The God's Eye View (23 page)

CHAPTER
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36

I
t took Manus less than twenty minutes to pull onto a dirt road at the end of which the StingRay told him he would find Delgado. Delgado
had texted him twice while he drove. The first time, Manus had texted
back that he was still waiting. The second time, he didn’t respond at all.
Now he cut the headlights, driving slowly by the glow of the parking
lights until he came to an access gate. He stopped and got out to exam
ine it. Sure enough, the chain had been cut, then wrapped around one
of the support posts to pass a casual inspection. Manus opened the
gate and drove on. When the StingRay indicated he was a quarter mile away, he did a tight K-turn, cut the engine, and continued on foot.

The air was moist amid the trees, perfumed by wood and dirt. He could smell the reservoir just ahead, a clean smell like brass or ozone. He walked slowly, a new Defender Ultra set low and cupped in one hand, careful to avoid branches that might crack under the weight of his boots.

When he was close to the water, he spotted the contours of the Sprinter, the metal incongruous in the dim light against the trees around it. He clicked off the flashlight, returned it to his pocket, and positioned himself to the left of the sliding door. Delgado was right-handed, and by keeping to the left, Manus would force the man to emerge from cover to get off a shot, while at the same time making shooting itself maximally awkward. If it came to that.

He texted,
I’m here.

A few seconds went by. Then:
What do you mean here?

Outside the Sprinter. I have the drive.

A long moment spun out. Manus watched the Sprinter, his hand on the grip of the Force Pro.

The Sprinter door slid open. Manus saw Delgado, silhouetted from within. He was holding a pistol, but it was pointing down. Concerned about trouble, but not quite ready to make trouble of his own. Okay. Manus moved his hand off the Force Pro and let his shirt fall back over it.

Delgado was talking, but with the light coming from behind him, Manus couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“I can’t read your lips from here,” Manus said. He moved closer, his arms loose at his sides, letting Delgado see his empty hands. There, that was better.

Delgado brought up the pistol and pointed it at Manus’s chest. “Stop. How’d you know where to find me?”

Manus stopped. “StingRay. And you call me the dummy.”

He knew Delgado was insecure. He hoped the insult would cause enough irritation to momentarily occlude clear thinking.

Delgado frowned and glanced around. Manus could tell he sensed something was off, but that he couldn’t put his finger on what. The trick now was to deny his brain time to examine what his gut was trying to tell him.

Manus gestured to Delgado’s gun. “Are you planning to shoot me, or can I come in?”

“Where’s the drive?”

“There’s too much light. We need to close that door.”

Delgado raised the gun so the muzzle was pointing at Manus’s face. “Where is the fucking drive?”

He was more suspicious than Manus had hoped. Nowhere to go but straight on.

“Let me see the woman.”

“Why?”

“I need to know she’s safe.”

“You been fucking her?”

“I need to know she’s safe.”

Delgado held out his free hand. “Give me the drive.”

“I don’t have it. But it’s close.”

“Where?”

“The woman first.”

Delgado put a second hand on the grip and adjusted his head so he was sighting down the barrel. “I will shoot you, Manus.”

“Go ahead. Then you can explain to the director how you shot the only person in the world who knows where the drive is.”

A long moment went by. Manus didn’t think Delgado would do it. But he didn’t know, either. It didn’t matter. There was no other way to play this.

Delgado lowered the muzzle to chest level and stepped out of the Sprinter, giving Manus wide berth. “All right,” he said. “You first.”

The man’s tactics were good. He wasn’t going to let Manus get too close. Manus would have to make an opportunity.

Manus stepped into the Sprinter. Evie was sitting on the floor in one of the rear corners, her hands cuffed or tied behind her back. Her clothes were somewhat in disarray and her upper lip was swollen, but it didn’t seem she’d otherwise been hurt. She glanced at Manus and said nothing. But the hate he saw in her eyes was awful.

Delgado climbed in and slid the door closed behind him. He kept the gun on Manus. “Move back,” he said. “Give me room.”

Manus stooped and moved further back. The opportunity wasn’t there. Not yet.

Delgado looked at him. “Where’s the drive, dummy?”

Manus glanced at Evie, then back to Delgado. “The director doesn’t want you to harm her.”

“Bullshit.”

“I just texted with him.”

Delgado sneered. “Yeah? Let me see your phone.”

“I delete my texts. I hope you’re smart enough to do the same. Dummy.”

Delgado reddened. “Who the fuck—”

“Why don’t you call him yourself? Afraid he might say you can’t have your fun?”

Delgado’s eyes narrowed. He swung the gun over to Evie. She flinched but didn’t look away.

“Fun? You want to have fun? Here’s what we do. I start counting. If I get to three before you tell me where the fuck that drive is, I shoot your girlfriend in the face. Sound good? Sound fun? Here we go. One. Two—”

“All right,” Manus said bringing his hands up, palms open. “All right!”

Delgado kept the gun on Evie. “Where?”

“Right here. In my left pocket. I’m going to take it out. Slowly.”

He reached into his left pocket, slowly as promised, removed the thumb drive, and held it out.

Delgado glanced at it, then back to Manus. The gun didn’t waver. “This isn’t the plan. You’re supposed to take it to the director so he can confirm it’s what he wanted. For all we know, that’s just some random thumb drive this bitch picked up in a Walgreens.”

Manus kept his arm extended, the hand holding the thumb drive less than a yard from Delgado. “Then take it to him. I’ll watch the woman.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll get the fuck out of this van.”

“Call the director,” Manus said. “You’re not supposed to harm her.”

Manus couldn’t predict exactly what Delgado would do next. Reach for the drive? Have Manus set it on the floor? Make Manus change to a less advantageous posture or position? Call the director? It was impossible to say. But whatever he did next, he’d gotten what he’d wanted. Meaning he no longer needed to threaten the woman. Meaning he was going to stop pointing the pistol at her, and point it at Manus again, instead. That moment would be Manus’s best opportunity. Probably his
last
opportunity.

He sensed the move an instant before it happened. And as Delgado’s arm swung left from the woman and back to Manus, Manus was already shooting in with a drop step, his extended left hand blurring in and slapping Delgado’s gun hand up and back. The pistol discharged. Manus closed his hand around it, keeping it pointed away, and speared a forearm into Delgado’s throat. The gun went off again. Delgado gagged and fumbled at his pants pocket with his free hand. Manus grabbed the hand, head-butted Delgado’s face, then stepped back and shot a knee into his balls. Delgado folded forward and Manus yanked his arms wide, bringing his face in for another head-butt, then clubbed him in the neck with another forearm as he went down. Delgado pitched face-first onto the floor and Manus tore the gun from his hand.

Delgado lay still. For an instant, Manus imagined stomping his neck . . . stomping again and again until the man had been functionally decapitated. The urge was so strong his leg actually trembled. But with everything else he was doing, if he killed Delgado, who he knew the director valued . . . he just didn’t know.

He drew in a huge breath and blew it out, forcing himself to focus. If he could just get Evie to tell him where she had hidden the drive. If she would promise she would never, ever say anything to anyone. Manus would guarantee her silence to the director, with his own life as collateral. She would never say anything if she knew he would die as a result, would she?

Yes, that was the better way, the surer way. He wanted to kill Delgado, but what he wanted wasn’t the point.

He dropped to his knees and ran his hands up and down Delgado’s legs and torso. He found a wallet, a knife, a cell phone, a pair of handcuff keys on a small ring, and the keys to the Sprinter. He tossed aside everything but the cell phone and the handcuff keys. Then he folded Delgado’s hands across his back, put a knee across his wrists, and looked over at Evie, who had shrunk back into the corner, her eyes wide.

“Are you hurt?” he said.

She shook her head once, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly with her breathing.

“Are you handcuffed?” he said. “I can’t see.”

She nodded. A tear slid down her cheek.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay now. I have the keys. Come closer so I can unlock the cuffs. I don’t want to let him up.”

She hesitated for a moment, then crab-walked forward, turning when she was close so Manus could access the cuffs. He popped one side free. She turned to face him, rubbing her free wrist. He handed her the key. She undid the other side, let the cuffs and keys drop to the floor, then pressed her fingers to her ears and grimaced. Manus realized the sound of the shots, magnified inside the Sprinter, had hurt her.

Delgado stirred under Manus’s weight. “Hand me the cuffs,” Manus said. “He’s starting to wake up.”

She crouched, staring at Delgado, seemingly paralyzed. Manus realized she was in a kind of shock. He leaned over, snatched up the cuffs, and got them around Delgado’s wrists. Then he stood, stooping to avoid the roof. “We have to go.”

Evie stood and backed away, rubbing her wrists. “What is this? Who are you?”

Manus shook his head. “We have to go.”

She glanced at Delgado, then back to Manus. “Is this some kind of good cop / bad cop?”

Manus moved to the side door and slid it open. “We have to go. My truck is close by.”

She glanced at Delgado again, then suddenly stepped forward and kicked him soccer style full in the face. Delgado’s head rocketed back and blood shot from his nose. Evie grimaced and clutched her foot. Delgado rolled back and forth and bled.

Manus pulled Delgado out of the Sprinter and yanked him to his feet. The smaller man was choking and spitting. Blood ran freely from his crumpled nose.

Evie came to the door. Manus saw she had picked up her shoe. She started to step out, then paused and glanced around, obviously disoriented, holding the shoe in front of her as though it could somehow protect her from all this insanity. Manus realized she had no idea where she even was.

“The Triadelphia Reservoir,” Manus said. “My truck is a quarter mile away. I should have thought to bring your other shoe. I’m sorry. But it’s in the truck. So is your purse.”

He switched on the Defender and shone it in Delgado’s face. “Get in front,” he said. “Driver’s seat.”

Delgado spat out a huge wad of phlegm and blood. “Do you know what the director is going to do when he hears about this?” he said.

Manus slid the Sprinter door closed and gave the handcuff keys to Evie. “Follow us around. I need to keep him here.” He took Delgado by the collar and marched him to the front of the Sprinter, Evie just behind them. Manus pushed Delgado up into the driver’s seat, then circled around to the other side. Delgado watched as he moved, his eyes dark with rage. Manus got in, gripped Delgado’s collar again, and pressed the muzzle of the pistol just behind his right ear. “Turn toward the driver-side door,” he said. “So your back is to the steering wheel.”

Delgado glared at him. “Motherfucker, you can’t just leave me here. This is bullshit.”

“You want to be left cuffed to the wheel, or with a bullet in your head?”

Delgado said nothing.

Manus nodded to Evie. “Uncuff his hands, then cuff them back through the steering wheel.” He let Delgado feel the tight grip on his collar, the muzzle behind his ear.

Her hands were shaking, but she managed, handing the keys to Manus when she was done. Manus double-locked and double-checked the cuffs, and then, satisfied, dropped the keys on the floor, slid out, and went around. When he made it to the driver-side door, he saw that Delgado was saying something to Evie.

“. . . but first I’m going to make your little deaf prick son watch. Or maybe I’ll make
you
watch me do
him
.”

Manus looked at Evie to see her response. She didn’t answer. Instead, a flatness crept into her eyes, an expressionlessness into her features. “Give me the gun,” she said, her eyes never leaving Delgado.

Delgado recognized what had come over her. He looked at Manus and shook his head. “If that bitch kills me, the director will make you pay. And you know it.”

“Give me the gun,” Evie said again.

Manus shook his head. “We can’t. We have to go. I’ll explain on the way.”

Delgado turned to her and smiled. “See you soon, sweetheart. Love that shaved bush.”

The flatness in Evie’s eyes was suddenly replaced by rage. She grabbed Delgado by the hair and bashed his face into the edge of the door. Twice. A third time. Delgado jerked his arms, but his wrists were secured and there was nothing he could do to defend himself. Manus threw an arm around her and pulled her back. A bloody clump of hair plugs pulled free, and Delgado howled.

Evie tried to twist loose. Manus held her firmly, letting her understand it was useless. After a moment, she stopped struggling. Manus let her go and watched her warily.

She flung the hair clump away and looked at Delgado. “The next time I see you,” she said, panting, “I’m going to kill you. So you better hope it’s not soon.”

Delgado was too busy coughing out blood to respond.

CHAPTER
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37

T
hey moved as fast as they could, but it was slow going given the terrain and Evie’s lack of shoes. Neither of them said anything—it was too dark to talk, and besides, Manus wanted to keep moving. He removed the magazine from Delgado’s gun while they walked, ejected the round in the chamber, wiped everything down, and tossed it all in different directions into the woods.

When they reached his truck, he gave her the purse and shoe from the toolbox. They got in and he put the keys in the ignition. But Evie flipped on the dome light and held out a hand to indicate he should wait.

What was that thumb drive?
she signed.

A decoy.

Why?

Manus hesitated, unsure of how to respond.
He was going to hurt you.

Evie looked at him for a long moment. Then she signed,
Get me home to Dash.

What about your car? It’s still at the supermarket.

Just get me home.

Manus fired up the engine and pulled out. A hundred yards down the dirt road, he glanced over at Evie. She had her cell phone to her ear. Horrified, Manus snatched it away and cut off the call. He looked at her and shook his head violently.

“What?” she said, her eyes wide. “What?”

“Were you calling home?”

She nodded.

“Your apartment,” he said, looking back at the road. “I think it might be bugged.”

He glanced over to see how she reacted to that. Her lips were pursed and she was pale.

He slowed for a curve, then accelerated again. “Were you calling the nanny?” he said. If she had been planning on talking rather than texting, it couldn’t have been Dash.

He glanced over and caught her nod, then looked ahead again. “What did you say to her? They might have been listening.”

He looked over just long enough to catch, “It was still ringing. She hadn’t picked up.”

He focused on driving again. “You have to be careful. They could hear what you say.”

Delgado’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Manus thought,
Shit.
He pulled out the phone and glanced down at it.

It was the director.
Status?

The director must have been all over her phone. He’d seen the call go through and then get interrupted. He wanted to know what was going on.

Manus handed Evie the phone. “It’s the director,” he said, taking another curve in the road. “Text back exactly as I say. Do you understand?”

He glanced over and saw her say, “No, I don’t—”

He looked back at the road. “I can’t drive and read your lips. You have to listen to me and do exactly as I say. Don’t argue, I’ll explain as we go. Okay? Text him, ‘She’s taking us to it. Should know soon.
’
”

He glanced over and saw she was doing it. He gave her a moment, then said, “Do you understand?”

She shook her head.

He looked back to the road. “If he’s geolocating, he thinks Delgado, you, and I are all together.”

He saw her say, “Delgado?”

“The man in the van. The director thinks Delgado just told him you’re taking us to the thumb drive. If that were true, we wouldn’t let you out of our sight. So the phones have to stay together. And you can’t say anything to the nanny that would be inconsistent with that.”

He went back to driving, and a minute later they were back on paved road. He wanted to hit the gas but couldn’t risk a traffic cop, so he kept it at just over the speed limit, his eyes going from the road to the speedometer and back because he didn’t trust himself to keep it slow and steady.

Evie touched his arm. He glanced over and she held up Delgado’s phone so he could read it. The director had texted,
What about the appearances we discussed? A random thing, yes?

Manus felt a wave of anger ripple through him. He had hoped Delgado was lying about the director’s orders. Now he knew better.

“Text him, ‘Had to improvise. We needed her phone. But it’s under control. Will check in soon.
’
”

He waited, then said, “Is it done?” He glanced over and saw her nod.

The light at Clarksburg Pike was red. He stopped and signed,
I know you’re worried about Dash. You can call now. Just be careful of what you say. An emergency at work, you’re on your way home now. Say . . . you’re on your way to pick something up. If he’s listening, that will make him feel better.

She nodded, then input some numbers and put the phone to her ear. The conversation lasted only a few seconds. He couldn’t read it well from the side. The light turned green and he turned left. When he looked over again, the phone was back in her lap. She was crying—more from relief, he sensed, than from pain.

“Is Dash okay?”

She nodded and wiped her face.

“Evie,” he said, his eyes going back and forth from her to the road. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay.”

He wished he could believe it.

A minute later, she touched his arm. He glanced over. “It’s ringing,” she said. “It’s him. The director.”

Too much was happening. Manus couldn’t think it all through. He needed more time. He said, “Text him, ‘Can’t talk now.
’
”

He kept driving. She touched his arm again and held up the phone. Another text from the director:
If she told you it’s in her apartment, she’s lying. She hasn’t been there since retrieving it from Rockville this morning.

“Fuck. Text, ‘Got that. We’re going to get the boy. She’ll give it to
us then.
’
”

He glanced over. She was staring at him, her eyes wide. He looked at the road again, then back at her.

“Text him.”

She shook her head.

He shifted his gaze back to the road. “Evie, we have to respond.” He waited, then glanced at her again. She was shaking her head and signing,
Stop the car.

There was a turnout just ahead. He pulled over and looked at her.

Are you going to hurt me?
she signed, tears welling up in her eyes.
Or Dash?

Manus looked left, then right, feeling trapped, fighting panic. She leaned in and gripped his arm until he looked at her again.

Are you?

No,
he signed, shaking his head emphatically.

The tears spilled down her cheeks. She covered her face with her hands and shook. Manus leaned forward and stroked her hair for a moment. Then he took hold of her hands and gently pulled them away so she could see him.

But someone will. If we don’t figure out what to do first.

She nodded, then blew out a long breath and began inputting a message. Manus felt sick that he was piling new lies to the director upon the existing ones. He needed to think, to take control. But things were happening so fast, all he could do was react.

Five minutes later, he was circling her building. She touched his shoulder. He glanced over and she signed,
Stop
.

He shook his head and kept driving, his head swiveling, his eyes on every ambush position they passed. “We have to be careful,” he said. He hoped she understood. He knew this was all new to her. She didn’t understand how suddenly a mistake could happen, or what it would cost.

He did two complete circuits. He didn’t see anything that rubbed him the wrong way. But he had a bad feeling. The kind he had learned to trust.

He backed into a space in the shadows of some trees, the front of the truck facing the entrance to her section of the complex. He cut the lights, but moved the gearshift to drive and left the engine running. Just in case. It was the same place he had parked when he’d come to build Dash’s loft. But everything was different then.

She started to get out, but he took her arm.

I’ll take you and Dash somewhere safe
, he signed.
While I make things right with the director.

She looked at him for a long moment, then signed,
He sent you to watch me.
No sign for a question. Just a statement.

Manus nodded.

To fuck me?

Manus couldn’t meet her eyes. His hands floated helplessly for a moment. Then he managed,
No. I didn’t tell him about that. Until . . .

She tapped his leg to make him look at her.
Until what?

When I realized he black-bagged your apartment. That he knew anyway. And knew that I’d been lying to him. I shouldn’t have lied. But . . . but . . .

He couldn’t finish. Didn’t know how. He looked around, still seeing nothing, still feeling uneasy.

He wanted to tell her she needed to trust him, she needed his help. That he had to get her somewhere safe before he contacted the director, before this whole thing got any worse. That more than anything else, she needed to give him that thumb drive. Because as long as it was out there, the director would never stop.

But he didn’t know how to say any of it. All he could manage was
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want any of this to happen. I’m going to fix it.

How?

He shook his head, wishing he had an answer.
You need to go in. Make it fast. Apologize to the nanny and send her home. And only use sign with Dash. Tell him to grab whatever he needs for a hotel. I think the director is watching but he doesn’t know much sign.

What if he has an interpreter with him?

That’s why you need to be in and out fast. Just grab some clothes, a pair of shoes, and some cash if you have it, that’s all. I don’t know how much time we have.

She nodded and turned to get out. He put a hand on her arm.

Wait. Take all three phones with you. And leave them inside when you go.
He handed her his and Delgado’s.

Why?

The director would expect all of us to be moving together. And . . . I don’t know. Just a feeling.

What kind of feeling?

How could he explain something like that?

A bad one. Hurry.