Episode 8: The Fittest
(With many thanks to chattypandagurl, who continues to provide skilled beta services.)
The survival of the fittest is the ageless law of nature, but the fittest are rarely the strong. The fittest are those endowed with the qualifications for adaptation, the ability to accept the inevitable and conform to the unavoidable, to harmonize with existing or changing conditions. Dave E. Smalley
Marlow's aim was true. The bullet's trajectory took it directly to its intended target. Paint chips and plaster dust exploded from the wall above the bed. Redirecting the gun to the middle of Traveler's forehead, she shouted, "Don't make me shoot you. I want your hands where I can see them. Now!"
Slowly, his hands slid out from the under the purple afghan, fingers spread and palms facing her to show that nothing was concealed in them.
"Get those arms in front of you. That's right, stretch them out. Keep them straight. Good. Now don't move." Using her left hand, she unclipped the handcuffs from her belt and tossed them into Fog's lap. "Put those on his wrists, nice and tight."
"Do it yourself." Fog crossed his arms in front of his chest, the gesture punctuating the stubborn resolve in his voice. "You're going to kill us, regardless. Why should we make it any easier for you?"
"Would you like to be first?" She swung the gun his way while keeping her eyes trained on Traveler.
"It's okay, Tyler." Traveler leaned forward until his fingertips brushed against Fog's right shoulder. "Do it."
"Fine!" Fog snapped the cuffs in place. The task completed, he glared at Marlow as if daring her to question whether they were as snug as she would have liked.
She ignored him as she focused on the most dangerous member of the trio. The purple afghan had slipped to Traveler's waist, exposing a large caliber handgun tucked in a shoulder holster.
Well, it wasn't as if she hadn't expected him to be armed. But now she knew exactly where the weapon was located.
With the initial confrontation safely behind her Marlow could feel the pace of her pulse ratchet down a notch. She was in control, it could only get better…she hoped.
After carefully transferring her weight to her right leg, she used her left to kick the door shut. That allowed her to back against it, putting more space between her and the three fugitives.
"All right," she said, eyeing each of them in turn, "now it's time to talk. Burchell, you might want to get more comfortable. Take a seat in the chair, but keep your hands where I can see them."
Burchell directed a quiet "I'm sorry" to his companions before settling in the chair.
"Tell me about the Drexler. Fog, let's start with you. Why were you there?"
Fog turned away from her as if he wasn't interested in anything she had to say. Instead, he focused on Traveler. "She couldn't have followed me," he said in a bewildered voice. "Couldn't have."
"I don't think she did." Traveler scanned Marlow from her sopping hair to her mud encrusted shoes. "It's not the nicest night for a hike," he said. "I guess that explains why you're alone."
Raised eyebrows from Fog and a slight stiffening from Burchell told Marlow that Traveler had their attention. If they hadn't realize it before, Fog and Burchell were now aware that they outnumbered her three to one.
She knew what Traveler was doing; he was trying to wrest control of the situation from her. If he'd ever relinquished it... He'd been a bit too quick to submit to the cuffs.
She needed to diffuse the situation before one of them tried something foolish. It meant putting her cards on the table sooner than she would have liked. But hadn't she already made the decision to trust them when she'd come here instead of completing the call to Harold Stone?
"I'm alone," she said, confirming her vulnerability. "By choice. The only reason I didn't come knocking at your door was because I didn't want to spook you. That's why I parked my car by that row of houses at the bottom of the hill. And it's why I walked here in the rain." She nodded to Burchell. "I realized that you were telling me the truth. You and Fog didn't have anything to do with the Drexler bombing; you were set up." Tilting her head to the right, her eyes met Fog's. "And I believe what you said, that the FBI is involved." She managed to keep her voice steady as she continued. "My partner is dead. My boss tried to have me killed. I'm here for the same reason you went with Traveler that night at Club Fervor. I want answers."
Fog responded with a snort. "You'll excuse me if I don't believe you. I'm a little short on trust these days."
"In your shoes I probably wouldn't believe me, either. But trust has to begin somewhere. If my intent was to arrest you, I'd have backup, lots of backup." She stooped down and lowered her gun hand to the carpet. Her fingers were reluctant to give up the security the weapon represented, but eventually they released the metal grip. With her arms spread defenseless to either side, she stood up. "Now, will you tell me about the Drexler?"
xxx
"Traveler?"
"Just give him the phone," Chambers pleaded. "Do you understand, Jessie? Give him the phone."
"The cab driver?" Jessie asked. "Daddy, what's going on?"
It was an effort to stay calm. "Whatever he wants, I'll make it happen."
There was a long period of silence during which Chambers pictured Jessie passing the phone to Will Traveler. But when the silence ended, Jessie was still on the line. "You found out I was with Tyler Fog," she said. "That's what this is about, isn't it? Daddy, he didn't hurt me. I'm fine. He dropped me off in New Haven. I don't know where he went from there, but I'm on my way back to New York and I need to see you."
Braced for untoward sorrow, Chambers was finding it difficult to transition to a world where life had meaning again. "You're not with Traveler? Or Fog?"
"I'm in a taxi. The only person with me is the driver."
Chamber closed his eyes and leaned against the wall outside the security office. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
"Daddy, are you there?"
"Yes, honey. I'm in Connecticut at the Charter Oak facility. When I saw the surveillance footage that showed you with Fog, I thought... I don't even want to think about what I thought. You're really all right?"
"Yes. Fine. But... we need to talk. It's important. When will you be back?"
He could hear a mix of uncertainty and distress in her voice. She was upset. That was to be expected. The important thing was that she was alive. She was safe. She was free. "Go to the dorm," he instructed. "Stay there. I'm on my way. I love you."
"I love you."
As soon as the connection ended, Chambers punched the number for his office. He'd send agents to watch the dorm. As for the incompetent Fourth Branch surveillance team, wherever they were, he'd deal with them later.
xxx
By the time Gabe crossed Seventy-Ninth Street pedestrians were few and far between. There was a steady stream of cars on Broadway, but very little foot traffic. Maybe it was the light rain, the last remnants of the storm that had passed through the city earlier in the evening. But more likely it was the location. The bustling center of Manhattan was far behind him. Only local residents would be walking the streets in this part of town, and it was late enough that most of them were probably settled in for the night.
Fingering the phone in his pocket, he had half a mind to call for a taxi to whisk him off to the penthouse. But he knew he couldn't relax until he'd confirmed that Jess was okay. He'd expected her to call as soon as she returned to the city, which should have been hours ago. When he didn't hear from her, he should have called her, but he found himself making one excuse after another to delay contact. He'd have to leave his father's room and Carlton would want to know why. Jess had run into a traffic jam or gotten lost and it wouldn't be good to distract her when she was on the road. She was back but had a late class or a study group that he shouldn't interrupt. By the time he admitted the truth--that he was embarrassed to talk to her after he'd lied--the nurses were telling him it was time to leave.
So he'd set out from the hospital, somewhat aimlessly, or so he'd thought. But his feet had plans even if his mind hadn't processed them. They'd carried him steadily uptown, toward Columbia University and Jess's dorm.
Now that he'd admitted to himself where he was going, he was reluctant to continue. What was he going to do when he got there? Tell her the truth? Wouldn't that put Tyler in danger?
As he neared another intersection, Gabe found himself jerking to a stop. His antennae were flickering. He didn't know how else to describe it. Adrenaline was suddenly surging through his system as his body clicked into full alert mode. Something or someone was out of place. He turned in a complete circle, checking carefully in every direction, but couldn't identify the source of his concern. Again, he fingered the phone in his pocket. Maybe he should have hired the bodyguards that Will Traveler had recommended. No, that was ridiculous. He hadn't needed a personal bodyguard in Iraq and he didn't need one here. Besides, if there was anything out of place, it was himself. And if anyone around him was also out of place, it would be the FBI.
Yes, that was it. In all likelihood the FBI had someone tailing him. That's what his subconscious had detected.
Did he really want to lead the FBI to Jess' dorm? Would they wonder why he was there? Why he had walked there?
That wouldn't do anyone any good.
Pulling out the phone, he called for a cab. He'd wait until he was in the privacy of the penthouse before contacting Jess.
xxx
Jay placed the last of the items from the refrigerator into the large cooler Tyler had retrieved from the out building. After briefly getting acquainted with Marlow, they'd all agreed that their first priority was to vacate the cottage. If she could find it, so could others.
"Fridge is empty," Jay said. "What else do we need to do?"
From the other side of the kitchen Tyler called out an answer. "Toss the ice into the sink, then turn the ice maker off. I'm almost done with the cabinets." He fluffed open a paper grocery bag. "This is the last empty bag. Unless our supplies multiplied while we were here, we should have everything. And if we missed something, it shouldn't matter. It's not as if the cupboards were bare when we got here."
"The perishables were Will's main concern," Jay said. "That would be sure to raise red flags if the FBI conducts a search."
"I know he's hoping that they never find out we were here," said Tyler, "but our fingerprints are all over the place."
"If there isn't anything to catch their attention, they might just do a cursory check, if they even come here." Jay returned the empty ice bin to the freezer and began a final walk through of the kitchen. His flashlight beam bounced off a square of white in a particularly dark corner. "The cake!"
"Don't forget–" A clatter filled the room, followed by a string of curses, then... "The bag ripped."
Jay reached into a drawer and tore a plastic garbage bag from a roll. "Use this." He stooped down to help. When they'd recovered everything, he tied a knot in the top of the bag and picked it up. "I can tell you've never worked checkout in a supermarket. A paper bag would never hold this much weight."
"Earth to Jay, until I moved to the Castle I never even shopped in supermarkets."
"You boys done?" Marlow appeared in the doorway to the hall. She was wearing a waterproof poncho over a sweat suit that had belonged to Tyler's grandmother. It made her look less foreboding than the rain-drenched pants suit the outfit had replaced.
"I think so." Jay passed her the bag he'd been carrying. "Let's get this stuff to the car."
Marlow led the way, her sneakers–which had been appropriated from the maid's closet–squeaking when they rubbed against the wooden floor. Jay put the cake box on top of the cooler, picked it up and fell in behind her and Tyler.
"I'm going to check upstairs," Tyler said, ducking out of line when they reached the stairs.
"Traveler already did that," Marlow called after him.
"He doesn't know the house as well as I do. He might have missed something."
The SUV was parked as close to the house as possible, just at the foot of the porch stairs. The back hatch was open and the rear storage compartment was crammed with their backpacks and other belongings.
As Jay started down the steps, he asked, "Do you know where Will is? We should be about ready to leave."
"I'm not sure. We were loading the car when he mumbled something about wetsuits and took off toward the back."
"The beach! He should have let one of us do that." Jay trotted to the back of the SUV. The lightning and thunder had ended, but the rain was still falling hard enough to sting on contact. He jammed the cooler into the car. The jolt sent the cake box skittering; it would have toppled to the ground if Marlow hadn't caught it.
"You in a hurry, Burchell?"
"I need to check on Will."
He ran back through the house so he could retrieve the flashlight he'd left in the kitchen. Clicking it on, he exited onto the sprawling deck. Even to eyes that had grown accustomed to working in dim light the pitch black to the rear of the house was nearly impenetrable. With only the weak beam of the flashlight standing between him and walking off the edge of the cliff, Jay picked his way slowly and carefully to the top of the stairs.
The wooden steps that had seemed solid and stable earlier felt rickety as he started down. While he was pretty sure that was an illusion created by the swirling winds, he couldn't shake an image of the structure collapsing beneath him.
"Will!" The surging air currents caught his shout and carried it aloft, eliminating even the faint possibility that Will, if he was on the beach, would hear it over the pounding surf.
As he drew closer to sea level, muted moonbeams were beginning to penetrate the thinning layer of clouds. Jay could make out shadings in the curl of the waves sweeping across the black water. Some bits were a tad lighter than others and carried a faint luminescence. It seemed safe to trust his eyes, so he switched off the flashlight and stuck it in his back pocket.
The narrow ribbon of beach had almost disappeared under the onslaught of the storm. As he left the staircase Jay felt his shoes sink into wet sand. The first thing he noticed was that the two bags he'd tied to the bottom post of the railing were gone. The second thing was a murky shape rising out of the water some fifteen to twenty feet from shore. It was making its way toward the beach with stuttered slowness, inching forward, then swaying back half again as far as the force of the outgoing tide tried to carry it seaward.
"Will!" Jay shouted again, and was rewarded with a small wave from the figure that was struggling through the turbulent surf.
"Stay there," Will called when Jay started forward. Since he continued to make progress, albeit at an excruciatingly sluggish pace, Jay resisted the urge to enter the water. It wasn't easy to stand and do nothing when his natural instinct was to help his friend. Friend? Yes, the bond was still there, even if reconciling the incongruity of the betrayal remained a work in progress.
Time dragged as Will worked his way to where the water barely brushed his knees. His pace picked up for two steps then he dropped forward, clearly exhausted. "Stay," he called a second time as he pushed up to his hands and knees. "No need for both of us to get soaked."
"The rain's already taken care of that." Jay looked down at the sodden mess that had crawled out of the water and stopped just short of his feet. "Will, you're crazy. What were you doing?"
"I weighed the bags, dragged them to where the water deepened. It seemed the quickest way to dispose of them."
The flicker of white teeth told Jay that Will was grinning. "This isn't funny," he scolded. "You could have drowned." Truthfully, Jay was surprised he hadn't. Even at a hundred percent–and the gunshot wound had dropped Will way below that–it wouldn't have been easy to negotiate the storm bloated sea.
"Lighten up, Jay. I'm still sucking air." Will climbed slowly to his feet. He put one hand on Jay's arm and pointed toward the steps with his other. "Let's get out of here."
Jay shook his head, exasperated. He could feel Will leaning on him for support, could sense the shivers trembling through his chilled body. There was no way in hell he should have been in the water.
When they reached the stairs, Will released his hold on Jay and lurched for the railing. "You run ahead," he said. "Get out of those wet clothes and find something dry for me."
"Maybe I should wait for you."
"Go on." Will gave Jay a weak shove. "Go." His teeth flashed white again. "After all, this might be your one and only chance to end the Traveler win streak."
xxx
"What were you doing with Fog?"
The words came out softly enough, but Jess could see that her dad's back teeth were grinding against each other. His restraint made her feel all the more guilty, both for causing him worry and for compromising his job.
"It was an accident." She used her sleeve to wipe away tears that were forming in her eyes. "I didn't know he'd be there. Dad, I've been a fool."
"Hey, hey. None of that." He retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to her. "You could never be a fool. Tell me what happened."
Jess pulled her legs up onto her bed and crossed them yoga style in front of her. "I've been seeing Tyler's brother Gabriel." His look of horror prompted her to amend what she'd said. "Not seeing him as in seeing him, just as friends. We met briefly a long time ago. He did me a favor and I never got a chance to thank him. I never even knew his name until I saw his picture in the paper the other day."
"And...?"
"I contacted him. We met. As you know, he's going through a pretty rough time. I've tried to be supportive. Well, today he needed a favor. Of course, I said yes. I thought I was taking a package to his grandmother, but it was for Tyler."
"He got you involved with Tyler! I'll--"
"I know you'll have to talk to him because of the Drexler," Jess rushed out. "But Dad, please try to keep your personal feelings out it. I don't plan to see him again, so there's nothing to be gained by ripping his throat out."
A smile teased at the corners of her Dad's lips. "I guess you know me pretty well."
"Yeah, I think so. Are we good on this?"
"I promise I'll try." He gave a slight sigh and shifted back to professional mode. "Do you know what was in the package?"
"Yes." Jess thought about the contents of the satchel. That she'd been on a mercy mission mitigated Gabriel's deceit, but not so much that she was inclined to forgive him. "Medical supplies. Tyler said his friend was hurt. I don't know how badly, but the supplies suggested it might have been pretty serious. It wasn't Jay Burchell. It was someone named Will."
"Will Traveler." There was a venomous edge to her father's voice as he spoke the name.
Jess perked up. Something that hadn't made any sense on the phone fell into place. "That's what you meant when you kept asking about traveler. Traveler is a person."
Her father's hand went to his head, his fingers rubbing his temple as he leaned forward in the desk chair that seemed almost too small for his frame. "I shouldn't even be telling you this. The information is classified, so it has to stay between you and me. Traveler was the mastermind behind the Drexler."
Jess tried to reconcile that with Tyler's concern for his friend. "I don't understand. I talked to Tyler. Dad, he's not a terrorist and I don't think he'd protect someone who was."
"Honey, I don't know that you have enough experience to make that judgment."
She shook her head. "He's a genuinely decent guy. He was worried about a friend. He let me go."
"I'm sure you considered Gabriel to be a decent guy as well."
"Well, yes., but..." Jess bit on her lip, concentrating on her impression of Tyler Fog. "He was scared, Dad. He was really scared. Even before they started to shoot at us--"
"What!" Her dad blasted out of the chair like a rocket. "Who was shooting at you? Where? When?"
"Outside the nursing home. I hadn't gotten to that yet." Jess slipped off the bed and crossed the room to retrieve her phone from her jacket pocket. She found the picture of the man from the diner and handed the phone to her dad. "This man and one other. The guy in the picture, he was at the diner where we had breakfast this morning."
Her father's face turned so white she thought he might faint. "Dad--"
xxx
Mailer picked up the phone on the first ring, a sign that he was eagerly awaiting the call. That didn't deter Anselmo from opening with an apology. "I'm sorry. I know this is your dinner time."
"That's not a problem. I told you to call any hour, day or night."
"Yes, sir. But this isn't an emergency. In fact, I don't have anything to report."
There was a discernible hitch of breath at the other end of the line. "It's not what I wanted to hear, but you were right to call. In fact, if you hadn't called, I would have called you shortly."
Anselmo waited for several seconds, hoping that his employer might explain why he'd seemed to be on tenterhooks since Tyler had made his request. But when Mailer didn't continue, Jon returned to his report. "I'd hoped that Gabriel Fog would lead me to the girl, but he's back at the penthouse."
"The news is a little better on this end. Tyler Fog appears to have eluded capture."
"Then he'll see that we fulfilled his request. It might make them more inclined to trust me, to be willing to work with me."
"Right now, I'm more concerned about the need for the medical supplies. If it's not enough..."
The despondency in Mailer's voice prompted Jon to offer reassurance. "The package included phone numbers. They can call your doctor friend or me or the clinic in Springfield. They've already shown a willingness to call."
"I know." Mailer's voice trailed off; he sounded anything but reconciled.
From his own personal experience Anselmo knew that action–sometimes any action–was preferable to passive waiting. So he thought Mailer might appreciate having something to do. "What about accessing Gabriel Fog's phone records?"
"I could arrange to get that. It might take time. Do you think it will lead us to Tyler?"
"Not really. Fog and Burchell have learned to cover their tracks. And if Gabriel Fog's phone could provide a way to find Tyler, the FBI would already be on it. But the numbers might help us to identify the girl. That's likely a dead end," he said, not wanting to mislead, "but I don't like to leave any stone unturned."
"Is there anything else?"
"No..." Anselmo resisted the urge to probe Mailer further about his fixation with Traveler. He knew his employer wouldn't withhold information that might compromise their shared goal. "No, that's all."
xxx
"Do you know him?" Jessie asked.
"No, of course not." Chambers pulled himself together. "Seeing the picture was a shock. Someone was shooting at you. At my daughter! If something had happened--"
"Nothing did." She put her hand on his arm. "I thought about sending you the picture, but I knew how you'd react. I decided it was better to wait until you knew I was safe."
Chambers' mind was barely processing her words. It was leaping ahead to what he was going to do to Rutherford. "Jessie, sweetheart, there's still a lot you and I have to sort out, but it can wait until tomorrow. This picture gives us a new lead in the Connecticut investigation. I have to follow up on that. I'll need to borrow your phone. You'll have it back by morning."
She tightened her grip on his wrist. "You said you had someone watching me. Where was he?"
"I don't know. I haven't been able to reach him." The last part, at least, was true. No one had been able to reach Rutherford or Markowitz. "That's something else I need to check." He forced himself to take a slow breath. "Look, honey, I need you to do something for me. I want you to go to our place in the Village, at least for tonight. My men will take you there and keep watch outside. The dorm is just too big, there are too many ways in and out. I need to know you'll be somewhere safe."
"But I have an early class..."
"Please."
"Yes, all right." She dropped his hand and turned away. He sensed she was close to crying again.
"You'll be safe. I promise. There won't be a repeat of this afternoon."
"I'm not worried about me. It's you. I hope I haven't made trouble for you."
Placing his hands gently on her shoulders, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "You could never make trouble for me. Ever."
xxx
"I don't like this," Tyler said. His eyes were locked on the red tail lights of Marlow's rental car that was a car's length in front of them. "This is taking too long. We've already passed a half dozen motels. We need to get off the road. The police are probably still looking for me."
"It's okay," Jay replied. "I'm sure Will knows what he's doing. He said he had a specific type of motel in mind."
"Will? I don't trust him to stay conscious. He couldn't even undress himself."
"His clothes were plastered to his body and he was close to hypothermic. He just needed to warm up a bit. He was focused when he rattled off that detailed list of instructions before switching to Marlow's car."
"Yeah, I guess." Tyler lifted his left hand from the steering wheel long enough to rub his fingers over his eyes. "It's been a long day. I'm tired."
"So am I."
"I thought we'd stay at Gram's at least a week, if not longer. We'd get caught up on sleep, research the Fourth Branch and maybe even find a way out of this mess."
"That would have made for a dull chapter in my book."
Chuckling, Tyler turned to smile at Jay. "True enough. Though we could have used recipes as filler, starting with those pork chops you made yesterday." He shook his head; the pork chops already seemed a century in the past. "I never did get my piece of cake."
"And I never made sandwiches. I don't know if Marlow was already in the kitchen or what. It's like she appeared out of nowhere."
Seeing a light begin to blink on the lower right of the car ahead of them, Tyler switched on his own turn signal. "Well, it's not as if law school included classes on How to Evade FBI Agents."
"School curricula are never practical."
"It looks like they finally found a place to stay," Tyler observed as he turned into the driveway of a mid-level hotel chain. Following Will's directions from earlier, Tyler avoided the loop to the main entrance. Instead, he stayed on the fringes of the parking lot and circled to the back of the complex. There were fewer cars than in the front, but enough that theirs didn't look out of place.
Leaving the motor running, Tyler put the car in park and switched off the lights. Whether it was the bagged wet clothes or general dampness or something else, the interior had begun to smell like musty socks. He lowered both of the front windows a few inches to increase air circulation. The smell of rain lingered in the cool night breeze that flowed into the car.
"I wonder how long we'll stay here," he said, rubbing his eyes again.
"Overnight, at least."
"I would hope so." Tyler activated the light on his watch and stared hard at the numbers that were revealed. "It's already half past eleven." He canted his head so that he was facing Jay. "Will said I could call Gabe tomorrow to make sure his friend got home. I didn't like that I had to ask him for help--and I sure as hell didn't want to drag someone else into our mess."
"That's how I felt about Kim. It's like night and day knowing that she's safe."
xxx
A scratching sound woke Kim from a restless sleep. By the time she was awake enough to remember where she was, two men wearing masks had entered the small hut. That their cloaked faces were covered frightened her to the core. They lumbered deeper into the cramped space, filling it as if they carried the girth of giants. Fee, fi, fo, fum… The phrase slithered out of the dark recesses of her mind. Before she knew what she was doing, she screamed.
Ignoring her, one blocked her access to the door, while the other placed two buckets on the floor. He retrieved the original buckets, before they faded away as quickly as they had come.
"No, no," she wailed, wanting them back despite the fear their appearance had invoked. "It's a mistake. I don't belong here." She scrambled to her feet, ran to the door, and pounded on it with her fists. "Please, come back. Please."
"Nooo…" Her voice trailed off to a whimper as her body collapsed in a heap. She found herself crawling into the nearest corner and huddling against it the way a baby tried to conform to the contours of its mother's body. But the corner was hard and harsh and only served to intensify her feeling of total abandonment.
Her senses told her this living nightmare was never going to end.
xxx
Gabriel poured a generous amount of whiskey into a squat glass and walked to the window that faced the park. The street lights glowed faintly in the residual mist, basking the street in a ghostly luminescence. After a first, delicate sip he put the glass to his lips and tossed down the remainder in one swallow. The mellow warmth that he'd hoped would follow didn't materialize. His conscience remained as prickly as a cactus. He should have called Jess as soon as he walked in the door, if not hours earlier. Now it was almost too late, with the witching hour drawing near. He might wake her, or her roommate.
Stop looking for an excuse, he scolded himself. Something happened or she would have called you.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed his phone and set it to dialing. She answered on the third ring. "Hello, Gabriel." The cool remoteness of her voice told him two things: she hadn't been sleeping and she was upset.
His suddenly dry mouth could only summon up a whisper to ask, "What happened?"
"You mean after you lied to me?"
His first instinct was to argue that it had been more a sin of omission than a lie, but he squelched the urge and uttered a short "Yes." He could feel his spirits drooping. Her friendship had been the one bright spot in the turmoil that had greeted his return.
"I gave the briefcase to your brother."
So she'd seen Tyler and made the delivery. "Thank you." Cursing himself, Gabe switched the phone to his other hand. "Jess, I'm sorry. What I did was wrong. I've been kicking myself all day."
"Men shot at us!"
"What? Where? Are you all right? What about Tyler?"
"It happened at the nursing home. We're both okay."
Gabriel thought about the confrontation at the park two nights earlier. He should have anticipated that additional violence was possible before he put Jess in danger. "This shouldn't be happening," he said, wishing that his words could banish the insanity that had begun with the Drexler bombing.
"Well, it is happening. You'll get a chance to explain your part in it when my father contacts you."
"You told him?"
"I didn't have to. Goodbye, Gabriel."
Her goodbye had the sharp finality of a guillotine slicing through human flesh.
Gabe directed his feet back to the wet bar. This time he didn't bother with a glass, he simply opened the whiskey and carried it to a chair. Slumping into its soft folds, he put the bottle to his lips and tilted it up. Maybe his Dad was right; maybe it was time to let Tyler handle his own problems.
xxx
When he saw Marlow walk out of the motel, alone and appearing at ease, Will relaxed his grip on the gun in his lap. He hadn't expected any trouble while she booked accommodations, but it never hurt to be prepared.
Marlow slid into the driver's seat and started the car. "They don't have suites, so I got two rooms with a connecting door. I told the clerk that I didn't want to be bothered by traffic noise when I requested rooms in the rear. I think I could have requested rooms on the moon and he wouldn't have given it a second thought. He was more interested in getting back to the television set in the sitting area."
He nodded, only half hearing what she said. The motel room would get them off the road for the night, but there was still tomorrow and the day after that and the weeks to follow. They needed a place to hole up while his wound healed and the search for Jay and Tyler died down.
After circling the motel Marlow swung the car into a parking place in the back. "Two twenty-six and two twenty-seven. They should be to the left."
Two hundred rooms would be on the upper floor. Will glanced that way as he got out of the car. Leaning against the passenger door, he studied the facade of the motel. It was two stories high with two buildings set at right angles to each other. They met at an open stairwell that served both buildings. There were additional staircases at regular intervals. Walkways offered outside access to each room. Lighting was minimal, with three security lights in the parking lot and a smattering of pale, yellowish bulbs scattered about each building. He couldn't pinpoint individual room numbers, but he saw enough to know the location was as safe as they were likely to find. The multiple sets of stairs, open walkways, and passages that led to the front meant they'd have more than one way out if they had to make a run for it.
Marlow walked around the car to stand next to him. "Traveler."
"Yes?"
"How bad are you?"
"It could be worse."
"Bullet?"
"Yes."
"Mine?"
"Yes." He cut off further questions with one of his own. "You have keys?" She retrieved two plastic cards from a side pocket and handed them to him. "Tell Jay and Tyler to park in this section; move your car to the front. I'll check out the rooms."
He waited until she started across the parking lot to push off the car and head to the nearest set of stairs. It felt as if anchors were attached to each foot, impeding his ability to move. The trick was not to stop. Even if his progress was limited to slow shuffles, Einstein's law of motion would carry him forward, while stopping was tantamount to turning into a stone pillar.
In retrospect, his trek to the beach and plunge into the water might not have been the most prudent of decisions. His uncle had warned him that he would experience days like this.
Eleven years earlier...
Stephen could barely contain his euphoria as he spun the motorcycle to an abrupt stop that sent sand spraying across the barren Arizona landscape. He hopped from the bike, flipping it onto its stand in almost the same motion, and whipped off his helmet.
His lips were caked with a mix of dust and sweat, but that didn't stop him from crying out, "Fuckin' awesome!"
Uncle David was beside him almost before Stephen realized he was moving. He backhanded the left side of his face and sent him tumbling to the ground. "That's for your unbridled arrogance. And this..." he slammed the steel toe of his boot into Stephen's hip, "is for your unbridled tongue. What in hell were you thinking?"
Stephen bristled, his back arching. "Because I jumped that dune instead of following you around it? Shit! That was nothing. I was in total control."
"Total control, my ass. You couldn't see the landing area from where you took off. There might have been rocks. The drop might have been greater than you were anticipating."
"I would have compensated." Stephen swept to his feet, deliberately putting himself closer to his uncle rather than farther away.
"So now you're challenging me?" David's voice was a low growl. "Six weeks. I've been here six weeks and you haven't learned a thing."
Stephen's jaw dropped in disbelief. How could his uncle say that? He'd absorbed every lesson on every subject, without ever needing anything repeated. Look at how quickly he'd mastered the motorcycle!
"You're an undisciplined brat, and your mouth is still as a foul as a backed-up sewer."
"And yours isn't?"
David moved to swat him again, but this time Stephen was ready. He ducked under the blow and danced to the right.
"You think you can do anything. Which makes you an idiot. No matter how smart you are, boy, no matter how clever or how tough, everyone has limitations."
"I don't!"
Despite the ass-kicking his uncle had delivered, he hadn't retracted those words.
Of course, his uncle had been right, as he was about most things during those early months when Stephen had alternately adored and despised him.
And while time and experience had tempered his youthful arrogance, it hadn't dampened his tendency to take risks. Much of the time, those risks had reaped rewards. As for this time… well, he was confident that he'd make it to the room without collapsing, and that was good enough.
xxx
"I'm coming. I'm coming." Gabe staggered to the door and pulled it open before remembering that he was in his father's penthouse, where visitors were supposed to be screened by the lobby attendant before being allowed access to the building proper. No one should have arrived at the door unannounced.
"It's you," he said, stepping aside for Special Agent Chambers. "I should have known. Are you here to arrest me?"
"I haven't decided."
"Well, you might need a helping hand or two," Gabe said. Weaving like a rudderless sailboat, he led the way into the living room and dropped into a chair. "I'm not too steady on my feet. I might be drunk."
Chambers stooped down and snagged a bottle from the floor by the chair. Straightening, he read the label, "Chevis Regal. Seems like a waste of good whiskey to guzzle it."
"About Jess..."
"Don't. Say. Her. Name." Chambers' voice had an edge that would have made the sharpest knife appear dull. "Or I might forget that I'm here as an FBI agent." He glided over to a sideboard and swept his arm over its surface, sending a Waterford vase crashing to the marble floor.
The message conveyed by the willful destruction was obvious: this vase could have been you. In all of his months in Iraq Gabe had never felt as vulnerable as he did now. He tried to mask his unease with feigned nonchalance. "Wh--what can I do for you?"
"How did your brother contact you?"
Shouldn't answer. Should call a lawyer. He's Jess's father. I almost got her killed. Tyler almost got her killed.
"E-mail," he said, then proceeded to answer the rest of Chamber's questions as honestly and as thoroughly as he could.
xxx
After stripping off everything but his underwear Tyler flopped onto the bed and tried to make himself comfortable. The mattress was lumpy, pockmarked with hills and valleys that bore witness to the passage of hundreds of bodies over the years. The depression on the side nearest the night stand was deeper, marking it as the preferred resting place for single occupants. It was an effort to wiggle out of the trough and roll into the less defined hollow on the right.
"I can't sleep," he announced to the world at large. Well, really, to Jay, who was exiting the closet-size bathroom with one towel wrapped around his middle and another draped over his shoulders to catch the water dripping from his hair.
"Twenty minutes ago you were so tired you were tripping over your own feet." Jay picked his way around the bags and clutter scattered about the floor, retrieved the blue knapsack and dumped its contents onto his bed.
"I ate too much." Nothing had satisfied him. Not the ham sandwich or the chips or the huge slice of chocolate cake. Belatedly, he'd recognized that the craving he'd been trying to satisfy wasn't hunger.
"Where are the packages of underwear that Will bought in New York?" Jay asked. "There's nothing here but sweats and jeans."
"In the other pack. I stuck it in the closet."
Jay's shape flowed in front of Tyler's bed to the alcove near the door. "Got them," he said a few seconds later. "Now I just need to find my toothbrush. I hope it isn't in a bag in the other room."
"I put each of our toiletries into a..." Tyler paused to yawn, "separate ziplock bag. Gave Will his. Yours should be on the desk." He lifted his head and looked in that direction. "Check under the potato chips."
Jay had no sooner started for the table when he yelped and lurched for the nearest chair. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Lifting his right foot into his lap, he began to probe the end of it. "I hope I didn't break my toe. This place is a mess."
"I know."
"And it's freezing. I don't think the heater is working."
"I know." Tyler tucked his arms under his head. "And the pillow is hard as a brick. And the bed sucks. If my father was a real father instead of a lying bastard, we'd be in a luxury resort in Switzerland instead of this dump."
Jay lowered his foot to the floor. "I think it's just bruised."
"Correction, if my father wasn't a lying bastard, I wouldn't have been in the Drexler last week because I'd never have been in student housing at Yale. I wonder when he decided that I was expendable." Jay had ducked back into the bathroom, so Tyler raised his voice as he continued. "The Yale decision was over two years ago."
Jay slipped out of the bathroom. "It's feeling better."
"You're fussing about a toe? Have you heard anything I said? My father wanted me… wants me dead."
"Yeah, I know." Jay sat on the edge of the bed and faced Tyler across a gap that was less than two feet wide. "Look, it's not you. It's him. There's something the matter with him." He tapped his head. "In here. He's warped, sick, twisted, I don't know."
"I was thinking. The last time I saw him, in his limo, he gave me a chance to get away."
"Yes?"
"Will said they kept him in the dark about the final plans until close to the end. Maybe it was the same with my father. Maybe he didn't know what was going to happen until it happened. And he might not have known about Ellington, either."
"Maybe..." Jay fluffed the comforter, sending the clothes he'd dumped onto the bed to the floor.
Tyler waited until Jay had crawled into bed and switched off the light to add, "Maybe he'll even help us."
"That would be nice."
"Or maybe he won't." Rolling onto his side, Tyler closed his eyes and made an effort to shut off his brain. But the hard pillow and the bumpy mattress kept reminding him that his life had taken a deep downward spiral. It was a long time before he slid into peaceful nothingness.
xxx
Eyes slipping shut, head falling forward, Chambers exerted his will and jerked himself upright. His hand automatically reached for the cup resting on a sandstone coaster to his right. He drank deeply of the cold, stale coffee. He couldn't remember when he'd brewed the pot. An hour ago? Two hours ago? Longer? It didn't matter, not as long as it provided the caffeine jolt he needed to get through his notes one last time before depositing his weary body in bed.
He stabbed his pen onto his notebook and swiped harsh lines through Rutherford and Markowitz's names. They were missing. Probably dead. Which would spare him the trouble of killing them himself. They shouldn't have been shooting anywhere near his daughter. Was it stupidity on their part or was it something more sinister? He knew they'd spoken to Rosalind. He tucked that thought away for future consideration. But until he had an answer, his people–legitimate FBI agents–would be protecting Jessie.
The brought him to Jessie and her errand for Gabriel Fog. Traveler hadn't appeared to be injured when he'd single-handedly freed Kim Doherty nor when he'd dealt with Benson and Davenport at Central Park. And who, if not Traveler, was capable of making Rutherford and Markowitz disappear? But if he was fine and the delivery was a setup to kidnap Jessie, why had they let her go?
When he'd spotted Jessie with Fog on the security recording, his immediate assumption was that they'd use Jessie to trade for Kim. But they hadn't.
Thinking back, Chambers had been expecting to catch more than a minnow when he'd dangled Kim's mother as bait. Where were Burchell, Fog and Traveler when Whaley's team had grabbed Kim? Shouldn't one or more of them have been with her?
The circle of questions continued to spiral aimlessly. He was missing something, or more than one thing, but a fresh approach was eluding his sluggish brain. Flipping his notebook closed, Chambers decided to call it a night. With Jessie sleeping safely upstairs his main concern was satisfied. Everything else could wait until morning.
xxx
The low mourn of faraway sirens pulled Marlow across the border that separated sleep from wakefulness. Hazy dreams slipped back into her subconscious without leaving an imprint as she blinked open her eyes to a new day.
She spotted Traveler almost immediately, slouched in an upholstered chair on the far side of the room. He'd tilted the shade of the lamp by the chair so that the light was focused away from her and onto the pages of the thick book that rested on his lap.
She'd barely twitched, but his attention turned to her as if she'd set off fireworks to announce that she was awake. Tapping a tablet on the table beside him, he said, "We need a computer to follow up on the notes we've made."
It sounded like he expected her to run right out to the nearest electronics store. "I'll take care of it," she said. "Later." The tone of his voice had her thinking he might argue the delay, but he simply nodded and returned his attention to his book.
Traveler looked marginally better than he had the night before. A little less drawn. A little less pale. It was probably the result of the IV fluids and sleep.
And isn't he a lucky, little fugitive to have a person show up who could find a vein in someone who was dehydrated?
If she hadn't worked in her dad's vet clinic, she wouldn't have come close to succeeding at that task.
Marlow glanced at the clock on the night stand. Eight-thirty. It felt earlier. Probably because she'd been operating on short sleep for over a week.
As she rolled out of bed, her hands automatically smoothed the t-shirt that drooped over men's boxers. Since she hadn't thought to pack a just-in-case overnight bag, she'd had to make do with borrowed clothing.
She cruised to the closet where she'd hung her clothes to dry and gave each item a shake after she removed it from its hanger. The wrinkle-free fabric of her suit wasn't much the worse for wear, and the jacket would hide the less-pristine state of her cotton blouse. Not that the condition of her outfit was cause for concern; it wasn't as if her new allies were going to critique her wardrobe.
It didn't take her long to freshen up and change into her own clothes. When she returned to the bedroom, the heavy drapes were open and light filtered in through the still-closed privacy shears. Thumps and the rattle of water pipes from the adjoining room told her that Burchell, Fog or both of them were stirring.
Seeing her attention focused on the connecting wall, Traveler said, "I woke them. We need to make plans." He'd exchanged the sweat pants and white t-shirt he'd worn to bed for jeans and a dark blue hoody. He was half reclined on his bed, leaning against a mound of pillows and holding a USA Today in his hands. She remembered a sign at check-in that said copies were available in the lobby. So he'd been out and about.
She studied him critically as she walked to his bed. "Do you want me to take a look at your wound?"
"That's not necessary. I changed the bandage earlier." He pointed to the abandoned IV setup that was jury rigged to the reading light above him. "You seemed to know what you were doing last night. Part of your FBI training?"
"No. My dad is a vet. I worked for him for two summers while I was in college. It was enough to teach me a few basic procedures and to tell me that I didn't want to follow in his footsteps."
Marlow set about making coffee. She was downing a second cup when Fog and Burchell stumbled into the room. Fog had on jeans but no shirt, socks or shoes, while Burchell was fully dressed. Worry lines creased their faces and dark circles made it seem as if their eyes were buried in deep pits. They weren't the fresh-faced college boys she'd encountered in lower Manhattan the day of the Drexler.
"Coffee," Fog said and made a beeline for the pot. He poured two cups, stirred in sugar and creamer and passed one to Burchell.
Marlow was about to start a second pot when the crackling of hastily-moved newspaper caught her attention. Traveler was on his feet and walking toward her.
"Did you know about this?"
He was pointing to a short article in the lower right corner of an inside page. The headline read Drexler Mom Released from Hospital.
Marlow skimmed the story. "I'm glad Kim's mother is okay. Yes, I knew about it. It was a hit and run."
"Her mom! Let me see." Burchell slammed his cup onto the desk, grabbed the paper and scanned the article. "What the hell? I need to talk to Kim."
Traveler was already dialing the phone. His conversation was short, terse and in Russian.
"She's not there."
"What do you mean she's not there?" Burchell's voice was filled with panic.
"She left two days ago. Ran out. Said her mother needed her."
"That doesn't make sense," Marlow said. "The FBI would have picked her up if she went to the hospital. We'd have heard something."
"Unless someone got to her first." Burchell balled the newspaper and threw it across the room. "Damn it to hell. I should have checked on her. I thought she was safe."
"Maybe she's hiding somewhere else." Tyler's voice was gentle and concerned.
"Where?"
"With family, with a friend. Someone who could give her personal reports on her mother. I'll ask Gabe to check."
"No! I can't wait for Gabe to hire an investigator. She might be in danger. I'm going to New York." Jay started for the connecting door.
Moving with the easy grace and deceptive speed of a jungle cat, Traveler slid over to block his way. "Jay, it's okay."
"Okay? Okay!" Burchell shook his head. "Nothing is okay."
"Jay." Traveler took hold of Burchell's arms and focused on him with eyes that were filled with steely resolve. "Listen to me. I'll find her. I'll take care of it. I promise."
Marlow recognized what he was doing, had seen her father do it with more than one trembling, panicked animal. He was projecting his emotions into Burchell with a quiet intensity that was more fierce than fire-red anger.
At first, it seemed as if Burchell wouldn't respond. He looked lost in his own world, consumed by near-hysterical worry. Then his shoulders sagged and his head drooped. "How?"
"How can I reach Chambers?" Traveler directed the question to Marlow as he walked to the desk and picked up the phone.
"This time of day. He's most likely in his office." Marlow rattled off the number that would provide a direct connection.
She'd thought Traveler's promise to Burchell had been insane, impossible to keep, especially by someone who had had trouble remaining upright just the night before. But as she watched him dial, an almost otherworldly transformation took place. His shoulders squared and his face sharpened, projecting lethal intent. And she began to doubt her own doubts.
Traveler's expression didn't change as he began to speak, "Chambers, listen carefully. I'm only going to say this once. There's going to be an exchange. Me and the painting for Kim Doherty. I'll call you in four hours with instructions."
-end of episode 8-