The Unseen (36 page)

He turned back toward the shed again and ran as fast as he could, sliding on the ground and crawling behind the shed on all fours.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he replayed the last few seconds in his photographic memory. Where was the shooter? He anayzed the bullet's impact on the lawn, realizing the shot must have come from his left as he ran to the shed.

That meant he could slip around the back of the shed, get a look at the other side. He had a few feet between the shed and the fence, fronted by a hedge that ran down the property line.

He went around the back of the shed, still on his hands and knees, and put his head to the ground so he could see beneath the heavy branches.

About ten yards away, he saw two feet standing behind the hedge. Without waiting, he aimed his gun at the calf of the near leg and squeezed the trigger, then raised the gun a few inches and pulled the trigger again. The silencer did its job, making only a soft
plunk
with each shot.

He saw the legs collapse, and he immediately scrambled beneath the hedge, rising to his feet and squeezing between the fence and the hedge to reach the body lying on the ground.

He had no idea what kind of shells his Bad Twin had loaded into the pistol, but the man's leg had been shattered. The other shot had opened a red hole in the man's side, and he was now crumpled against the chain-link fence, glassy eyes staring at nothing. His pistol was on the ground a few feet away, and his left hand still clutched a two-way radio.

“Kramden,” a voice squawked over the radio. “Kramden, what did you say?” The radio stayed silent for a few seconds, then the message repeated. “Kramden, talk to me.”

Lucas recognized the voice. Hondo.

He quickly snatched the radio, made his voice gruff in hopes of disguising it, and keyed the mike. “Never mind,” he said. “False alarm.”

“Copy.”

Lucas took the two-way and squeezed back beneath the hedge to the rear of the garden shed. Sarea was already there, panting, and a few seconds later, Leila came around the corner.

“Where you been?” Sarea asked. He held up the two-way radio, now squawking with other communications among the Creep Clubbers.

“Let's go,” Leila said, running for the trees. Lucas and Sarea followed, and they scrambled through the cover.

After a couple hundred yards, Lucas stopped and keyed the mike on the two-way again. “We need everyone in the house, now!” he screamed, hoping he sounded authoritative enough. He threw the two-way on the ground behind a small bush and kept running.

Come on, come on, Lucas said to himself. It has to be soon, or they'll figure out what's happening and—

As if on cue, a giant
whoom
sounded behind them. Even behind the tree cover at the distance they were, Lucas felt the heat of the blast, along with a strong shock wave, blow past them. Branches bent and swayed, and leaves began floating down around them as they turned to see the damage.

The house had exploded, he had probably sent twenty people to their deaths, and he didn't regret it in the least.

No, he didn't have a soul.

Several minutes later, they came out of the woods into a small clearing. They found their way to the end of a cul-de-sac with a few large homes surrounding it, bookended by a few open lots with
F
or
S
ale
signs pounded into the bare dirt. A new subdivision.

But it wasn't the subdivision that stopped Lucas. It was the car, a newer black sedan sitting at the end of the cul-de-sac and idling.

No one was inside it.

Leila peered at him. “Looks like the car you brought to the house,” she said.

“Doesn't just look like it. It is,” said Sarea.

“How do you know?” asked Lucas.

She shrugged. “I just know.” She began walking toward it, and Leila followed.

When they reached the car, they checked to make sure it was empty, then climbed in.

“You sure you didn't plan this?” Leila asked from the backseat.

“I didn't,” Lucas said. “But someone did.”

He looked at the clock on the car's dash. By his calculations, he had an hour and change before the manacle on his leg exploded. He wanted to check it, but not in front of Sarea and Leila. They had enough on their plates for right now.

So did he, for that matter.

As they sat in the car, catching their breath, images jumbled in his mind.

(Humpty Dumpty had some great falls.)

“He only had one,” Sarea said.

He turned. “What?”

“Humpty Dumpty only had one great fall,” she said. “You just said, ‘Humpty Dumpty had some great falls.' It's ‘Humpty Dumpty had a great
fall
.' He only fell once.”

“Oh. I . . . didn't know I said it out loud.” But now the words
great
falls
kept sticking in his mind, and they somehow fit something deep inside where his soul should have been.

Great falls.

“So,” Leila said again. “What, pray tell, is our next step?”

Lucas started to speak, but Leila's comment stuck in his mind. Pray tell.

He smiled. “We're going to church.”

THIRTY-FOUR

01:02:59 REMAINING

Back on the interstate, they drove in silence for several miles. Sarea dug in her bag, brought out a pack of cigarettes. She put one in her mouth, offered one to Leila—who accepted it—then tilted the pack toward him.

“I don't smoke,” he said.

“I know,” she answered.

He smiled, took one of the smokes, let Sarea put flame to it with her lighter.

“You wanna tell us what's happening?” Leila finally said from the backseat.

“I'm not quite sure,” he answered.

Sarea looked at him. “Give it a try.”

He smiled. “Okay.”

For the next several minutes, he filled them in on Viktor and Saul, skipping the part about the explosive attached to his leg. No sense adding to their stress.

When he was done, Leila spoke. “What about your ankle? Is it okay?” she asked.

He looked at her in the rearview mirror. Oh yeah—he'd already told Leila about the bomb; he'd forgotten.

“You hurt your ankle?” Sarea asked, sounding concerned.

“Yeah,” he said, glancing at Leila in the back again. “Old injury, but I think it'll hold out another hour.”

Leila dropped the subject.

He wheeled into a convenience store, parked in the front.

“What are you doing?” Sarea asked.

“I just need a coffee or something. Thought you guys might want a quick break too.”

“Good idea,” Leila said.

He caught her gaze in the mirror again.

“Okay,” Sarea said. “Let's make it quick, though.” She opened the door.

“Only thing is,” Lucas said, “no way I can show my face in there, you know? They're looking for me everywhere. So maybe . . . would you mind picking up the coffee for me?”

Sarea studied him for a few seconds, then relented. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I'll get you a coffee. Anything else?”

“No, that should do it.”

Sarea put her foot on the pavement and started to get out of the car.

Lucas grabbed her arm. “And thanks,” he said. “For everything.”

She smiled. “You're welcome. For everything.”

He let go and watched her walk toward the store.

“What about you?” he said to Leila in the backseat.

After a few moments of silence, she spoke. “I understand, Lucas. I had to blow up my past, you have to blow up yours.” She opened the door. “I'll make sure she stays safe,” she said, and then she slid out of the car and walked toward the front door of the store.

He put the car in reverse, backed out of the parking spot, and wheeled out onto the street again.

Humpty Dumpty was heading for his great fall.

00:58:14 REMAINING

Lucas shut off his cell phone, knowing Sarea would try to call. He'd already had his share of trouble from a phone ringing at the wrong time today. He needed time to think, time to make his plan, and the church was the place to do it.

He drove down the interstate, took the exit, and made his way toward the church. After parking several blocks away, he checked the clock on the dash. How much time before the bomb detonated? Less than an hour, for sure. But enough time for a quick good-bye at the church, then maybe try to set up a meeting with Saul or Viktor. Maybe he could take one of them with him.

He walked toward the church, catching a glint of sun as it reflected off the nearby Quonset hut.

He stopped when Viktor stepped out of the front door. Two other men, thick and dark, followed him. One of them was Garlic Breath.

“Ain't like no church I ever saw,” Viktor said when Lucas approached.

“What are you doing here?” Lucas asked.

Viktor paused, looked. “I got your message,” he said.

Lucas stared. He'd left no message, but he had an idea who had.

His Bad Twin. One of them.

“You look disappointed to see me,” Viktor said. “You should be eager to have that clock reset—which I'll be happy to do after our little meeting.”

“Meeting?”

Viktor looked at him, puzzled. “You said you set up a meeting with your backers. Now I'll find out who—” Viktor's gaze caught something over Lucas's shoulder, stopping him in midsentence.

Lucas turned and looked. He was unsurprised to see Saul walking toward them, a briefcase in his hand.

“Let me guess,” Lucas said as Saul approached. “You got my message.”

Saul knotted his brow, looked back at Lucas, staring above his head as usual.
Blink, blink.
“You said to meet you here.” He glanced at Viktor and his men at the front door, just behind Lucas. “These must be the . . . ah . . . the people you were telling me about,” he said.

“This is Viktor Abkin,” Lucas said. “Viktor, meet Saul.”

“Saul? A very Jewish name. You don't look Jewish,” Viktor said.

“And you don't look like you're from Belarus. But that's what your accent tells me.”

Viktor eyed him suspiciously. “Very good. Most just say Russian; you have an ear for regional differences.”

Saul smiled, shrugged. “Comes with the territory. Once had a major interest in Belarus.” He smiled again. “And Russia.”

Saul started to put his hand in his coat, and the two burly men behind Viktor moved for their guns.

“Whoa, whoa, there, cowboys. Just going for my smokes.”

The two relaxed a bit, watching carefully as Saul slipped his hand inside his jacket and retrieved his cigarettes. He shook one into his mouth, offered one to Viktor, who shook his head, and then offered one to Lucas.

“I told you before,” Lucas said, “I don't smoke.”

“Well, no better time to start.”

Lucas smiled. “You know what? You're right.” He took one of the cigarettes from the pack and put it between his lips, then waited as Saul lit it for him.

Saul glanced at Lucas, gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. He started to put his cigarettes back in his jacket pocket, paused, arched his eyebrows at the two men behind Viktor. The two men relaxed, and Saul let his hand disappear into his pocket.

Suddenly his hand reappeared, this time with a gun in it. He shot Viktor and his two henchmen quickly; three shots, three seconds, and it was over.

Immediately, Lucas felt Saul's arm around him, and they were falling through the door as the world around them erupted in gunfire.

Lucas immediately pushed away, rolling to the side and coming out of the roll in a crouch. Saul had shot the other three because they were the most immediate threat, but Lucas knew he had to be next.

He came out of the roll, retrieving his own gun and pointing it toward Saul. Saul pushed himself up on his hands slowly, putting his gun on the floor next to him, making no attempt to use it.

Outside, the gunfire continued; a few stray bullets hit the wall of the church, and one splintered the jamb of the doorway they'd just rolled through.

Saul struggled to a sitting position on the floor, just adjacent to the doorframe. He looked at Lucas, gritting his teeth. “You gonna trust me enough now to tell me where you really got those files?”

Lucas noticed a patch of red spreading beneath Saul's leg. He let his eyes lock with Saul's. “You mean the files that prove you're working with the Chinese Guoanbu?”

Saul smiled. “Shoulda expected. You're new to this game. You don't even know.”

“Know what?”

“Know anything.” Saul spied his recently lit cigarette smoldering on the floor a few feet away, leaned over to retrieve it. He put it between his lips, took a few puffs.

Outside, the gunfire had stopped, and now only echoes rang in Lucas's ears. “Who's out there?” Lucas asked.

Saul smiled. “Maybe no one left, judging from all that shooting.

Guess we'll find out in a few seconds, won't we?”

Moments later, a figure appeared at the door, pointed the gun toward Saul, and fired point-blank. The figure wheeled and pointed his gun at Lucas, smiling.

“Did you miss me?” Donavan asked.

THIRTY-FIVE

00:47:20 REMAINING

Lucas stared in wonder. Donavan, who had been missing since . . . well, since the beginning.

“What . . .” Lucas stammered. But it was all he could get out.

“Quite the surprise, I know,” Donavan said. “But count yourself lucky. You've been part of the perfect operation, Humpty. Or Lucas, I should say. I've known that all along, I should tell you.”

Donavan moved across the floor, keeping the gun pointed at Lucas. “Worked pretty well, don't you think? Stories will be hitting the papers, tying your friend over there to Chinese intelligence sources, and we'll be able to wipe the whole slate clean.”

“What slate?”

“Long story. There's just one loose end to wrap up right now.”