actually going in circles. Then suddenly they sped up, made two quick turns, and jammed to a stop. Lars switched the engine off and doused the headlights.
There was a thump as Lars lay across the bench seat. Wes wanted to ask what was going on, but was smart enough to remain silent.
They stayed like that for nearly five minutes before Lars finally sat back up. Nothing for a moment, then the engine came back to life and the truck started moving again.
More minutes passed, then Lars said, “You were right before. I was supposed to meet him that night.”
Wes wasn’t following.
Then it hit him. Not the night of the crash. Another night, years ago.
His father’s day planner.
“I chickened out. He wanted my help, but I chickened out.”
“Help with what?” Wes asked.
Lars grunted, but said nothing more.
Wes asked him again, but didn’t even get a grunt this time.
Several minutes later the truck pulled to a stop and Lars cut the engine.
“Stay here,” he whispered.
The door opened, he got out, then it closed again.
Silence, both inside and outside the cab. A quiet Sunday night.
Questions about his father, and Lars, and why they would have met, swam through Wes’s mind.
Lars came back after ten minutes. Without a word, he unlatched the seat and tilted it forward, then he pulled the blanket off.
“Here,” he said, extending his free hand to Wes.
With Lars’s help, Wes struggled up, then out, every muscle screaming in pain.
They were parked next to a rectangular, two-story, flat-top building. It was white, and had outside breeze- ways on both the first and second levels. Wes turned and saw two more identical buildings to the side. All unmistakably military.
He did a full three-sixty. There were three more buildings on the other side of a narrow road, but otherwise, there was only desert in all directions.
“Come on,” Lars said.
“Wait. What were you supposed to help my father with?”
“Not now. We don’t have time.”
“Lars, we’re talking about my dad!”
“Later.”
“Do you know why he went up Nine Mile Canyon?”
But Lars was already jogging along the side of the building, toward a door at the top of a short set of concrete steps. Wes hesitated a moment, then followed. As soon as he reached the steps, Lars opened the metal door, revealing a stairwell inside. Without a word, they went up.
The stairs ended at the second-floor landing. From there, Lars led Wes onto the breezeway. Along the wall were five metal doors. Lars hurried down to the one at the far end, his footsteps echoing softly through the empty night, and pulled the door open. He motioned for Wes to enter.
The room was about fifteen feet wide by twenty long. There were three desks, each covered with books and papers. The wall on the left was a heavily used, floor-to-ceiling dry-erase board, while the wall on the right and the one directly across from the door sported waist-high, wood-framed windows.
Lars moved quickly to the corner where the two windowed walls met. He looked out one, then the other for several seconds before turning back to Wes. “You can see both routes from here.”
He pointed through the window to the left, indicating where the road that ran between the buildings met with another that curved out into the darkness of the desert. Through the window to the right, he pointed at a narrower road that passed between two of the buildings on the other side of the main road and then led out into a different part of the wilderness.
“If you see anything,
“Hold on,” Wes said. “What, exactly, are we doing here?”
Lars took a moment, then said, “You were right about Adair.”
“Hold on. You’re telling me for sure the pilot wasn’t Adair?”
Lars nodded. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
“You’ve known this all along?”
“No,” Lars said quickly. “That part of things I didn’t know until this evening.”
“What things?”
“Look, the reason we came out here is because there’s information that will prove you were right, but I can’t just access it anywhere. I called in a favor and got the password to a secure computer terminal downstairs that does have access to the info. It’s not a perfect solution. But they won’t realize it right away, and our location out here will hopefully buy us a little extra time for me to find everything. What I need you to do is watch the roads and warn me if anyone’s coming.” He turned the phone on the closest desk to face them. “There’s an internal intercom in this building. When I get downstairs, I’ll call you on this line.” He pointed at an unlit indicator on the phone. “Just press that and we’ll be connected. All right?”
Wes looked at his friend for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. All right.”
50
After forty minutes passed without Stewart returning to his room, the man in the car began to get annoyed. When it hit an hour, his annoyance became concern. Not for Stewart, but for the possibility that Stewart had given him the slip.
He waited an additional ten, then made the call he was dreading, and was told to look around the motel and see if he could find the missing cameraman.
He checked the rooms the rest of the crew were staying in, listening at doors and windows to see if he could hear Stewart inside. Most were quiet. The only exception was the sound of a TV in one.
He thought for a second that maybe Stewart had snuck off to have a little fun with the other woman in the crew who’d stayed for the weekend, the tall one. But when he checked her room, there was only silence.
Before getting back in the car, he checked Stewart’s room, just in case the guy had returned as stealthily as he left. Didn’t sound like it, though.
The son of a bitch was messing up the plan. Tonight was supposed to be
“I have no idea where he went,” he said, checking back in. “As far as I can tell, he’s not anywhere on the grounds.… No, she’s still there.” He listened, then cocked his head, surprised. “Are you sure? … Okay, okay, if that’s what you want.… Yes, I’ll call as soon as it’s done.”
The man hung up, not completely sure how he felt. Changes were never something he was comfortable with. But what could he do?
He looked at his watch, marking the time, then leaned back, saving his energy for later.
51
“How’s it looking?” Lars asked over the speakerphone.
“Quiet,” Wes said.
Night in the desert meant miles and miles of nothing but dark. Wes would be able to see the headlights of any approaching vehicle in plenty of time for him and Lars to get away. So far the roads to the isolated set of buildings had remained empty.
