took Jessie off that bus, the boundaries had changed. All the rules Donovan had lived his life by went straight out the window.
The car rattled to a stop. A moment later, the door creaked open, then slammed shut. Just outside the train-car door, a cat cried.
Gunderson had a friend.
Donovan’s earpiece crackled again. “Heads up, he’s coming your way.”
Donovan gave his call button two quick jabs, then clipped the radio to his belt and brought out his Glock. Keeping his eyes on the door, he listened intently as boots trudged onto the rear platform.
Welcome home, asshole.
The Fireball was waiting for him. The little orange fuzz bucket had adopted him his first week here and wouldn’t let go. Gunderson had always been partial to cats, liked their independence, but this one was a particularly needy beast, always there to greet him when he came home. It had been cute at first, but now he found it annoying as hell.
He had half a mind to snap its neck.
As he approached the train-car door, the cat meowed and rubbed against his leg, purring like a motorboat. He gave it a quick kick to the ribs, knocking it aside, then unfastened the padlock and rolled the door open.
Darkness greeted him. He had considered having Luther pick up a generator, but had decided against it. Unnecessary noise attracts attention. Not something he wanted to do.
Instead, he had lined the inside of the train car with portable fluorescents-the kind that look like Coleman lanterns-then boarded up all the windows to keep any clue to his presence hidden from the outside world.
He reached inside, just above the doorway, where he kept one such portable hanging from a hook.
It wasn’t there.
Gunderson paused, his senses revving into overdrive. There was something different about the air inside. A hint of human beneath the mustiness.
He stood there, not moving for a moment.
Then he smiled. “Hiya, hotshot.”
“Hello, Alex.”
21
A portable fluorescent lamp flickered to life. Jack Donovan stood to the left, near a corner, the lamp in one hand, a Glock 19 in the other.
“Step inside,” he said quietly. “Keep your hands in view.”
Gunderson did as he was told. He took the threat of a weapon like the 19 very seriously. Once inside, he turned and faced the door.
Donovan set the lamp atop a seat back, then came out of the corner and stood just inside the doorway.
He didn’t lower the Glock.
“Where is she?” he said.
Gunderson ignored the question. “You worked faster than I expected. I take it Bobby didn’t offer you much resistance.”
“I can be persuasive when I have to be.”
“I’ll bet you can. Maybe it’s time I got myself some new friends.”
Donovan stepped forward. “Cut the crap, Alex. Where is she?”
“Snug as a bug in a rug. Better pray nobody steps on her.”
“Tell me or you’re a dead man.”
“I don’t think so.”
Donovan glared at him. Gunderson could sense the gears of desperation clacking away inside the man’s head, trying to calculate the right move, searching for just the right thing to say. Seeing him in agony like this was like feasting on a fine meal. All the risks Gunderson had taken to get to this moment were more than worth it.
And the game had only begun.
“Look behind me, Jack. You see that oxygen tank leaning against the wall back there?” He’d had Luther steal a bunch of them, more than he was able to use. “There are six more just like it buried somewhere nice and cozy, all hooked up to switchover valves. Right now they’re the only thing keeping your pumpkin alive.”
Donovan’s eyes flashed. “You sick fuck.”
“Demerits, Jack, demerits. You don’t want to get on my bad side. Look at it this way. I could’ve just popped that teenybopper cherry of hers and left her for dead. Instead I thought I’d give her a taste of what it’s like to be my Sara.” He looked directly at Donovan. “Have you seen Sara, Jack? Have you gone to visit her? I have, late at night, when nobody was watching. All those machines she’s hooked up to? It’s not a pretty sight.”
“You’re blaming the wrong guy,” Donovan said. “If you love her so much, why was she even in that van? Why put her in harm’s way?”
“You think that was my choice?”
“I think she did whatever you told her to.”
“You’re wrong. I couldn’t have stopped her even if I wanted to. She wasn’t exactly what you’d call a stay-at- home mom. She was committed. To me, and to the cause.”
“Ahh,” Donovan said. “The cause.”
“You’re a drone, Jack. You and the rest of America. You sit on your couches, mesmerized by the glitz of Access Hollywood and Entertainment Tonight, while a New World Order is put into place by a government you’re supposed to trust. The Constitution doesn’t matter anymore. There is no United States of America, only a global economy owned and operated by the Pentagon and big oil. You’re a corporate lackey, Jack. And the corporation is set up to feed off its slaves.”
“Nice speech,” Donovan said. “I might even agree with you to some extent. But why do I get the feeling it’s all hot air and bullshit?”
“Meaning?”
“I’ve read your sheet. I know your history. You’re a thug, Alex. A sociopathic headline seeker who preys on the very people you claim you’re trying to help.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil.”
“You may have had Sara fooled, you may’ve even convinced yourself somewhere along the line that what you’re doing makes you some kind of noble warrior, but we both know your only real cause is Alexander Gunderson.”
Gunderson brought his hands together and clapped. “Looks like it’s a night for speeches. But don’t you think it’s a little dangerous to be psychoanalyzing me when you’ve got so much at stake?”
“Then let’s get down to it. What do you want from me?”
“Haven’t we been over this? It doesn’t have to be complicated.” Gunderson nodded to the Glock. “At the moment I’d appreciate it if you’d point that fine piece of hardware in another direction.”
Donovan’s hand shifted, raising the barrel of the Glock, pointing it at Gunderson’s forehead. “How’s this?”
“At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Gunderson saw a silhouette in the doorway and felt a sudden rush of excitement. God, in His wisdom, had sent him a four-legged savior. Not that he needed one. He was completely confident that he could reverse this situation with relative ease. But it never hurts to have an ally. Makes the game more interesting.
Tail snaking wildly, the fireball slinked silently into the room and approached Donovan’s right leg. Good thing he hadn’t snapped its neck.
Keeping his eyes on Donovan, he said, “Tell me something, Jack. Now that you and the pumpkin are back on speaking terms, how’s it feel knowing you abandoned her for so long? You must feel pretty guilty every time you see that sweet little face of hers.”
