The Chemist Part 33

"Seriously, kid, don't sweat it. You don't last in this life by getting attached. I know how to start over. Now, be good and do whatever the Oleander says, okay?"

"Wait, Kev, I had an idea. That's why I wanted to talk to you."

"You've got an idea?"

Alex could hear the skepticism from three feet away.

"Yes, actually. I was thinking about the McKinleys' cabin by the lake."

Kevin was silent for a second. "Um, now's not really the time for a trip down memory lane, kid."

"I'm actually two minutes older than you, kid, which I'm sure you haven't forgotten. And I don't want to reminisce. I was thinking that the McKinleys only ever used the cabin in the winter. And that your CIA people probably wouldn't know that much detail about our childhood. And that I know where Mr. McKinley always kept the key."

"Hey, that's not bad, Danny."

"Thanks."

"That would be about, what? Eighteen hours from the ranch? Just two nights' driving. And that'll bring you closer to my position. Didn't the McKinleys used to keep a Suburban out there?"

"We can't steal their car, Kevin."

In the darkness, though more than a thousand miles apart, Alex felt like she was exchanging a loaded glance with Kevin. And maybe an eye roll-on his part, at least.

"We'll talk about finding a car later. Tell the Oleander to take better care of her face next time. We're going to need it."

"Yes, because I'm sure she so enjoys having people beat it b.l.o.o.d.y that it will be hard for her to quit."

"Yeah, yeah. Call me if you have any troubles. I'll make contact when I know more about our friends in Washington."

Kevin disconnected. Daniel stared at the phone for a minute before putting it away. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

"Nothing feels real."

"Let me see your hand."

He stretched his left arm out to her, and she took his hand with her right. His temperature was warmer than hers. She felt his wrist, and the pulse seemed even. The scratches and punctures on his palm were shallow; they'd already stopped bleeding on their own. She glanced over at him and then looked back to the road. It was too dark to be able to a.s.sess his coloring with any degree of certainty.

"What was that?" he asked as she released his hand.

"Looking for signs of shock. Do you feel nauseated?"

"No. But then, I kind of feel as if I should, if you know what I mean. Like I will when I can process everything."

"Let me know if you start to feel dizzy, faint, or cold."

"You feel cold. Are you sure you're not going into shock?"

"Not entirely, I suppose. If I feel dizzy, I'll pull over and you can drive."

He reached over, took her gloved hand off the wheel, and held it loosely, letting their arms dangle in the s.p.a.ce between seats. He took another deep breath. "I heard all those shots, so close together, and I thought-"

"I know. Thanks for staying in the car like I asked. It's good to know I can trust you."

He didn't say anything.

"What?" she asked.

"Well, when you put it like that," he said, sounding ashamed, "I don't really want to admit this... but I did get out for a few minutes. I was about to go into the house, but Einstein stopped me. And then I realized that one way or another, things were decided inside, and if they had got you, my best bet to kill the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds would be from the Humvee. I wasn't going to let them walk away, Alex. Not a chance."

She squeezed his hand lightly.

"Do you remember what Kevin told me before, about visualization?"

She shook her head. It sounded only vaguely familiar.

"We were at the shooting range for the first time, and I said I didn't think I could shoot another person." He laughed a dark little chuckle. "He told me to visualize someone I cared about in danger."

As he spoke, it came back clearly. "Ah."

"Well, I get it now. And he was right. The second I realized someone had killed Arnie and that he was coming for you next..." He shook his head. "I didn't realize I was capable of feeling so... primal."

"I told you that you would get in touch with your instincts," she said lightly. The joking tone, recalled from that day at the range, felt all kinds of wrong the instant the words were out. Her voice was somber when she added, "I wish it hadn't happened like this."

He squeezed her hand this time. "It's going to be okay."

She made an effort to focus. "So, where exactly are we headed?"

"Tallaha.s.see. We did a couple of Christmases there when we were kids. Some family friends kept a place there so they could get out of the snow. They must have liked their privacy, because the cabin is in the middle of nowhere. It's not actually on the lake, but it's swampy, and the mosquitoes will be murder this time of year."

"You should be in real estate. You're sure no one will be there?"

"I haven't seen the McKinleys since my parents' funeral, but they never went south in the summertime during all the years I knew them. It was always just their winter spot."

"Well, we might as well head that way as any other. If that cabin won't work, maybe we can find something else that's empty."

She saw a sign for State Highway 70, heading north.

"We'll have to turn east, go through Oklahoma City, then down through Dallas. It'll be good, if anyone's looking, to be headed back into Texas. Makes us look innocent."

"We only defended ourselves."

"That won't matter. If we got picked up for what just happened, the police would have to take us in. Even if we explained every detail and they believed every word-which is unlikely, to put it mildly-they'd still have to put us in a cell for a while. It wouldn't take long. The people who hired the hit men would have no trouble getting to us in jail. We'd be sitting ducks."

He felt the tremble in her fingers and rubbed his thumb soothingly across the back of her hand.

"So you're saying a crime spree is a bad idea right now?"

She couldn't believe he was the one trying to cheer her up. "Probably," she agreed, "but it might come to that." She glanced down at the gas gauge, then hissed. "This thing is burning through gas like it wants to p.i.s.s me off."

"What can we do?"

"I'm going to have to go into a gas station, pay with cash."

"But your face."

"There's no help for it. I'll just pretend I was in a car accident... which, actually, is not pretend at all, is it? Anyway, there's nothing else I can do."

The gas-guzzling monster forced Alex to stop much earlier than she would have liked. She followed the signs in Oklahoma City to the airport, guessing that the gas stations around it would be somewhat busy even late at night. Also, if anyone noticed them there, he might a.s.sume they were planning to fly out. Any ensuing search would be concentrated on the airport.

She'd had Daniel find her oversize hoodie while she was driving. She slipped into it now, wishing it were cooler out so that she would look more normal. There were two other vehicles-one taxi and one work truck. Both male drivers eyed the Humvee, of course. She moved in her boy-slouch as she got out and stuck the nozzle into the tank. While it was filling, she slouched her way into the store. She grabbed a box of granola bars and a six-pack of bottled water and took them to the fifty-something woman at the counter. The woman had bleached-blond hair with an inch of dark roots, nicotine-stained teeth, and a name tag that said BEVERLY. At first she didn't pay much attention to Alex, just rang up the goods. But then Alex had to speak.

"Pump six," she said in the lowest register that wouldn't sound put on.

Beverly looked up, and her mascara-smeared eyes opened round.

"Aw, sweet h.e.l.l, honey! What happened to your face?"

"Car accident," Alex muttered.

"Everyone okay?"

"Yeah." Alex looked pointedly down at the cash in her hand, waiting to count it out. From the corner of her eye, she saw the taxi drive away.

"Well, I hope you feel better soon."

"Um, thanks. What's the total?"

"Oh, is this right? Seems high. One-oh-three fifty-five?"

Alex handed Beverly six twenties and waited for the change. Another truck-a big, black F-250-pulled into the pump behind the Humvee. She watched as three tall thin men got out. As two of them walked into the minimart, she revised her a.s.sessment. They were very tall teenage boys; half of a basketball team, maybe. Like her, they wore dark hoodies. At least that made her unseasonable getup look more normal.

"That sure is a big truck you got out there," Beverly commented.

"Yeah."

"Must be a pain to keep that thing full."

"Yeah." Alex held her hand out impatiently.

The boys came in, noisy and boisterous. The smell of beer and marijuana drifted in through the door with them. Outside, the work truck pulled out of the lot.

"Oh, here you go," Beverly said, her voice suddenly impersonal. "Sixteen forty-five."

"Thanks."

Beverly was distracted by the newcomers. She stared over Alex's head, her eyes narrowed. The big boys were headed for the liquor aisle. Hopefully they would be a huge pain as they tried to get fake IDs past Beverly. Anything that would make Alex fade in her memory.

Alex headed for the automatic door with her head down. She didn't need more than one witness.

With a thud, her head knocked into the chest of the third boy. The first thing she registered was the smell; his sweatshirt reeked of whiskey. She looked up automatically when he grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Watch yourself, little playa."

He was a thick white kid, not as tall as the others. She tried to shake him off. He held on tighter with one hand, yanking her hood back with the other.

"Hey, it's a girl." Then louder, toward the boys by the refrigerated cases, "Looky what I found."

Alex's voice was ice. She was not in the mood for this nonsense. "Get your hands off me."

"You leave that gal alone or I'm calling the police," Beverly called shrilly. "I've got the phone in my hand."

Alex wanted to scream. This was all she needed.

"Relax, old bag, we got plenty to go around."

The other two, one black, one Hispanic, were already in place to back their friend up. Alex slid a thin syringe from her belt. This wouldn't help her stay under the radar, but she had to put this kid down and get out of here before Beverly called the cops.

"I've dialed the nine and the first one," Beverly warned them. "You all get out now."

Alex tried to yank herself out of the boy's grip, but the grinning idiot had both hands locked around her upper arms now. She angled the needle.

"Is there a problem, son?"

Nooooo, Alex moaned internally.

"What?" the white kid said aggressively, dropping her and pivoting to face the newcomer. He then took a quick step back, and she had to duck out of his way.

She'd spent so much time around Daniel that she'd forgotten how tall he really was. He had an inch on even the tallest kid, and he stood with wider shoulders and much more a.s.surance. At least he'd put a ball cap on, hiding his hair and shading his face a little. The beginnings of his beard were dark enough to slightly camouflage the contours of his face. That was good. But it was not good that he'd stuck a Glock-in a very obvious way-into the waistband of his jeans.

"No, no problem, man," the black kid said. He grabbed the white kid's shoulder and tugged him back a step.

"Good. Why don't you head on out, then?"

The white kid thrust his chest forward. "When we get what we came for."

Daniel did something different with the way he held his jaw. Alex couldn't quite put her finger on it, but suddenly his face was the opposite of friendly. He leaned in toward the troublemaker.

"Now."

There was no bl.u.s.ter in how he spoke, just absolute authority.

"C'mon," the black kid insisted. He shoved the white kid past Daniel while tugging on the sleeve of the third boy. They walked quickly to the truck, elbowing each other and scuffling a little. Alex kept her back to Beverly, nudging Daniel so he would turn that way, too. The boys got in the truck and the driver punched the gas, swerving around the Humvee with tires squealing.

"Hey, thanks, buddy," Beverly cooed at him. "I appreciate your help."

"Sure thing," he responded, holding one arm out courteously for Alex to exit first.