“Listen closely, Rachel. Don’t reply,” Grace urged. “Nick’s a killer. He’s some kind of psychopathic hit-man according to all the rumors flying around. We’re not sure if he does it under some pseudo government network authorization, but we know he’s not some innocent novelist. You and Jean need to get free of him, Rachel. When you do, call me, and I’ll help you deal with the flash drives.”
“I’m sorry for putting you and Tim through all this. What you just outlined will never happen. Nick’s already saved our lives a few times on this damned excursion.” Rachel glanced over at Nick, who was looking straight ahead.
“Damn it, Rachel! Use your head! How the hell do you know he won’t waste you all the moment he has those flash drives?”
“I just do.”
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you, dummy?” The tenor of Grace’s voice betrayed her anger. “Think of Jean.”
“I am thinking of Jean. Nick’s our best shot at being free again.”
“With harps and clouds maybe.”
“Are we done?”
“Think it over care -”
Rachel handed the phone to Nick. “Hang it up for me, Nick.”
Nick disconnected. “She trying to sell you the sell out?”
“Yep. Grace thinks you have it in mind to get the flash drives and bury the rest of us in the desert.”
“The only thing the flash drives mean to me is a chance at having you, Jean, and Deke in my life on a permanent basis. I have money. What the hell does Grace think I’m going to do with the flash drives?”
“She thinks you’re a cold blooded psychopath without a conscience and you’d do it just for the power trip.”
“Oh, well sure, there’s that, but I’m a nice guy when you ignore those small flaws.”
“I feel better.” Nick sat down at the table with Rachel and Jean.
“You smell a little fresher.” Rachel sniffed toward Nick, earning a quick head slap.
“You try running full speed for a couple miles in the desert and then -”
“Sleep your time away to a restaurant,” Rachel quickly filled in for him while Jean giggled at her two adult companions. “I think the clean t-shirt helps the most.”
“After washing up, I went out to give Deke some water and dropped the foul smelling thing off in the back. Did they take the order already?”
Rachel nodded. “I didn’t order the food yet, but I did order our drinks. She’ll be bringing us coffee and -”
“A milkshake,” Jean piped in proudly.
Nick laughed. “She conned you again, huh?”
“Miss smarty-pants pointed out we could wind up dead anytime, so it’s kind of stupid to worry about her diet right now.”
Nick quit laughing abruptly, looking over at Jean. “Not funny.”
“I got a milkshake out of it.”
The dark-haired waitress in her middle thirties served their beverages, smiling at Nick appraisingly while setting the drinks down. “Have I seen you around here before, Sir?”
“I get that a lot.” Nick smiled back.
“You look familiar, but it’s been a long day. I’m probably a little batty. Are you folks ready to order?”
“We’ll have your special.” Rachel wagged a warning finger at Jean.
“Make it three.” Nick handed the menus to the waitress.
The waitress paused after taking the menus. “I can’t think who you remind me of, but-I know this sounds goofy-are you someone famous?”
“Roscoe Weatherby,” Nick said, holding out his hand to the waitress with a friendly smile. “I’m only famous, or infamous, as the case may be, to my wife and daughter here.”
The waitress chuckled, shaking his hand. “Terry Jenkins. You look a lot like Brad Pitt.”
Rachel and Jean were still laughing as Terry walked away.
“It wasn’t that funny.” Nick pretended annoyance at his companions’ amused disbelief that the waitress would think he might be Brad Pitt. “I do look a lot like Brad.”
His statement brought renewed laughter. His satellite phone beeped in the bag next to him, where he’d stored his H &K.45. Nick took the phone out of the bag. “I’ll be right back.” He walked outside with the phone, unwilling to take any chances some noise or conversation might give away their location to the caller. It was still nearly ninety degrees outside in the Arizona town, and he felt the sweat start forming again after being in the air conditioned restaurant. Staying in the shade, he walked away from the restaurant entrance, but kept alongside the building wall providing cover from the five o’clock sunlight.
“I’m here,” he answered.
“Ready to come in from the cold, Nick? Eliminate the family problem and we’ll have you on a book tour in France, all expenses paid, plus a nice million for your retirement fund. We can heal this unfortunate rift between us easily. What do you say?”
Nick remained silent, inwardly masking the disappointment of hearing Frank’s voice.
“Thought your US Marshall friends nailed me, huh? This won’t go away, Nick. The DOJ is only one small thread. We have inroads everywhere. National security is all one big happy family. If one of our family units gets too hot for a while, we cut off contact until it cools down.”
“You’re on my bucket-list, Frank,” Nick stated calmly. “Kiss your wife, girlfriend, or significant other. Play video games or baseball with your spawn. You won’t know when or where, but I’m going to do my part for national security in a small way, by erasing your back stabbing ass.”
Frank laughed. “Turn that record over will you, Nick? You’ll never get close.”
“I don’t need to.”
“There’s a reason we don’t party together or exchange Christmas cards, Meat. We understand how some facets of our operation might one day go off the deep end, so anonymity is highly guarded.”
“I’m glad you don’t believe I can find you, Frank. I promise not to be vengeful, and kill everything you ever loved right down to your kids’ pet gerbil.”
This time, it was silent on Frank’s end of the conversation.
“Okay, let’s deal,” Frank said finally. “We know the safety deposit box is in Florida. We also know you’re heading there.”
“If you know everything, why don’t you get a court order and take the box? Oh, that’s right, whoever you’re in bed with would be on the DOJ’s radar, along with our little covert group. You could have played this straight up with me, Frank.”
“What? Keep financing your pretend world, give you a ready-made family, and throw all our other assets under the bus? You’re insane, pal. It doesn’t work like that. I follow orders, just like you used to do. I can see you don’t want the easy way back in. Why don’t I give you an alternate way out of this mess?”
“I’m listening.”
“We open the way into the bank for you and your sweetheart. You give us the flash drives. Then you and your family run along and live happily ever after.”
“I don’t think so,” Nick retorted.
“Unlike you, they know where I live. We could out you to the whole world, Mr. Bestseller. We’ve already put the bug about your past in your US Marshall friends’ ears.”
“Then there wouldn’t be any reason for me not to release everything I have stored concerning the last ten years. How many people know where you live, Frank?”
“Wait a minute, wise guy, are you…hey, not bad,” Frank muttered. Nick waited patiently for Frank to sort out his complex conniving thought processes. “Would this square us, Nick?”
