The First Prophet

“I work alone.”

 

 

“And I have no problem with that. But when I’m working the other side of the street, I expect you to alert me before you act.”

 

“Noted.” Her voice was level.

 

“Are you on them now?” He had the wisdom not to sound triumphant.

 

“Not exactly.”

 

“Murphy—”

 

“You worry too much, Brodie.”

 

“Do you understand how much time we have left?” His voice was tight. “Are you aware that it’s probably just a matter of days now?”

 

“I am aware of that, yes.” It was her turn to draw a breath in an attempt to hold on to patience.

 

“Then do your job.”

 

He hung up on her.

 

Murphy closed the burner phone and removed the battery for good measure, tossing it into a trash can as she passed while the phone itself was drop-kicked into the gutter. “But that’s what I’m doing, Brodie,” she murmured to herself. “My job.”

 

She pulled yet another disposable phone from the leather pouch hanging against her hip, turned it on, and punched in a familiar number. As soon as the call was answered, she spoke briskly.

 

“I kept him from making contact. And he’s pissed.”

 

“Never mind him. He’ll get over it.”

 

“Easy for you to say,” Murphy muttered. “He has a mean right hook. I’ve seen him use it. I’d rather not be on the receiving end, thanks all the same.”

 

“With a little luck, you won’t be anywhere near Brodie for a while, so relax.”

 

“Yeah, right. And in the meantime?”

 

“Chicago.”

 

 

 

Sarah didn’t say much after they turned back onto the highway, grappling with the growing certainty of just how far-reaching and complex this situation obviously was. And how terrifying.

 

The lake had seemed like a safe place, a place where they could rest and regroup, make plans. Then that warning had come, presumably from a friend or ally and, again in the middle of the night, they had run for their lives.

 

Where had the warning come from? A friend? Another psychic? How had it been sent to Tucker’s computer when he, a computer expert, insisted that was next to impossible?

 

Their car bugged, their every action apparently monitored by the enemy, and now it was beginning to look like there was someone else out there watching them, someone who might be on their side…

 

And Sarah had no idea who they could trust.

 

She wasn’t able to brood about it for too long, because Tucker turned the car toward the west about fifteen minutes later. And it required all her self-control to keep from reaching over and jerking the wheel to turn them north once more.

 

It was an actual physical sensation, a tugging deep inside her that almost hurt. This was the wrong way. The wrong way! She had to close her eyes and consciously argue with whatever was tugging at her. We’ll go the right way. We will. In a day or two, we will.

 

It has to be north.

 

I know.

 

The answer is north.

 

What answer is that?

 

North.

 

Right. We’ll go north. Soon.

 

After a few minutes of the continued silence between her and Tucker, she reached and turned on the radio, needing to listen to something besides the faint, anxious echo in her head.

 

 

 

“So she’s just a friend, huh?” Keith Hayden grinned at Tucker as they sat in his office at the car lot. “How come all your friends look like her and all my friends look like you?”

 

“Because there is a God.” Tucker was signing his name on a multitude of papers and didn’t look up.

 

Keith snorted. “Listen, Tuck—”

 

“Please don’t call me that,” Tucker interrupted. “It doesn’t sound any better now than it did in college. And it especially sounds bad when I’ve just let you rob me blind.”

 

“Who, me?” Keith was deeply injured. “Can I help it if you’re in too big a hurry to insist on a better price for that tank of yours? By the way, you didn’t tell me why you were in such a hurry.”

 

“Because we have places to go and people to see.” Tucker hesitated and looked at his old friend. “You won’t get into any trouble misfiling the papers on the Jeep for a few days, right?”

 

Keith shrugged. “It’s my business, I can do what I like. And I’m lousy at filing things promptly. Just remember, you’re still using your own tag, and it’ll be listed in the DMV as belonging on a Mercedes. If you get stopped or pulled over, they might ask questions. But you’ll have your copies of the papers, so it should be all right, at least for a few days. I still say you ought to switch the insurance, though.”

 

“I have a special policy that covers me no matter what I’m driving. It’ll have to do.” Changing his insurance would reveal the make and model of the Jeep in all the necessary records, and Tucker wasn’t prepared to risk that.

 

“Then for God’s sake, drive carefully.”

 

“I intend to.” Tucker nodded. “So we’ve taken care of my end. But on your end…Keith, if anybody shows up asking questions about Sarah and me, tell them you sold me a Corvette or something and don’t have a clue where we’re headed.”

 

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