Diablo Mesa(86)

“You shot the weapon out of his hands?”

“Sure did. Took off a finger, too, I hope. That dirty little trick answered our question about his sincerity and patriotism—the bastard.” He tossed the mangled gun aside and passed her the other one.

At that moment, another figure emerged from the gloom—Skip Kelly, walking toward them none too steadily, holding his head.

“What happened?” he asked stupidly. “What was all that noise?”

“The big noise was you crashing the chopper we were all riding in,” Watts told him. “The little noise was a gunfight I just had with Lime.”

“Corrie’s boss? Get him?”

“Not as thoroughly as I would have liked. Hopefully he’s somewhere, bleeding out.”

As Watts was speaking, he seemed to notice something over Skip’s shoulder. With a curse, he darted toward the still-burning chopper. For a moment, his form was obscured by smoke. Then he emerged again with something in his hand.

“My silver-belly Resistol!” he cried, brandishing his expensive cowboy hat—half of its brim scorched away and a burnt hole in its crown. “God damn it!” Watts turned the ruined hat over and over in his hands. Corrie had never seen him so upset. With another curse, he screwed it onto his head.

“I’m going to climb that little hill, see where we are,” he announced.

As he walked off, Corrie ejected the magazine of Lime’s weapon, checked it, reseated it, and snugged the gun into her holster. It was a Glock 19 identical to her own.

Watts returned from the rise.

“Where are we?” Skip asked.

“Pershing’s about a mile north.”

“We’ve got to get away from this crash site,” Corrie said. “They’re bound to send people here, to find out what happened.”

“And drones,” Skip said. “Listen.”

Corrie could hear a distant sound, like a swarm of bees, getting louder by the second. There were no lights in the sky, and she could see nothing but stars.

“Flatten against the rocks,” she said.

The others did as the sound grew louder still. A moment later, a pair of blacked-out drones appeared, circling the burning wreck several times before separating, the muffled sounds of their engines heading in opposite directions.

The three looked at each other.

“So what do we do?” Watts asked.

“We go to Pershing,” said Skip. “My sister is there.”

“That’s suicide,” Watts said.

“They’ve got my sister.”

“We need to get the hell out of here and call in the cavalry,” Watts said.

“How?” Skip asked fiercely. “We’re forty miles from the nearest town. It’d take days to reach even a traveled road. We’ve got no water, no food. And they know we’re out here—or will know, soon enough. They’re going to find us for sure.”

“I’m with Skip,” Corrie said. “Going to Pershing is the last thing they’d expect.”

A silence settled. Finally, Watts nodded. “If we’re going to do that, we’ll need a plan—and we’ll need to execute it while we’ve still got the cover of darkness.”

“First, let’s get away from this crash site,” said Corrie. “Before their cavalry arrives.”

“They’re already on the way,” said Watts as the throbbing sound of rotors—much deeper this time—began to emerge out of the sky.





57



IN THE STERILE, rudely furnished cell, it seemed to Nora that she sat next to Tappan for an age: in silence, her mind in turmoil, trying to make sense of everything, figure out what to do. In the wide corridors beyond their windowless door, it had been almost as silent, except for the rare tramping of feet.

“Lucas,” she said at last. Her own voice sounded strange after long silence.

Tappan, on the bunk beside her, didn’t answer.

“Lucas,” she said again. “I’ve been thinking.”

Then, turning to look at him, she stopped. The entrepreneur seemed frozen: staring ahead but not seeing, a faraway look in his eyes.

She reared back, cocked one fist, then hit him on the arm.

“Whoa!” he cried as he sat up, massaging his arm. “What was that for?”

“You were lost in thought. I needed to get your attention.”

He glowered at her, one half of his visage crusted with dried blood, looking as two-faced as Janus. “Well, you didn’t need to give me a hematoma in the process.”

“You can fire me later. Tell me: What have you been thinking about?”

He paused, still massaging his arm. “That this is my fault. I’ve been so blinded by our progress, and by my success throwing money at a problem until it goes away, that I didn’t see the warning signs.”

“What warning signs?”

“The early pushback that suddenly went away. The disappearance of Bitan.” Tappan shook his head. “The conspiracy theorists were right all along. There was a cover-up, even worse than anyone imagined. I should have expected a reaction like this.”

“Well, since we’re in the belly of the beast, we’d better figure out what we’re going to do.”