“I think we all are. Let’s get a few hours of shut-eye and then figure out what we’re going to do,” Jack suggested. “Figure nine we’ll hook up?”
“Fine by me. I’m right next door if you need anything.”
“I’m just going to get the rest of our stuff so nobody steals it out of the truck. I’ll be back in a second,” Allie said.
Drake caught Jack’s worried look. “I’ll go with you.”
Allie didn’t argue, and as they walked to the darkened form of the Chevrolet, Drake instinctively scanned the lot. Nothing. All quiet.
“How much time do you think we have before they find us?” he asked.
“Who knows? Hopefully my dad has some idea. He usually does. It’s his world, not ours.”
“It’s ours now.”
Drake helped her with the shotguns and backpacks. They carried the bags back to the room, and Drake saw the dark circles under her eyes when the light hit her face. The night had been hard on all of them.
He hung out the Do Not Disturb sign and locked his door before setting his backpack onto the bed. How had it all spun so out of control so quickly?
Drake brushed his teeth, shrugged out of his clothes, and set the alarm clock for eight thirty. He laid the SIG Sauer next to it, within easy reach. After a quick look around the room, he moved the lone wooden chair to the door and leaned the back against it, wedged under the knob, as additional insurance against intruders. He was so tired it didn’t even strike him how odd that would have seemed to him just a few short days before. Now, it was just something he did. Automatic. Reflexive. As he drifted off to sleep, his last thought was to wonder how much else about his life was going to change before this was over.
His dreams were uneasy. Silent figures lurked in the shadows outside his room and, before he could come fully awake, were inside and pointing the ugly snouts of silenced pistols at him, the SIG Sauer now useless only a foot away. Both had stockings pulled over their heads, distorting their features. The nearest one, with a body like a bear, swung his pistol and slammed the butt into Drake’s head. Drake saw pinpoints of light.
Drake bolted awake, the sheets soaked with perspiration, his heart trip-hammering in his chest, his hand groping for the SIG Sauer. It took him a few seconds to realize he was still in his bed, the chair undisturbed, his only companion the slow ticking of the heater grate.
Drake stood, shaking his head, and shuffled to the bathroom half asleep. The tap water was icy cold and tasted like metal and chlorine, but he didn’t care. He drained the cup in two gulps and peered at his watch. 5:47.
The rest of his slumber he spent tossing and turning, a headache pulsing behind his eyes as his body tried to get the sleep it needed. When he cracked a lid open to check the time, warm sunlight streamed through a slit in the curtains, and he saw it was 8:00. He threw the covers aside with a sigh and switched off the alarm before heading to the bathroom, any further chance of sleep lost to the day’s advance. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror — his red eyes, face drawn with fatigue, three day’s scraggly growth on his normally chiseled jaw — and a single word sprang to mind to describe his reflection.
Hunted.
Chapter Sixteen
The interior of the restaurant was jarring, all bright yellow and orange veneers apparently deliberately chosen for their perkiness. The other patrons were also travelers — grizzled truckers with weary scowls, families in transit — all looking out of place and ill at ease, counting the minutes until their time was up in the cheery purgatory and their journey could continue. Jack sat next to Allie on one side of the booth, Drake on the other, drinking bottomless cups of mediocre coffee, after they ordered from a waitress who’d greeted them with a toothy smile and vacant eyes.
Of the three, only Jack looked better; his color had returned along with his trademark steely determination in his gaze. Like Drake’s, Allie’s face showed signs of the stress, her easy grin nowhere in evidence, replaced by a thin humorless line as serious as a firing squad.
The server arrived with their meals and set platters of artery-clogging lumps before them before strutting off to the next patrons with a swish of her ponytail. Allie’s fruit plate was probably the only thing that hadn’t been churned out of a slaughterhouse, but at that moment it all smelled heavenly, and Drake attacked his meal like it owed him money.
Once they finished with breakfast, Jack cleared his throat and began to speak in a low voice.
“I’ve given this a lot of thought. A private investigator might have done the phone tracking, and could probably, with enough time, get bank records and credit card statements. So we should assume they’ll do exactly that. We can use that to our advantage by creating a false trail for them to follow to oblivion.”
Drake nodded. It made sense.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. How much money do you have on you?” Jack asked him.
Drake eyed the ceiling and did a quick calculation. “A little over thirty grand.”
Jack looked surprised. “With you?”
“Yeah. It’s a long story.”
“Doesn’t matter. That’s a stroke of luck. With that kind of cash, you can do whatever you want, within reason. It buys you a lot of flexibility, so you don’t have to use your credit cards at all unless you’re deliberately leading them on a goose chase.”
Allie finished her coffee. “How much do we have?” she asked Jack.
“I’ve got almost fifty thousand in gold coins, and fifteen in cash. I can convert the gold wherever. For now, we’re set. If this goes longer than a year, then it gets sticky.”
“But your pension payments go into the bank during the interim, right?” she asked.
“Correct.”
Drake sat back. “I’ve also got seventy grand coming from Patricia’s estate. For all I know, it’s already in my account.”
“Then you’re set. But getting it out without leaving a trail could be difficult.”
“Yeah, but I’m going to have to go to the bank anyway to get my passport. Like I said, it’s in a safe deposit box there. I can always withdraw a bunch of cash when I pick it up. Now that I’m carrying thirty around, I can see that it’s not as bulky as I’d have thought. Two pockets in my cargo pants. Piece of cake.”
“The good news is that there are no forms to fill out or boxes to check leaving the U.S. So if you don’t declare it, you’d only be in violation of your destination’s laws. And my experience is that places in South America aren’t doing full body searches on arriving passengers,” Jack said.
“That’s good to know.”
“So here’s what you’re going to do, Drake. Book a flight home, paying cash. Take a taxi to the bank. Pull the money and the passport, and then get the hell out of there. Hightail it to a border city and walk across. From there, you can get to wherever. Peru. Brazil. Bolivia.”
Drake nodded. “What about you?”
“We have different issues. The truck’s going to need to be repaired. Fortunately, I can easily find a radiator to replace this one. That’ll be my errand for the day. I’ll buy some tools, slap one in, and she’ll be as good as gold. I’ll use my credit card to do it, so they’re looking for us down here. By the time it shows up anywhere, we’ll be long gone. Same with you. You can buy something here — anything — either a jacket or shorts or whatever, and that will put you in Corpus. Of course, right after you buy it, you’ll be heading to San Antonio to fly home.”