Undetectable (Great Minds Thriller) (47 page)

Jacob Savian sat at his computer, waiting. He was waiting for the Organizer’s call to come, but he was also waiting for a decision. From inside his own head. Jacob believed in logic, in using all the available data to make the right choice. But he also believed very deeply in the power of intuition.

It was, after all, the thing that made him better than the computer before him. The thing that made him human.

The computer hummed, Jacob pressed the spacebar, and the Organizer’s face came into view. And then it happened. Jacob felt something in his head, some tiny relay, some cascade of neurotransmitters that, for whatever reason, had come down on one side of the question. He knew what to do.

“Good morning,” the Organizer began. “As I expected, everything is stable. Three days to go, and we’re just holding until – ”

“We’re going this morning.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Go time is now. It’s seven o’clock. I want mission-ready status in half an hour. Start of operations a half-hour after that.”

The Organizer shook his head. “No, I still don’t understand. The subject is not, is
not
out in the open. He’s not coming until Friday. Mission-ready status for
what
? Explain.”

Jacob held up a hand.

He explained.

Today is the Day

Kevin was almost there. It was a beautiful September morning, and he could tell it was going to get
more
beautiful. Danny would be there, and he would have to come clean to Kevin. What choice would he have?

The pieces of the world would fall into place. It would all make sense again somehow. Petak had seemed to have the answers, but Kevin could see now that the doctor had been some sort of ruse. Some sort of almost-true, almost-right distraction.

But no.
Danny
was the key.
Danny
was the truth. Kevin could feel it now, could feel it as surely as he had felt himself conquering the innards of that stalled city bus.

Didn’t count on the observant homeless guy, did you? Shouldn’t have run with me on the same loop every day.

“Oh, Danny,” he whispered as he came around the corner of 74
^th
street. “We have so much to discuss.”

He looked down the block, and he could see Danny there. Standing in the door, welcoming students. There were more boys on the sidewalk than usual this morning, perhaps because so many of them seemed to be stalling before heading into the
building. It was too nice
of
a day. The air was too sweet, the sky too blue. To be in school on such a day, sitting at a desk taking notes or staring up at a whiteboard, seemed fundamentally wrong. The students were holding off as long as they could.

Kevin saw Anselm, and he wanted to say hello. Wanted to say anything at all, just to re-establish a connection. To re-establish trust. Even if he were to be fired today, even if he were forced to leave this school and never return, he wanted Anselm to know that he had only been trying to help.

Yes, I made the wrong move
, he would say to the boy.
Can you blame me? You were getting bullied. I had to do something. I was trying to protect you.

But all of that could wait. Anselm had stopped to chat with one of the painters by the three white vans parked at the curb this morning, and now he was pointing to one of the long hose extensions they used for reaching high spots. He was probably asking something about pressure or flow rate or some other question of startling intelligence; the painter probably didn’t know what to make of the miniature genius standing before him. In any case Kevin wanted to get to Danny first. Wanted to confront him and see the look in his eye, the sudden realization that the jig was
up
, it was time to let it all out. So first Danny, and then a brief word with Anselm before the school day was done.

Kevin increased his pace as he neared the entrance, and he called out a friendly greeting to Danny. Danny saw him, and he seemed about to hold out a hand when Kevin saw the big man’s eyes shift. He was looking at something over Kevin’s shoulder.

“Shit,” Danny said, his voice cold. Three boys in the process of walking through the doorway looked up quickly at Mr. Fisher, their eyes wide with delighted surprise.

That teacher said shit.

Danny didn’t notice them. He stepped quickly to one side, away from the building. Before Kevin had a chance to ask what was wrong, Danny was reaching under his own jacket, reaching for something concealed in a slim holster-like pocket sewn into the side of his shirt.

Now
that’s
a nice gun
, Kevin thought, as Danny brought the weapon out and up to eye-level. The world was moving more slowly than normal, and Kevin had a moment to study the design.
Compact semi-automatic Smith & Wesson .45. Very smooth. Good size, good weight. I wonder if –

But both his thought process and the slow-down were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a high-powered rifle shot, and at the same instant Danny was knocked backward as though he had been punched with an invisible battering ram. He hit the open door behind him with a thump, and he sank straight to the ground.

Kevin knelt quickly down to him. “Holy shit, Danny, what – ”

“
Him
,” Danny hissed, grabbing Kevin by the lapels and pulling him down toward him with shocking force. Whatever injuries he had sustained, Danny Fisher was clearly nowhere near dead. He turned Kevin’s head as if manipulating a puppet, and he pointed. “Never mind
me
,” Danny said, his voice strained. “Protect
him
.”

Kevin looked where Danny was pointing, and he saw a flash of blond hair as Anselm was pulled into the first white van. The doors closed, and all three vans took off down the street in unison, their tires squealing on the pavement.

Kevin stared after them in horror for a moment, and then he turned back to Danny. “What? No, how would I – ”

“
Shut up!
” Danny yelled, wincing. “You’re
ready
now, right?”

“Yes!” Kevin said, the answer coming almost like a reflex. He couldn’t help it. “I mean, for
some
things,” he added, trying to get control of his own head. “But for this, I don’t – ”

“This is the
only
thing!” Danny shouted at him. He was still holding Kevin by his jacket, his meaty fist clenching the lapel. His jaw was clenched in pain, and sweat was running down his face. “
This
is what’s important,
this
is what you’ve been getting ready for!”

“No, I wasn’t picked,” Kevin protested, returning in desperation to what Petak had told him. “The other applicants – ”

“There
were
no other applicants! You’re it!”

“No, you’re the guy, and they shot you, so now we can’t – ”

“I’m the obvious under-cover, you idiot! They’ve had me marked since the first day!” He pulled Kevin closer still, until their foreheads were actually touching. “Listen. You’ve been getting ready to protect Pascal Billaud. But now the mission has changed.
They took his son.
Do you understand?”

Kevin grunted a yes.

“Good,” Danny said, releasing him. He pressed the semi-automatic into his hand. “So take a minute to think, then use the cell phone, and then go fetch Anselm. That’s your mission, your purpose.
This
is the important thing you’ve been forgetting, do you get that? That kid is now your whole reason for
existing
, and you are
ready!
”

Kevin nodded. Finally it was making sense to him. Everything. Every book, every run, every un-remembered training session in the park or on the 20
^th
floor or wherever they had taken him during the last three months. It didn’t matter; he
was
ready. Danny had pushed the right switch somehow, and he could feel his focus returning. He stuck Danny’s gun underneath his own belt behind his back.

“
Go get Anselm Billaud
,” Danny said, one more time.

Kevin stood up, straightened his coat, and then spared one last glance for the big man lying on the sidewalk. “That’s what I’m doing,” he said. “Shut the fuck up for a second so I can think.”

A Poor Chance Of Surviving

There were too many variables to work out, too many contingencies to consider. He needed time to think it all through, but he
had
no time. So Kevin dropped himself into a crouch, closed his eyes, and stuffed his fingers into his ears.

Plenty of time
.

He stayed in that position for what seemed to him like nearly an hour, going through every possibility. Every strategic scenario. He played them all through, played them as though he were playing chess games from start to finish, discarding the games that ended with Anselm’s death.

Finally he stood and looked down the street. Three seconds had gone by, maybe four. The last of the three vans had just rounded the corner to head down Lexington. He knew how these things went – he knew
everything
about how these things went, down to the last statistic and official report, because he had read all the reports – and so he knew that Anselm had a poor chance of surviving no matter what he did.

But he also knew he could improve that chance.

He ran to the end of the block, stopped at the corner, and looked south. He was in the act of pulling out his cell phone when he felt a tug at his jacket.

Elias Worth. Again. Always in the middle of things.

“Elias, I’m busy,” Kevin said. Up came the contacts list on his phone.

“No, I
saw
.”

Kevin paused. The boy could have pleaded, could have whined or demanded Kevin’s attention, and none of it would have mattered. He would have turned away and ignored him. But Elias managed to strike exactly the right tone, the perfect note of calm authority, and Kevin Brooks knew an asset when he saw one. Elias had been right before. Elias’s head was still heavily bandaged, and he knew a thing or two about evil.