“I don’t know? Perhaps the executive overview will go into it.”
“All right, you read it. I’m going to set a few things up in case we get unexpected visitors.”
“All right.”
John set the egg back in its foam shell and went to the stairs. He turned back to look at Caitlin. She was leaning forward over the computer. Her gaze was intent, but the bicycle helmet spoiled the air of concentration. He shook his head. What the hell had Scott gotten her mixed up in? His gut told him to get rid of the devices and the disk and then have Felipe make them up permanent identities so they could disappear for awhile, like twenty or thirty years.
He climbed the stairs and went into the guestroom. Taking his case from the corner, he opened it and started removing things.
When he went back downstairs, Caitlin was still hunched over the computer. He slipped his coat on and went outside. It was just over a hundred yards to the road. He hiked through the snow, staying in the ruts as much as possible until he reached the last trees.
He moved off the road and squatted next to a large pine. Using a length of monofilament line, he fastened a CCD camera to the trunk, just above the snow. He slipped his glasses on and powered up the camera, then he adjusted the camera until the image covered the entrance to the drive and the road beyond. Setting the camera’s controls to the auto detect position, John stood up. He broke a small branch from the tree and backed to the driveway, smearing out his tracks as he went. There, they would have a warning if anyone came to the house, but it wasn’t enough. It’d only give them a few seconds at best. He needed something else; a land mine would be nice.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have one, but something could be arranged.
He walked back to the house and went around back to the shed where they’d found the package. He opened the door and looked around inside. There was a small stack of lumber stored on the rafters. He took a couple of used 2x4 studs down and searched the workbench until he found a box of eight-inch nails. Ten minutes later, every nail was embedded in the studs.
John carried the spiked studs out, closed the door behind him, and went back down the driveway. Fifty feet from the road, he laid the studs diagonally across the drive and brushed snow across them.
The Colorado sun had warmed the day, and John unzipped his coat as he walked back to the house. He reached the porch and turned to gaze across the thirty odd miles to Pikes Peak. Dark clouds enveloped the crest and everything west of the Front Range, but on this side it was sunny and the incredibly bright blue, which John always thought of as Colorado blue, lit the heavens with an intensity he’d forgotten. He leaned against one of the barkless tree trunks that held up the porch and a smile grew bright on his face.
Why did he move to the Bay Area? The sky there, when you could see it at all, was never more than a bluish white that paled beneath the glorious skies of God’s country. Perhaps it was time he moved back. He had a nice nest egg put away. He could afford to buy a piece of land back in the mountains somewhere, maybe out near Durango. There were places out there that hadn’t been Californicated like the Aspen and Vail regions. Perhaps it was time he settled down. Perhaps even with Caitlin. Yes, she needed to disappear anyway. He would have Felipe generate new identities for them, and they could squirrel themselves away where the government, Frenchmen, and Japanese businessmen would never look for them. There were reservation schools in the Four Corners region that needed teachers. They could do volunteer work on the reservation, make a difference in some kid’s life.
John straightened, and his face darkened into a frown. Sure, they could do that. If they lived long enough. He turned away from the approaching storm clouds and went inside.
***
Felipe never opened his warehouse office until noon. Most of his business was done during the hours of darkness and afternoon drop-ins such as John and Caitlin’s were the exception rather than the rule. Usually, he spent the afternoons in the never-ending quest to keep his old database up to date and to acquire new ones. Felipe always tried to have at least one spare entry into the government’s computer files. You could never predict when some over-eager programmer working for barely more than minimum wage would detect his illegal access.
He opened the small outside door next to the main garage doors and locked it behind him. He didn’t turn on the overhead lamps because the high windows cast enough light onto the warehouse floor to see by. Unlocking his office door, Felipe reached for the light switch as he stepped inside.
As the fluorescents lit a voice said, “It’s about time. I was about to give up on you.”
Felipe reached for the revolver beneath his jacket but stopped as he saw the large bore automatic pointed at his gut from ten feet away.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Dewatre rose from Felipe’s chair and stepped out from behind his desk. “You provided services for a John Blalock and Caitlin Maxwell less than 24 hours ago. I need the names you gave them and their destination.”
Felipe stared at the man’s eyes and wished he’d taken that vacation he’d been promising himself.
CHAPTER 23
Caitlin had a fire going
