Suddenly more awake, Duff sat up in bed, switching the phone from one ear to the other. "Go on. “
"Well, 1 remember you talking about a case in Roswell you worked a while back. An abduction or kidnapping case. You didn't tell me very much about it, but for some reason, when I thought about Roswell after I woke up this morning, your name was the only one that came to my mind. “
The feelings of unease that Duff had experienced earlier in the day began to return, fluttering at the edge of her thoughts. Somehow, she was being drawn back into the realm of the Roswell teens with the unusual powers.
"Frank, I want you to tell me everything that happened today. Everything. No matter how weird it was. “
Margolin didn't relish having to listen to Bartolli right now. Or even having to look at him.
"Some battle, eh, Viceroy?" said Bartolli, who stood on the tarmac beside him, near the jetway and the plane. Bar-tolli's I told you so demeanor was insufferable, but hadn't yet crossed the line into outright insubordination.
"What battle?" Margolin said, thinking that the aliens had taken all of five seconds to surprise his men and make off with the armored car. "Looks more like a rout to me. Let's head this off before things get any worse. “
Bartolli grinned in obvious anticipation of another chase and capture. He's in his element, Margolin thought, rejoicing that he was fighting on the same side as this fearsome people-hunter.
Both men trotted quickly from the jetway to the downed agents that their prisoners had left in their wake. Two of the six agents who lay sprawled on the ground were still conscious, though a bit groggy. The others, including the trio of agents who had been aboard the armored prisoner transport vehicle, appeared to be dead. Bartolli looked disgusted.
As he made a couple of quick emergency cell phone calls, Margolin decided that Bartollis recriminations would have to wait for a better time.
Squinting across the sunbaked tarmac, Margolin saw that the prisoner transport… driven, obviously, by the prisoners themselves… was now barreling at high speed straight toward a nearby terminal building.
"The backup reception team will have all three of them back in custody in no time," Margolin said, keeping himself calm with a skill born of long practice. Despite Bar-tolli's worries, the special agent code-named "Viceroy" knew a thing or two about caution. A net composed of some of the finest counterterrorism specialists in the country was already drawing tight around those kids' necks, and they didn't even know it.
And they won't until after it's already too late, Margolin thought. As long as the girls don't shake off the drugs the way the Guerin boy apparently did.
It was the girls, in whom the Bureau's surveillance specialists and alien-profilers had observed certain telepathic abilities, who constituted the most severe potential threat, at least as far as Margolin was concerned. Tess Harding, or a reasonable facsimile of Tess Harding, had blown up an entire military base. And the telekinetic abilities of Isabel Evans… who, like the Guerin boy, now seemed to be in Los Angeles and Wyoming simultaneously… were well documented.
But Margolin believed that these threats would remain safely neutralized so long as the girls remained too drug-addled to marshal their talents.
Margolin felt a chill roll down his spine like ice water. He had absolutely no idea how the Guerin boy had recovered so quickly from the drugs in his system.
He wondered how much other critical information about their subjects the Special Unit had yet to learn. And he hoped that the rest of the Unit's planned alien takedown operations would go more smoothly than this one.
"Vilandra!" Rath was shouting. "Snap to it! “
As lucidity returned to her, Lonnie felt as though a family of woodchucks had taken up residence inside her head.
She realized groggily that she was sitting in the front seat of some sort of truck or SUV Ava was seated at her right, grabbing the dashboard as though her life depended on it.
Looking through the wide windshield, Lonnie could see a huge, flat expanse of blacktop. Two passenger jets and a chain of luggage trams were visible in the distance. In the foreground stood a low, prefabricated- looking building. An airport terminal, she recalled, her level of alertness spiking dramatically Rath must have gotten us away from the MiBs somehow.
She turned her head to the left and saw Rath, who was sitting behind the wheel, driving. He seemed frantic, his spiky Mohawk soaked in sweat. His hand was on her shoulder. Had he jolted her awake with his powers? "You should be awake enough now, Lonnie," he said, slamming the pedal down. The vehicles acceleration increased, and Lonnie felt herself being pressed backward into the middle of the vehicle's single bench seat.
Lonnie blinked at Rath in confusion. "Awake enough for what? “
"Awake enough for this. Take the wheel." And with that, Rath released the controls and clambered into the middle of the seat beside her, nudging her into the drivers position.
Lonnie quickly grabbed the wheel, and her right foot fumbled for a moment before coming to rest on what she hoped was the accelerator pedal. "Hey! Are you crazy? “
"Probably," Rath said. "I have to try to clear Ava's head. We need to get her powers working, at least long enough to get us out of here. Now take us to the terminal building. “
"But I can't drive this thing! “
"Lonnie, we came to this planet in a spaceship. How hard can it be to drive a copmobile?" Lonnie spared Rath a sidelong glance and saw that he was placing his hands on Ava's cheeks. She felt a momentary surge of jealousy but forced it down, reminding herself that the Feds couldn't be far behind them. They were still in huge trouble.
She pointed the truck toward the terminal building and hoped for the best, coming to a stop just outside the security doors perhaps a minute or two later. In one of the side mirrors, she could see dark-suited men running toward the vehicle from behind. They were already close enough for her to make out the guns in their hands.
Lonnie turned in the seat to face Rath and Ava. They both looked sharp and alert.
"All right, what now?" Lonnie said, her heart leaping into her throat as she considered the prospect of falling right back into the hands of the MiBs.
Lonnie saw that Rath's hands were beginning to glow as his offensive powers charged up. He knelt in front of the seat and placed his hands on the floorboard.
"Now we find another ride," Rath said, grinning. "While our queen covers our tracks. “
Margolin took the point as he, Bartolli, and two other agents cautiously approached the rear of the armored vehicle. A half-dozen other armed agents, all members of the local reception team, had joined them in encircling the truck, their trank guns held at the ready.
After the vehicle had pulled up in front of the terminal building, none of the doors appeared to have opened. The glare of the sun across the tinted windshield made it impossible to see what the teens inside were doing.
Margolin motioned to Bartolli to cover him. His weapon raised, Margolin shouted toward the eerily silent vehicle.
"Come out slowly, with your hands on top of your heads. If you attempt to raise your hands as you exit the vehicle, you will immediately be rendered unconscious." Watch those hands, Margolin told himself repeatedly. According to the two agents who had remained conscious after the Guerin boy's attack, these aliens' hands could be lethal, even from a fair distance away.
Several seconds passed in silence. Margolin repeated his demand. No response came from the truck as another full minute came and went.