The Memory Collector Part 48

"The San Jose airport. Quintana, you don't know how good you sound. Where are you?"

"I just got out of police custody. I'm on the 101 halfway to Moffett. Jo, where's-"

The whoop of a police siren erased his question.

"What did you say, Gabe?" She smiled. She couldn't help it.

"Where's Kanan's backpack?"

"I don't know." She looked around. She didn't see it by the pickup or in the trail of debris thrown out of the pickup in the crash.

"His computer battery is in the backpack," Gabe said. "It's packed with Slick, and it's destabilized. Jo, where is it?"

She walked toward the truck, searching. Heard Riva rustling around inside the cab, groaning and trying to slither out the sunroof.

"I don't see a backpack," she said.

"Jo, get the h.e.l.l out of there. It's a bomb."

Jo Beckett, M.D., forensic psychiatrist, was no chump. So she told herself. She knew all the psychological defenses. Denial. Bargaining. Rationalization, projection, isolation, schizoid breaks, binge eating. And she told herself she had a handle on her own defenses, which meant that a crisis couldn't blindside her. Life, and training, and catastrophe had whupped all surprises out of her. When it came to emergencies, she was a sprinter out of the blocks. She had world-cla.s.s reaction times. Fire a starter's pistol and pow, she'd go.

But she stood on the tarmac and felt that Gabe's words had come at her from behind a sheet of gla.s.s, like light, and had bounced off.

"What do you mean, a bomb?"

"Kanan's computer battery contains the sample of Slick. It's about to explode. Do you hear me, Jo? Grab your G.o.dd.a.m.ned a.s.s and run."

The noise of the entire world seemed to rush through the gla.s.s. And the scene spread out before her, in its shining, tangled horror.

Kanan spent and damaged behind her. Seth bleeding on the tarmac. People in the terminal. People on loaded airliners. Ten, twelve big jets, plus fire, police, paramedics rolling up by the minute. And the truck driver hopping down from the running board to jog over and offer his help. The truck driver from the gleaming jet fuel tanker. Wings. Full of fuel. A fleet of fire waiting to ignite.

"Oh, my G.o.d, Gabe-can... oh, s.h.i.t. We need the bomb squad."

"There's no time. The sample's volatile, it's eating through the container, and when it gets sufficiently oxygenated, it'll explode. Clear the area."

She looked around. "We can't."

"Kanan's army buddy was with him when Kanan armed the device. He gave it seventy minutes maximum before it went up."

"How long has it been?"

"Ninety-two."

She seemed to itch, to tingle, to feel like she was rooted to the tarmac. "Can we contain it?"

"I can't predict how big the explosion will be. The best you can hope is to sequester it inside a fortified steel bunker. Jo. It. Is. Going. To. Blow."

"Stay on the line."

She jammed the phone in her pocket and sprinted to the nearest police car. If Slick exploded and sent the fuel tanker and jetliners sky-high, the blast would kill everyone on the tarmac and trap hundreds in burning jetliners-bleeding, embedded with shrapnel, all impregnated with Slick.

She grabbed a police officer. "I'm an SFPD liaison. I'm on the phone with the California Air National Guard. There's a bomb in the pickup truck and it's going to explode."

He searched her face. His gaze hardened. "You're positive?"

"Yes."

He turned and began waving people back. "Clear the area." He called to a fire captain. "Get people off these planes."

"What's wrong?"

Jo turned. Kanan was calling to her.

"Ian, your backpack's in the truck. Slick's eating through the seal in your computer battery, and when it does, it's going to explode."

"When?"

"Any second. It's past the time you estimated."

"I estimated? Why would I set it to..." He turned and stared in horror at the airliners and emergency vehicles. "We have to get it out of here."

"How?" Jo said.

He struggled to his feet. "Drive it away from here. Keep it in an enclosed s.p.a.ce."

"Like an SUV?" She pointed to the Tahoe.

"Yes." He took a step, patting his pockets. "Keys."

"In the ignition."

The firefighters lifted Seth onto a stretcher and rushed him toward an ambulance. Misty hadn't moved.

Kanan reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. He looked at it, puzzled.

From inside the wrecked pickup came a whump and an unladylike grunt. Calder had managed to undo her seat belt. She slithered from the wreck covered in firefighting foam.

She had the backpack in her hands. Kanan limped toward her.

"No," Misty said. "Ian, stop."

Kanan looked at the rifle he had set on the tarmac, at Seth, and back at his wife. "How did he get hit?"

Jo and Misty said nothing. He scanned their faces. It sank in.

"I'll be back," he said.

"Ian, no." Misty rushed toward him. "Don't do this. You promised. You said you'd never let us out of your sight. Stop-a second exposure will kill you."

A cop ran over and ushered her away from the pickup. "Come on. Move, quick."

Kanan checked his watch. To Jo he said, "I have time. I can do it."

Calder dropped to her knees on the tarmac and pulled the computer battery from the backpack. She looked across the runway, toward the waiting Chira-Sayf corporate jet, as though she might try to crawl to it. Through the firefighting foam, the battery was bubbling.

Misty fought to get loose from the cop. "Ian, don't leave us. You can't. We need you. For G.o.d's sake, don't. You'll be contaminated with a second dose. You'll die. You can't do this to us."

Kanan looked at her and his face broke. His resolve crumbled.

He turned to Jo. "I can't."

A suffocating fear took hold of her. Aboard the 737 she saw people jostling frantically in the aisles. Inside the terminal, pandemonium had erupted. Amid sirens and shouting, firefighters were loading Seth into the ambulance.

Misty battled the cop as he ushered her away. "Stop. Get your hands off me."

Kanan watched. With a broken breath, he said, "Let me forget."

"What?" Jo said.

"I can do it if I forget all this." He limped toward her. "If I forget I have my family back. And forget what will happen if I'm exposed again. Then I can do it."

Jo stared at him in horror. "Ian-"

"I caused this. I have to undo it."

She got control of her voice. "If you drive too long, you'll forget what's happening. Go too far and you'll keep going. You might head straight back to a populated area."

He pointed at a patch of dirt a quarter of a mile down the runway. "Twenty seconds."

Her heart pounded. "You sure?"

"Help me. Keep Misty and Seth out of my sight."

She held his gaze. Then she turned and dashed to the firefighting crew. "Put Mrs. Kanan in the back of the ambulance with Seth and shut the door. I don't have time to explain. Just do it."

Misty was struggling to get free of the police officer. The firefighters called to him. "Bring Mrs. Kanan to the ambulance. Hurry."

The cop dragged Misty toward it. She twisted in his grasp.

"What's happening?" She looked at Jo, and then at her husband. "What are you doing?"

The cop and firefighters lifted her bodily into the ambulance and shut the doors.

Jo turned to Kanan. "Follow me."

She led him out of sight of the ambulance. "Close your eyes."

He did. Opened them again. "Wait."

"There's no time to wait."

He took her gloved hand and set Misty's wedding ring in her palm. "Give it to her."

Jo nodded tightly. "Close your eyes and count to ten."

He counted. She breathed along, her chest constricting.

"Ten."

"Open your eyes."

He looked at her without recognition.

"Ian, we're at San Jose airport and you have to get your computer battery from Riva. Don't ask questions, just do it. Seth and Misty's lives depend on it. You have ten seconds to grab it and drive your Tahoe to that dirt patch at end of the runway."

Kanan stared at her uncertainly.

"Do it. Riva kidnapped them. Get the battery from her and drive it away from here. This second. Or they'll die."

For an interminable moment he continued staring at her. Then he turned. Calder sat on the tarmac covered in firefighting foam, clutching the battery. Kanan limped over to her, grabbed her by the arm, and wrestled it free. The seal was still bubbling.

She cried out and grabbed his leg. "Ian. Stay with me."

He pulled loose and hobbled to the Tahoe. Groaning in pain, he climbed in and started the engine.

Through the back window of the ambulance, Misty saw him. She ducked past the firefighters, threw the door open, and leaped out. "Ian, no."

The path to the runway was clear. He put the Tahoe in gear. Misty bolted toward it. Jo ran and threw herself at her. With a full-body tackle, she brought her down. They fell heavily on the tarmac.

"Misty, you can't."

"He'll die. Ian!"

Jo clapped a hand over Misty's mouth and held her down. The Tahoe revved. Kanan accelerated around the tail of the jet, around the fire trucks, and raced for the runway.

Gabe hit the traffic jam a mile from the San Jose airport. Nothing but taillights, a bright red river stretching up the freeway as far as he could see. Everybody was slowing to gawk at what was happening at the airfield.

His cell phone was still connected to Jo, but all he heard was fuzz and m.u.f.fled voices. Jo, talk to me, he thought. Come back.

Beyond the airport perimeter fence he saw the blue and red pulse of emergency lights flashing off buildings and aircraft.

The explosion was furious and brilliant.

The fireball flashed white. The roar clapped through his 4Runner. The flames spread and fell, yellow, orange, smoke pouring up to obscure them in a black shroud.