Finders/Keepers (An Allie Krycek Thriller, Book 3) (5 page)

“My guess is Allie recognized your face,” Lucy said. She looked down at his picture again. “You still look like your file. Well, mostly. Allie’s really good at collating information. It’s like some kind of superpower that she has. Before we came here, she did extensive research on everything, including local and state law enforcement in the area. I bet she recognized you right away.”

“So my next question is, who is Allie?”

“I guess you could say she’s my unofficial guardian.” She nodded at the dog behind Hank. “Apollo belongs to her. He’s been in a real funk since she left.”

Hank glanced back at the dog a second time and was surprised to see that it was
almost right behind him.
Jesus, damn! How’d the beast get so close to him without him even noticing?

He shook his head
(Damn dog’s going to give me a heart attack)
and looked back at Lucy. “So you wanna fill me in? What are you and your, uh, unofficial guardian doing out here? And why are you in this motel room while she’s running around in my state, robbing diners?”

Lucy didn’t answer right away but continued to stare at him, as if she could figure him out if she looked long and hard enough. Hank wanted to tell her he wasn’t that complicated, but he gave the kid her time.

Or ten seconds, anyway.

Finally, he said, “Kid, you gotta give me some answers. I took a big chance coming here and not handing that phone number over to the stateys. What the hell is going on?”

“She’s looking for a girl name Faith,” Lucy said. “Everything she’s doing out there right now is to find her.”

D
o it
. Take them both out now, then rescue the girls. Faith might not even be there, but these girls are here, now. Sara, the others, they need your help. They need your help
now
. You know this is the right thing to do. So
do it already.

But she didn’t do it.

She couldn’t, no matter how much she wanted to. Besides the fact that she had promised a mother she would do everything in her power to find her daughter, dead or alive, the logistics were all wrong.

At the moment she had the advantage, sitting in the backseat of the Ford with Dwight and Reese vulnerable in front of her. It wouldn’t have taken very much to draw the Sig Sauer and shoot Reese in the back of the head, then force Dwight at gunpoint off the road before finishing him off. But then what about the semitrailer?

The big rig was trailing about a hundred yards behind them at the moment. There was another vehicle, a van, farther back down the road, keeping an eye on the semi’s rear. It too was leaving a generous space to give the impression they weren’t together, with two-way radios used to keep in touch from time to time.

That was three vehicles to deal with, not to mention the difficulty of getting a semitrailer to stop. She couldn’t think of any ways to do that from the backseat of the Ford. There was the radio, which she could take after disposing of Reese, but the other drivers had been taking orders from Reese—and
only
Reese—all this time, so would they really obey Dwight’s or her instructions? Maybe, maybe not.

Reese. He was a problem. The biggest obstacle for her by far. He was the brains of the operation. That much was obvious. Which meant Reese had to go first.

So what was stopping her from acting?

Everything. Even if she could successfully kill Reese and Dwight agreed to force the semi off the road, there was still the matter of the two bodyguards in the back and the submachine guns underneath their jackets. She had dealt with multiple opponents before—some just as, if not more so, heavily armed—but never with more than twenty terrified girls stuck in the middle. As far as she knew, the trailer wasn’t bulletproof, and all it would take was one stray bullet…

“Someone’s got a lot on her mind,” Dwight was saying. She looked over and saw him staring at her in the rearview mirror. “What’s got you all Jack Handey back there?”

“Jack what?” she said.

“Jack Handey. That voiceover guy from
Saturday Night Live.
”

She shook her head.

“No one watches the classics anymore,” Dwight said.

“I’m just trying to figure out how you two hooked up,” Allie lied.

“Why, you don’t think we look like twins? We look more like twins than Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito.”

“He watches way too much TV,” Reese said, turning around in his seat to glance back at her. “Keeps trying to get me to watch with him.”

“This guy reads,” Dwight snorted. “I’ve never met anyone who actually reads as an adult.”

Reese grinned at her, as if to say,
“Can you believe this guy?”
and Allie forced a mercy smile back his way.

“So how did you two meet?” she asked.

“You tell her,” Dwight said.

“We were put together during a job in Panama a few years back,” Reese said. “Back then we were both working for the same organization, but we’d been considering going freelance—individually, mind you—for some time. Moneywise, there’s no comparison. You can make as much as you want working for yourself.”

She wasn’t surprised it was all about the money to them. It had been to Juliet, too. Or, at least, that’s what the woman had told her. Allie had taken everything she’d said with suspicion. It wasn’t hard to do, considering the other woman’s history.

She looked back at the rear windshield now, at the semitrailer behind them. Just a small dot, but its black and red paint job made it easy to pick out from the traffic, including all the other semis moving back and forth around them.

“You never told us where you know Juliet from,” Reese said.

“Same as you two; we’ve crossed paths in the past, and when she couldn’t take the job, she called me,” Allie said. The lie came easily; and it should, since she had rehearsed it numerous times in her head. “She’s taking twenty percent of my share.”

“Twenty percent for doing nothing?” Dwight chuckled before glancing over at Reese. “Maybe I hitched my ride to the wrong trailer.”

“I know you don’t mean that,” Reese said.

“You don’t think so?”

“We’ve been through too much together.”

“Yeah, well, I bet Juliet wouldn’t let me do all the driving.”

“But you’re a very good driver, Dwight.”

Dwight smirked. “Do you even know how to drive? I mean, you do know we drive on the right side of the road here, right?”

Reese smiled. “So I’ve been told.”

Listening to them bicker back and forth as if they were on a Sunday drive and not escorting young girls to a destination that might be worse than death made her want to gag. More than that, it made her want to reach for the P250 and end it all right here and now. Even if she couldn’t save the girls, whatever happened to them out here in the open roads had to be better than the life waiting for them at the end of it.

She hadn’t realized how much she had talked herself into acting until the radio on the dashboard squawked, and she reflexively froze just as one of her fingers made contact with the grip of the pistol holstered behind her back.

“Leader, looks like we may have a problem,” a male voice said through the radio. She recognized it as belonging to one of the two men in the van at the back of their caravan.

Reese picked up the radio from the dashboard and keyed it. “What kind of problem?”

“I got a state trooper behind me.”

“What’s he doing?”

“I think he’s following me. He’s moving pretty fast…”

“Maintain your speed and let him pass.”

“Gotcha—” He stopped in mid-sentence, then said, “Shit, I think he’s slowing down to match my speed.”

“Stay calm, Vanguard,” Reese said.

Vanguard
was the codename for the minivan. The semitrailer was called
Nest
because, she assumed, of the little “chicks” being transported. It was all perfectly (and nauseatingly) logical.

“What’s going on?” Dwight asked, looking over.

Reese shook his head.

“Trouble?” a new voice said through the radio.

“Maintain your speed, Nest,” Reese said.

“Roger that.”

“Vanguard, what’s the trooper doing now?” Reese said into the radio.

“I don’t have a clue,” Vanguard said. Then, less than two seconds later, “Crap.”

“Status.”

“He just lit me up.”

“Fuck
me
,” Dwight said.

Reese sighed and seemed to take a moment to collect himself.

“What should we do?” Vanguard asked.

“Pull over,” Reese said.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Pull over?” Dwight said. “That’s the last thing he should be doing.”

“Chances are the trooper’s already punched his license plate into his database and called in a description of the vehicle,” Reese said. “The plate will run fine; it’s legit, so there’s no reason to panic.” He keyed the radio: “Nest, there’s a rest stop coming up in three miles. Pull into it and wait for us.”

“Understood,” Nest answered.

“Vanguard, go radio silent.”

“Going silent,” Vanguard said, and Allie detected a noticeable quiver in the man’s voice for the first time. He might not have been scared, but he was definitely spooked.

“Now what?” Dwight asked.

“Slow down,” Reese said. “Let Nest past us by, then make a U-turn.”

Dwight took his foot off the accelerator. Allie twisted in her seat and watched as the red and black semitrailer caught up to them, then moved over to the next lane before passing them by. A man with a red beard and a beat-up ball cap in the front passenger seat of the big rig’s cab gave their car a nod out his window just before the large vehicle overtook them.

The Ford slowed down further, Dwight watching the oncoming traffic, before making a quick (and very illegal) U-turn. He hit the gas and they shot back down the road.

“Slow down,” Reese said. “I just want to see what’s happening, not draw the cop’s attention.”

Dwight took his foot off the gas until they were barely doing three miles over the speed limit.

“This went to shit fast,” Dwight said quietly, almost to himself.

“Nothing’s gone anywhere yet,” Reese said.

Reese, Allie noted, had remained impossibly calm. She marveled at the man’s control and at the same time reminded herself that if she ever had to pick who to shoot first, it would have to be Reese. She didn’t ever want to end up in a gunfight with this man.

“How are we going to handle this?” she asked.

“Without a firefight, if at all possible,” Reese said.

“That’s the trick, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

“Not exactly part of my job description…”

“Hopefully we won’t have to expand your duties,” Reese said.

As the familiar flashing of red and blue lights came into view about half a mile in front of them, Allie couldn’t decide if she was glad or petrified by the turn of events. Did she want this to happen?
Was
this the best thing to happen, or the worst? On the one hand, being out here alone among wolves was terrifying despite everything she had been through and done, and the prospect of having allies was exhilarating. But if they were stopped here, if she was forced to show her hand, all her plans to rescue Faith would go up in smoke and she would have to start all over again…

Sara. Think about Sara and the others. If you can save them here, now…

She wrapped her fingers around the grip of her gun and mentally readied herself for what was coming next, what she would have to do. She focused on the back of Reese’s head, in front and slightly to the right of her, just barely visible behind the front passenger seat’s headrest.

One to the back of the head. Whatever you do, take Reese first.
Take Reese first.

“Easy does it,” Reese was saying from the front seat as they neared the police lights. “Don’t attract any unnecessary attention.”

The state trooper’s squad car was parked behind Vanguard’s van, both of them idling at the shoulder of the road as Dwight drove the Ford past them. She spotted two troopers still sitting inside their vehicle, and the last thing Allie saw was the slightly anxious face of Vanguard’s driver, standing outside the van, the driver-side door open behind him, as he looked back at them as they drove by and kept going.

“Go for one more mile, then turn back,” Reese said.

“And then what?” Dwight asked.

“We’ll play it by ear—”

The very familiar
pop-pop-pop
of automatic gunfire crackled behind them. Allie heard them clear as day even with the windows rolled up, and so did Dwight and Reese.

“Well,
fuck
,” Dwight said.

“Oh well,” Reese said.

Dwight slammed on the brake and spun the steering wheel in the same fluid motion and had them turned around and flying back up the interstate in less time than it took her to see the trees blurring by outside her window. It might have looked like reckless driving to an outsider, but Allie knew better. There was, she now understood, a reason why Dwight always drove.

Allie drew the P250 and put it in her lap, while Reese did the same with his Glock just before he turned around in his seat and looked back at her. “This time, shoot to kill, understand?”

She nodded back, praying that none of the fear and doubt showed on her face. She must have succeeded, because Reese turned back around without another word. She relaxed her grip on the gun. Not too much, just enough that she could feel blood circulating through her digits again.

The van and state trooper’s vehicle came up on them faster this time because of Dwight’s speed. Vanguard’s drivers stood alertly
(panicked?)
on the side of the road, gripping MP5Ks that dangled from slings over their shoulders. Both men, their faces flushed with adrenaline, looked over as the Ford neared before skidding to a stop in the middle of the road next to them.

Reese had already begun to power down his window even before the Ford stopped moving, and he looked out and said to the two men with that
(How is he
doing
that?)
calm voice of his, “Get back in your vehicle, and let’s go.”

The two men nodded and ran back to the van.

There were no signs of the troopers, but when she saw the multiple jagged lines of holes painted across the windshield of the squad car, she didn’t have to wonder about where their occupants were or what shape they were in.

Dwight stepped on the gas and they were moving up the road again, as if nothing had happened. She looked around them, grateful for the lack of cars along all four lanes at the moment, because no witnesses meant no more casualties.

Except for those two bastards in the squad car.

Allie had to remind herself that she couldn’t have done anything to save them, not in the backseat of the Ford with Dwight and Reese. But knowing it and accepting what had happened were two different things, and she felt a tightness in her gut as the Ford continued to pick up speed.

She twisted in her seat and looked out the rear windshield, spotting Vanguard as it quickly caught up to them.
Too
quickly. “They’re coming up too fast.”

“Jacked up on adrenaline,” Dwight said.

Reese picked up the radio from the dashboard and said into it, “Vanguard, slow down. You’re too close.”

Vanguard didn’t respond over the two-way, but the vehicle started drifting back.

“Well, this is a mess,” Dwight said, and she thought he sounded slightly amused
(?)
. “They’re not going to be happy.”

“That’s why there are contingency plans in place,” Reese said.

“Still, they’re going to be pissed about this.”

They,
Allie thought.
Who is
they?

“It happens,” Reese said.

“Spare me the Zen bullshit,” Dwight said.