Episode 7: The Hurdle
(Once again, I would thank to chattypandagurl for her beta-reader services. Her help and support are much appreciated.)
The biggest hurdle is figuring out who your friends are. Your real friends.
Eleanor Mondale
No one responded to Kim's calls for help. Eventually, the cramps eased, but not before they'd been accompanied by a release of blood that she didn't want to think about.
Propped against the rough wood wall she surveyed her prison as best she could in the limited light. The cubic enclosure hadn't changed since she'd explored it earlier. While it was roughly built, it was also sturdy and solid. There weren't any weak areas where she might pry the boards apart, which didn't much matter when breaking out wouldn't begin to solve her problem.
What good was it to think about the faint possibility of escape when it was complicated by the impossibility of flight? She didn't know where she was; she only knew that this hot, muggy environment was a long way from home. She wouldn't know where to go to find safety or how to get there. Her prison was much larger than this small shed.
How could this have happened? Two short weeks ago her primary concern had been Jay's road trip, how much she'd miss him and how his absence might affect their relationship. In retrospect those worries were frivolous and inconsequential.
In less than a fortnight she'd been thrust into a world where the rules of order had been replaced by the turbulence of chaos. It was a place where Jay, a man with the utmost respect for the law, was a wanted terrorist. Where her mother, who went out of her way to avoid stepping on a ant, was the victim of a hit and run driver, and where Kim, who had never lacked confidence, wondered if she had the requisite stamina and skills to cope.
Except for a brief period during early adolescence when Kim had been obsessed with Ann Frank, she'd not given much thought to the gossamer threads of personality that twisted and twined to produce courage or cowardice. Nor had she ever felt a need to define herself by one term or the other. She'd never considered herself to be a fearful person. She'd never shied from challenges, never been afraid of being outspoken about issues that had left her open to derision from her peers. But in this claustrophobic enclosure, where the stink of damp rot combined with the smell of fresh blood, she realized how sheltered her life had been.
It's not as bad as you think, she told herself. Someone will come. Even if this is Guantanamo, someone will come. Then they'll realize that my imprisonment was a terrible mistake.
With her spirits slightly reinforced she crawled to the corner with the two buckets. Her throat was raw, her mouth dry, and she no longer thought the water was the source of her earlier pain. Using her hands as a cup, she drank sparingly at first, then gulped down several handfuls in quick succession. The tepid liquid did little to refresh her but it did quench her thirst. Eager to build on that achievement, she put her teeth to work on her left sleeve, gnawing at the fabric until she'd created a small hole. She put her fingers on either side of the opening and yanked at the ragged threads until the bottom section of the sleeve pulled free. After pouring a small amount of water into the empty bucket, she placed the newly formed washcloth inside and left it there until it was soaked through.
By the time she finished freshening up, she felt a thousand times better, physically and mentally. Soon they'd come for her. Soon she'd be free.
xxx
"Run," Tyler yelled as he grasped the young woman's hand and dragged her up the hill.
He led them on a weaving path through the trees, trying to keep the oaks between them and the bullets that snapped with the fierceness of summer lightning. Though his chosen route was far from a straight line, he maintained a course that would take them to the front door of the nursing home with a minimum of extra steps.
There were security guards beyond that door, and potential witnesses that their attackers might want to avoid. And there was a layout that he knew almost as well as he knew the Yale campus. Time and time again he'd walked the corridors with his grandmother, exploring all of the public rooms as well as several areas that were probably off limits to visitors not named Fog. Extravagant donations tended to generate special privileges.
The tension on Tyler's arm lessened with every step as the young woman's long legs flew up the slope, her feet nimbly avoiding the gnarled roots that crisscrossed the uneven ground. At the juncture to the concrete walk that curved to the main entrance, Tyler stumbled slightly, and for a moment their roles were reversed. She stiffened her arm, steadying him until he regained his balance. Seconds later, they were barreling through the front door.
"This way." Tyler didn't slow down as he skidded past reception and ducked into a corridor that led to the main dining room. Now that they were in the building, his next objective was to get them out again as soon as possible, in case those chasing them had the authority and manpower to seal the exits.
Their explosive entrance caught the staff by surprise. There were several sharp exclamations, but no one attempted to stop them. Tyler knew that shock wouldn't still their actions for long. Reception would call security. He intended to be gone before they responded.
The dining hall was empty except for two men spreading fresh linens over the tables. They barely glanced up as Tyler and his companion raced along the east wall and dashed through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen. Navigating the cooking stations required a bit more finesse. Tyler slowed slightly as he edged around a man who was slamming into raw vegetables with a wicked-looking knife.
"Excuse me," he said as he bounced off a pastry chef in the process of applying a ruffled edge to the surface of an iced sheet cake.
A heavy metal door marked the exit. Tyler twisted the knob while putting his shoulder to the door to shove it open. Once outside, it was a straight shot to the evergreen grove that buffered the back of the property. The trees were a mere twenty yards away. Gabe's SUV was just thirty to thirty-five yards beyond that, parked on a private road that accessed the facility's garage and maintenance buildings.
Tyler's lungs were burning as his feet contacted the soft layering of pine needles that marked the beginning of the forest floor. "Almost there," he puffed out.
"Almost where?"
"My car." He slowed slightly as they burst back into the open. Not quite oriented, he had to look left then right before he spotted the muddy green vehicle. "There." From five steps away he used the remote to unlock the doors. "Get in."
"No. I have to..."
"I won't hurt you. I promise."
"That's not it. I'm not part of this."
"That doesn't mean you're safe," Tyler said, hating each second that delayed his escape but not wanting to abandon her. He remembered what had happened to Maya after they'd left her to the mercy of unknown thugs. "Those guys with the guns, they didn't seem to care whether you were innocent or guilty."
She hesitated, then jumped into the passenger seat as he powered the engine. "Who are they?"
"I have no idea." He sent the car shooting forward. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't want anyone else to get involved. I thought it would be safe."
"Get involved in what? This better not be a bomb." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her unlatch the satchel and look inside. "Medical supplies," she said, her voice laced with puzzlement. "What's going on? Is this for you or was it really meant for your grandmother? But why...?"
"It's for me. Well, us." Tyler felt he owed her an explanation, at the very least. "Will's hurt."
"Will? Isn't your accomplice's name Jay?"
"He's not my accom– Jay's my friend. We didn't bomb the Drexler."
"Innocent people don't go on the run."
"They do when they've been framed." Tyler swung the car onto the four lane road in a direction that took them away from Charter Oak.
"Stop," she said. "My rental car is back the other way."
Tyler resisted an urge to laugh hysterically. "We were almost killed and you're worried about a car?"
"I'm not worried about the car," she said in a voice that was somehow defensive and belligerent at the same time, "except that it was how I planned to get home. Your brother rented it so that I could make this innocent little trip to Grandma's."
"Gabe didn't know there was going to be trouble. I didn't know. I guess that's stupid after the past week, but I didn't think this would happen. I used a code. I told Gabe to be careful; I know the FBI is watching him."
"Those men weren't FBI. Law enforcement personnel aren't allowed to open fire where innocent people might get hurt. And they have to issue warnings."
"Tell that to the agents who were ready to shoot Jay and me in cold blood. Which isn't to say this latest batch of goons is FBI. There have been so many people trying to kill us, I can't keep track."
"You should turn yourself in. I could--"
"Didn't you hear what I said? We can't trust anyone. Not the FBI, not the police, not even my own..." Tyler clamped his teeth over the word father.
"But--"
"No." Tyler touched the brake prior to swerving onto a two-lane country road.
"Where are you going?"
"They'll set up roadblocks; I have to avoid the main highways."
"What about me?"
"I'll get you some place safe as soon as we're in the clear. Okay?" When she didn't reply he glanced to his right and saw that she had a phone in her hand. "Hey, hey," he said, "what are you doing with that?"
"Checking my pictures. When we were running, I held out my phone and began clicking away. You can't catch a criminal if you can't identify him. Plus, it would be something that could be used in court to prosecute them."
"Pictures to use in court?" Tyler didn't know whether to be impressed with her presence of mind or to question her sanity.
"Yes," she exclaimed triumphantly. "I got a picture of one of them. It's a bit fuzzy but..."
Her sudden silence prompted Tyler to ask, "What is it?"
"I've seen him before." She spoke with measured slowness as if she was unsure whether to believe the evidence before her eyes. "He was at the restaurant where I had breakfast this morning."
xxx
It was an effort for Carlton Fog to lift his arm so that he could place his right hand on his younger son's shoulder. "Gabriel," he said. "What's bothering you, son?"
Gabe's eyes shifted left and right as if seeking a means to escape the question. "Do you even have to ask?" he finally said. "I'm worried about you... and Tyler."
"No. It's more than that. Since you came back from lunch, you've been a bundle of nerves. Now if something's happened, if you're keeping something from me, you need to tell me. Is it Tyler?"
Sighing, Gabe nodded his head. "He sent me an email."
"Damn him!" The exclamation was followed by a tightening of Carlton's throat. He coughed and coughed, caught in a paroxysm that wouldn't release him.
Gabe hurriedly poured a glass of water and supported his father's head as he put it to his lips. By alternately sipping water and taking shallow breaths, Carlton was finally able to bring the attack under control. As he pushed the glass aside, he whispered, "It's bad enough that he's in trouble, now he's got you involved. Hasn't he damaged this family enough?"
"We have to help him. He's innocent."
"I know how difficult this is for you. It's difficult for me. Tyler should turn himself in; he needs to let the authorities handle this."
"They aren't doing anything. It's as if they decided Tyler and Jay were guilty and stopped looking for anyone else." Sinking back into the chair by the bed, Gabe asked, "Dad, did you get a look at the person who shot you?"
"No."
"Agent Chambers said it was someone connected to the Drexler."
"It wasn't your brother. No matter what he did..." No matter what I did to him... "he wouldn't shoot me." Carlton was sure about that, and it didn't hurt to say as much to Gabe. If he wanted him to believe that Tyler was involved in something as heinous as terrorism, he'd have to bring him along slowly.
"I knew it wasn't Tyler, but..."
"You wondered if it was Jay?"
"Not Jay, either. Dad, have you ever met their other roommate?"
"No," Carlton lied. He paused as if in thoughtful contemplation. "And you know, son, that's a bit odd, don't you think? I was in New Haven every other month or so, but Will was never around when I was. I met Jay; I took him and Tyler to dinner several times. Is there something about Will Traveler that bothers you?"
"No." The word spilled out so swiftly that Carlton knew it was a lie. "But like you've said, there's a lot that doesn't make sense. I'm just trying to figure it out."
"You keep working on it, son." Carlton smiled encouragingly. "If I think of anything that might help, I'll definitely let you know."
xxx
Though according to Tyler the closest his grandmother had ever come to cooking had been roasting marshmallows over an open fire, her culinary disinterest hadn't stopped her from turning the kitchen into a chef's Eden. It was almost as well-equipped as Carlton's much larger facility at Elysium, with enough gadgetry to please the most discerning cook--which Jay most certainly wasn't. But he did appreciate the aesthetic design, with almost all of the work stations, as well as the breakfast bar, facing an expanse of windows that looked out on sweeping vistas.
From the cooking island where he was absentmindedly swirling a spoon through a pot of soup Jay had an uninterrupted view of the deck and Long Island Sound beyond. The fog had finally lifted, but the sun remained a stranger hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. While the pale light that streamed through the windows provided more-than-adequate illumination, it wasn't intense enough to chase the damp chill from the air. If... when Tyler returned, they'd need to switch on the furnace. Jay hadn't been able to get past the password built into the thermostat control.
Whatever had sent Tyler away, Jay had expected him back by now. Not that there was any concrete reasoning behind that expectation, but it had been there nonetheless.
Setting the spoon aside, he leaned on the work surface next to the cook top, his knuckles pressing into hard granite. "Dammit, Tyler," he muttered.
"Are you beginning to think he's not coming back?"
Will's voice sent Jay spinning around. "I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me like that."
"Just stretching my legs."
"You feeling any better?"
Will's only answer was a noncommittal shrug.
"This is almost ready." Jay pointed to where steam wafted from the pot. "Do you want some? I've been slaving over it for all of five minutes."
"No thanks."
"Tyler's coming back," Jay insisted, returning to Will's question. He's smart. He's resourceful. Wherever he is, he'll be careful."
"Just so you know, the stuff on the beach, that's not a guarantee. If they come for us, it'll likely be without warning, swarming in on choppers or creeping in on foot. There might not be an opportunity to get away."
Jay nodded. He wasn't counting on anything these days.
"If there is a chance to make it to the beach," Will continued, "I might tell you to leave while I lay down covering fire. If I say go, you go. Don't hesitate. Understand?"
"If they know where I am, it's not like I could get away. I'd be a floating target. Easy to shoot, if they're so inclined. Or easy to pick up if they call for a boat."
"That's exactly the type of argument I want to avoid. A delay or a distraction could get us both killed. You have to trust me. I won't send you if I don't think it's the best option."
Given Will's haggard appearance, it seemed almost absurd that he was assuming the role of protector, but the steel in his voice told Jay it was pointless to debate the issue. "All right, Will," he gave in grudgingly. "If it comes to that, I'll trust your judgment."
Jay switched off the burner and began to ladle Campbell's best into a waiting bowl. "You sure you don't want any? Chicken soup is supposed to be a good cure-all."
"That's an old wives' tale."
"Tell that to my mother." Jay picked up the bowl and a napkin and led the way back into the great room. "She used to make homemade chicken soup whenever I was sick." He shook his head as remorse plucked at his conscience. "I wonder what she thinks about this."
"The FBI would have contacted her, questioned her."
"And she would have told them that she hasn't heard from me in years." Jay bit on his lip as he slipped into a chair at the corner table. "I made it easy for the people who set me up. I showed that I could hold a grudge against my own mother. Who wouldn't believe that I could also hold a grudge against the government?"
"Strangers might buy that, but your mother won't."
"Why not?"
"She raised you; she knows you're a fixer, not a destroyer."
"I did a good job of destroying my relationship with her. For the past week I've watched the authorities jump to conclusions about Tyler and me. It's made me wonder if I misjudged her. I never really listened when she tried to tell me her side of the story."
Jay canted his head so that he was looking directly at Will, who was propped on the edge of a nearby windowsill. "What about your family? What excuse did you give them for not getting home for holidays the past two years? Do they know what you do?"
"It wasn't a problem. We're not close."
"You lied about your father. I presume the story about your mother--that she lives in Florida with a stepfather you don't get along with--was another lie. So what's the truth?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes," Jay answered. Will had lied about so much, but the lies about his parents--lies that were devised to get Jay to relate to him--were the ones that hurt on the deepest, most personal level.
"My mother wasn't much more than a child when I was born. You might say we grew up together."
"And your father?"
"I never knew him. When I was old enough to be curious but too young to know better, I asked about him. She pulled out my birth certificate and pointed to the empty space where his name should have been. I don't know if that meant she didn't know, didn't care, or didn't want me to know. We never talked about it again."
"Will... I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It had its advantages."
Will reached out and snagged Jay's notebook from the table. "I've been thinking about the people on our list." His fingers trailed over the column of names. "I don't know how much use they'll be."
"Why is that?" Jay asked.
"Most of them are going to lead us to Freed. That's literally a dead end."
"That's depends on whether Freed was their only connection to the Fourth Branch. Surely some of them knew that the Drexler was more than a Hometown operation. What about the guy who was running you?"
"Joseph Langdon. Maybe. I was never supposed to know more about him than his first name, but I followed him home after our second meeting. He has a fancy house in Westchester. It wouldn't hurt to pay him a visit."
"If what the art fence told you is correct –that the painting is rumored to commemorate the founding of a fourth branch of government– then the organization goes a long way back. How could it stay hidden for more than two hundred years?"
"It wasn't entirely secret if the fence heard about it. But, yes, you'd think it would be mentioned somewhere, even if it was limited to rumors in a National Enquirer type publication."
"When Tyler gets back," Jay spoke the words with conviction, "first thing we do is pick up computers. We need to find the people who are behind this."
Will's lips curled in a way that suggested he thought Jay's outlook was overly optimistic, but his response was coolly neutral. "For now, we can check out those Trumbull books. They're upstairs. I'll get them."
Left alone, Jay finally turned his attention to his soup. He downed it quickly, without tasting a single bite.
xxx
A mental shockwave swept through Jess, shattering the detachment that had sustained her during the attack. It had happened so quickly and unexpectedly; she hadn't had time to do anything except to follow the instincts that told her to run and to take out her phone. When she did have time to think about it, she'd naturally assumed that Tyler was the target. But now, seeing the man from the restaurant, she felt vulnerable and exposed.
"I saw him this morning," she repeated, not sure if she was talking to Tyler or to herself. "He must have followed me."
"Were you with Gabe?"
"Not then." Jess was confused and uneasy. Despite the incident with her wallet, she hadn't taken her father's concern seriously. Was he possibly right? Was she in some kind of danger? Why? She began to punch buttons on her phone as quickly as her fingers could move.
"What are you doing?"
"Texting my dad." She didn't want to send the picture–her dad would go ballistic if he saw the gun–so that would have to wait until they were together. But she needed to know if her suspicions had any basis in fact.
"Your father?" Tyler's head jerked around to look at her.
She ignored him as she furiously completed the text: I think someone following me. Saw him at restaurant this morning, again short time ago. Something going on I should know about?
The reply arrived less than two minutes later. Honey, I'm sorry. I should have told you. I asked some of my men to keep an eye on you. She was still processing the first message when a second arrived. It won't be for long. I promise.
The men who had shot at them–at her!–worked for her dad? That was impossible. They had to be two different groups. But if her dad had people watching over her, where were they when the attack took place?
Maybe they were there. Maybe that's why no one caught up with us. Dad's people stopped them. But then Dad would know about it, wouldn't he? They would have called him by now. And he'd have called me.
Her fingers wavered over the phone. She badly wanted to call her dad, to hear his voice and to have this confusion explained. But Tyler Fog was sitting next her, and how would she explain that to her dad? And how would Tyler react if he realized her dad was in charge of hunting him down?
It was best to wait. Difficult, but best. She tucked the phone back into her pocket and stared into the distance. "I need to get back to New York," she said without looking at her companion. "I need to get there as soon as possible."
xxx
Fred Chambers was furious. Rutherford was an incompetent idiot. Jessie had marked him in less than half a day. An amateur could have done better. Now they'd need to find a new team. But as he pulled out his phone to call Whaley, Ron Farrell dashed into his office.
"There was a Tyler Fog sighting in Connecticut."
"We've been getting dozens of calls an hour. Half of the eastern seaboard thinks they've seen Fog or Burchell during the past week. Why is this one important enough to warrant a personal announcement?"
"Because this one sounds legit. It was at a nursing home where Fog's grandmother is a patient and where he's been a regular visitor. Most of the workers have met him at one time or another."
Chambers jumped to his feet. "What are we doing about it?" he asked while striding into the main room. A map of Connecticut was already displayed on the big screen. "Talk to me, Farrell."
"Local law enforcement is on their way."
"I want roadblocks and check points on all major highways. Has anyone spoken to the grandmother? Why haven't I heard mention of her before?"
"She's in the advance stages of Alzheimer's, confirmed by her attending physician. There was no reason to contact her."
Chambers put his hands on his hips and studied the small circle on the map that pinpointed the sighting. "Zoom in and give me an aerial view." Within seconds he could see the roof of the nursing home and the surrounding grounds. "Why would Fog go there? What about Burchell?"
"No mention in the initial report," Farrell replied. "One of the witnesses said there was a woman with Fog. The other witness wasn't sure. She said Fog and a woman were there at the same time, but she didn't know if they were together."
"A place like that should have security footage."
Sheehan glanced up from his computer screen. "I'm already on that."
"Get me a chopper," Chambers said, "and let the local authorities know I'm on the way. Farrell, you'll come with me." Sooner or later, Fog and Burchell's luck had to run out. Hopefully, today would be the day.
xxx
Conrad Mailer couldn't wait a minute longer. Ever since Jon had called him to say someone else was following the woman with the medical package, he'd lost his ability to concentrate. He'd tried to work on the shopping center project, but the blueprints were nothing but squiggly lines. He'd taken Mischa for a walk and almost tripped over the leash. He didn't know what he had eaten for lunch, if anything at all.
Setting aside the newspaper that was still locked on page one, he announced, "I'm going to call Jon."
From the easy chair by the stone fireplace David Fancher shrugged. He knew better than to try to talk him out of it.
"I lost Fog," were the first words out of Anselmo's mouth.
"When?" Mailer switched over to speaker so that Fancher could hear.
"About thirty minutes ago. I would have called, but I've been busy."
"What happened?"
"When the girl went to make the transfer, the two guys from the black sedan opened fire. Fog was obviously the target, but I don't think they were being picky. Fog and the girl took off with the case."
"Then Fog got away?"
"With the package. And all on his own."
"Where did this happen?"
"Outside of a nursing home called Charter Oak in western Connecticut. The men followed Fog into the building but never caught up with him. I suspect he left not long after he went inside. They quit searching when they heard approaching sirens. I got to their car ahead of them."
"And?"
"We took a drive. They were working for Rosalind Freed, mother of the late Jack. I left the car in a wooded area. It took me awhile to get back to my own vehicle. By then the place was swarming with uniforms. I was glad I'd parked outside the grounds."
"I should have had you put a tracer in the package," Conrad sighed.
"We've tried that," Jon reminded him. "I doubt it will work again, and there's the trust issue. They have the supplies. They have numbers to call. I'm going to head back to New York to track down information on the girl."
"That's a good idea. Call me when you get a chance." Mailer turned off the phone and looked at Fancher. "We're back to square one."
"Will isn't stupid or suicidal," David said. "If he needs anything else, he'll call."
xxx
After announcing that she wanted to go to New York, the young woman next to Tyler hadn't said a word. He glanced at her from time to time, worried that she was experiencing some kind of delayed shock over what had happened. But her face–what he could see of it, anyway– appeared to be more meditative than upset. So he concentrated on navigating the back roads that led to New Haven, a route he'd only used on two previous occasions, when he'd needed transition time between visits with his grandmother and his life at Yale.
It was early rush hour by the time he approached the northern suburbs of the city. Since he was going against traffic, that wasn't a problem, but it reminded him that the minutes and hours were ticking away when he'd hoped to be back at the cottage long before now.
"I'm sorry this has taken so long," he told his companion. "But we're almost there now. You'll be home soon."
The girl beside him seemed to sigh. He didn't know if it was prompted by weariness or relief. "Where are we?"
"New Haven. There's a stretch of hotels coming up. I'll drop you off at a high-end one. You can get a taxi into the city from there." He squeezed his hand into his pocket and pulled out half the wad of cash he'd brought with him that morning. "This will cover it."
She hesitated before taking the money. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her flip through the bills. "It's too much."
"Just take it, please. You might need more than you think." He held his breath until she folded the money and stuck it in an inner pocket of her small backpack. "I really am sorry," he said, knowing the words were totally inadequate for what he'd put her through. "I want you to know this is all my fault, my idea. Gabe was just trying to be a good brother."
"He lied to me."
"He knew I wouldn't have asked for help if it wasn't something really important."
Spotting a hotel that would have concierge service, Tyler pulled into its circular driveway, but didn't stop until he was almost to where it intersected the street again. Leaving the engine running, he said, "You've been pretty quiet. I'm not sure what means. I hope it means you maybe believed me when I told you I had nothing to do with the Drexler. If you didn't, you'll be calling the police in a few minutes and there's nothing I can do about it. But if you have even the slightest doubt that I'm guilty, I hope you'll wait until you get back to New York to report this. I need time to get away. It's not just for me, it's for Will."
She turned to face him and he found himself staring into huge emerald eyes that were both exotically beautiful and deeply troubled. "What did you mean when you said the FBI tried to kill you?"
"Just what I said. That first day in New York, the FBI caught us. They had us cuffed, in a van. When the van was attacked, they started to shoot at us."
"You must have been confused. They had to have been shooting at the attackers."
Tyler rubbed a hand over his forehead. "I know it sounds crazy but it's true. They were shooting at Jay and me. The Drexler was part of a much bigger plan. The people behind it set us up to take the blame. We had proof, a recording. Someone killed Jack Freed and blew up his limo to prevent that proof from getting to the press."
She studied him a long time before saying, "I don't know what I think. Frankly, your story isn't at all believable. But..." She took the time to brush her tawny hair behind her right ear before continuing, "You're letting me go. I don't think you'd do that if you were a terrorist. So I'll wait until I'm in the city."
She slid her lithe body from the car before realizing the case's strap was still slung over her shoulder. Smiling sadly, she said, "I believe this was meant for you."
His eyes followed her as she walked to the revolving door under the marquee. As she disappeared from sight, Tyler realized he hadn't even learned her name.
xxx
Jan Marlow exited the library's public access computer and began to gather up her belongings. She'd located Norah Fowler's house and printed directions over an hour earlier. But its isolated location made a daytime approach undesirable. She'd be spotted before she could get anywhere near the place. So she'd decided to wait until dark, which gave her time to brood over whether she was making a colossal mistake.
Burchell had gotten away when she'd met him on her own. She'd almost been killed when she'd approached Langdon without any backup. Now, if what she hoped was true, she'd find all three fugitives at Norah Fowler's seaside retreat. What were the odds she'd survive that confrontation? What were the odds she'd fail and they'd get away again?
I don't have to do this. I could call the authorities. They can't all be corrupt.
It's what Borjes would have advised.
Borjes.
She owed it to him to find Whaley, to link Chambers to his killing.
But how best to do that?
Sighing, she snapped her briefcase shut and left the library. Pausing on the front steps, she reached into her purse, pulled out her cell phone and clicked on Harold Stone's name.
xxx
Circling the room that perched on top of the house, Will studied the view in all directions. There was no sign of activity–not on the road, not in the water below--which suggested they were safe, for the moment, anyway.
Outside, the sky was darkening as banks of angry clouds blew in from the west. If he was any judge of weather, there would be rain within the hour. The sea was already choppy, and Will hoped he wouldn't have to send Jay into such rough water.
Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against the window. The cool glass soothed the scorching heat of his skin. His fever was spiking with the waning of the day. That wasn't a bad thing. Fever was the body's natural defense against infection. He held onto that thought as he slowly descended the two flights of stairs.
Jay didn't appear to have moved so much as an inch while Will was gone. He was still sprawled on the sofa with his eyes closed. The larger of the two Trumbull books was spread open across his chest.
Sinking into one of two matching leather recliners, Will jiggled the control that raised the footrest and lowered the back. The other Trumbull book rested on the stand beside him, but he didn't bother to pick it up. When he'd tried to read earlier, the letters had danced about the page, refusing to stay still long enough to form words. It was darker now, so he was even less likely to have any success.
Closing his eyes, his mind drifted back to Jay's question about his family. Family wasn't something he thought about very often. He'd grown used to wiping the slate of the past clean and starting fresh with each new identity, which might be why he almost felt closer to Will Traveler's made-up parents than to the flesh-and-blood woman who had raised him.
Six years earlier
"Don't do this, Stephen." Gwynn's fingers dug into her son's shoulders as if sensing that words alone wouldn't change his course. "Please."
"It's already done."
"You're not old enough. You have to be eighteen to enlist without my permission. How could they let you...?" She backed away from him, almost screaming as she continued, "This is David's doing. He's corrupted you."
He found himself yelling back. "Would you rather I'd followed in your footsteps? You've worked in that roadhouse for as long as I can remember, serving up beers and shots and pieces of ass."
"How dare you?" She swung her arm back, gearing up as if to hit him, but she stopped herself in mid swing. "What am I doing?" She stumbled away, sobbing. "Is violence catching? You were always fighting. Then David came along and it grew worse."
"I was always getting beaten up until he came along. He taught me how to defend myself. He taught me to be strong so that I could serve my country."
Sinking into a chair, she buried her face in her hands. "You're so close to graduating. Wait a few months, give yourself time to think about it." Her voice trailed off to a vanquished sigh.
The trip to Arizona had been a mistake. He should have written a note or a postcard. "I can finish those courses anytime." He'd already exceeded his uncle's demands and would have graduated in December, a semester earlier than planned, but 9/11 had changed everything.
If a terrorist attack wasn't enough to make his mother understand his priorities, nothing would.
"I'm leaving now." He found himself pausing at the door without knowing why. There wasn't anything else to say. But he stood there for close to five minutes, watching as she sat, unmoving, with her shoulders hunched and her face obscured by tangled blonde hair.
That image had burned into his brain the way a brand seared a calf. It was what always came to mind when he thought of his mother.
He'd written to her once, not long after he'd transferred from Afghanistan to Iraq, enclosing a check because she was always short on cash while he had a bank account bulging with his accumulated military pay and nowhere to spend it. But the envelope had been returned, marked undeliverable. It was probably for the best; they'd always brought out the worst in each other.
"Will," Jay mumbled from the sofa. "D'ya need anything?"
"No. Go back to sleep."
Rain began to patter against the windows. The storm had arrived sooner than he'd expected. Will shifted slightly, leaning to his right, and watched the last remaining shreds of light fade.
If Tyler didn't return soon, they'd have to reconsider their options, whether Jay liked it or not.
xxx
Jon Anselmo sat outside the main entrance to the hospital, waiting for Gabriel Fog to make an appearance. He knew he was still inside because he'd called the nurse's station on Carlton's floor and asked for him.
He was counting on Fog to lead him to the young woman he'd used as a courier or, better yet, to lead him to his brother. Even if he only got the girl's name, that would be enough. Mailer's seemingly infinite resources would be able to track her down.
xxx
A bomb! Jay thought as a shuddering crash jarred him awake. Something heavy fell off his chest as he scrambled to his feet in total darkness, sure that the house was under attack and splintering around him. As he stumbled forward calling Will's name, a burst of light flooded the room. Thinking it was the prelude to a second concussive blast, his arms flew up to protect his face moments before he realized that what he'd perceived to be man-made danger was actually a violent electrical storm.
"I'm over here." As a series of lightning strikes temporarily turned the night into day, Jay spotted Will tucked into a corner of the window seat that stretched along the recessed bay at the front of the room.
Jay's heart was still pounding as fiercely as the thunder. "That's some storm. I thought we were under attack, maybe from those helicopters you mentioned earlier."
"No helicopters, not in this."
The weariness in Will's voice drew Jay to the window. "You should get some rest. I'll keep watch."
"In a– Did you hear that?"
Ears straining, it still took Jay over half a minute to isolate the faint trill of a well-tuned engine from the explosive symphony of the storm. Seconds later, twin glimmers materialized in the gloom at the far end of the escarpment. A car was creeping toward the house, running with just fog lights.
"Go. Get out of here." Will remained slumped in the corner, but suddenly there was a gun in his hand.
"Wait. Look!" Jay reached forward to grasp Will's shoulder. The outline of the vehicle was taking shape; it was higher and broader than a sedan. Lightning crackled through the sky. The dark returned deeper than ever, but not before Jay recognized the SUV and the white face behind the wheel. "It's Tyler."
xxx
Out of the corner of his eye, Fred Chambers could see Ron Farrell waving his hand, trying to catch his attention. Chambers decided to let him stew a minute longer while he finished going over the local sheriff's diagram.
"We've got the main highways blocked. Given his lead time, we had to widen the perimeter." Sheriff Rupert Wayne made a circle on the map; the nursing home was at its center. "As you can see, there are a lot of other ways to get about, two-lane roads, even some country lanes. I don't have enough manpower to cover every slip of a road or alley, so he could still get away, but it won't be easy. Those routes aren't easy to navigate."
"Let's hope he stumbles out where we can find him. What about the car? Do we know what he's driving?"
"No, sir. I'm afraid not. We think his car was parked on the service road. There are fresh tire tracks and no one else to account for them. We're trying to get some molds made before the rain washes the tracks away."
"Tell them to get a move on," Chambers said, dismissing Wayne. He crooked a finger to where Farrell was standing. "All right, Ron, what do you have that can't wait?"
Farrell coughed and walked over to him. "I think you should take a look at the surveillance video. Fog might have a hostage."
Chambers resisted an urge to snicker. As a member of The Fourth Branch, what he didn't know about Tyler Fog would fit into a thimble. There was no one less likely to have taken a hostage, except maybe for Jay Burchell. "Are you talking about that girl who might have been with him? I thought one of the nurses identified her as a recreational therapist."
"The woman she thought it was isn't working today."
Chambers ambled into the small security office. At a nod from Farrell, a man sitting at an L-shaped desk activated the security video. A grainy black and white picture filled the computer screen; it showed the reception area. Almost immediately Fog slipped into view, entering from the right side. The position of the camera made for a narrow frame, so almost as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.
Focused on Fog, it took a couple of seconds for Chambers' brain to register the second moving body. "Run it again," he said from a suddenly parched mouth, "in slow motion." He couldn't have seen what he thought he saw.
But there it was. Hands linked and immediately behind Fog was a lithesome young woman, whose long limbs made her appear to be even taller than she was.
Jessie!
It couldn't be. Hadn't they just texted each other? And Rutherford was watching over her. Nothing could have happened.
Chambers glanced at his watch. The texts had been hours ago, and Rutherford hadn't made his scheduled six o'clock report.
But why was Jessie anywhere near here?
Did that matter?
Jessie.
She must have texted him just before...
"Not Fog," he said out loud. Fog was the one they saw, but Traveler had to be behind it. And Doherty wasn't even in the country this time. Jessie!
As Chambers backed, breathless, out of the room, an icy voice streamed through his mind: Your daughter is a beautiful young woman.
xxx
Warm air greeted Tyler as he slipped into the first-floor bedroom. The small, enclosed space was heating more quickly than the rest of the house. Jay must have found and opened all the vents.
"Did you see anything?" Will asked from where he was propped on pillows at the head of a narrow bed. He was doing something to his wound.
"No," Tyler said. "There's not so much as a mouse stirring out there. I walked all the way to where the road dips into the woods. I told you no one was following me. I would have noticed them." He shook the rain out of his hair and dropped into the room's only chair.
Designed to provide modest quarters for a live-in housekeeper, the room felt claustrophobically small with the three of them crowded within its four walls. But its single window made it the logical place for them to retreat. With the drapes drawn and shade pulled down, they could turn on as many lights as they wished without any worry of attracting attention.
They'd needed the light to sort out the medical supplies and begin to put them to use. Tyler had left that to Jay and Will while he'd closed up the rest of the house and looked around outside. "How's everything here?" Despite a wastebasket full of medical debris, Will looked worse than ever. Fever blotches on his cheeks were the only spots of color on a face that was otherwise sickly pale and lined with pain. And the hand that was pressing gauze to his side was trembling.
Perched on the foot of the bed, Jay looked up from the papers he'd been reading. "I'm still sorting through this list of what they sent to see if there's anything else we should be doing."
"Don't worry about it," Will said, using tape to secure the gauze in place. "This is good for now."
Jay turned his attention to Tyler. "They sent along IV fluids, but neither of us could get it set up. Do you want to give it a try?"
"Me?" Tyler felt faint just thinking about it. "I did biology dissections with my eyes closed. Will wouldn't want to end up looking like my mangled frog."
"And I guess I wouldn't want to have to defend you against his certain lawsuit." While the words were light, Jay's face was grim as he set the clump of papers aside. "I've been thinking. Can we trust the porter? We don't know that anything he sent is what it says it is. Maybe you shouldn't have taken that injection of antibiotics."
"We can't trust him," Will said. "But if he wanted to kill us, we'd be dead. I think it's safe to assume the drugs are legit."
"So whose side is he on?" Tyler asked.
"It depends on how you're keeping score. Based on what you've told me, he saved your lives. And he seemed to be on my side at the park. But he might also be the person who killed Freed."
"Killed Freed!" Tyler found himself popping out of the rocker-recliner and taking a step toward the bed. "What makes you say that?"
"He was at the scene, had the opportunity, and has the skills. It's like you said when you accused me, it had to be someone who knew we had Freed and knew where we were. Since we know he was following us, the Porter is at the top of the suspect list."
Tyler fell back into the chair. "Sonofabitch. Freed was our way of this mess. I should have thrown that watch away as soon I knew about the tracer."
"Freed wouldn't have talked," Will said. "It would have been his word against ours."
"But it would have been a start." Tyler dug his knuckles into his forehead. Sometimes he was his own worst enemy. "Damn it to hell and back. Why would he kill Freed? Does that mean he's the guy who shot my Dad?"
"I don't know." Will slumped lower on the pillows.
"We should ask him," Jay said. "He says he wants to work with us, he needs to answer some questions first."
"Like he's going to tell the truth?" Tyler played back their encounters with the man. "He has his own agenda. We know that."
"I still think it's worth a call." Jay stood up and started for the door. "It's way past dinner time. I'm going to put together a plate of sandwiches. Is there anything else anyone wants?"
The mere mention of food was enough to prompt Tyler's long neglected stomach to rumble. "A soda and a piece of that chocolate cake. Make it a big piece. Thanks."
As Jay ducked from the room, Will rearranged the afghan that had been draped over his shoulders, pulling it tight across his chest.
"He said he could arrange for a doctor," Tyler told him. "We should do that if the stuff he sent isn't enough."
"It's enough." Will managed to conjure up a weak glare as he added, "What you did, it was stupid, a big risk."
"Yeah," Tyler agreed easily. He wasn't going to let Will provoke him into a fight.
"Thanks."
"Huh?" It wasn't that Tyler hadn't heard the word clearly, it was just so unexpected.
"You put yourself in harm's way for me. Thanks."
Tyler ducked his head so that he was looking down at the worn Oriental rug and mumbled the first thing that came into his head. "You're welcome."
xxx
Normally, the gentle sway of the cab combined with the rhythmic swish of its windshield wipers would have served as a lullaby to lull Jess Chambers to sleep. But there was nothing normal about the ride back to New York.
Her mind churned and twisted, sweeping like a cyclone over recent events, pulling up individual memories and tossing them helter skelter before she could make any sense out of them.
Maybe there wasn't any sense to be made.
Three men, three very different men, were at the center of the maelstrom. Why had her father found it necessary to have her watched? And where were the supposed watchers during the attack? Or were they the attack? The last question was the most bothersome, and she wouldn't know the answer until she showed her father the picture on her phone. If they were one and the same, it would give credence to Tyler Fog's disbelieving conspiracy story.
Leaning her head against the side window, Jess restrained an urge to groan. Her life would be far simpler if she'd listened to Amy's advice and never gone to see Gabriel. He'd used her, lied to her. She'd been stupid and naive to trust someone she barely knew.
Was she equally stupid and naive to heed Tyler's request to keep quiet until she got home? He was a wanted terrorist and she'd failed to make a timely report of their encounter. She'd looked into his eyes and saw a haunted, hunted young man, who had seemed sincere. But how could he be with such an outlandish story?
Her dad. Her dad would have a lot to say about her activities and behavior. How was she ever going to explain herself? What if he had to arrest her for aiding and abetting a wanted criminal?
She should have thought things through. She should never have gotten involved.
Don't think about it. Don't think at all.
But the lights of the city were brightening the horizon and she'd not yet given the cab driver a final destination.
The dorm? Her dad's house in the Village? FBI headquarters?
She should turn herself in and spare her dad the necessity of taking her into custody.
She could hear his voice in her head; it was full of disappointment. "Oh, Jessica."
Opening her mouth, she was about to direct the cab driver to the 24th police precinct when I Need a Hero blasted from her phone.
Just when she didn't think it could get any worse.
Bracing herself, she flipped open the phone.
"Daddy..."
"Jessie." It almost sounded like her dad was crying. "Listen to me. Everything is going to be all right. I promise. You'll be fine. I'll take care of everything. Just put Traveler on."
"Traveler?"
xxx
Kim blinked furiously, trying to fool her eyes into thinking the trickles of light squeezing between the boards weren't growing more faint. That simply couldn't be. Because if it were true, it meant she'd spent hours and hours here. Alone. Isolated. Abandoned.
Someone had to come. She'd been grasping at that expectation, using it as her lifeline to hope. Now that lifeline was fraying with every passing second.
Total dark came much too quickly, dropping like a curtain across a stage.
Whimpering softly, she sank to the floor and curled into a fetal ball. The hopelessness that she'd been holding at bay circled her like a hungry shark. She sensed razor teeth preparing to rip into her fragile psyche.
No! She shuddered and gasped, trying to stretch beyond the confines of her terror for some form of deliverance.
Jay... An image blossomed in her mind, but the image only heightened her despair by reminding her of how much she'd lost.
Mom... Dad... Their images stirred memories of comfort and coddling, of loving arms wrapped protectively around her as she passed from infancy to childhood to adolescence. She shied away from those images as well, afraid that they'd generate self pity that would seal her doom.
Tyler... Nell... Their images were transparencies that floated away almost as quickly as they formed. They were part of a different world, one that was swiftly losing any relevancy.
Agent Chambers... That was a powerful image. He had the strength to help her. But he wasn't here. There was nothing to grasp except his warnings, which she'd failed to heed.
Will... A blast of emotion accompanied the image. Its explosive force expanded outward and filled her senses until there wasn't room for anything else.
Startled, she sat up. It took her several seconds to identify the universal truth responsible for the sudden fortifying of her resolve. When thrust into a seemingly bottomless abyss where destructive predators roamed, love and friendship, and even authority, weren't strong enough to provide protection.
But hate... hate was powerful and fierce. It was a monster that could combat the hellish spawn of the devil himself.
xxx
"I wish I knew if Gabe's friend made it home," Tyler said.
"They weren't after her," Will told him, hoping that was true. He wiggled back and forth until he was sitting up straight again. "We'll get phones; you can call your brother tomorrow. What's taking Jay so long?"
"He's only been gone a few minutes." Tyler paced over to the bed and took Jay's spot at the foot. He picked up the stapled bunch of papers that had been included with the medical supplies and slowly flipped through them. "According to this, they sent a bunch of different pain killers, including an analgesic patch. Did you use any of them?"
"Not yet. Later."
"Why wait?"
"Because…" Will looked into Tyler's eyes and saw a deep exhaustion that mirrored his own. "Pain meds will make me sleepy and we have to leave."
"We have to leave." Tyler repeated the words slowly, disbelievingly. "We just got here yesterday. You said it would be safe."
"There was always some risk," Will admitted. "Now that the connection to your grandmother has been established, the risk expanded exponentially. They're going to take a closer look at her, and that might lead them here."
"If we need to leave, why are we still here?"
"I wanted to give you a chance to catch your breath, then Jay suggested the sandwiches. We'll go after you eat."
Expecting Tyler to complain--he tended to be grumpy when he was tired–Will was surprised to see him square his drooping shoulders and smile. "It's lucky we didn't do much unpacking. I'll get our--" His words cut off as the bedroom door swung open with a ferocity that sent it crashing into the wall.
Will reacted without the need to process information through his brain. His hand started toward his shoulder holster as he turned to face the now open door. Jay stumbled into the room and dropped to his knees, his hands going to his head.
"Don't." The FBI agent in the doorway swung her gun until it was pointed toward Will. His hand was moving but not nearly quickly enough; his fingers kept catching on openings in the loose knit afghan. After what felt like an eternity, he contacted the metal grip. Stupid! He berated himself for using the afghan. That thought, possibly his last thought ever, passed through his mind as she squeezed the trigger.
– end of episode 7
Note: I apologize for the long delay since I last updated. Writing time has been in short supply.