“I think I’ll keep it,” Goliad said.
“Oh, now that’s a shocker.” Rye muttered an obscenity, then, turning away from them, said, “I’m over the two of you. I’ll take the stairs.”
“Hey, slick, before you go…”
Rye shoved open the door to the stairwell and looked over his shoulder at Timmy.
He tipped his head toward the end of the hall. “On her back or hands and knees?”
Rye left him cackling over his own wit.
4:57 p.m.
When the elevator door opened on the third level of the parking garage, Rye was ready with the fire extinguisher. He sprayed them with the foam, most of it aimed at their faces. “It’s not a laser, but you get the idea.”
He threw the fire extinguisher at Timmy’s head. It connected. He howled and bent double. Rye knew he would come up with a knife in his hand.
“Goliad, was he the laser man?”
Goliad, clawing foam out of his eyes, nodded, spat, “Stupid little shit.”
Rye danced backward as Timmy came stumbling blindly toward him, yelling foul epithets as he made wild arcs with a switchblade.
“And Brady White?” Rye asked.
Shaking foam off his hand, Goliad said, “I hit him.”
“Then you’re next.”
“I kept White alive. Timmy wanted to slit his throat.”
Rye growled as he caught Timmy’s arm in mid-swing and, with momentum in his favor, propelled him backward until he came up hard against a concrete pillar. Rye hammered Timmy’s hand against it until he let go of the knife; then he delivered an uppercut to Timmy’s chin. The back of his head smacked against the unforgiving column.
“That’s for Brady. This is for the laser and the man whose plane you wrecked.” He rammed his fist in the man’s shallow belly and swore he reached his spine. “This is for insulting Dr. O’Neal.” He backed up and put all he had into the kick to Timmy’s genitals.
Timmy screamed, grabbed his crotch, and pitched forward onto the floor.
By now, Goliad had drawn his weapon but held it at his side as he faced off with Rye.
Rye motioned to the handgun. “Are you going to shoot me?”
Goliad shook his head. “He had it coming.”
“Thanks for not killing me in the cabin. You could have.”
“Wasn’t the time.”
“Should I be looking over my shoulder for you?”
“I don’t have any orders regarding you now. Can’t promise I won’t.”
“And Brynn?”
He hesitated, then repeated, “Can’t promise I won’t.”
Understanding passed between them. “Fair enough.” Rye backed away a few more steps then turned and walked quickly away.
He didn’t start running until he reached the ramp; then he bolted and didn’t stop, not even when he reached the street. He ran full out for two blocks before realizing he was leaving a trail of blood.
Chapter 16
5:08 p.m.
They’re out?”
Nate, speaking into his cell phone, ran his hand over his head, a gesture of frustration and impatience that Brynn had seen him do hundreds of times. She now had the inane thought that perhaps he was checking it for bristle.
He had placed the black box on his desk, within a foot of where she sat. She stared at it while Nate continued his harangue with whoever had answered the Hunts’ land line after calls to the senator’s cell phone and that of Mrs. Hunt had gone to voice mail.
“How can they be ‘out’? They had dinner at home, correct?” The reply caused him to check his gaudy wristwatch. “Then where would they have gone? Fine, fine. Look, if they instructed you to tell anyone who called that they were not at home, I assure you they were not including me.”
That went on for another minute or so. Brynn thought she might scream before he finally disconnected. “She swears they’re not there.”
“Maybe they aren’t.”
“They wouldn’t choose now to go for a Sunday drive, Brynn. Or were you thinking that maybe they went to the movies?”
“Don’t talk down to me like that, Nate.”
He didn’t apologize for his condescension. She doubted he’d even heard her. He was stroking his head and pacing. “I don’t understand this at all. Delores has been hounding me since that catastrophe last night. Hounding me! Calling every half hour, asking what your status was, when you would be back.”
He paused and looked at her with contempt. “While I’m trying to keep her and Richard calm, you’re off gallivanting with that…whatever. Jesus!” He threw back his head and looked up at the ceiling as though searching for an answer to his incomprehension. “I can’t believe he can read, much less fly an airplane.”
“He’s an Air Force Academy graduate. He flew rescue missions in Afghanistan.”
He scoffed. “Is he also a spy for the CIA?”
Actually, it was Wilson who’d shared with her what had shown up when they checked Rye Mallett’s background. His character profile had changed dramatically after his second tour of duty. He must have experienced something deeply affecting during his service, but she would never know what it was.
Just doing my job.
He’d seen it through, washed his hands of the whole ordeal, and walked away from it, as he’d said he would. One day, when a medical breakthrough was announced, he might wonder if it was connected to the pharmaceutical he’d unwittingly smuggled. More than likely he wouldn’t recall her name, but he might remember her as that woman who had complicated his life and temporarily kept him tethered to the ground when he would rather be airborne.
Her wish never to see him again was no longer as desirous, but it was too late to recall it. Anyway, he was gone, and a clean break was best under the circumstances. Her focus, her sole focus, must be on the GX-42.
Her eyes on the box, she said, “Nate? Are we doing the right thing, giving this to Richard Hunt?”
Hearing the misgiving in her voice, he stopped pacing. “Absolutely.” Her uncertainty must have been apparent, because he rapped the top of the box with his knuckles and repeated, “Absolutely. We made our decision, Brynn.”
“I know, but—”
“We can’t backtrack now. It’s out of the question.”
Still, she wondered if her colleague had ever harbored a grain of doubt; but even if he had, he would never admit it. In any case, the die was now cast. “Did you get any indication of when the Hunts would return home?”
“The housekeeper claimed not to know. I’m to stand by, and she’ll notify me. That’s what she said. ‘Stand by.’ Can you believe it? A maid.”
“I hope it’s not long. I’m exhausted. Is there a possibility of waiting until tomorrow?”
“No, they’ve been emphatic. No more delays, during which shit seems to happen.” He checked his watch again.
He was eager to do it, and not only for the Hunts’ sake. He didn’t want to postpone getting on the road to acclaim and medical superstardom. Brynn just wanted it to be done so she could stop second-guessing, vacillating, lying, and half-lying.
Inside her coat pocket her cell phone vibrated. She took it out and saw that she had a text. The sender was identified only by a number, no name.
The HUNTS & I want to know what your game is. Your parking space. Now.
Her heart nearly leaped from her chest. She took a swift breath. Hearing it, Nate came around. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. It’s…my car. It’s been repaired. Someone from Howardville drove it here.”
He looked at his watch. “Now?”
“I know, right? I predicted it would take several days to fix.”
“Have them park it and leave the keys under the mat.”
“There’s paperwork. You know what that’s like,” she said and gave a light laugh. “I’ll run down and see to it.”
“Come right back. We’ll be leaving on a moment’s notice.”
She acknowledged that. As soon as she pulled the door shut behind her, she sprinted down the hall and, knowing how slow the elevator was, took the stairs to the first level of the parking garage, where she had a reserved space with her name stenciled on the wall above it.
The space was empty except for Rye, who was looking mean and mad and bloody.
5:22 p.m.
As Brynn rushed toward him, she exclaimed, “What happened to your hand?”
“That fucking punk.”