I’d told Parker what we were driving and we’d parked up out of the way to wait. Eventually, we spotted him behind the wheel of a nondescript silver five-year-old Toyota Camry. He did a slow circuit of the car park, showing himself to us, before pulling up. Sean restarted the engine and maneuvered the pickup in alongside him.
Parker had dressed down in jeans and a Tommy Hilfiger stripe shirt, worn with the collar open so it looked natural to have the tails out. As he walked round the back of the car to join us, a Honda Integra on big chrome wheels pulled in about a hundred meters away. Part of me half-expected someone like the young Canadian, Joe McGregor, to be driving the second car. Instead, it was Nick who climbed out and gave us a sketchy, self-conscious wave.
Sean merely raised an eyebrow at Parker’s unusual choice of traveling companion. Parker gave him a look that said clearly, don’t ask.
My mother got out of the pickup with her arms out, ready to embrace her savior. Parker ignored her. He was wearing sunglasses, but I could tell that his eyes were everywhere.
“Get your gear into the trunk of the Camry,” he said. “Do it now.”
Chastened, my parents began transferring luggage. Despite the size of my mother’s suitcase, it didn’t take long. Sean’s and my squashy bags fitted in round the others, tight but snug.
When we were loaded, Parker installed my parents in the rear seat, got back into the Camry again and sedately drove it over to join the Integra. Sean and I gave the pickup a quick once-over, wiped down the obvious touch points, locked it up and walked away from it, towards the Camry. We walked away quickly, I noticed, without looking back—as though the Ford were going to start whining like an abandoned dog.
By the time we’d rejoined him, Parker was back out from behind the wheel and standing by the driver’s window. He stood, I noticed, casually relaxed with his hip turned side on to the car, not obviously using it for cover but using it just the same. He handed over the keys, jerked his head towards the interior.
“There’s five grand in cash in the glove compartment,” he said. “A couple of boxes of ammo, and two clean pay-as-you-go cell phones. But don’t use them unless you have to—that goes as much for the hollow-points as it does for the Motorolas.”
“Parker, we’re not exactly virgins at this,” I said mildly.
He smiled just a little, shrugged. “Better to tell you and risk offense, than not tell you and risk blowing the whole thing to hell and back.”
“Speaking of which—what’s he doing here?” Sean asked quietly, nodding in the direction of Nick, who was hurrying to join us.
“He got me the car,” Parker admitted. “Belongs to his sister. She’s out of town for another month—Europe. Besides, the Camry’s the most common car on the road. You couldn’t blend in better if you tried.”
“My sister’s a real motorhead,” Nick said, enthusiastic. “It’s got the V-six under the hood, in case you need to make a run for the border.” He suddenly realized what he’d said and his face fell comically. “Uh, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”
I didn’t like to point out that running from someone with Collingwood’s resources was one car chase destined to be over very quickly. Instead, I offered him my hand.
“Thanks, Nick,” I said with a warmth I didn’t have to fake. “Good job.”
He grinned at me. Still a big adventure for him, I saw. Wait till the first time you get blood on your hands—either literally or metaphorically. See how much of a game you think it is then.
Last thing, Parker handed over a scrap of paper. “I’ve set up temporary e-mail addresses for both of us,” he said. “This is yours, and the password. Might be easier sometimes to use that than to phone. Any intel I can dig out for you—on Storax or this O’Loughlin character you mentioned—I’ll send.”
“Parker, you’re a wonder,” I murmured, studying the random series of numbers and letters that made up the e-mail address. “At the moment, it’s a toss-up whether I want to adopt you or have your children.”
He lifted an eyebrow, smiled a little and gave me a firm handshake, the same for Sean. “I’d settle for you straightening this mess out and getting back to work,” he said.
“One more favor,” Sean said. “When Vondie’s crew jumped us, we were on our way back to see Jeremy Lee’s widow, Miranda. We haven’t been able to raise her since. Can you look into it for us? Check she’s okay?”
Parker nodded, climbed into the passenger seat of Nick’s Integra. “I find out anything, I’ll e-mail.” He slammed the door and dropped the window. “Make sure you get receipts for what you spend,” he warned. “The five grand’s for expenses—it’s not a bonus, okay?”
We watched them pull out of the parking area and get back onto the highway before we climbed into the Camry, my parents still in the rear seat and Sean behind the wheel. It was clean and remarkably free from clutter inside. Nick’s sister had a vanilla-scented air freshener hanging in front of one of the vents on the dashboard. I unhooked it and dropped it into the ashtray, which was part full of spare change.
When I checked the glove box, I found the money Parker had promised, in bundles of mixed-denomination used bills, held together with an elastic band. A brand-new-looking road map of America was tucked down the side of my seat. It was nice to work for a man who thought of everything.
Sean started the motor. The V-6 sounded polite rather than powerful. Parker must have filled up not long before he met us because the needle on the fuel gauge canted well to the right. Sean adjusted the driving position and glanced over his shoulder.
“So,” he said. “Now we have clean transport, the question is, where do we go—apart from anywhere the hell away from here?”
“Houston,” my father said, surprising me with the immediacy of his response. “It’s where Storax have their U.S. headquarters and, as they seem to be at the center of this, it’s where I should imagine we’ll find some answers.”
“Do you have any idea of how far it is to Texas?” Sean asked. “Or how long it will take us to get there?”
“No,” my father said, unashamed. “Do you?”
“Roughly two thousand miles,” Sean said without a blink. “That works out to the best part of two days’ solid driving—if we don’t want the luxury of stopping to sleep.”
My father gave him his most arrogant surgeon’s stare. “We’d best make a start, then, don’t you think?”
We drove southwest, out of Massachusetts, down through Connecticut and slipped across the corner of New York state bypassing the city itself. A few hours later we were passing Scranton, Pennsylvania. The Camry wasn’t exactly the rocket ship Nick had boasted, but it had cruise and air con and allowed us to make competent, inconspicuous progress.
We rolled on, mile after mile of undulating freeway, rocked by mammoth trucks that gained on us with relentless ease in the gathering dark, like supertankers crossing the English Channel.
Just after midnight, we hit Harrisburg and crossed the Susquehanna River. As oncoming headlights raked the interior, I glanced back and found my parents soundly asleep. My father had taken off his jacket and was using it as a blanket for my mother, who had curled up over the center armrest, her lips slightly parted as she slept, face pillowed on her hands like a praying child. My father had draped his arm across her shoulders, his head lolling sideways against the door glass. He was going to wake up with a hell of a stiff neck.
“They okay?” Sean asked, keeping his voice low.
“Out of it. How about you?”