They were standing under the Lockheed Blackbird that towered over them from its mount on three metal columns at the museum’s entrance.
“This is the fastest one. It’s like a rocket,” he said, marveling at the sleek black spy plane that had first taken to the air from the salt lakes of Area 51 in Nevada. He was all bouncy and animated, his gaze darting back and forth from the Blackbird to the smaller Convair Sea Dart that also flanked the entrance.
Jules saw the delight on Tess’s face as they watched him run around, and she couldn’t help but smile, too. She knew how Tess felt. Seeing Alex happy like that after everything he’d been through, even if for a fleeting moment, was as warming and intoxicating as a tumbler of fine aged single malt.
Tess glanced over and flashed Jules a smile that was loaded with gratitude before turning to Alex and asking, “How about we go inside?”
He was already scooting off ahead.
The circular museum was made up of an outer ring jam-packed with aircraft of all shapes and sizes that were set around a central pavilion, the entire display dominated by a huge, World War Two–era seaplane. Alex had told Tess he’d been to the museum before, but he hadn’t yet seen any of the 3-D animated films that were showing at its Zable Theater, films that had added physical effects that some marketing wiz had decided to call 4-D, even though, strictly speaking, all 3-D movies were already being screened within an Einsteinian four-dimensional manifold.
They walked around the exhibits, with Alex leading the way, gesturing excitedly from one aircraft to another, the excitement spilling out of him effusively. The place was buzzing, as busy inside as on the promenade outside, and as they ambled through, Jules found herself unconsciously surveying the scene around them. People from all walks of life seemed to be there—families, couples, locals, foreigners, old, young, a hugely diverse cross section of humanity that had converged around an outstanding sampling of man’s genius at conquering his primal urge to fly.
They’d been in there for about half an hour and were waiting to go into the screening room when a man caught Jules’s eye. He was a Latino with dark olive skin and wore jeans, a Windbreaker, and cowboy boots. A hands-free cell phone cord dangled from his ear, and he was talking into its mike. Jules wasn’t sure why her eye lingered on him for that extra little beat. Something about him just struck her as odd, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. He just seemed out of place. Didn’t look like a tourist. Seemed uncomfortable in his surroundings, like he wasn’t really there to check out the planes. But after watching him for a few seconds, Jules decided that she was overthinking. He hadn’t looked over at them once. He was probably just taking a work call. Or maybe he’d been forced to go on an outing by his new girlfriend and her kid and he didn’t want to be there. Whatever his story, Jules decided he didn’t merit more of her attention and chose to ignore him.
She chided herself about the episode. Yet another demonstration of how she could never relax, not entirely. She’d been at the job too long to allow her guard to drop completely. She could picture her friends rolling her eyes at her, but the fact was, she loved being an agent for the Bureau. Her college roommate and best friend, in particular, took great pleasure in goading her about marriage and children, but Jules laughed off both her barbs and her encouragement. She kept promising she’d work on lightening up and allowing the rest of what life had on offer to seep in, but they both knew it was just wishful thinking.
The line for the showing moved along, and as Jules headed into the theater, she took a second to note the exits—other than the main door, there were two doors at the back of the tiny thirty-six-seat space leading to the Education Center—before realizing she’d made the sweep entirely from instinct.
Even out for a day’s fun with a four-year-old, she couldn’t leave the job behind.
She saw Tess and Alex don their 3-D glasses and sit down to soak in the delights of Jet Pack Adventure, and decided to wait for them outside the theater, where she could download the most recent case updates to her phone. For a second, she even contemplated having a go in the flight simulator—she’d been in plenty of helicopters and small aircraft, but never in an F-18 fighter—but before the idea could take root, her phone vibrated.
She confirmed the caller ID—it was Reilly. Probably calling to check up on his son.
“Where are you?”
He sounded agitated.
She tensed up as she told him, her eyes instinctively surveying the ground around her.
Reilly bypassed the pleasantries and said, “I need you to get Alex and Tess out of there without alarming them. David’s organizing a safe house.”
An icy finger slid down her spine. “Why, what’s happened?”
“They’re after me. That’s why they came after Michelle and Alex. To use them to get to me. Which means Alex is still in danger. Tess too.”
She listened as he ran through what it was all about—Mexico five years ago, Raoul Navarro. She sensed a mixture of frustration and thinly veiled unease as he said the name, and it chilled her further. In the little time she’d been around Reilly, she’d been impressed by his clear-headedness and his drive, possibly even developing a pointless little crush on him. To hear him rattled like this was unsettling.
He also told her that the goons who took out the Eagles were probably ex-military, that it was Navarro’s MO.
When he finally took a breath, she asked, “Shall I call for backup?”
He hesitated, then said, “No need at this point. I don’t want to freak out Alex any more than he already is. Just take them back to the hotel and pack everything up. I’m heading back to San Diego now.”
“You got it.”
She ended the call, edged across to the cover of a low-slung plane, and did a quick 360-degree sweep of the museum. She didn’t see anything suspicious at first—then she saw the Latino again. Just inside the central pavilion. Only this time, he was standing next to another guy who also had a hands-free cable dangling from his ear. The second guy was holding some kind of handheld device, and both of them were looking intently at the screen. Then one of them looked over in Jules’s direction and gave the other a discreet nod aimed at the theater, and as he did, she saw it. A small dimple under his Windbreaker, one she knew was from a handgun that was slung in an underarm holster.
The back of her neck went all fuzzy with the sense of something bad about to happen.
Jules’s eyes locked on them, but the men stayed put. They looked straight past her and didn’t seem to register her. Her mind leapt ahead, as it had been trained to do, instantly assessing options. Best case, the guys were playing Angry Birds or checking sports scores. Worst case, they were hostiles. Which is what she read in their eyes and in their body language.
Meaning they were there because they were tracking Alex and Tess.
Meaning somehow, they had a GPS lock on them—with the most likely suspect being Tess’s phone.
But if that were the case, they didn’t seem to be looking to make their play now. They seemed to be waiting for Tess and Alex to come out, maybe to move out into the open—or to be in transit, in the car—before they took action.
Dammit.
Jules had no idea how many of them were deployed, but she knew that the last thing anyone needed was a gun battle in a crowded public place on a summer afternoon. And if the recent past was anything to go by, it was clear that this Raoul Navarro had no compunction about the loss of innocent lives and that he was set on getting to Reilly in any way he could, including through women and children.
Her mind scrambled for options, then it hit her—if the men were indeed cartel enforcers tracking Tess, she could use the GPS lock against them. She might be able to move Tess and Alex to safety with zero casualties. Her only doubt was whether to call Reilly back—as an agent he’d want to be kept up to speed, but as a father the last thing he needed was the play-by-plays. Villaverde had already taken her aside the day before and told her that although Reilly was right in the middle of whatever was going on, they needed to be careful that his personal involvement in the case didn’t cause any problems, not least for Reilly himself. Her priority was Alex. Taking down the bad guys could wait until the boy was safe.