“Not everything.” Nick smiled back, admiring the way she took the news. “I’d still like to know what made my boss think the guy downstairs could pull this off by himself.”
“You said except for Deke he would have got you,” Jean put in, reminding Nick they were debating this in front of a seven year old.
“Very true, smarty, but my boss assumed without divine intervention in the form of Deke the dog, I would have been handled. I surmise from that fact either I’ve dropped a few notches in the eyes of my superiors or they have less assets to send after us. I’m hoping for less assets, because two of them have already been retired.”
“Couldn’t they recruit others?”
“From where, ‘Psychos Are Us’? There are very few ‘no questions asked’ people working at my level. This conference is over, my dears. If you want aboard the Express, get packing.”
Nick left the room. He used the remaining time to gather weapons and gear he did not already have stashed in his hidden away Cadillac Escalade. After forty-five minutes Nick stored his own Heckler & Koch USP-Tactical with extra clips in the recessed compartment he’d built under the driver’s seat of his Malibu. He next set up his satellite phone and went in to help Rachel and Jean. Nick retrieved Morris’s Glock automatic with silencer from the top of his hutch. He took off his shirt and put on a black pullover sleeveless shirt with a sewn in weapon pocket. The Glock fit into the pocket. Nick put on a windbreaker jacket over it, then threw a blanket over Morris’s body.
“The Express leaves in five minutes,” Nick called out, jogging up the stairs.
Nick went into Rachel’s bedroom, where Rachel was hurriedly zipping up the two bags on her bed. Nick picked them up the moment she finished and headed to the car.
“Bring Jean and Deke. We have to go.”
Minutes later, Nick started the Chevy and drove around the block. He parked it.
“What’s going on?” Rachel asked with a bewildered look.
“I have to meet my guests, who will be arriving unannounced very quickly,” Nick told her, leaving the spare Chevy key in the ignition. “I’ll call your cell-phone when I want you to drive the Chevy around to the house again. From there, you’ll follow me in a vehicle yet to be determined.”
“What’s this about, Nick? Why don’t we just leave?”
“Mainly, this is about asset reduction. It’s also because I don’t want to be set up by having the other unmoving asset discovered inside my house. Plus…I don’t like being played.”
“You…you mean…the guys being sent over -”
“Yeah, sucks to be them.” Nick shut the driver’s side door with satellite phone in hand.
Nick jogged to his house, went inside and dragged Morris’s body into the entryway closet. He quickly retrieved his duct tape and another black plastic garbage bag. With a box cutter from his kitchen, Nick made a slit on each side of the bag, and put the bag over his head, carefully cutting two slits for his eyes. Nick put the bag and duct tape aside and then made sure Morris’s silenced weapon was operational with a full clip.
Nick’s satellite phone vibrated. “Find out anything useful?”
“No. Cleanup arrives in ten minutes. They don’t want any trouble, Nick, so wait upstairs. If they see anything move, they’ll spray everything in sight.”
“I’ll be upstairs in the back bedroom with the woman and her daughter. All they have to do is remove Morris’s body, wrapped in a black plastic bag, leaning against the wall to the right of the front door. They won’t even have to step inside the house.”
“Good, I’ll tell them. We’ll talk after they remove the body.”
“Fine.”
Nick pulled the bag over his head, aligning the eyeholes with his arms through the slits. He wrapped the duct tape around the bag at his waist, and positioned himself sitting next to the doorway, with his right arm free behind him. His left side leaned against the entryway door frame with legs splayed out sideways. After making last minute adjustments to his eyeholes, Nick waited, his right hand holding Morris’s weapon slightly under his right leg.
Minutes later, the front door opened. Without more than a glance at Nick’s bagged figure, the two men entered the house, pausing when they reached the stairwell. Nick raised his right arm and fired with deadly accuracy from only fifteen feet away. The silenced shots from Morris’s 9mm Glock struck the two men’s heads. Nick fired four times, two striking the man in the rear over his right ear. The third shot struck the second man through the jaw as he turned and the fourth through his forehead. Rolling to his left, Nick propelled himself up after one spin with his left hand. He shot twice more into each man’s head as they lay twitching on the floor.
Nearly forty minutes later, Rachel’s cell-phone rang. She jumped as if touched with a cattle prod. Rachel had been taking turns with Jean on her daughter’s Nintendo DS. Opening the cell-phone with a shaking hand, Rachel said hello.
“Drive around to my house. You’ll see a black Ford van parked out in front. I’ll wave and you follow me down to the Monterrey Marina.”
Rachel drove around the block and followed Nick as he drove the Ford van. When they reached the Monterrey Marina, Nick waved Rachel around, pointing toward the curb. He parked the van and took a last look around the van’s rear cargo compartment. Morris sat propped against the rear doors, his Glock with silencer in hand, and his legs splayed out in front of him. Morris’s weapon pointed in the general direction of the two men Nick had shot after they entered his house over an hour ago. The corpses stared sightlessly at Morris from where they were slumped against the front seat backs. Nick straightened the body behind him slightly with gloved hands and then locked up the van. He set the vehicle alarm. Nick ran up to his Malibu’s driver’s side and opened the door for Rachel.
“Where to now?”
“Las Vegas, baby,” Nick answered. “I have an emergency place out in the desert there. We can hole up for a few days until we’re off the radar. Get in.”
“Nick…” Rachel grabbed Nick’s arm before he could get into the driver’s side seat. “Were those guys in the van assets like you thought?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thanks for stopping, Nick.” Jean settled into the seat with Deke’s head on her lap. “I was starving.”
“I noticed. I think I saw the McDonald’s assistant manager send out for more food after you ordered.”
“Did not.” Jean made a face at Nick as he watched her in the rearview mirror. “Where’d all the cars come from?”
They were on their way to California Route 46 East, near Bakersfield. The McDonald’s stop had been the first rest break since leaving the Monterey area. While heading toward the freeway on-ramp, they encountered a traffic jam up. A State Highway Patrol car with lights flashing was visible along the roadside a hundred yards ahead. Nick could see the route lay open past the patrol car, with vehicles speeding up from there on.
“There must be a fender bender up where the patrol car’s parked,” Nick speculated, as the traffic inched ahead. “Naturally, the looky-loos have to jam us all up.”
Rachel opened her window, getting a blast of hot air from the Bakersfield desert area, while craning her head out the window to see around the vehicle ahead.
“Nick!” Rachel gasped, jerking back inside. “Some guy’s kicking the crap out of a state cop! They’re wrestling around on the ground and no one’s stopping except to look.”
“People know they can end up getting killed sticking their noses into something like that,” Nick explained calmly. “Hopefully, he called for backup, and they’ll be here soon. Sometimes you…what?”
Rachel stared at Nick in open-mouthed surprise, all the while knowing it was ridiculous to think Nick would react any differently. “What if the cop didn’t get a chance to call in? Couldn’t you help?”
“You do realize we’re on the run, right?” Nick was unable to disguise the irritation her question provoked in him. “I could get killed. I could help and end up on the six o’clock news. I could be a star on a You-Tube vid thirty seconds after I get involved, with all the cell-phone freaks out there.”
“Stop the car. I’m going to help him,” Rachel ordered.
“Are you out of your -”
“Stop the damn car now!” Rachel turned on Nick, her mouth a thin line of angry determination.
