Fatal Strike (McClouds & Friends #10)(31)

“Leah Halpert does not have any vehicles registered in her name, but Jason Halpert of Kolita Springs drives a white 2011 Accura sport utility vehicle.” Con rattled off the license number. “Need backup?”

“Aren’t you guys back up in Seattle by now?”

“Nah. We hung around.” Connor paused, significantly. “We wanted to hook up with you again. See what you’ve got cooking.”

Miles opened his mouth, poised to spill his guts, and paused.

If he pinned down Hu for real, that would be independent confirmation. Solid proof that Lara was almost certainly inside that complex. More solid than head-texts from a dream girl, which still smacked of schizo delusion. He could risk his own life for a schizo delusion, but he’d rather have some harder proof before he proposed risking his friends’ lives. “I don’t have anything solid yet,” he hedged.

“We’re interested in stuff that’s not solid yet, too,” Con said. “Who is this character Hu? Tell me about him.”

“I’ll know more soon,” Miles assured him. “I swear.”

“We’ll be around. We’re still here, at the hotel. Call us. Really.”

“Thanks for the info.” Miles hung up and turned off the phone.

So they’d stayed in Portland for him. Oh, man. Guilt trip.

But he didn’t want company while chasing half-formed hunches. Plus, those guys tended to want to take command, every last one of them. He was un-commandable these days. Better to avoid the strife from the get-go, at least for the next few hours. His friends would have plenty to keep them busy soon enough, God willing. If this was for real.

He started with the big parking garages that Hu might have used, scanning for a white Accura SUV. Who knew if the wife had been admitted already, or if she had yet to arrive? He probably could have teased that out of the database, given more time, but there wasn’t much point in it now. He had nothing better to do, so he cruised the parking lots of the nearby hotels. There seemed to be gazillions of white SUVs, now that he was looking for one. Not a very systematic way to search.

Which was why he was so astonished when he found it.

The Accura was in the parking lot of a mid-level chain motel about thirty blocks from the hospital. It must be psychic magnetism. He was tempted to social engineer himself into the guy’s room right now, and put a gun to his head, but he squelched the urge. That would be stupid and impatient. This was a divine gift. He didn’t dare f*ck it up.

He parked around the corner, and dug into the big box of swag he’d collected over the years from SafeGuard, the McCloud Crowd’s security outfit. He selected a slap-on RF trace and strolled through the motel parking lot, hoping Hu’s car was not alarmed. One swift gesture, and the slap-on was stuck to the undercarriage. No alarm.

He pulled out Tam’s ring, pondering it. What the hell. If ever there was a time for overkill, this was it. He twisted off the stud, shoved it into the Accura’s front right tire. It lodged there, hidden between the treads.

He slumped down in the driver’s seat, and checked for Lara. Eager to tell her his news, like a little kid trolling for approval.

He didn’t feel her in there. still there? he typed.

Nothing. No multimedia message left for him with pictures, either. Huh. She’d said she’d stay. That she could not be pried out.

Maybe she’d been compelled. He distracted himself from that chilling thought by noodling around on the laptop, setting up X-ray specs to follow the trace he’d planted, plugging in the code.

He kept on checking for her, obsessively. Nothing. Even with the shield running full force, he couldn’t block his dismay.

Damn. He missed her.

At ten o’clock P.M., Hu emerged from the back entrance, a woman next to him. He looked just like Lara’s picture. The woman was short, thin, Asian, a braid down her back. Hu pulled a wheeled suitcase.

Miles forced himself to wait as the guy helped his wife into the seat and tossed the bag in back. They pulled out, toward the hospital.

When Hu turned the corner, Miles situated the laptop on the passenger seat, counted down from ten, and pulled out after him.





“You want to dose her now, sir? It’s very early. It’s only been—”

“I am aware of the time, Anabel.” Greaves rattled the ice cubes delicately in his glass of Scotch. “Don’t ask me to repeat myself.”

Anabel just stood there like an idiot. Mouth working.

Greaves let out a little sigh. “Is it Hu?”

“Well, he, ah . . . he drove his wife to the hospital. I urged him to make other arrangements, but he was sure he’d make it back in time.”

Greaves sipped his Scotch, and said nothing.

Anabel hurried on. “He’s been worried about his wife, and he—”

“Don’t make excuses for him. Unless you want me to question your commitment, too. Let us begin without Hu.”

“Ah, well, the problem is actually not, ah . . .” Her eyes darted everywhere but at him. “It’s Lara. She’s, ah . . . she appears to be unconscious. Or in a trance, I should say. I can’t rouse her.”

Greaves was taken aback. “You can’t make telepathic contact?”

“I tried,” Anabel admitted, miserably. “There’s nobody home. It happens sometimes when she’s on psi-max, but she’s never done it to me off-dose before. I just can’t find anything to grab onto.”