Moving Target

by Kimberly Van Meter

  He exhaled as if irritated. “I’ve been tasked to bring you to Washington for your own protection, not embark on a debate as to the ethics of my employer. Your safety depends upon your cooperation, so I suggest you stop arguing and start moving.”

  “My s-safety?”

  “Girl, you’d better listen,” Henry advised, looking all of his sixty-eight years, his weathered hands twisting the ring of master keys in agitation. “You in some serious trouble or something.”

  “She’s not in trouble,” the man corrected Henry sharply. “But she is in danger. Come, I will explain in the car to the airport.”

  Fly? Oh, no... “I don’t fly,” she said in a small voice. “I have a ph-phobia.”

  “That is unfortunate. Nevertheless, you are coming with me.”

  “I have rights,” she said, absurdly lamenting the fact that her macaroni was cooling into rubbery goo. The trick to eating those microwaved meals was to eat them while they were piping hot or else they returned to their previously unpalatable state. “I want to make a phone call,” she said, her lip trembling. Wasn’t that standard protocol when one was taken into custody?

  “Negative,” he said, hauling her to her feet as she gasped in surprise. He had a firm grip on her arm as he dragged her to the door while she clutched her macaroni meal and managed to snag her purse only because it was within reaching distance of the front door. She looked to Henry, beseeching his help but old Henry could do nothing, and she had no choice but to stumble after the mean man until he stuffed her into an awaiting black town car with no offer to allow her to pack or grab a toothbrush.

  “Is this some kind of joke or prank?” she asked, shrinking against the leather upholstery of the sleek vehicle as they navigated the dark San Francisco streets like a predator in the night. “Someone put you up to this, right?”

  He spared her a short glance, his angular jawline illuminated in the moonlight slanting in from the window. “I assure you, this is no joke. There’s a price on your head for creating the world’s most dangerous weapon in recent history. You are being taken into custody for your own protection until such time as the government can decide how best to proceed.”

  “There has to be some mistake,” Kat protested in shock. “I don’t make weapons, I swear to you. I’m knee-deep in research for the cure for Alzheimer’s. I promise nothing I’ve done is to hurt anyone.”

  “Are you not Dr. Katherine Olivia Odgers, social security number 321-65-3498, employee of Tessara Pharmaceuticals, badge identification K-O-O-1183, birth date—”

  “Yes,” she cut in, openly horrified that a total stranger had access to her most sensitive data. “But I didn’t create a weapon! My most recent experiment ended in failure. Surely, you have the wrong person.”

  “Did you create drug MCX-209?”

  Kat drew back, blinking. “Yes.”

  “Then you’re the right woman. Your drug—whether you deem it a failure or not—is now considered a drug more dangerous than every bioweapon out there.”

  “That’s impossible,” Kat whispered, shaking her head. “MCX-209 was never created for any purpose aside from healing the brain. Everything was going really well until Auguste forgot how to be a monkey.”

  “Be that as it may, the potential ramifications of such a drug in the wrong hands are too catastrophic to leave unchecked.”

  Good gravy. This was how people got brutally murdered in the movies. They took long rides in black cars and their loved ones never saw them again. She glanced down in despair at her shabby sweatpants and ratty UCSF sweatshirt and lost whatever shred of composure she had left as pure terror took over her mind. “Are you going to kill me?” she cried, her nerveless fingers dropping the cold meal onto the floor. She sucked in a breath as macaroni bounced off her toes and landed on the vehicle carpeting. “Oh! Gross,” she whimpered before burying her face in her hands to sob. “I’m going to die with processed cheese on my feet! This is so not fair!”

  “Stop crying,” he instructed her, curling his lip at her rising hysterics; but she didn’t care.

  “All I ever wanted was to help people, to help my uncle fight that insidious disease and now I’m going to die because I inadvertently created a weapon of mass destruction!” she wailed, staring morosely at the mess at her feet as she hiccupped. “And I didn’t even get to eat my macaroni!”

  Of all the ways she thought she might go out...this wasn’t even in her top five.

  Chapter 2

  Jake wanted to clap his hands over his ears at the woman’s incessant wailing but he fought hard to remain composed, gentling his voice as he attempted to calm her. “No one is going to kill you. You watch too many movies if you think we’re driving to your doom. The whole point of taking you into custody is to protect you from people who might not feel the same as the United States government.” He was pleased to see his words had penetrated her wailing for she slowly calmed down and peered at him through wet lashes. “I promise you, you are safe,” he assured her.

  “Are you positive?” she asked, her voice nasally and small. “You’re not just saying that to get me to be quiet? So that I’ll go docilely to my own demise?”

  “Well, there is that—the quiet part,” he muttered, then added hastily when her eyes widened again, “Of course not. That’s not how my branch of the government works. We’re going to board a private plane to Washington, D.C., where you will be properly protected while we sort this situation out.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth made a small o but just when he thought he’d calmed her sufficiently, he realized her teeth were chattering. At his perplexed expression, she reminded him plaintively, “I’m terrified of flying. I mean, massively phobic. I might even pee my pants if you try to put me on a plane.”

  He released an irritated sigh. “Then I’ll give you a light sedative. You will go to sleep and wake up magically in Washington.”

  “Yeah, that seems logical but I’m allergic to most sedatives. I found out the hard way about that. Makes getting my dental work done a challenge.”

  Was she kidding? He narrowed his stare. “This is no joke. I don’t have time for games.”

  “Why would I lie about an allergy?” she asked, frowning.

  “To get out of flying.”

  “I’m really not lying...about flying.” She broke out into a tiny smile at her inadvertent rhyme, then apologized when she realized he did not find the humor. “How far is it to drive to Washington?”

  He glowered. “Too long. At least two days of hard driving with minimal stops.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go on a road trip,” she admitted with a shy smile and he had to stop himself from growling. She shrugged at his expression. “I’m just saying, a drive could be nice.”

  Nice? Driving cross-country with a jittery scientist did not sound nice at all. But what choice did he have? He was tasked to bring her to safety and that’s what he would do. He didn’t care if he had to charter a bus to do it.

  “Driving it is, then,” he agreed, but then added, “This is no pleasure cruise. We are not sightseeing or stopping for tourist attractions. It’s going to be a blur of truck stop diners, convenience store bathrooms and endless driving until we reach our destination.”

  “You should work for Travelocity,” she grumbled, but nodded. “Okay.”

  Jake realized in his haste to procure her, he hadn’t actually allowed her to pack any clothes. He groaned, knowing what her next request would be so he said gruffly, “We’ll stop at a Target before we hit the road so you can pick up some provisions.”

  “Oh, good!” She looked plainly relieved and he felt like an idiot for not allowing her to prepare properly. However, in his defense, he’d thought they were going to fly and they would’ve been in Washington within six hours. After he’d delivered her to his superior, the department would’ve seen to her ne
eds. Now? It was his job. He shuddered as an odd sensation twanged his insides.

  “Is this your first government kidnapping?” she ventured, and he bristled.

  “No, and you were not kidnapped.”

  “I’ve never been kidnapped before but I imagine being forced from your home without a choice in the matter is a lot like being kidnapped,” she reasoned, adding almost cheerfully, “but what do I know? I spend eighty percent of my time enclosed in a lab with rhesus monkeys for company. I might actually enjoy the human interaction.”

  “Perhaps you could find a book to read while you’re in Target,” he suggested, not liking the idea of fielding questions from this oddball chatterbox.

  “Oh,” she said, taking the hint. For some reason, he felt like a cad for shutting her down but he stiffened against the feeling. He wasn’t her tour guide or her bosom buddy. He was a government employee, fulfilling his duty. End of story. Feelings of any sort did not play in the mix. And yet, his mouth fought to utter some sort of apology. However, she saved him from stumbling through an embarrassing attempt when she recovered quickly to quip, “Well, as cute as monkeys are they don’t actually talk back so I’m accustomed to having full conversations with a relatively silent partner. No book required.”

  Oh, Lord...this was going to be the longest ride of his life.

  * * *

  Kat tried not to squirm, feeling the silence in the car like a suffocating blanket tossed on her head. She risked a glance at the man who’d plucked her from her apartment without so much as a polite conversation to buffer the abrupt change in her circumstances and wondered if she were suffering from Stockholm syndrome because to her eyes, he was quite handsome. His dark hair was cut with precision, without a single hair out of place, which, of course, made her intensely aware of her general state of dishevelment, and his clothes were crisp and foreboding, as if he was dressed by the costume director of Men in Black. She plucked at the dingy sweats she always slipped into once she was safely behind her own walls and dropped all pretense of trying to fit in. Why couldn’t she have at least worn something a little less unflattering?

  “I can practically hear you thinking,” he said, sighing. “You don’t have to worry. No one is going to get to you now that you’re in custody. Rest assured, the U.S. government has your best interests at heart.”

  She started, realizing he’d misinterpreted her consternation but she had to laugh at his last comment, saying, “Even I know that the U.S. government doesn’t do anything that doesn’t benefit the government in some way. But that’s not what I’m thinking about.”

  “Oh. Why were you frowning?” he asked.

  “Because I look like a house frau.” And you’re so damn handsome that you’re making me feel like a drab, little mouse. She shrugged, rubbing at a dark stain on her sweats. “And I wished I’d been wearing something a little less...frumpy.”

  “Comfortable clothes are best for traveling,” he said sternly. “No sense in getting prettied up just to sit in a car for hours on end, right?”

  She smiled, warming to the fact that he’d attempted to put her at ease, which she sensed was not in his nature. “True,” she agreed, and returned her gaze to the dark landscape as it zoomed by. “So, how long have you been married?”

  Jake shot her a quick look, alarmed. “Excuse me? I’m not married. What gave you the impression I was?”

  “Because you’re so handsome,” she answered simply. “You know, I’ve worked with a few government employees before when Tessara landed some contracts with the U.S. government but none looked like you and I think I created a stereotype in my head that they all looked like pudgy, balding salesmen in cheap suits.”

  “Even the women?” he quipped dryly, and she laughed.

  The corners of his lips played with a smile, which only made him sexier, and she realized that she was inappropriately attracted to this austere man.

  Definitely Stockholm syndrome.

  “You didn’t answer the question. Why did you think I was married?”

  “Oh, because someone as good-looking as you doesn’t stay single for long. Even if you were gay, some smart gay guy would snatch you up pretty quick I’m fairly certain. You’re not gay, though, are you?” He shot her a dark look and she took that to mean he preferred women, not that she had a chance with someone like him. He was the quarterback and she wasn’t even the bookish nerd in the library. She was that really strange girl who liked to chew on her hair and formulate algorithms for fun. “Sorry for the personal questions. When I’m nervous, I tend to ramble and I have difficulty determining social boundaries. I was tested for Asperger’s but the results were inconclusive. Either I have it and I’m really good at fooling the test, or I don’t have it and I’m just weird.”

  “You don’t seem that weird to me,” he offered.

  “That’s because I’m holding in most of my weirdness. If I were to let it out...you’d probably drop me off at the first bus station. Once, a blind date excused himself to the restroom and never came back. To be fair, I knew from the start we weren’t compatible but he’d been so cute that I’d overridden my initial reservations to at least get through dinner but it hadn’t mattered, he’d left me at the restaurant. In my experience, monkeys have better social skills than people because at least they don’t lie.”

  “Not everyone lies.”

  “All humans do,” she disagreed easily, but she didn’t blame him for his opinion. She wasn’t passing judgment, just offering a statement of fact backed up by historical evidence. “It’s an evolutionary protection for the species.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, lying was the first built-in protection measure. To deflect consequence, which oftentimes was death. Noblewomen lied all the time to keep their heads on their shoulders. If a woman gave birth to a female rather than a male heir—somehow it was her fault even though men determine the sex of the fetus. And if a male was sterile, it had to be the woman’s fault so she got herself knocked up by the stable boy and passed it off as her husband’s child. You’d be shocked at how many royal babies were actually born on the wrong side of the blanket—” She stopped short when she realized Jake had checked his rearview mirror three times during her explanation. “Is something wrong?” she asked, turning around but he stopped her with a curt instruction.

  “Keep talking, and don’t look back. Someone has been following us since we left your apartment. Act natural.”

  “Act natural? What does that even mean? You just told me that I was safe and now you’re telling me that someone is tailing us? Wouldn’t that, by its very nature, preclude the concept of safety?”

  “You are safe. They are behind us, not in the backseat.”

  “They who?” Her neck ached from remaining unnaturally stiff. “Who is following us?”

  “I don’t know but I can’t imagine they have your best interests at heart. Remain calm while I reason this out.”

  “I think I’m going to tinkle,” she moaned, admitting, “I have a nervous bladder, too.”

  “Well, whatever you do...don’t tinkle. This car is a rental.”

  Jake pressed his foot on the accelerator and Kat’s fingernails dug into the armrest as she squeezed her eyes shut. “I used to dream of something exciting happening to me but I take it back. I don’t want excitement. I want my boring, uneventful life back.” She lurched forward as tires squealed and Jake whipped into some pretty amazing defensive driving skills. In spite of being told not to, she jerked around to peer out the back window and got blinded by headlamps that seemed pushed up their tailpipe. “Did they hit us?” she asked in a horrified screech as the realization that they were in real-life bumper cars nearly caused her to lose her bladder control right then and there. She clamped her thighs together and prayed, and while she was at it, she took back every fevered whisper she’d ever uttered in the misguided h
ope of becoming something more than a nerdy scientist girl who still hadn’t lost her virginity!

  Chapter 3

  Jake had no idea who had hooked in behind them but he’d noticed the vehicle tailing him about a block after leaving Katherine’s house and he knew they were in trouble. He gritted his teeth and wrenched the wheel to whip down a side street, then took another sharp turn down a street in a zigzag manner in the hopes of losing the tail.

  “I don’t want to die like this!” Katherine wailed, her fingers clutching the “oh, shit” handle for dear life. “Dying in a heap of twisted, burning metal was not how I thought it would all end!”

  “No one is dying today,” he bit out, pushing the town car to go faster. “But whoever is behind us is pretty damn good behind the wheel. I can’t seem to shake him!”

  “You said you’d keep me safe. I don’t feel safe! I don’t feel safe!” Katherine cried, screaming when he skidded around another corner, narrowly missing creaming a fire hydrant. “Just let me off at the corner and you can continue your car chase without me. I’m done with all this government stuff. This is what I get for letting a pretty face override my good sense. I knew I shouldn’t have left with you.”

  “Katherine! Shut up,” he demanded, wishing he had a sock to stuff in her mouth. “I can’t concentrate when you’re screaming like a banshee.”

  She buttoned her lip but her eyes were wide as saucers behind those ridiculously ugly glasses and he felt a pang of remorse for snapping at her but he didn’t have time for much else if he wanted to get them out of this jam alive. He didn’t know San Francisco well enough to navigate with the speed he needed. He flipped the navigation system on and barked at Katherine. “Can you read a map?”

  That seemed to jerk her out of her funk and she scowled as if he’d just asked if she could operate a toaster. “Of course I can read a map,” she answered with a glare. “I’m not stupid.”