Twenty feet. Still too far for an inexperienced shooter juiced on adrenaline to reliably hit the mark. He kept moving slowly forward.
Delgado laughed. “Yeah, that’s it. Get it all out now. I want to hear everything you have to say in that goofy voice of yours. Christ, you have no idea how stupid you sound when you talk. Like a lobotomy case or something.”
Twelve feet. “Really? Have you known a lot of lobotomy cases?” Just keep him talking, he thought. Engaged.
“None like you, freak, I’ll say that. That’s close enough, by the way. And keep those hands up.”
He stopped. They were ten feet away. They weren’t going to get any closer.
“What’s the problem?” Delgado said, looking at Evie. “You scared, sweetheart? About what I’m going to do to you and your little boy as soon as I’m done splattering your boyfriend’s brains all over both of you? Hmm?”
Manus felt Evie tensing. Delgado seemed to sense it, too. Manus needed to distract him somehow, with something.
An image came to him. It was funny. He started laughing.
Delgado looked at him suspiciously. Manus laughed harder.
“Okay, dimwit. What’s the joke? Make it good, it’s going to be your last.”
“Those hair plugs Evie ripped out of your head. Do you think they’re growing on the forest floor?”
Delgado’s face darkened. It was now or never.
Evie stepped to the right and brought up the Force Pro in a two-handed grip, just as Manus had showed her. Manus heard a faint pop as she fired. The round caught Delgado in the shoulder and spun him back. Evie walked forward and kept firing, too rapidly to place her shots. A few went high, a few went low, and the rest hit the truck panel, which probably stopped the rounds. The pop pop pop Manus could hear abruptly ended, and he realized she had emptied the magazine.
He sprinted in and vaulted onto the truck bed. Delgado brought up his gun and Manus swatted it aside so hard he felt Delgado’s wrist crack. The gun flew past Manus’s field of vision. Delgado tried to stand and Manus blasted a knee into his face. Delgado was knocked back and slammed his head against the edge of the panel. Manus saw his eyes lose focus. He grabbed him by the lapels, hauled him up, and hurled him into the air.
Delgado hit the ground with a thud Manus could feel all the way through the truck tires. He unlatched the toolbox and pulled free the Berserker, then leaped out of the truck bed alongside Delgado. But Evie was already there, one hand gripping the back of Delgado’s collar and hauling his limp upper torso off the ground, the other holding the muzzle of Delgado’s gun against the side of his head. Her face was a mask of fury and determination.
“I told you,” she panted. “The next time I saw you. I told you.”
Dash was watching, his fists curled against his cheeks, his eyes wide with horror. Manus said, “Evie, no. No! Take care of Dash.”
She blinked and looked up at him.
“Not in front of your boy. Give me the gun. Walk out of here. Walk out. I’ll pick you up along the way.”
She blinked again, then looked at the gun as though not understanding how it had wound up in her hand. She released Delgado’s collar and he collapsed. Then she handed the gun to Manus.
“The keys,” he said.
Evie gently removed them from Dash’s pocket and gave them to Manus.
“My gun?”
She glanced around, her expression confused, then pointed. “There. I… must have dropped it.”
Delgado managed to get to his knees. He was panting and snorting. Blood ran from the ruination that had once been his nose.
Evie looked at the Berserker as though noticing it for the first time. “You did kill those Turks,” she said. “It was you.”
Manus didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what connection she was making. He would think about it later.
Evie took Dash by the hand and they started jogging up the road. Manus circled around Delgado so he could keep him in his field of vision while he watched them go. Within a minute, they were over the bridge and he could no longer see them.
Delgado looked up at him. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’ll always be a freak.”
Manus smiled. “You know what, Delgado? There’s something I always wanted to say to you.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
The smile widened. “This.”
He stretched and brought his arm high, as though the Berserker were a tennis racket about to deliver a blistering serve, then brought it down with all his strength. The blade cleaved Delgado’s head in two. A fountain of blood erupted from within his riven skull, and Manus leaped back to avoid the spray. Delgado’s body twitched and jerked for an instant, and then folded up and collapsed, all useless joints and truncated nerve endings.
Manus retrieved the Force Pro, swapped in a fresh magazine, and reholstered the weapon. He wiped the Berserker in the grass, placed it and Delgado’s gun in the truck toolbox, and headed out. A moment later, he pulled up alongside Evie and Dash. They got in, Dash in the middle. The boy was crying hard. Manus extended an arm and rubbed his back as he drove. He didn’t know where he was going, and Evie didn’t ask him. He supposed she was in shock. Maybe he was, too.
Twenty minutes later, he started to get the shakes. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened to him. He pulled into the parking area at Black Hill Regional Park and waited for it to pass.
Dash had stopped crying. You okay, Mr. Manus? he signed.
Manus nodded. I will be. How about you?
I don’t know. Who was that man?
He was a bad man. He was going to hurt your mother. And maybe you, too.
And you stopped him?
Yes. We don’t have to worry about him anymore. Ever.
Was there really a scavenger hunt?
Evie stroked his hair. Not a real one, honey. But… a kind of one. It’s a long story.
I want to hear it.
I’ll tell you. But only if Mr. Manus promises to help. He knows parts I don’t.
Dash looked at Manus, his eyes questioning. Manus raised his hands, but found no words. He looked at Evie for help. But all she signed was Well?
That feeling of being amputated, marooned, seemed to slacken. Only a little, but a little was enough.
I’ll try, he found himself signing.
Dash gave him a hesitant smile and a thumbs-up. Then he turned to Evie. Can we go home?
Evie nodded and looked at Manus. Yes. Let’s do that. I’m ready.
Manus drove slowly and carefully. He didn’t think anyone was watching. But he knew he could never be sure.
EPILOGUE
Remar and two aides strode down the corridor of the Hart Senate Office Building, flanked by a four-man security detail, their footfalls along the long carpeted floor the muffled drumbeat of a large and purposeful group of visitors. Remar had never needed, or wanted, an entourage before, but apparently being appointed by the president to the office of director of the National Security Agency had its rewards. Or its burdens. Regardless of his personal feelings, today he knew it was important to look the part. He would be testifying before the Senate Intelligence Committee, which in turn would recommend to the full Senate that his appointment either be confirmed or shot down. He was reasonably confident things would go smoothly, but saw no reason to leave anything to chance, either.
From beyond the railing to their left, one floor down on the ground level of the eight-story atrium, came the muted cacophony of platoons of cynical lobbyists, exhausted staffers, high school field trippers craning their necks to better take in the wonder of finding themselves surrounded by the marble-clad walls of the World’s Greatest Deliberative Body. They passed the flag-draped entrance to the Senate Committee on Ethics and a long line of ceiling security cameras, then stopped outside 219, the secure room where the committee met to discuss classified matters. Remar checked his watch. Perfect. There was another hearing in 219 that morning, scheduled to finish just before Remar’s began, and Remar wanted to be there when it ended.