But the futile ringing went on and on. Isabel finally gave up and put the phone down. "It's no good," she informed the others, all of whom had been hanging on her side of the dialogue with Ramirez. "I think he knows where Morton is, but he won't pick up the phone anymore." She looked at Max apologetically. "I think I scared him off."You did your best," Max assured her. "He's trafficking in top secret materials, remember. At this point, the slightest hint of exposure probably causes him to wig out." He regarded Isabel thoughtfully, and she recognized the pensive expression on her brothers face; he was thinking strategically, like a general. Or a king.
"There may be another way," he stated after a few minutes. "Isabel, I know this is asking a lot of you, but do you think maybe you can contact the lieutenant more directly, mind to mind?"I don't know, Max," she said, shaking her head dubiously. She wanted to help, but… "You know that I usually can't enter anyone's thoughts unless they're sleeping, and Ramirez didn't sound like he was planning to take a nap anytime soon. In fact, he sounded like he hasn't been sleeping much at all."And who could blame him? she thought. She wouldn't want to have her life and liberty in the hands of a hot-tempered sociopath like Joe Morton. Should I have told Ramirez about Okada's murder, she wondered, or would that have just panicked him more? "I understand," Max said, entreating her with his eyes. Even if she didn't entirely approve of their risky relationship, Isabel knew how much Liz Parker meant to him. "I'm not asking for any guarantees-I realize the odds are against this working-but please, Iz, for Liz's sake, try."Feeling the weight of her brothers hopes and fears settling heavily upon her unsteady shoulders, Isabel picked up the scrap of paper bearing the lieutenant's phone number. Generally, she preferred to have an actual photo to focus upon, but perhaps she could use this improvised 237 RDSWELL calling card, personally inscribed by Ramirez to her, as a stepping-stone to his unconscious mind? "No promises," she reminded everyone, as she held the scribbled phone number before her eyes. Paging David Ramirez, she thought.
Ready or not, here 1 come.
24.
It took Lieutenant Ramirez much longer than expected to find the uncharted cave, so that Morton was impatient and irritable by the time, several calls for directions later, that the overwrought air force pilot arrived at the entrance to the cave, flashlight in hand. With her wrists bound, Liz couldn't check what time it was, but she guessed that it had be to around three in the afternoon. Her stomach grumbled unhappily, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since breakfast. That's the least of my problems, she thought, wondering how long she could keep her captor thinking that she was an alien. Would her noisy stomach pangs give her away, or would Morton just assume that extraterrestrial humanoids got hungry, too? "What the hell took you so long?" Morton griped as Ramirez entered the cave, the beam of his flashlight darting over the rough, uneven stone floor. Tve been cooling my heels in this goddamn rockpile for hours!" the bad-tempered gunman complained.
"It's not my fault!" Ramirez insisted, looking much as Isabel and Max had described him, only a lot more agitated and disheveled. Sweat streaked his bronzed features and soaked through his blue, short-sleeved dress shirt. "This place isn't exactly on the map, you know. Besides, die roads around here are prowling with State Patrol cars. I got stopped and questioned-three times!- before I finally found a place where I could park my car and head into the hills."His flashlight searched the crevices of the secluded hideaway, quickly falling upon Liz's captive figure, duct tape and all. A tic in his cheek twitched alarmingly as he stared wide-eyed at Morton's prisoner. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, going pale beneath his coppery tan. "It's true. You have snatched some girl!" He spun around, exposing Morton to the harsh white beam. "You kidnapped a teenager!"No," Morton rebutted, without a trace of remorse. "I captured an alien." He advanced on Ramirez, suddenly sounding suspicious. "Who told you I took the girl? The police? The news?"But Ramirez, shocked by Morton's insane explanation, wasn't listening to the gunman's questions. "An alien? Are you out of your frigging mind?" He swung the flashlight back toward Liz, confirming that she looked entirely human, then unleashed a flood of hysterical invective at Morton. "You maniac! You rabid psychotic! You've gone completely insane!"Squatting on the cold stone floor, several feet away, Liz saw a potential opportunity arising from the escalating conflict between the two men. This might be my chance to make a break for it, she realized, if Ramirez distracts Morton enough. Her gaze turned again toward the gaping darkness at the back of the cave, and her nerve faltered. Did she really want to run blindly into that unknown abyss? Ramirez shoved past Morton, the beam of his flashlight sweeping the cave. "Where is my money, you lunatic?" he demanded, the shadows under his ravenous eyes making him look like one of the living dead. "You promised me the rest of my money!" The shifting light revealed the open backpack, lying next to the locked attache case, and the frenzied lieutenant descended upon the canvas pack like a ravenous vulture, only to find it frustratingly empty. "Where is it?" he shouted at Morton, throwing the worthless pack to the cave floor. His cheek twitched spasmodically, like a severed frog's leg attached to a galvanic current. "Where is my money, you blackmailing son of a bitch!"The hefty killer stood his ground, one hand on the grip of the pistol stuck in his waistband. "Later," he barked. "Tell me more about those state troopers. How much do they know about the girl?"Good question, Uz thought, more than a little curious about that herself. She cautiously flexed her stiff leg muscles, restoring their circulation. Her whole body tensed, poised to run the minute Morton's full attention was elsewhere.