor. We need him in connection with a theft at the Salvation Sanctuary.”
Lee smiled tightly. “Seems like a shady character to us, Officer.”
“Well, do you want to press charges?”
“No,” Mark said. “I think we can leave this to you, sir.”
A third vehicle pulled in behind the cop car. It was dark and sleek, with no official trappings.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” Lee muttered.
A tall, lean man exited the car. Terry noted that the others seemed to defer to him. “Thank you, Officer.” A Southern drawl. “I believe we can take it from here.”
“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” the cop asked.
“Get in touch with your captain.”
The other cop in the car was looking at his dashboard computer. “Sir? He’s right.”
Mark cleared his throat, and the Pirates relaxed, or pretended to. “Sir, happy to be of service. Merry Christmas…”
“Merry Christmas,” the cop replied.
Mark made careful note of the tall man’s license plate on the way out. Terry approved. Mark didn’t know what was going on, or what this apparent alpha wanted, or who he was … but you never pass up a chance to snag some intel.
They found Terry’s gun when they searched him, which caused a little excitement. Terry kept his cool, and continued to comply with the officers. They handcuffed his hands behind his back, guns at the ready. He was anchored into the car, still under threat from multiple weapons, no chance to respond. “My name is Tony Killinger,” the tall man said. “Security chief of the Salvation Sanctuary.”
“Congratulations.”
“Where are they?” Tony asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“This isn’t the car he was driving yesterday,” the other security man said.
“Well now, I’m bettin’ we can check the license plate,” Tony replied, and smiled at him.
Suddenly, and with crystalline clarity, Terry realized taking the Cherokee had been a terrible mistake.
One of the cops looked up in excitement. “Sir! We have a hit from Homeland Security. This man is wanted in connection with the threats made against the president.”
Tony’s smile was tight and hard. “Check with your commander. We’ll take it from here.”
“But…”
Without reaching for a weapon, somehow the security man had totally dominated the situation. “Stand … down.”
* * *
A half-mile away, Father Geek had pulled the SUV over to the side. The motor pulsed through the wheel, warming his hands.
“What now, genius?” Lee asked.
“Well…” Geek scratched his head, frowning. “I thought cops might get a fix on him, and give us a chance to get to him first. If they caught him, at least we’d know it, and could change our plans. Better than bein
g caught flat-footed.”
“Maybe we should have left well enough alone,” Mark said.
“Not too terribly likely,” Pat said.
Father Geek rolled down his window and spit out into the cold. This was a clusterfuck, but one he’d half-expected. “What the hell do we do now?”
“They’ll run the I.D. Find out who he is…”
“So he tells them who we are and what we’re doing, and we’re screwed,” Lee said.
“We fall back to the secondary plan,” Mark said. “We have two chances to get our goods. One is in Georgia. The other is in North Carolina. These are state guys. If they check Homeland, they’ll grill him until they find out the flag is bogus, and then grill him even harder. They won’t have anything to charge him with, but if he gives us up, we’d better be lost, and fast. There’s nothing to connect us, but it could get unpleasant if they lay hands on us. If nothing happens in Georgia … but something happens in North Carolina, we’ll be out of the country before they can coordinate. We go dark. So far, we’ve not accepted any stolen equipment, I’ve destroyed the plans, and Terry doesn’t know the name of our supply contact. We might squeak through this. Compartmentalization is a wonderful thing. So there’s no evidence. No crime.”
Father Geek’s phone rang. He glanced at it, and didn’t recognize the number. “Don’t know who the…” He answered it. “Hello? Hello…?”
Then … his eyes widened. “Uh … guys … it’s Terry.”
“Odd time for a chat. What is it?” Mark asked.
In answer, Geek put the phone on speaker. They could hear every word in the security car. “Why do you want the woman? The boy?” Terry’s voice.
What was this? Who was he talking to? And … Geek couldn’t avoid the suspicion that this had not been a butt-dial. For some reason Terry wanted them to hear this conversation. But why?
“Big things happening, champ. Big things. And the queen figured it all out.”
“Madame Gupta?”
“That’s the one. That kid … he’s pretty special. He’s the only one we ever did find who can do the trick and keep breathin’.” A pause. “At least we think he can live.”
“What trick?”
“Now, what kind of citizen are you? Haven’t you been watching the news?”
Another voice. “We have the address. Let’s motor!”
“Hannibal is connected to all these killings? To Gupta? What’s going on here?”
“I suspect you’ll find out. And you probably won’t enjoy what ah believe they call ‘the process of discovery.’”
Then the sound of a car pulling out. Geek felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. The implications of this call were … impossible.
And unavoidable. He placed the phone on mute.
“What was that?” Lee asked.
“I’m not sure what we just heard,” Mark said. “It wasn’t his phone?”
“No,” Geek answered. “Different number. Might have been a burner.”
Mark drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “I don’t know about you guys. But as far as I’m concerned, this changes a few things.”
“Like what?” Lee asked.
“Someone is killing people in a way no one can figure out. And Terry’s squeeze is some part of it. Maybe a big part of it.”
Lee shrugged. “Maybe behind the whole thing. But so what?”
“Whoever is doing this is planning to kill the president. Today.”
Pat shrugged again. “I voted for the guy with the magic underwear.”
“That’s not the point. So the kid, and the woman, and Terry are a part of it somehow. If it’s true, she’s done a lot of damage.”
“I believe the technical term is a ‘shitload,’” Geek said. “I remember taking an oath, once upon a time. Same one you guys took. Something about enemies foreign and domestic. I wasn’t born in this country, but I bled for it and it’s mine now. If anyone living has a beef with Colonel Shitbird and his pogue-ass Sergeant Major Douchebag, it’s me and I’m saying we reevaluate our targets. It has really bugged me that Terry broke with us—he’s our bro. He was there. It had to be something big. How can it get bigger?”
“I say we reevaluate,” Mark said. “What do you say?”
Pat sighed. “I say … we stick around. I didn’t vote for the bitch, but she’s still my fucking president.” He sighed. “And let’s not go all hero and shit. We still owe O’Shay, damn it.”
CHAPTER 49
The house was bursting with the rich aroma of baking biscuits and hot cocoa. Nicki was outside gamboling through the snow with Pax, who was as bouncy as a kitten. “Fetch, Pax!”
Pax ran happily off. She fetched the ball … and then saw a rabbit. Pax ran off after the terrified bunny, who scampered away through the snow.
“Paxie!” Nicki called.
“Don’t worry,” Olympia said. “She’ll come back, hon. She’s just having fun.”
“Won’t be fun for the rabbit.”
“Hot cocoa,” Hannibal said in delight.
“Hot cocoa,” Nicki said approvingly. “You know, you’re just a little chatterbox, Mini-me.”
“Strange, isn’t it?” Olympia said. “Something about this whole thing seems to actually be good for him.”
“Maybe good for all of us,” Nicki said.
Olympia and Nicki went inside and sat at the table, sipping cocoa. The buttermilk biscuits, found stacked in plastic ziplocks in the garage freezer, would be ready in minutes. “What do you think is happening, Mom?”
That stopped her flat. One of those questions that demanded her whole mind. “Big question. Which part of ‘happening’ are you referring to? In the world? At the Salvation Sanctuary? To our family?”
“Maybe to us. Right now I don’t care about much else, I’m just happy for the little miracle that we’re together.”
Olympia sighed. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Is what?”
“A small miracle.”
“Isn’t that what I just said?” They laughed together, the blended sound sweeter than any Christmas song. It had been too long between laughs in their lives.
“Come on,” Olympia said. “Help me with the dishes.”
* * *
Snow exploded with each puffy footstep as Pax chased after the rabbit. Hannibal loved watching Pax running happy and free, like a dog should. She was a city dog, who had probably never seen anything so … so … well, Christmassy.
Hannibal was building a snowman in the front yard, freezing his fingers even through the too-big gloves Mommy had found for him. In a little while he’d go and drag Nicki back out into the yard. She and Mommy were washing dishes, but there was all day to work. It was time to play!
He heard a car heading toward them, a dim growl growing louder by the moment. Daddy Terry coming back?
Hani hoped so. Mommy was baking biscuits: the warm sweet scent tickled his nose even out in the yard. His mouth watered at the thought, and a big smile split his face at the notion of sharing one with his more-than-friend, Terry.
Hannibal turned, waving, and then saw that the driver was not Terry. And a moment later, he realized what that meant.
“Hannibal!” He turned in time to see Nicki run out of the house, huffing as she scooped him up and tried to run. Two men grabbed from either side and they spilled on the ground, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe at all.
He howled with pain and fear as his mother tried to reach him. She was tackled to the ground and her hands tied.
The next car pulled up. Terry sat in the back, his face clouded with fear and rage. Terry! Help me! Help us, Terry!
But he didn’t, and couldn’t, and Hannibal’s eyes washed with tears. It wasn’t fair! They’d won! They’d gotten away from the bad people. This was cheating!
The tall man with the scarred eye smiled at him.
“We missed you,” Tony said to Hannibal. “Yes, we did.”
“No no no no no,” Han
nibal screamed. “’Erry!”
Hannibal sobbed and screamed as they hauled the family into the cars. The cars pulled out of the drive and sped away. He tried to take refuge in his Game, and failed. His inner kingdom was breached, swarmed with alien trees and vines, the halls violated and humid.
* * *
The security men left one car behind. “Marty,” Tony said to the largest of them, a man who Nicki had thought looked much like the Avenger, Thor, but with shorter hair. “Sweep the cabin. Take everything that identifies them.”
“Will do, Chief,” Marty answered.
Marty waited until the cars had pulled out, and then entered the cabin. He pulled a trash bag from under the sink. Went from room to room, sweeping up trash and gifts and wrappings. Headed back out, then turned, and there in the open doorway stood a very intense and angry dalmatian-spotted Great Dane.
Pax.
“Oh, shit!”
He went for his gun, but not half fast enough, and Pax was on him. Marty tried to get his arm under the dog’s jaw, levering the head up, but his heels lost traction against the ground and they fell backwards together. Straining, he managed to twist Pax’s massive head to the side, and once he did, if he could wedge his left elbow under the jaw he could reach his belt knife with his left and slam it into the side of the beast’s neck, could—
And at that moment his head slammed into the coffee table, stunning him so that all thoughts, all plans, were obscured in a flash of pain. And then …
Pax’s jaws closed on his throat.
* * *
Nicki gritted her teeth as their car jostled down the roads, traveling back to the Sanctuary. The one positive thing about this hideous situation was that she had discovered that anger was a terrific antidote for fear. That was a good thing, a very, very good thing. And if she survived, she’d never forget it, she was certain.
“Where are you taking us?” she asked. They had chained her hands to a loop on the backseat.
“You’ll like it.” His tone did not invite challenge.
Terry was slumped, unconscious. He had tried to wrest free of his cuffs, and the bastards had Tased and beaten him until he could no longer resist.
He had tried. As their real father had not. And now they were going to die. Terry was going to die. Because he had tried.
Twelve Days Page 35
