The Old Man(76)

“Please don’t push me away,” she said. “I can still be useful. The Spencers live in Toronto, don’t they? When we get there, having a wife will help make your identity more convincing. And we’ll have to find a place to live. I can do that without your ever showing your face.”

“I’ve got a place,” he said. “I rented an apartment about twelve years ago in the name of one of Alan Spencer’s businesses. I rented it because I knew if I needed it I’d be running. The moment when people are hunting for you is never a good time to start searching for a new place to live.”

“That’s pretty smart.”

“It’s only smart if it worked,” he said. “I can’t be absolutely positive that the place hasn’t been discovered or that the Alan Spencer accounts haven’t been found by the NSA with the others. I won’t know that until I get there.”

“Until we get there? Please?”

“Until we get there.” He had done his best to give her a chance. He couldn’t tell her the truth. If she wanted to stay with him he had to keep her feeling safe and optimistic. She would feel better if he let it appear that what they were doing would make them safer and prolong their time together.





26


Julian Carson, Sergeant Wright, and the two army riflemen returned to the cabin late the next morning. They had-been awake for thirty-six hours, and had been outdoors in bitter cold for at least twenty-four. The man who had driven a snowmobile into the old man’s trap and gotten hit in the forehead said he was fine, and he showed no symptoms of a concussion, only a bruise and a cut, but he and the others were exhausted.

When the four came down the hill above the cabin, Julian could see that the two damaged snowmobiles had been loaded on the pickup truck. When he and Wright pulled up in front of the cabin, Wright ordered two of the men who had been stationed in the cabin to return the three snowmobiles to the rental company.

The radio operator was at the door of the cabin when Wright, Julian, and the others went inside. He had been on the radio and the phones for so long that his voice was hoarse. The four men left at the cabin with him had spent much of the night patrolling the area beyond the top of the mountain on foot in the hope that the fugitives might double back.

Staff Sergeant Wright listened to the radio operator’s report, and then began giving the rest of the men their orders. “All right, guys, listen up. We were never here. Wipe down the whole place for fingerprints. Walk it completely to be sure nothing that belongs to us is in the cabin. Lock it up and meet the rest of us down the hill at the condo.”

Wright drove one of the SUVs. Julian sat in the passenger seat, and the two other snowmobilers sat behind them. There were two more men in the third seat. At the condominium Julian had rented, the men climbed the stairs, cleared their weapons and stowed them, removed their winter gear, and found places to lie down—beds, couches, piles of down jackets—and slept.

A few hours later Sergeant Wright was up again and stalking around the condominium waking up his men. When he reached Julian, he said, “I feel as though I ought to apologize to you, Mr. Carson. We didn’t do much to solve your problem.”

“No apology is necessary,” said Julian. “This just wasn’t the old man’s day to get caught.”

They shook hands. “See you next time around.”

Julian nodded, but said nothing more. Within a short time the soldiers had packed up and loaded their gear in their three vehicles. They left in three stages a few minutes apart, trying not to look like what they were.

Instead of checking in with his employers, Julian used his phone to reserve a flight out of the San Bernardino airport for the next morning. He was certain his phone would be monitored, so they would know what he was doing anyway. That evening he walked to the center of the village for dinner. He drove up to the old man’s rented cabin after it was late on the slim chance that he and the woman had sneaked back, and then he returned to the condominium and slept.

The next morning when Julian went to the rental office to return the key, the manager insisted on going back to the condominium with him to inspect it for damage. Julian was not surprised. He occupied his mind with the thought that this man had foolishly assumed a young-looking black man only five feet eight inches tall couldn’t hurt him. He also didn’t know that the men who had cleaned the place were accustomed to making their gear and their dwellings gleam.

When the man declared himself to be satisfied, Julian grabbed his hand before he could anticipate the move or evade him. Julian shook his hand hard and grinned. “I’ll be sure and tell all my friends about this place,” he promised.

Julian flew to Baltimore-Washington International with a stop in Houston. While he was waiting in the George Bush Intercontinental Airport he looked at his phone and saw a confirmation that he had received an electronic transfer for his pay. This time it was from Zinnia’s Baby Services, but the amount was the same as usual.

He rented a car and drove to Fort Meade. He arrived after 9:00 p.m., went to his barracks, cooked himself a frozen dinner in the microwave, and went to bed. The wake-up call came at 7:00 a.m. He showered, shaved, dressed, and packed his bag, and then waited for the knock from the soldier on orderly room duty. He was the same one as last time. They walked together to the same room on the fourth floor of the office building three rows away, and then the orderly knocked, opened the door for him, and went away.