Flashback

the Nuevo Mexican forces haven’t been able to draw the line at San Diego but are falling back to the old border.”

“So?” repeated Nick.

“So there are about half a million yahoos in Denver who are getting big ideas of kicking spanic ass here in our own backyard,” said K.T. “The whole force is on duty today—full riot gear—and drawing a protective line in Five Points, north Denver, West Colfax area, the old Manual High School feeder neighborhoods, and all of southwest Denver beyond Santa Fe Drive.”

“You don’t have enough people, K.T.”

“Fucking tell me about it,” said the lieutenant. “What the hell do you want, Nick? I gotta get to work.”

“Any progress on getting me that impound V-eight I asked for?”

K.T. squinted at him. “You were serious?”

“As a heart attack, partner.”

“Don’t call me ‘partner,’ you flashcave dweller. Why on earth would I risk my entire career and pension by stealing you a car from impound, Nick Bottom?”

“Because they’ll kill me if I don’t have real wheels to get out of here.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” demanded K.T. “The black helicopters coming for you?”

Nick smiled at that. She was closer to the truth than she could know.

“You read the grand jury notes,” said Nick.

“Another reason not even to talk to you, mister. Much less commit a felony for you.”

Nick nodded. “Assuming they were a frame-up—assume that for just a minute—ask yourself who’d have the juice to change phone records, suborn testimony, do all the things that grand jury near-indictment required to be done. The late mayor and former DA Mannie Ortega?”

K.T. snorted a laugh.

“Who, then?” pressed Nick. “The governor? Who?”

“It’d have to be someone on the level of Advisor Nakamura’s group,” said K.T., glancing at her watch and glowering. “But why would Nakamura spend all that time almost six years ago framing you—at great effort and expense—and then hire you now to find the killer of his sweet widdle boy?”

“I’m working on that,” said Nick.

“But that’s assuming that all that grand jury work was a frame-up,” snapped K.T. “Which has to be bullshit.” She turned to walk away.

Knowing how much K. T. Lincoln hated to be touched—he’d watched her scowl a supervisor into retreat for doing so, not to mention baton the teeth out of a begging perp—he grabbed her by the upper arm and turned her around.

“That grand jury information meant that I killed my wife. You knew us for years, K.T. Can you imagine me hurting Dara?” He shook her with both hands. “God damn it, can you?”

She removed his hands and glared at him, but then looked down. “No, Nick. You couldn’t hurt Dara. Not ever.”

“So one way or the other—whether I find Keigo Nakamura’s killer or not, and I only have until this evening to report on that—Advisor Nakamura’s going to have me whacked. I’m certain of it. But with a fast car…”

“You’re nuts,” said K.T. But her voice was softer now. “Why did you say in your call yesterday morning—I never got back to sleep, by the way—that you were trying to save Val and you? Is Val back from L.A.?”

“I was out there looking for him from Monday until last night,” said Nick. “I think odds are decent that he and his grandfather got out of the city before the shit hit the fan.”

“And he’d come here… to you? Why, Nick?”

He may want to kill me, thought Nick. Instead of saying that, he shrugged. “All I know is that if he arrives today, I need a fast way out of town. A car with balls.”

“How far do you have to get to be… away… out of town?” asked K.T.

“Three hundred sixty-four miles would about do it,” said Nick.

“Three hundred sixty… Nick, no car goes that far these days without an overnight charge or a hydrogen top- off. What on earth is three hundred and sixty-one miles from here that you’d need to…” She paused and her eyes widened. “Texas? Are you shitting me?”

“I shit thee not, Lieutenant Lincoln.”

“The Republic of Texas doesn’t take felons on the run, Nick. Nor do they take flashback addicts. Nor do they…” She paused again.

Nick said nothing.

K.T. took a step closer. “You look… different. Your eyes… Are you off the flashback shit?”

“I think so,” Nick said softly. “The last nine days or so have been too busy for me to think about the drug.”

“Nine whole days,” said K.T. There was some sarcasm in her tone—there always was—but Nick could also hear the serious question beneath the derision.

“It’s a beginning, partner,” said Nick. He remembered when he’d helped her go off both painkillers and cigarettes in the months after a minor shooting—the nicotine being harder to kick than the narcotics. Dara had understood when he’d sat up nights with his partner, listening to her moan and bitch. He knew that K.T. also remembered it.

“Maybe,” she grunted. “But this car thing is a nonstarter, Nick. For one thing, the city just held their annual auction of impounded vehicles a few weeks ago. The lots are mostly empty.”

“You’ll find something for me, K.T.”

“God damn it,” she snarled, balling her hands into fists. “Quit doing that to me, you asshole. I don’t owe you anything.”

Nick nodded assent but K.T. looked down, almost panting in her anger, and said to the ground, “Except my life, Nick. Except my life.” She raised her head. “If I find a car—which I don’t think I can—where do you want me to deliver it? Your cubie mall?”

“No,” said Nick and thought fast. It had to be someplace public but also fairly safe from thieves. Someplace with security nearby but a non-noisy security. “The Six Flags Over the Jews parking lot,” he said. “As far on the south side as you can park it. They don’t check the vehicles until the end of the visiting hours about nine p.m., but the guards at the main gate sort of keep an eye out on the cars in the lot. Just park it as far south as you can but not so off by itself that it’ll be noticeable.”

“How will you know which car it is?” muttered K.T., checking her watch again.

“Text me. And park it, you know, the opposite direction of other cars in the row.”

“Where do I put the key fob for this car I won’t be able to get for you?” she asked. “Over the visor?”

Nick produced the small metal box he’d got from Gunny G. that morning. “This is magnetic. Set it inside the left rear wheel well… like in the Mad Max movies.”

“Right, like in the Mad Max movies.” She took the little box, clicked it open and shut, and rolled her eyes at the nonsense.

“Never mind,” said Nick. “Just don’t get the box anywhere near your phone or other computer stuff… that powerful magnet will wipe the memories clean.”

K.T. started to hand it back to him as if the box had the plague.

Nick held his palms out and shook his head. “I was joking. It’s barely strong enough to stick to the car. Left rear wheel well.”

“All right,” she said and turned again to leave. “But I’m not promising anything…”

Nick touched her shoulder again but gently this time. “K.T.?”

She glared back at him, but not with the real fury he’d seen before. “What?”

“Whether you find a car for us or not, if today doesn’t turn out well for me… and I have a hunch…” He shook his head and started over. “If something happens to me, and Val and his grandfather show up, can you look out for them for me? Find a safe place for them until…”

She stared at him and there was real pain in her dark eyes. She said nothing. Nor did she walk away.

“You’ve met Leonard,” Nick hurried on. “He’s a good man but he’s… you know… been an academic his whole