Tailspin(103)

“Do you think—”

“I don’t know, but if I’m detained, for any reason, in any way, you run to Wes’s car and head for Tennessee.”

“I can’t leave you.”

“You can. You will. You’ve got to get to Violet. If you don’t, everything we’ve been through won’t count for shit. You’ve got to make it, Brynn.”

A protest was forming on her lips. He stopped it with a quick but potent kiss, then repeated, “You’ve got to make it.”

Gazing into his eyes, she nodded with full understanding.

He checked the peephole, then opened the door, and, pulling her along behind him, turned to his left.

He ran smack into Goliad. Rather, into the bore of Goliad’s pistol.

6:47 a.m.



The man had to have been hiding in the recess between the door of their room and the one next to it. He was alone. Rye asked, “Where’s your buddy? The one who kept vigil?”

“I sent him on his way, figuring you wouldn’t come out as long as he was there.”

“Smart.” Then, in as droll a tone as Rye could muster, he said, “You had just as well put the gun away. You’re not going to shoot me.”

“I’d be doing the world a huge favor.”

Rye chuckled. “Couldn’t agree with you more. But you don’t know which one of us has what you came after.”

That gave Goliad pause.

Rye cocked his eyebrow. “See? You shoot one of us and grab the other, you may be grabbing the wrong one. In which case, you’ve got a body that you have to take time to search, while whichever one of us you didn’t shoot is raising a hue and cry. In a hotel overflowing with potential witnesses. Security cameras all over the place.”

Rye shook his head. “Outcome of that scenario is capture and life in prison for you. It’s the same dilemma you faced in the cabin, except that this is more problematic. You don’t have your sidekick, and there are seven stories between you and escape. No, Goliad, you’re too smart and careful to do something dumb like that.

“You would be identified within minutes. In no time, your connection to the Hunts would be discovered, and then you’d really be screwed in any number of ways, and I can think of a dozen without even trying very hard. But the first of them is that killing me won’t guarantee that you’ll obtain the life-extending elixir for the senator, which is what they sent you to do, and I don’t think they would forgive a fuckup of that scope.”

Rye eyed him steadily. Goliad’s obsidian eyes didn’t blink. Rye said, “The real reason I know that you won’t shoot either of us? If you were going to, you would have by now.”

He knew better than to credit himself with talking Goliad out of shooting him. Goliad had realized the difficulties involved even before Rye had rattled them off to him. So, no, he didn’t fire the pistol, but neither did he pack it away.

He turned it on Brynn. “Where’s the stuff?”

Before she could answer, Rye said, “One more thing. Another deterrent that you should think about.”

Goliad looked at him.

All glibness gone, Rye said, “If you hurt her, I will kill you, and I don’t care how many witnesses there are.”

Goliad’s eyes narrowed fractionally, but he shifted his gaze back to Brynn. “Your boyfriend here, I had just as soon see dead. But I don’t want this to end badly for you, because you seem like a caring lady, and I admire that.”

“Thank you.”

“Just give me the drug, I leave, you go on about your business.”

“The drug is my business.”

“And this is mine,” he said, tightening his grip on the pistol.

She drew a steadying breath. “You know that Senator Hunt has much more time. The progression of his cancer—”

“I don’t make these choices.”

“But you should,” she stressed. “Did you watch the news story about Violet? If so, you saw how temporary she is. This is her only hope.”

“Give me the drug.”

He spoke with the slow, precise emphasis that Rye associated with him. The Hunts’ stranglehold on him was unassailable. It superseded compassion and human decency, perhaps even his own moral convictions. Regardless of how passionate and persuasive Brynn’s appeal, this man wasn’t going to be swayed.

She looked at Rye as though asking what she should do. He blinked in a way that said, Better hand it over.

To Goliad she said, “It’s in my coat pocket. Don’t shoot me for reaching for it.”

He gave a nod, then held up a hand to halt her. “You,” he said to Rye, “move back ten feet, put your bag on the floor, turn around and raise your jacket and shirttail.”

“You think I’m carrying? What would be the point? I haven’t replaced the clip you took.”

“Now, Mallett.”

Rye looked at the other man with consternation, but did as told, and showed Goliad his waistband all the way around. When they were facing again, Goliad told him to keep his hands up and away from his body, which he did.

Goliad made a motion to Brynn, who unzipped her coat pocket, and took out the bubble-wrapped package. “It’s sensitive to light and heat, and any exposure to bacteria would be—”