THE DAY DRAGGED. Alex didn’t want to leave the television. It didn’t change things much, knowing how many times they aired the piece and how many outlets picked it up, but she still had to watch. Arnie took the new situation with the stoicism she expected, only the tightening of his eyes betraying his worry.
Alex wanted to send Arnie to the Batcave with a list of everything she needed. She’d love to have the SIG for herself, plus extra ammo, and for Daniel the sawed-off shotgun that she’d seen in Kevin’s stash. A sniper rifle wasn’t as helpful in close quarters as a shotgun would be. It could incapacitate multiple attackers with one load of buckshot.
She also wanted to hunt for gas masks—she couldn’t wire up the house if she didn’t have a third for Arnie. She doubted Kevin would have overlooked such an obvious safety feature, but then again, maybe it was obvious only to someone like her. In his world, Kevin probably only worried about bullets and bombs.
But though she wanted these things badly, it might already be too late for preparations. If the flirtatious checker had called after the first broadcast—which could have aired earlier in the day than the one they’d seen, or even the day before—it would take a certain amount of time for their enemies to begin the search. Someone had to get here, then ask questions around town, and finally start investigating possible leads. But then, if that someone had good luck, the surveillance would begin. And she had no way of knowing if it already had.
Even though she and Daniel were staying inside with the windows covered, someone could be watching Arnie right now. If Arnie took a field trip to the Batcave, the watcher would follow. At that point, they might as well put up a banner that read CONGRATULATIONS, YOU’VE FOUND THE RIGHT PLACE! HELP YOURSELF TO A FEW ROCKET LAUNCHERS!
They could do nothing that might give away the existence of the Batcave.
Her most essential defenses were in easy reach, everything of importance loaded into her backpack—neatly Ziplocked by category—for a quick retreat. She had Arnie move the truck to the back of the house, close enough to Arnie’s bedroom window that they could be in the front cab with one well-hidden step.
She wished Kevin would call or that he’d trusted them enough to give Daniel the number to his own burner phone, in case of emergency. There might be additional safeties he’d built into the place that Arnie wasn’t aware of.
Daniel made dinner for the three of them, and though it wasn’t as high-spirited an affair as the previous night’s, it was still delicious. She told him to slow down with his stock of ingredients. It might be a while before shopping was on the agenda again, even for Arnie.
It surprised her how unaware Daniel seemed to be of Arnie’s presence—well, not unaware, exactly, just unaffected. Not that he was rude to Arnie or ignored him, but Daniel made no effort to hide his new closeness with Alex in front of him. Twice he took her hand; once he kissed the top of her head as he passed with the dishes. Arnie, unsurprisingly, showed no reaction to Daniel’s exhibition, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of it.
Arnie told them he had the dogs on rotation to run the perimeter fence—all six miles of it—while it was light out, the time when scouts would be watching through binoculars. If anyone was perched close enough to watch the house, the dogs would alert him. After that announcement, he went to bed early, keeping his normal routine. Alex and Daniel stayed up to watch the evening news.
He curled around her on the sofa so naturally that it didn’t feel out of the ordinary at all. She couldn’t remember feeling so physically comfortable with anyone in all her life. Even her mother had been a brittle hugger, someone who rarely expressed affection, in words or actions. Alex’s closeness with Barnaby was verbal, never physical. So she thought that she should feel awkward and embarrassed with her legs draped across another person’s lap, her head cradled against that person’s shoulder while his arms were wrapped around her, but she felt only oddly relaxed. As if his proximity somehow removed a portion of the stress from the situation.
The Daniel piece played again, but it ran later in the program than before, and she could tell the night anchor was bored by the story. The Agency might be able to force this bit into the news for a short time, but they couldn’t keep the networks from reacting to what a nonstory it was. Of course, there was the obvious second act.
“I should probably warn you… if you haven’t thought of it already,” she said.
He tried to sound glib, but she could hear the wariness. “I’m sure I haven’t.”
“Well, if this story doesn’t get results quickly, they’ll have to up the ante to keep the press working for them.”