They were less than 100 yards from the wall when Joe felt the car start to slow. A screeching noise filled the air along with the smell of burning rubber. The Impala vibrated rhythmically as the anti-lock brakes kicked in, but Joe knew it was too little too late. The car jumped the curb and smashed into the wall, albeit now travelling at a survivable rate of speed. The airbag smacked Joe in the face, dazing him. He unlatched his seat belt as his door was opened and a figure dragged Joe from the car. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and looked up to see the Gray Man.
"Move!" the Gray Man yelled. "It's gonna blow!"
"We have to get Callie!" Joe shouted back. He sprinted to the other side of the car. Callie was trying to open the driver's side door, but the frame was bent from the collision, and the door was refusing to open.
"There's no time!" the Gray Man bellowed as he backed away. "You have to leave her!"
"No!" Joe screamed. "I'm not losing her too!" With a powerful yank, Joe wrenched the door open with a tremendous squeal of metal on metal. He helped Callie out, and they dashed away. Joe pushed Callie in front of him, putting his body between her and the car.
An explosive boom rent the air, and Joe and Callie were propelled forward by the shock wave. Joe felt a sharp pain in his back as he landed on top of Callie. The Gray Man rushed over to them as they groaned and slowly stood.
Callie gasped and pointed at Joe's back.
"You have a piece of shrapnel in your shoulder blade," the Gray Man told Joe. "I have a first-aid kit in my car you can use."
They walked to the Gray Man's Toyota, which was parked on the road near where the explosion happened.
"You two take my car and get out of here before the police show up," he said. "I'll handle the authorities."
"What's going on?" Joe asked.
"Someone just tried to assassinate you two using a piece of technology that has recently hit the black market," the Gray Man explained. "It's a small device that you install in the engine compartment. It allows a hacker to remotely take control of any vehicle manufactured in the last 10 years. The hacker can also use the device to trigger an explosion. You're lucky I was passing by and was able to jam the signal long enough for you to slow down."
"If you can use the device to cause an explosion, why make the car crash?" Callie asked.
"Car crashes get less attention than explosions," the Gray Man said.
"So, someone really doesn't want us looking into Ducroy," Joe said. "That's just more confirmation that this is right where we need to be."
The distant wail of sirens became audible.
"Except for right now," the Gray Man said. "Get out of here."
Joe lay down in the backseat on his stomach as Callie started the car.
"I hope you drive more carefully this time," Joe quipped as she headed back to the hotel.
Callie uncharacteristically ignored the jibe. "Joe, I need to thank you for saving my life."
"No problem."
"What did you mean when you said you didn't want to lose me too?"
"Um, nothing really," Joe stammered. "It's just . . . you're important to me. I've already lost too many of those people. I've seen Iola die in that car explosion a million times. I couldn't let it happen again."
The rest of the drive back to the hotel was silent.
"Are you sure we shouldn't go to a hospital?" Callie asked for the third time as they walked through the lobby. Joe had the Gray Man's jacket draped over his shoulder to hide the two inches of metal sticking out of his flesh.
"For the fiftieth time, yes," Joe replied. "They'll ask too many questions. My dad is more than capable of taking care of this."
Joe was relieved when they opened the hotel door to reveal Fenton working at his desk. He swiveled around as they walked in.
"I sense there's a story in my future," Fenton said.
"Yes," Joe responded, "but first." He tossed the jacket on the bed and showed Fenton the shrapnel.
Fenton grimaced. "Yes, let's take care of that."
Callie handed Fenton the first-aid kit. He rummaged through it and handed Callie a pair of scissors.
"Cut Joe's shirt off and try not to disturb the injury," he said.
Callie began cutting the cloth, blushing when Joe winked at her.
"Shut up," she muttered.
"I didn't say anything," Joe protested.
Callie tried not to focus on the feeling of her hands on Joe's muscles as she worked, although she did steal a few glances. When she was done, Fenton made Joe lie on the floor.
"Hold him down," Fenton commanded. "I'm going to irrigate the wound with this alcohol, and he's going to thrash a little bit."
Fenton gave Joe a towel to bite before he poured alcohol over the gash and inspected the area.
"Looks pretty clean," Fenton said. "Just one piece, and I don't see any debris. I'm going to remove it and stitch you up."
Fenton pulled the sliver of metal out and quickly sutured up the wound.
"Good thing this kit has pretty strong antibiotics in it," Fenton said, handing Joe a pill bottle. "Where'd you get it?"
Joe and Callie gave Fenton a run-down of what had happened. When they finished, Fenton caught them up to speed on his own investigation.
"I've been looking into the bombing," Fenton began.
"Hold up," Joe interrupted. "I thought we were focusing on the insider trading?"
Fenton looked sheepish. "We are, but I think you might be onto something Joe. It's possible there's a connection between the two. Do you have a problem with me looking into the bombing?"
Joe quickly shook his head.
Fenton resumed. "Based on the information from my government contacts, I believe the bomber had inside help, most likely from a baggage handler."
"They're not above helping out terrorists," Joe murmured, remembering his work at the Atlanta airport.
"I went to the airport and asked around. Apparently, quite a few of them enjoy gambling with a local bookie named Monty Nelson. I got a line on where he's supposed to be tonight. My original plan was to impersonate a loan shark, take Joe over there, and see if we could figure out if any airport workers suddenly had money to burn."
"I can still go," Joe insisted. "I'll be fine."
"Joe, have you looked in a mirror?" Fenton asked.
Joe walked into the bathroom and examined himself. His impact with the airbag had given him two black eyes, and there was dried blood coming out of his nose.
"This just makes me look more like an enforcer," Joe said. "I say we go ahead with the plan."
"I want in too," Callie begged.
"This is no job for you," Fenton said. "It will be dangerous."
"Actually Dad," Joe said. "Didn't you impersonate a loan shark in Minneapolis with that female detective as backup to make you seem more believable?"
"Yes," Fenton admitted.
"What role did she play again?" Joe asked, a twinkle in his eye.
Fenton turned red. "She was uh, masquerading as a uh, lady of ill-repute."
Joe grinned and turned to Callie.
Callie folded her arms. "If that's what I have to do, that's what I have to do. And Joe, go put a shirt on."
A few hours later, Fenton and Joe were waiting in their room when a woman Joe had never seen before walked in. She had short black hair and wore a white halter top over a black miniskirt, fishnets, and stilettos. When Joe recovered from his shock, he gave Callie a wolf whistle.
"How much do you charge?" Joe asked.
Callie made a rude gesture at him. "You couldn't afford me."
Joe laughed. "But seriously, you look good."
"Thanks," Callie responded. "I wish I could say the same. You look like a raccoon."
"I'm surprised you noticed what my face looks like," Joe shot back. "Considering that wasn't where you were looking earlier."
Fenton raised his hands to interrupt. "As much as I love teenage banter involving my son, we have a job to do." He hesitated. "I hate to say this Callie, but you do look good. Unfortunately, maybe too good." Fenton's ears turned pink. "I'm pretending to be a loan shark, not a congressman. Could you maybe . . . " Fenton's voice trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.
"Look a little cheaper?" Callie finished.
Fenton nodded. Callie messed up her hair, ripped one of her fishnets, and smudged some of her makeup. An older couple checking in across the hall gave Fenton a dirty look as they left the hotel room.
"I hope Mills doesn't look too closely at my expense report," Callie whispered to Joe on the elevator.
Joe smirked. "I'm sure Dad can reimburse you, but let's hope my mom doesn't find the receipts. The only reason I remember Minneapolis is because Dad had to sleep on the couch for a week."
They pulled into the parking lot of a seedy bar in the Georgetown section of Seattle. The only light coming from the squat brick building was from a neon bar sign advertising an American beer brand.
"It's not too late to back out Callie," Fenton said as he adjusted the shoulder holster under his cheap suit and checked to make sure his pistol was loaded.
"Yes, it is," she responded.
Fenton and Joe nodded at each other, and the trio exited the car and walked inside. It was a typical dive bar, dimly lit with the haze of tobacco smoke hanging in the air in defiance of Seattle's indoor smoking ban. An open area on one side contained a scuffed-up pool table and some old arcade games from the 90s. The middle was dominated by a long bar with few top-shelf liquors. The other side contained wooden tables and booths. A small man sat in a booth with a laptop open in front of him, surrounded by three tough-looking bruisers.
The man looked up as Fenton walked over. "I'm afraid you just missed the cutoff for the games tonight."
"I'm not looking to place a bet Mr. Nelson," Fenton replied. "I'm looking for some information."
Nelson snapped his fingers and each of the three goons pulled a gun and trained them on Joe, Callie and Fenton.
"That's too bad," Nelson sneered. "Because I don't give out information. Now it's time to give me something. Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill all of you right now!"