The Rescue(9)

“You okay?” she said.

“Not even close,” he said, squeezing the crumpled cup in his hand. “So where do we go from here?”

“That depends on you,” she said. “How far do you want to take this?”

“All the way.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. The first thing we need to do is get you out of here alive.”

“Sounds like you already have a plan.”

“I wouldn’t call it a plan.” Harlow removed a black nylon kit from her backpack. “I haven’t ironed out many of the details.” She pushed the football-size kit into his lap. “Keep that out of sight and grab a stall in the bathroom after I leave. The contents should be self-explanatory. Put on the gloves first, for obvious reasons.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Out there,” she said. “To even the odds.”

“You don’t have to do this for me,” said Decker. “Seriously.”

“Can I be really honest with you for a second?”

“Shoot.”

“I want you to see your daughter again,” she said. “But I also want these monsters to pay for what they did, and what they’ll keep on doing unless someone stops them. I’m going to need your help with that.”

“Sounds like our goals are aligned—for now,” said Decker.

“Don’t linger in the bathroom,” she said before leaving.

Decker waited another minute before heading into the bathroom. Miraculously, the single stall was unoccupied. He locked the door and quickly took a seat on the toilet, unzipping the kit she’d given him. The contents made him smile.

The first thing he removed was a pair of tight, skin-colored gloves, which he slipped over his hands, followed by a well-worn Glock nine-millimeter pistol with a threaded barrel. Not believing the threaded barrel was a coincidence, he reached into the bag and retrieved a six-inch cylindrical suppressor.

“Harlow Mackenzie. Who are you?” he mumbled before screwing the suppressor onto the barrel.

Further digging revealed five magazines for the pistol and a wireless communications kit. He inserted one of the magazines in the pistol, chambering a round by pulling the slide back and letting it slam forward. The other magazines disappeared into his pockets. A quick look at the communications rig revealed that it was ready for immediate use. Decker pushed the translucent earpiece into his ear and clipped the microphone to his collar. The compact transceiver went in his front trouser pocket. She’d thought of everything.

“Mackenzie. You there?” he said, assuming the rig was voice activated.

“I’m here,” she said. “Along with another member of my firm, so don’t freak out if you hear another voice.”

“I’m not prone to freaking out,” he said. “I assume the pistol is a throwaway?”

“It’s clean if you need to toss it,” she said. “But I don’t anticipate you using it.”

“I guess that depends on what we’re up against. What are we looking at?”

A long pause ensued. “It’s going to take a miracle to get you out of here.”





CHAPTER SIX

Harlow walked inside a sandal shop two doors down from the café and opened her backpack, removing a pair of pants and a hat.

“Can I help you?” said a middle-aged woman behind the counter.

“Quick wardrobe change,” she said. “Trying to ditch my boyfriend. I just broke up with him.”

“Okaaaay,” said the woman, stepping out from behind the counter. “Just keep the merchandise out of your backpack, please.”

“Feel free to keep an eye on me,” said Harlow, pulling a pair of baggy tan drawstring pants over her tight yoga outfit.

“Don’t worry,” said the woman, stopping several feet away and crossing her arms. “I will.”

“How are we doing, Katie?” said Harlow.

“Excuse me?” said the shop owner.

“Talking to someone else,” said Harlow.

The woman looked around before raising her eyebrows. “Maybe it’s time for you to move along.”

“I’ll be out of here in ten seconds,” said Harlow. “Katie?”

“Who’s Katie?”

“Imaginary friend of mine,” said Harlow, swapping her olive-drab baseball hat for a pink Dodgers cap.

She took off her studio wrap, stuffing it in the backpack along with the hat. A quick change to throw off surveillance, just in case she had attracted any attention. Her plan depended on the element of surprise—and Katie, who was more than capable of delivering.

“I’m all set,” said her assistant. “Primary vehicle is in the parking garage. Second level. Take an immediate left out of the stairwell. You’ll see it.”

“All right. Stay sharp. We’re working with a really small margin of error here,” said Harlow.

“That’s what you always say.”

“This time I actually mean it.”

“I guarantee there will be no margin,” interrupted Decker.

“Just be careful,” said Harlow. “I have a really bad feeling about this crew.”

“They’ll never know I was there,” said Katie.