The Cure (29 page)

But even so, he knew that watchers could be slumped down in one of the many cars parked in the lot. The coast was probably clear, but there was no way to be sure. The good news was that even if someone was there, they’d be watching the room Erin had checked into and not the one they were in now. On the other hand, there were a number of cars that could probably see both rooms from the same vantage point.

Hansen decided there had to be some brilliant strategy he could use to find out for sure. He may have been a boring physicist and not Jason Bourne, but he was nothing if not creative. Binoculars would have been a good idea, he realized. If only he had thought of this while he was at Walmart.

An idea began to coalesce in his head. He thought it through from several angles and decided it was worth a shot. If this worked he was prepared to be very impressed with himself. He parked out of sight of the motel and dialed information. A few seconds later he had the number he needed.

“Saguaro Inn, Whitney speaking,” said the woman who had checked him in.

Hansen deepened his voice. “Whitney, hi. This is Detective Ericson of the Tucson Police Department. I think you may have called our hotline, but I’m not sure. The return number was smudged and I had to guess at some of the digits. We get a lot of false reports and I’m afraid the switchboard is getting sloppy.”

“No, you got it right. I did call.”

Hansen frowned. He had hoped to learn she hadn’t seen the bulletin on Erin, or hadn’t made the connection if she had. But Erin’s face was memorable, and he wasn’t surprised. “Okay. Good. What can I do for you?” he said.

“Some guy called me back already. I told him I had checked the girl everyone was looking for into the motel. He asked me some questions, and then ten minutes later two guys showed up.”

Hansen took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. After all, this wasn’t a surprise either. The whole point was for the people after them to come to the motel, find nothing, and then leave. And this was his chance to learn more about what they were up against. “Uniformed officers?”

“No. Looked like Secret Service agents if you ask me.”

“Did they show you ID? I only ask because there are a number of agencies on this, and I can’t be sure who was sent.”

“They didn’t show me ID and I never thought to ask. I called and they came. That was good enough for me.” She paused. “But I’m pretty sure they’re still here. You can ask them yourself.”

Hansen fought off panic. He reminded himself this was still a good thing. When he saw them leave, the coast would be clear. “No need to bother them,” said Hansen. “Did they find the girl they were looking for?”

“No. She left without checking out. But one of them showed me the picture of another guy. When I told him this guy had checked in a little while ago, he was pretty excited.”

A chill went up Hansen’s spine. “Okay, thanks,” he croaked, suddenly having trouble taking in air. “Sounds like they have everything under control. Sorry to trouble you,” he added, ending the connection.

Hansen felt dizzy. The people who were after them were there.
Now
.

And they knew Erin was in room one forty-eight
.

Hansen called her immediately. “Bad news,” he said when she answered. “Two men are on the premises and they know what room you’re in.” He quickly explained how he had found out. “Any ideas?”

She paused for a long moment. “No. I’m betting they’re sitting in a car, watching the room right now. Unless you can whip up an invisibility cloak, there’s no way out.”

“So why are they waiting? Why not charge the room?”

“I can think of two reasons. One, they know you’re gone and they’re waiting for you to return before springing a trap. Or two, they’re waiting for reinforcements. Either way, it’s bad for us.”

“I think we need to force their hand,” said Hansen, finding it hard to believe he had spoken these words.

“Interesting thought,” murmured Erin. A few seconds later her voice picked up enthusiasm. “I know. What if you called the cops on them?”

“They may
be
cops. Plainclothes. Remember, Fuller has everyone involved.”

“Maybe. But I doubt it. I think we should do it.”

“Okay,” said Hansen. “It’s definitely worth a try. If we’re lucky the cops will respond quickly. When they get here, I’ll call you. While these guys are distracted by the cops, you can sneak around the building and I’ll pick you up.”

Erin sighed deeply, and he knew she didn’t like it.

No kidding. He didn’t like it either. It was a crappy plan. But since it was currently their
only
plan, it would have to do. Hansen should have known that just because his face wasn’t on TV, this didn’t mean those after Erin had forgotten about him. He had been stupid not to think of this. And here he was, patting himself on the back. He was too far out of his league to even know how far out of his league he was.

Hansen hung up and called 911. He was a guest in the Saguaro Inn, he explained, and overheard two men talking about jumping some pretty girl in room one forty-eight. They sounded deadly serious. They were in the parking lot, in a car, stalking her now. Could the police send over a car to check it out? He said he wanted to stay anonymous and hung up before anyone could ask questions.

He pulled up to a curb and became one of six or seven parked cars spaced along its edge. A sidewalk a few feet in from the curb paralleled it and ran in a ruler-straight line for a significant distance in both directions.

Hansen turned off the car, leaving the keys in the ignition, slumped down low in the seat so he would be as inconspicuous as possible, and surveyed the Saguaro Inn parking lot off in the distance. He was far enough away where he was confident he wouldn’t be spotted, but close enough that he could see a single person, even though only as a tiny, nondescript object. He wondered if the cops would really come, and if so, how long it would take them. Hopefully no more than five or ten minutes.

Hansen kept his eyes on the entire lot, which he could easily view panoramically from this distance, and played out what would happen in his head. At least what he
hoped
would happen. The cops would come, carefully surveying each car in the parking lot. The two men who had been so chatty with the front desk clerk would likely be in one of them. The cops would approach cautiously, ask them to step out of the car, and then ask for ID. Would the cops frisk them? Was that legal? After all, the cops wouldn’t have a warrant, and only an anonymous 911 call would have implicated the suspects in any wrongdoing.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. The moment Hansen saw cops approaching any car with a purpose, he would alert Erin to break for the backside of the motel.

He had only been parked for a minute or two, but he was becoming more and more uneasy by the second. He felt so helpless. What would he do if the two men did break for the door to room one forty-eight? He had better have a plan.

These men were very professional, so they must have a reason for their delay. Erin had suggested they might somehow know he was out and were waiting for him to return. There was no question the front desk clerk, Whitney, would be as helpful as possible to the man who had questioned her. But when Hansen had left the premises to buy a car, he had purposely boarded the cab well out of her sight.

A horrible thought hit him with the force of a high-caliber bullet to the gut.
Shit!
he thought, as his stomach began churning. Just how helpful had Whitney been? Had she told them that he had returned to the lobby after checking in to use her computer?

Of course she had. And this information would be like waving raw steak in front of a tiger. The professionals after them would take the obvious next steps immediately.

Hansen’s heart thundered in his chest, and for a moment the entire world seemed to spin around him.

He had failed to erase his browsing history
.

He’d bet his life these men now knew exactly what car he had bought. What an idiot he had been!

Hansen had fancied himself stealthy, off the radar, but now he imagined dozens of eyes on him, laughing at his false sense of security. He rapidly scanned the area and then carefully examined his mirrors.

Two men, in their late twenties and very fit, were fifty feet behind him, walking along the sidewalk, seemingly engaged in quiet conversation and not paying the slightest attention to any of the cars parked on the street.

Hansen had absolutely no doubt they were coming for
him
. And if he hadn’t just now realized the people after them knew what car he had bought, he would have been oblivious.

Hansen turned the key in the ignition with more urgency than he had ever felt before and glanced toward the motel, where two men had just exited a car and were stretching and milling about.

Their strategy was so clear to him now. The men approaching him would take him out—eliminating Erin’s early warning system—and then the men in the parking lot would take
her
out seconds later, relying on precision timing.

Hansen peeled away from the curb like a Formula One race car reacting to the starting gun. The men behind him immediately broke into a sprint and began shooting, hitting his back windshield but missing with further shots as the car raced away down the street. The two men tore after him with remarkable speed, but they had started well behind, and even with the poor acceleration of the Malibu they quickly receded behind him.

Hansen called Erin, who answered on the first ring. “Two men are on their way to your room,” he said breathlessly. “Do whatever you have to do to slow them down. I’m on my way in the car.”

He accelerated around the corner to the parking lot. Should he meet her around back, as planned?

The instant he thought this he rejected it. Penned in the way she was, the odds of her ever making it out of the room were not good, despite the fact that they had to come to her and her file had said she was a skilled marksman.

Hansen gunned the engine, knowing in his heart that only a bold frontal assault would win the day. They had expected to take him out of the equation before they went for her. Now he would use the only weapon available to him: the Blue Medusa. He and Erin were all out of other options.

As he approached the parking lot several earsplitting gunshots rang out, accompanied by an explosion of shattering glass. Erin had opened the drapes just enough to see out of and was firing the weapon she had taken from the downed man in the student union.

One of her assailants went down, shot in the forearm. Erin had shot him so that his gun went flying and he would now have to use his left hand to fire any further, but had not done any permanent damage to him. From such close range, Hansen was fairly certain she could have put a hole through his forehead. But she apparently couldn’t bring herself to do this, regardless of the stakes, since these could well have been good men who had been misled by Fuller.

As soon as the wounded attacker fell to the pavement, his partner dived to the side, just as another round exploded from room one forty-eight and came within a millimeter of his thigh.

He continued to roll across the unforgiving concrete for fifteen or twenty feet before stopping. Just as he rose to make a move, Hansen was on him, driving the car into and through his body.

The man was an incredible athlete. He had just avoided a gunshot and had virtually no warning but managed to dive onto the hood of the Malibu and roll up on the curved front windshield, deflecting the force of the strike. He rolled off the side of the car and crashed hard onto the cement.

Hansen was maneuvering for another try, squealing the tires as he did so, when the two men who had been racing after him arrived on the scene, now in front of him.

Two quick gunshots rang out and drove through the front windshield, both missing Hansen as he ducked down. Unable to see where he was going, he instinctively slammed on the brakes. As the car screeched to a halt, he knew that both he and Erin Palmer were dead, and with them the chance for humanity to be diverted from its own deadly path.

But as terrified as Hansen was, as much out of his element as he was, adrenaline was flooding into his bloodstream. If he was going to die, he was going to go out fighting, not only for his own life and that of a woman he had come to care for in a short period of time, but for a cause he believed in.

He threw open the door and dived from the Malibu before it had stopped completely. He was vaguely aware of additional gunshots coming from room one forty-eight. Erin wasn’t going down easily either.

Hansen came out of the roll on his back. When he stopped, one of the men who had chased his car was standing three feet away, crouched behind the Blue Medusa to avoid any flying bullets. He calmly raised his gun and pointed it dead center at Hansen.

“Please,” croaked Hansen. “Don’t shoot. I surrender.”

“Good to know,” said the man. And with that he calmly squeezed the trigger.

33

HANSEN OPENED HIS
eyes with a start and was totally disoriented. It was night. Where was he?

Who
was he?

His mind groped around in horror trying to get his bearings and remember what had preceded his awakening.

It all came rushing back to him. The motel. The Blue Medusa. The gun pointed at him at point-blank range.

How was he still alive?

He felt around his body for bullet holes or blood but found none.

He realized he was lying across the backseat of a car, which was outside and not moving. The windows were open and cool night air surrounded him, although he was unable to see the moon from his vantage point.

The air felt strangely cool against his head. It was the oddest thing. Still in a daze, he brought his right hand to his head and touched it.

He gasped, thrown fully awake instantly.
He was bald
. He moved his hand around the unfamiliar contours of his skull, covering all real estate above his ears. No hair anywhere.