While Stephen drove, Julia stayed in the back, click
ing away on the laptop.
'We have to be at the airport at least an hour early, you know?' he said.
'No problem.'
Five minutes later he pulled to a stop. 'Make it fast.'
They were at the curb in front of an electronics store. She hopped out and returned after a few minutes, bag in hand.
'The sales clerk said there's a bowling alley up the street about ten minutes.' She handed him scribbled directions on the back of a sales receipt. 'It'll take me longer than that to transfer everything, so no hurry.'
He checked the directions and got the van moving.
'Mr. Reynolds?'
Someone was gently shaking his shoulder. He felt the heat of the fire from the hearth on the right side of his face, then the weight of the binder in his lap. He had been reviewing security briefs from the various agencies that reported to the NSA when he'd drifted off. His eyes fluttered open to a blurry face in front of him. He'd found that coming out of sleep slowed with age. Now it was a struggle, like rising through water, wondering why the surface wasn't where you though: it would be. He suspected that the easier endeavor would be to simply stop struggling and let himself sink away. He'd never had the courage to try it.
One of Captain Landon's lieutenants smiled at him, a patronizing smile that irritated him.
'What do you want?' He straightened in his chair, folded the binder, and held it out to the kid. 'Put this on the table there.'
'A call, sir. Julia Matheson.'
Kendrick noticed the cordless encryption phone in his hand. He snatched at it, feeling some resistance until the man let go.
'Get out of here.'
When the lieutenant was gone, he spoke into the phone. 'Ms. Matheson? How good of you to call.'
'Atropos took Allen Parker.'
'Took?'
'He flew away with him in his jet. Took.'
'I've never heard of him doing anything like that. He's a killer. He kills. What does he want with your friend?'
'Ransom? The evidence?'
'You still have it?'
'And more. We know where he went. You said you wanted to find Karl Litt?'
Kendrick leaned off the back of the chair. He felt an old familiar pang in his chest, the anticipation of reaching a long-desired goal.
'You know where he is?' His voice was almost a whisper.
'We want Allen back. Will you help us get him?'
'Yes, of course. Where?'
'You'll help us rescue Allen? I have your word?'
'I will use every resource at my disposal, and I think you know my resources are considerable. Now,
'Can you trace this call?'
'It's already done. Tell me where Karl Litt is, Ms. Matheson, and you will have your friend back before nightfall.'
Silence.
'Ms. Matheson? Hello?'
He pushed himself out of the chair, grabbing the cane beside it. He stumbled and caught himself as he made his way to the door, faster than he had moved in a long time.
'Landon!' he called. 'Somebody!'
He yanked open the door, startling the lieutenant on the other side. He held out the phone, like a tired and injured runner passing off a baton.
'Trace this. Hurry!'
Julia closed the cell phone and hard drive inside the locker and pulled out the key. She looked around at the bowlers and spectators, the few people at the snack bar. No one was paying attention to her. The air was ripe with beer and sweat and something like talcum powder. She imagined the people Kendrick would send, ripping open locker after locker until they found the right one. Something these regular folks would talk about for a while, then forget.
She didn't know if Kendrick would care what she and Stephen did after he got what he wanted, but she wasn't taking any chances. She wanted to be on the plane before he saw the data Vero had delivered. Nothing would stop them from getting Allen back. She only hoped Kendrick was good for his word.
On the way out to the van, she dropped the key in the trash.
On the 767, over the Carribbean, Stephen asked to watch Vero's video again. Julia set the laptop on his tray table and told him how to access it. His big fingertips hovered over the keyboard like fat birds trying to land on tiny perches. He brought an index finger down, depressing several keys at once.
'Ah!' he said and carefully tapped the right key. 'The world wasn't made for big guys.'
'I can't say I relate.' She glanced at the monitor but saw nothing but the privacy screen she'd slipped on before arriving at the airport. Only the person sitting directly in front of the screen could see the images it showed.
'Stephen,' she said slowly, thinking about what she wanted to say. 'A couple times Allen started to say something about why you left medicine and became a pastor. You stopped him. Can you tell me now? I'm just curious.' She reached out and laid her hand on his.
He stared at it, expressionless.
'I killed a man,' he said. 'I murdered him.'
Her hand jumped slightly. She hoped he didn't notice.
He shifted his gaze to the window. 'Back then—this was a few months before completing my MD—I was pretty cocky. Respected, wealthy family. No problem getting dates. Had a residency lined up at Boston's Massachusetts General. 'Course, med school is vicious. On the rare evening I didn't have night courses and wasn't studying or doing volunteer work at the local clinic, I hit the bars. Hard. Most of us did. We'd try to get two months of high tension out of our systems in one night.'
He paused, shifted in the seat.
'We were in a sports bar, Malone's. Celtics and Bucks on all the TVs. We'd gotten pretty rowdy, a few of us.'
He turned to Julia and leaned closer.
'Some guy at the bar told us to shut up. Jeff—a friend of mine— he got into a yelling match with him. The guy came over, all in-your-face, and dumped a plate of potato skins in Jeff's lap. Jeff was a wiry little guy, feisty like a Chihuahua. He just about jumped over the table to get at him. I put my arm out and stopped him. So the guy who'd come over starts saying, 'This your babysitter, that it? Doesn't want Jeffy to get hurt.' Stuff like that.'
Stephen was looking past Julia, completely there, back in that bar.
'Jeff picks up a saltshaker and beans the guy right in the forehead.
Now they're both trying to get over the table. I had to stand up to hold them back. The guy sees me rising up and thinks I'm coming at him. He gives me a shove. And of course I shove him back, which puts him on his butt, sliding across the floor. He's up in a heartbeat, ready to dive at me. He stops and sizes me up. I got a hundred pounds and eight inches on him. He reaches round his back and pulls out a knife, starts carving little circles in the air, you know? I'm like, 'Whoa, buddy,' but now I'm really ticked off. I mean, the guy pulls a
He stopped, thinking. His face seemed to have slackened, like a candle just starting to feel the effects of its
