The Night Cafe

by Taylor Smith

  “How soon you want the team, and where?”

  “In your backyard and now. We think the target might be San Onofre, so one way or another, it could go hot fast.”

  “Roger that. Semper fi.”

  “Semper fi.”

  As Towle signed off, Ito, sitting behind the chopper pilot, tapped his boss on the shoulder. “You’re an ex-Marine?”

  “Former Marine,” Towle corrected, “never ex. How much longer?” he asked the pilot.

  “Not long. You know where you want to set down?”

  “Stand by.”

  By the time Hannah caught up to the white van, it was back on the freeway and almost at the San Diego County line. Russo had called her back after speaking to Towle.

  “He’s a couple of car lengths ahead of me,” she said.

  “I’m about five miles back. Stay on him. Towle’s on his way in a chopper and he’s got a crisis response team mobilizing out of Camp Pendleton.”

  “Good.”

  The nuclear plant was cheek by jowl with the Marine base. At this point, Hannah thought, she’d take her breaks where she got them.

  “Hold it…” she said, and then, “he’s exiting the freeway. Picking up the old coast highway.”

  “Okay, so that pretty much clinches it. Try to keep him in sight as long as there’s other traffic, but if it comes down to just you and him, back off. I’ll call it in to Towle now and get right back to you.”

  But Liggett was moving like a bat out of hell now. What she hadn’t told Russo was that there’d been next to no traffic from almost the moment they’d turned onto the back road, so Hannah had zero hope she hadn’t been made.

  A couple of minutes later the van’s red taillights disappeared.

  When Russo called back, she tried to describe exactly where they’d been when Liggett had killed his lights. “He turned up a sand track about a quarter mile later. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t seen his brake lights flash. He obviously knows exactly where he’s going.”

  As Hannah had followed Liggett around the turn, she’d wrestled out of her jacket and tossed it out the window. “I left you a bread crumb, Hansel,” she told Russo now, describing what she’d done. “I love that jacket. Pick it up when you see it, okay?”

  “Forget it. I’ll buy you a new one.”

  “Big spender. I’ve gotta hang up now, John. I need both hands to drive.”

  “Hannah—”

  Two could play this game, she thought, killing the Highlander’s headlights. She took the bumpy trail at a snail’s pace to avoid hitting her brakes and giving him a red glow to more easily spot her in the rearview mirror as he moved toward the power plant. Distances were tough to judge in the dark, but the white panel van picked up and reflected what little light there was, so she spotted him periodically a few hundred yards up ahead. She rolled down the windows to listen for his engine, but all she heard was the Highlander. Another argument for driving a hybrid.

  Over the next half mile, the road turned more and more hilly. She had backed off the accelerator, afraid the heavy SUV was getting too close to the van, but as a long hill rose ahead of her, her speed dropped so precipitously that she feared bogging down in the sand. She gunned it a little going up the incline, but just as she topped the crest, a spectral gleam appeared in front of her.

  “Dammit!”

  She slammed on the breaks—too late. The Highlander plowed into the van, the airbag exploding in her face, knocking the wind out of her and pounding her aching head into the headrest.

  It took a few seconds before she could breathe. Scrabbling for the seat belt, she hit the release just as her car door flew open. Hands grabbed her and yanked her out. Liggett slammed her against the side of the Highlander, his rage all too visible in the glow of the SUV’s interior lights.

  He grabbed her once more, by the T-shirt this time, and threw her down in the dirt. He was strong and she was hurt and disoriented—but not helpless, she told herself. She came up in a fast crouch, watching his eyes and the blade that had somehow materialized in his hand.

  “You’re that goddamn Nicks woman.”

  “And you’re Kyle Liggett.”

  “I knew I should have killed you back at the service road.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because the other guys showed up, and Gladding wanted to deal with them first.”

  “Well, I guess you’ve dealt with them all now, haven’t you?”

  “Damn straight.”

  He came in fast and low, but Hannah feinted to his off-hand, dodging the knife. As she spun, the side of her fist came down at the base of his neck.

  His grin was creepy. “Like it rough, huh, babe?” He followed as she circled away from the knife.

  “So you killed Gladding and took the painting, too,” she said.

  He nodded. “My retirement.”

  “Ha! You wish.” Her laugh obviously startled him and she took advantage of the opportunity to try to land a kick to his groin.

  At the last second he grabbed her ankle and pushed her backward, but she went with it, rolling. He didn’t let go in time, giving her the time she needed to latch on to his hair and leverage her feet against his gut so that she could fling him over her head. The knife flew from his hand and she heard it clatter against one of the vehicles.

  She sprang to her feet, but he recovered fast. His eyes were darting, trying to locate the knife, when the sky erupted with a rumble. Off in the distance behind him, she saw a chopper approach, searchlight panning the ground.

  She was reaching for her gun at the small of her back when the heel of Liggett’s hand smashed into her nose. She felt the sickening crack of bone and cartilage, and she fell back, her face hot and wet, her balance momentarily lost. She went down on one knee, but not before she had the Beretta out of her holster.

  Liggett, however, had gone back to the van and opened the driver’s side door.

  “Liggett,” she yelled. “It’s over.”

  “No! You can’t stop this.”

  Her hand was shaking and her first shot only took out the mirror of his closing door. The van roared to life and he gunned the motor, but the van’s bumpers were locked with the SUV’s. He gunned it again, but the two vehicles only rocked a little, then rolled back as his spinning tires kicked up a dust storm.

  Hannah staggered to her feet. Liggett climbed out of the van and walked toward her, cursing, a gun in his hand now. When he fired at her, nearly point-blank, the blow to her sternum knocked her back, but not before she fired again, and then once more. This time he went down, but so did she, her head spinning, choking on her own blood.

  She was flat on her back, the roar of the chopper deafening now, its searchlight blinding and threatening to set the dry grass afire. Maybe this was hell. The earth certainly seemed to be opening up, pulling her down.

  Her final thought was that if she wasn’t already dead and Liggett came after her again, it was over. She had nothing left.

  Thirty-Two

  Saddleback Memorial Medical Center

  San Clemente, California

  The pain in her side was the first thing Hannah noticed when she came to—in a hospital, she realized, opening her eyes to a yellow striped curtain pulled around the gurney on which she lay, head elevated. Wincing, she reached up to touch her ribs under the thin cotton of a short gown. Her fingers gingerly probed the lump she felt there. It hurt like the dickens, but it didn’t seem as if any bones were broken. She splayed her hand across the swelling, offering up fervent mental thanks to the inventor of the Kevlar-lined bulletproof vest. That had to be a whopper of a bruise, but black and blue beat dead, which is what she would have been had Kyle Liggett’s point-blank shot had the intended effect.

  A light snore sounded nearby and she looked over to find Russo dozing in a chair. His cheeks and chin shadowed by stubble, he looked as exhausted as she felt.

  Her head ached something wicked and her nose was stuffed up like the worst cold ever. The s
kin on her face also felt stretched and taut over cheekbones that seemed to have grown larger overnight. She must look god-awful. When she reached up with her other hand to explore her face, something pinched her skin.

  Russo’s hand shot out. “Careful,” he said, laying her hand back on the mattress. “You’re hooked up to an IV line.”

  “Hey there, Sleeping Beauty.”

  “Sorry, I guess I nodded off. Have you been awake long?”

  “Not long. Where are we?”

  He got to his feet, stretched wearily, then moved in close and brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. “San Clemente. You’ve been here about four hours. It was the closest E.R.”

  “Oh, right, I remember—sort of.” There’d been sirens and flashing lights. Running feet and loud voices. “You were there in the ambulance.”

  He nodded. “They tried to keep me out, but I pulled rank, told them you were in my custody. You’re still in the E.R., but they’re moving you up to a room pretty soon.”

  She glanced around, but although she could hear voices beyond the curtain, they were alone for the moment. “So everyone here thinks I’m a criminal?”

  “Nah, I fessed up. Told them you’re actually the hero of the day. How do you feel?”

  “Like I was hit by a Mack truck. My head hurts like a son of a gun.”

  “You’ve got a nasty concussion, among other things.”

  “Other things?”

  Russo hunted around until he found a stainless steel spit pan, then held it so she could see her reflection. Hannah grimaced. Her nose was swollen to twice its size, the cotton-packed nostrils explaining the stuffed-up feeling. Her face was puffy, and both eyes were ringed with what she knew would turn into whopping shiners.

  “I’m going to start calling you ‘Rocky Raccoon,’” Russo said.

  It all came back to her now—the to-the-death battle with Liggett in the sandy field next to the San Onofre nuclear station. Seeing stars when his fist smashed into her nose. The pain when his bullet slammed into her rib cage.

  “What about Kyle Liggett?” she asked.

  “Dead.”

  “Did I shoot him? I remember fighting with him, but I can’t remember if I got off a shot or not.”

  Russo nodded. “I think you did—you, the FBI agents in the helicopter, the Marines who landed on the beach. Me, too, for that matter. We all showed up just as you went down, and at that point all hell broke loose. I guess we won’t know until the autopsy how many bullets he finally took.”

  “What about the bomb he was transporting?”

  “Defused. The Camp Pendleton disposal team said it was a highly explosive conventional weapon heavily packed with radioactive materials. The feds are saying the nuclear power plant was never in any real danger—”

  “Well, they would say that, wouldn’t they?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, but the onshore winds would have carried fallout from the bomb nevertheless. Maybe not enough to pose a serious risk, but who knows? There are a couple of million homes in the dispersion zone and they would have had to order at least a temporary evacuation while they assessed the danger. And after that, no matter how many reassurances they got, how many people would want to go back and worry about whether they or their kids were going to get cancer five or ten years down the road?”

  “That was probably the point,” Hannah said. “To create panic and uncertainty. It’s the purest kind of psychological terrorism. Do we know—”

  Just then the yellow curtain swung open and her mother and sister burst in. One look at Hannah and her mother burst into tears.

  “Ma! It’s okay,” Hannah said. “Don’t cry. I’m all right.” She winced as her mother threw herself on her, weeping, but she gritted her teeth rather than cry out.

  Nora came around to the other side of the gurney and took her hand. “Oh, Hannah, you look awful.” Then she glanced over at Russo. “What did the doctors say?”

  He repeated what he’d told Hannah about the concussion, then turned back to the stretcher. “I phoned your sister to let her know you were here.”

  “I called Cal’s house to tell them, too,” Nora said. “I hope you don’t mind, Hannah, but it’s all over the morning news. Your name hasn’t been mentioned so far, but it’s bound to come out and I didn’t want Gabe to be frightened.”

  “No, that was a good idea,” Hannah said, dreading what would happen if this misadventure of hers, too, became a schoolyard story. It would be more grist for the mill of Cal’s complaints. “So, this is my sister, Nora,” she told Russo, “and my mom, Ida Demetrious.”

  “I see the resemblance, all around,” he said, his gaze traveling from sister to sister to mother.

  “I’m surprised you’re still here, Detective,” Nora said. “Surely your questions can wait until Hannah’s feeling better.”

  Russo opened his mouth to explain, but Hannah’s mother beat him to the punch. “I don’t think the detective is here on official business,” she said, looking just a tad mischievous.

  Hannah raised an eyebrow—or tried to, but even that hurt. Not much got past Ida Demetrious, she thought, bemused. And naturally, since her mother knew her baby wasn’t a terrorist, she would assume it would be obvious to everyone else, including this dogged detective.

  Nora looked confused for a moment, but finally the penny dropped. “Oh! Really?”

  Inwardly Hannah groaned. Oh, lord. And so it begins. “John’s a friend.” Glancing at him, she added, “A good friend.” Might as well head them off at the pass.

  The arrival of a nurse and an orderly forestalled any more questions, subtle or otherwise. The nurse shooed the visitors off, suggesting they go to the cafeteria for coffee. “It’s going to take a while. The E.R. resident wants to look her over again and then we’re taking her for X-rays. After that, we’ll be moving her upstairs to her room. She’s going to be on Three West. You can meet her there. For now, though, you need to scoot. You, too, Detective,” she added firmly. Clearly the she’s-my-prisoner line wasn’t going to cut it anymore.

  It took over an hour before Hannah was finally settled in a sunny room on the third floor, by which time her roster of visitors had grown to include her neighbors. Everyone seemed to have introduced themselves, and Russo had brought them all up to speed on how Hannah was and how she’d landed in the hospital. At that point it was just a matter of filling in the blanks. Apparently the near-disaster at the San Onofre nuclear power station was the lead news story on every TV and radio station.

  “Travis pulled out all the stops to find out where they’d taken you,” Ruben said. “Of course, there is nothing that Mr. Information can’t uncover. I went over to your place to get some things I thought you might need. Found some really cute Garfield jammies.”

  Hannah groaned. “Tell me you didn’t bring those.”

  “No, I wouldn’t be that cruel. I’m sure the press is going to be all over you and we want to be sure you’re ready for your close-up. But that face…” Ruben crossed his arms and rested his chin on his hand, looking dismayed. “Honey, there is not enough makeup in the world to camouflage that.”

  Just then, from down the hall came the squeak of rubber on tile announcing the arrival of Gabe, who burst around the door. His very pregnant stepmother showed up a few weary steps behind. Hannah waited, dreading the appearance of her ex as well, but Christie, it seemed, had brought Gabe down alone.

  Gabe was stopped in his tracks by the sight of his mother. “Mom? Holy cow, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, sweetie. It looks worse than it is. Come on up here and give your old mom a smooch.”

  “But carefully, Gabriel,” Nana said. “Mama’s got a sore side and a bad bump on the head.”

  “I will.” He climbed very gently onto the bed.

  Hannah hugged him, then shifted over so he could nestle in under the crook of her arm. She kissed the top of his head. “See? Just bruises, that’s all.”

  “Christie says you’re a hero. You stopped a terrorist
who wanted to bomb California.”

  “Not just me. Lots of people stopped him, including Detective Russo here and the FBI and the U.S. Marine Corps. Even a nice policeman from England,” Hannah added, feeling a twinge at the memory of poor old Will Teagarden.

  “Wait till I tell the guys at school.”

  “Oh, maybe that’s not such a good idea, honey.”

  “Gabriel’s proud of his mom,” Christie said. “And so he should be.”

  Hannah looked up, surprised.

  Russo pulled up a chair for Cal’s wife. Christie settled in gratefully, then turned to Hannah. “I hope you don’t mind me barging in, but Gabe was anxious to see you.”