guy.
Normally he liked the attention, but sometimes, like now, it didn’t pay off. Time for some charm. And lying.
Grant turned and saw a skinny white guy in his thirties with long brown hair and a couple of tattoos peeking out over the collar of his shirt, tagged with the name Jervis. Grant gave Jervis a huge smile.
“Oh, I’m not going to Seattle,” he said. “I just came from there. I left my bag on the seat.”
“I didn’t see you get off.”
“That’s funny. I’m usually hard to miss.”
Jervis raised his eyebrows as if he agreed. “What color is your bag? I’ll have somebody bring it to you.”
Great. The helpful type.
“Don’t bother,” Grant said. “I know where it is. It’ll just take me a minute.”
“All right.” Grant breathed a sigh of relief. “But I better see your ticket.” So much for the sigh of relief.
Grant patted his pockets as if he were trying to find it. “I must have left it in my bag.”
Jervis scrunched his face, deciding what to do. “It’s against the rules to let anyone on without a ticket. They’re pretty strict these days.”
Time was running short before they’d start asking questions about why Tyler’s car was still on the ferry, so Grant resorted to a tactic he loathed: pulling out the celebrity card to get something he wanted.
“Actually, the bag has some important mementos in it from my days as a pro wrestler. Don’t know if you’re a fan, but I used to be called the Burn.”
Jervis studied Grant’s face. Then his eyes widened in recognition. Grant had seen the transformation many times before. People’s entire demeanor changed once they realized they were in the presence of a celebrity. Grant understood. He still talked about the time he ran into Britney Spears at a Starbucks even though he’d rather be set on fire than listen to her music.
“Right, man!” Jervis said. “I remember you. Grant Westley.”
“Right.” Grant didn’t want to embarrass him by correcting the error. When Jervis recounted the meeting to his friends later, they’d tell him it was Westfield and give him crap for it. It was enough that the crewman had heard of him.
“You left it all behind to join the Army. Rangers or special forces. There was a great article about you in Sports Illustrated a few years back.”
Grant didn’t get stopped by fans nearly as much as he used to, but he probably would if he still had the dreadlocks he wore at the height of his fame. He’d left professional wrestling to join the military after 9/11, but a knee injury he got in combat meant that trying to resurrect his pro career after he got out wouldn’t work. He sometimes missed the cheering crowds, and his notoriety occasionally came in handy.
“I swear I’ll only be a minute,” Grant said.
Jervis looked around and waved him in. “You’re fine. Go ahead.”
“Thanks.” Grant waved back and jogged up the gangway. He made his way down the stairs through the now empty ferry. When he got to the vehicle deck, the last of the cars were just driving off.
The only car left was a cherry-red Dodge Viper. A crewman next to it was looking around. Grant ran up to him.
“This yours?” the man said. “I was just about to call the tow truck. Be a shame with a car as nice as this.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Grant said to the man as he opened the driver’s door. “Bad time for a bathroom break.”
He opened the glove box and found the keys Tyler had left for him. He started the car and roared out of the ferry.
Tyler was waiting for him two streets over in the SILVERLAKE TRANSPORT truck. Grant pulled up along the driver’s side. Tyler leaned through the window.
“We can’t get out, partner. Orders.”
“We?”
A beautiful blonde peeked her head around. Grant shook his head. He definitely wanted to hear what that was about.
“Your friend can’t drive a stick?” Grant asked.
“We’re supposed to stay in the truck,” Tyler said. “Just follow us, but not too close.”
“What the hell is going on?”
With his hands out the window, Tyler quickly signed to Grant. The truck has eyes and ears. No calls. Tyler’s deaf grandmother had taught him American Sign Language, and he in turn had taught it to Grant during their stint together in the Army.
Grant nodded, but he had no clue why the truck was bugged. He shook his head and put the Viper into gear to follow.
Tyler drove off, and Grant stayed a respectful distance behind. The rain that until now had only threatened started coming down in a patter that rippled on the Viper’s cloth roof.
For thirty minutes, they drove south and west, eventually turning onto a gravel road. A rotted wooden sign read STILLAGUAMISH STONEWORKS . In less than a minute, the road ended at an abandoned quarry partially filled with water. Tyler stopped the truck at the edge of the pond.
Grant parked, flipped his rain hood up, and got out. He was halfway to the truck when Tyler and his new friend exited the cab.
“Ready to tell me what this is about?” Grant said as he approached.
Tyler waved him back. He had what looked like a canvas sack under his arm. The woman next to him didn’t seem to care about the rain drenching her.
“We’re leaving,” he said. “Pop the trunk.”
Grant hit the button and followed Tyler, who laid the item down carefully.
“What is that?”
Tyler threw the canvas aside to reveal a shiny bronze device. Grant recognized it immediately.
“Isn’t that the geolabe you built?”
“Yup.”
“Now I’m really curious.”
“I’ll explain on the way.” Tyler closed the trunk.
“You want to drive?” Grant asked. The Viper had only two seats. One of them was going to have the woman on his lap.
Tyler squinted at Grant’s bulk and shook his head. “You better.” Tyler turned to the woman. “Sorry, but it looks like it’s you and me.”
The woman brushed Tyler’s apology aside. “To get away from that bomb? Are you kidding? Get in. I’ll try not to crush you.”
No chance of that, Grant thought as he eyed her tiny frame.
They piled into the cramped cockpit, the woman perched on Tyler’s legs. Once they were seated with the doors closed, Grant turned to Tyler. “Did she just say ‘bomb’?”
“I couldn’t tell you on the phone,” Tyler said, “but there’s enough binary explosive in that truck to jump-start a volcano.”
While Grant processed that bit of news, he turned the Viper around and sped toward the exit. Tyler tapped the screen on his cell phone and put it on speaker. After one ring, a man answered.
“Are you in your car with Grant Westfield?” the man said, to Grant’s surprise. “I knew you’d get him involved at some point anyway, so I thought he should join in the fun.”
Grant shot Tyler a pointed glance, but Tyler put up a hand that said, “I’ll tell you later.”
“He followed me to the quarry just like you instructed. And we disconnected the geolabe from the bomb.”
“Drive back to the ferry. I’ll take care of the truck.”
“Why are we going back to the ferry?” Tyler asked. “Another bomb?”
“No,” the voice on the phone said. “Just that one.”
As they reached the quarry’s sign, Tyler said, “Before we go anywhere else, I want to-”
