“We have to get this kid to a hospital. Krista, you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
I nodded at Pike.
“Let’s get out of here before we get hung up with the police.”
Pike closed the door, and Ghazi al-Diri stepped from behind the old truck. He carried a short black shotgun, and his ponytail had come untied. His hair hung loose at his shoulders.
I said, “Joe, this is Ghazi al-Diri, the Syrian.”
He raised the shotgun.
“Put down the keys and walk away. I want the vehicle.”
His men must have taken his car and left him with nothing.
Krista said, “Fuck you. We have to take my boyfriend to the hospital.”
The Syrian jerked the gun to his shoulder, and shouted.
“Move or I kill you!”
A loud roar of automatic fire kicked up debris from the ground at his feet, and the shotgun spun lazily away.
Then the roar stopped, and Jon Stone ran up, put al-Diri facedown in the dirt, and parked a knee on his neck.
Stone nodded at me.
“You good?”
“I’m good.”
“Where’s the boy?”
“Jeep. We have to get him to a doctor.”
Stone touched the M4’s muzzle to the back of al-Diri’s head.
“Go. This one’s mine. See after Mr. Berman.”
We did.
Nancie Stendahl
The black dot did not move. Nancie hoped this was a good sign. Stone was probably parked, and if Stone was close to Jack, this meant she was close to Jack.
Mo said, “Two miles, heading zero-eight-zero.”
The five people on the helicopter looked in the same direction at the same time. Farms. Rectangles of green painted on the gray desert sand.
“One mile. Right in front of us.”
The pilot tipped the nose and dropped to three hundred feet.
Stan Uhlman said, “Anyone sees a red Jeep, please raise your hand.”
“Quarter mile. Three, two, one, we’re on top of it.”
JT said, “What is that, palm trees?”
Mo said, “It’s a date farm. It looks deserted.”
Nancie said, “Lower.”
The pilot dropped to two hundred feet and made a slow pass. They saw no people or movement or life. They saw no bodies.
Mo said, “We’re right on top of it. You see that building? It’s parked in that building.”
Nancie said, “I see five buildings. Which one?”
“On the end. First one in from the entrance.”
Nancie said, “Land.”
The pilot touched down on a flat area to the west of the orchard, and safely away from the trees. Nancie, Mo, JT, and Stan walked back together as the rotor spun down. The pilot stayed with her ship.
They were thirty yards from the building when Nancie’s cell phone buzzed. She answered automatically.
“Nancie Stendahl.”
“Keep walking.”
“Who is this?”
“You know who! I’m too cute to forget.”
She couldn’t help herself.
“Jon Stone.”
“Jack’s safe.”
Nancie stopped, causing Mo and Stan Uhlman to bump into her.
“Talk to me. Where is he?”
“He was delivered to the Coachella Regional Medical Center about an hour ago. Emergency room. Go see him when you finish here. Take him home.”
Nancie looked at the building.
“What do you mean, finish here? What’s here?”
“Present. You find my first present?”
“Did you kill those people?”
“No, ma’am, I did not. Keep walkin’.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Who killed those people?”
“Walk. I’ll call back in a bit, fill in some blanks.”
“How’d you get this number? This is my personal number.”
“Go see. From me to you.”
She lowered her phone and walked to the building, picking up speed, but stopped cold when she reached the door. A bound man was on the floor. His hands, arms, legs, and ankles were bound, and a strip of duct tape covered his mouth. He had long black hair bunched around his face, and he stared at her with angry eyes. She stared back, then slowly walked over.
“Are you Ghazi al-Diri?”
She pinched the corner of the tape and ripped it off.
“Are you Ghazi al-Diri?”
“Who are you?”
She smiled, and showed him her badge.
“I’m the person who’s looking forward to speaking with you.”
She pressed the tape back over his mouth, then went back to the others and phoned in additional SRT teams.
47
Elvis Cole
The ER staff let Krista stay with Jack while they evaluated him. They told me it shouldn’t take long, so I phoned Nita Morales from the waiting room while Pike looked on. I used his phone. The only person there besides us was an elderly woman who held rosary beads and stared into space.
I said, “She’s safe. I’m bringing her home.”
Nita was silent. I let her have those moments because they are personal and precious, and after a few seconds I heard the soft whispers of her crying.
“Thank you. I knew you-I knew you were-”
“Shh. It’s okay. She’s with me, and I’m bringing her home.”
“I want to talk to her.”
“I’ll put her on, but I want to tell you where she’s been and what she’s been through. She’s with Jack now, so I can speak freely.”
A touch of frost brittled her voice. I could feel it from a hundred miles away.
“Did he get her into this?”
