Tailspin(81)

Rye tensed up, the change in him drastic enough for Brynn to feel. Jake kept talking. “I flew C-130s in and out of Bagram. Troops. Pallets of water. Jeeps. You name it. Didn’t fly into the worst of the shit like you did, but I heard all the stories. Never thought I’d get to meet you.”

Rye turned his head away and looked out the window, saying in a subdued voice, “Thanks for your help tonight.”

“No problem. I consider it an honor.”

The airport traffic was more congested than usual, but Jake inched his car toward the curb, then lurched into a space left by a departing minivan. Rye opened the back seat door on the passenger side. “Don’t bother getting out, Jake. We need to hustle.”

“Understood.” Seeing that Rye was about to remove the ball cap and give it back, he said, “Keep it, but I would like to shake your hand.” He stuck out his hand over the seat back.

Rye reached forward and they shook.

Jake said, “There’s not a flyer in the world who wouldn’t understand how you felt. Also not one in the world who wouldn’t buy you a beer. In a heartbeat.”

Rye held his gaze for several beats, then said brusquely, “Take care of yourself.”

Brynn scooted over and got out. Rye shut the car door, tapped the roof twice, and Jake drove away.

The encounter had started and ended with such abruptness, it seemed surreal, but Brynn knew that the parting exchange between the two men had been significant to each of them. Brynn wished she could ask Rye about it, but this wasn’t the time or place.

Police were everywhere.

Fortunately the officers were overwhelmed by the motor and pedestrian traffic and were industriously keeping it under some semblance of control. Trying not to draw attention to themselves, she and Rye joined the taxi line, shuffling forward a few feet at a time.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“You were eager to wash your hands of me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me, too.”

“I could still rent a car and drive myself to Knoxville.”

“You could. And watch for Goliad and Timmy to show up in the rearview mirror. Or, because you’d be on the lookout for them, it would probably be a pair of new players. You wouldn’t see them coming before it was too late.”

“The Hunts wouldn’t order my execution, Rye.”

He snickered. “For what’s inside your coat pocket? Get real, Brynn. Young women disappear all the time. You’d be publicly mourned by Lambert, but he would console himself with his influx of cash. Hunt would have his GX-42, and your life would be written off as a small cost of doing business.”

“That’s cynical.”

“That’s life. Bad guys thrive. Good ones die.”

She wondered if he was referring to war buddies. “Who, specifically?”

“Let’s hope not Brady White.”

Heeding Jake’s advice, he wasn’t wearing his jacket, but he patted down one of the pockets and took out his cell phone. He asked Siri for a number and had her call it for him. Brynn listened in.

“Howardville Community Hospital. How may I direct your call?”

“I’m a friend of Brady White’s. I heard he’d taken a downturn. Can you give me an update on his condition, please?”

“I’ll connect you to the OR. You can speak to the charge nurse.”

“He’s in surgery?”

“If…if you’ll hold, sir, I’ll check to see what his status is. Please stay on the line.”

Rye disconnected and said to Brynn, “This morning the lady in the ER wouldn’t tell me anything. This one tried to keep me on the line. Which means they’re tracing the calls.”

“At least we know Brady is still alive.”

“That’s something. That’s huge. But we still have the problem of getting you to Violet.”

“I’m open to ideas.”

“First, we acquire new phones.” With sleight of hand, he silenced the phone he’d just used and dropped it into a nearby trash can. “Sooner or later that number will be attributed to me by the Howardville SO. Which means it will be fed to Wilson and Rawlins, and they’ll share it with the Atlanta PD. If they track it, they’ll be looking for me here, while I’m somewhere else. If I can get this frigging line moving.”

He looked toward the front of it, as though calculating how long it would be until their turn. He was still wearing the ball cap, which kept anyone except Brynn from seeing how his eyes were constantly sweeping the crowded area, looking for a sign that they’d been spotted by someone in uniform.

“What are you thinking of doing?” she asked. “Returning to the hotel?”

He shared his concerns about security cameras getting the license plate number of the Uber car they’d taken from the garage to the hotel. “But I don’t have a choice except to go back. I left my flight bag behind.”

He gauged the length of the line again. “We’re sitting ducks here. What we really need to do is scare up some wheels. We got lucky with Jake, but guardian angels don’t come around that often, and using taxis and hiring cars is risky.

“Do you know anyone who would lend you a car on short notice, late on Thanksgiving night, without asking too many questions? Someone you trust? Fellow doctor? A girlfriend? Boyfriend?”