Firestarter(132)

But it was what it was, n'est-ce pas? One way or another they would at least have a run for their money. But that brought him no feeling of forgiveness or understanding for the people who had done this. In finding peace with himself, he had banked the fires of his hate for the faceless bureaucretins who had done this in the name of national security or whatever it was. Only they weren't faceless now: one of them stood before him, smiling and twitching and vacant. Andy felt no sympathy for Cap's state at all.

You brought it on yourself, chum.

"Hello, Andy," Cap said. "All ready?" "Yes," Andy said. "Carry one of my bags, would you?" Cap's vacuity was broken by one of those falsely shrewd glances. "Have you checked them?" he barked. "Checked them for snakes?" Andy pushed-not hard. He wanted to save as much as he could for an emergency.

"Pick it up," he said, gesturing at one of the two suitcases.

Cap walked over and picked it up. Andy grabbed the other one.

"Where's your car?"

"It's right outside," Cap said. "It's been brought around."

"Will anyone check on us?" What he meant was Will anyone try to stop us?

"Why would they?" Cap asked, honestly surprised. "I'm in charge."

Andy had to be satisfied with that. "We're going out," he said, "and we're going to put these bags in the trunk-"

"Trunk's okay," Cap broke in. "I checked it this morning."

"-and then we're going to drive around to the stable and get my daughter. Any questions?"

"No," Cap said.

"Fine. Let's go."

They left the apartment and walked to the elevator. A few people moved up and down the hall on their own errands. They glanced cautiously at Cap and then looked away. The elevator took them up to the ballroom and Cap led the way down a long front hall.

Josie, the redhead who had been on the door the day Cap had ordered A1 Steinowitz to Hastings Glen, had gone on to bigger and better things. Now a young, prematurely balding man sat there, frowning over a computer-programming text. He had a yellow felt-tip pen in one hand. He glanced up as they approached.

"Hello, Richard," Cap said. "Hitting the books?" Richard laughed. "They're hitting me is more like it." He glanced at Andy curiously. Andy looked back noncommittally. Cap slipped his thumb into a slot and something thumped. A green light shone on Richard's console. "Destination?" Richard asked. He exchanged his felt-tip for a ball-point. It hovered over a small bound book. "Stable," Cap said briskly. "We're going to pick up Andy's daughter and they are. going to escape." "Andrews Air Force Base," Andy countered, and pushed. Pain settled immediately into his head like a dull meat cleaver. "Andrews AFB," Richard agreed, and jotted it into the book, along with the time. "Have a good day, gentlemen."

They went out into breezy October sunshine. Cap's Vega was drawn up on the clean white crushed stone of the circular driveway. "Give me your keys," Andy said. Cap handed them over, Andy opened the trunk, and they stowed the luggage. Andy slammed the trunk and handed the keys back. "Let's go."

Cap drove them on a loop around the duckpond to the stables. As they went, Andy noticed a man in a baseball warmup jacket running across to the house they had just left, and he felt a tickle of unease. Cap parked in front of the open stable doors.

He reached for the keys and Andy slapped his hand lightly. "No. Leave it running. Come on." He got out of the car. His head was thudding, sending rhythmic pulses of pain deep into his brain, but it wasn't too bad yet. Not yet.

Cap got out, then stood, irresolute. "I don't want to go in there," he said. His eyes shifted back and forth wildly in their sockets. "Too much dark. They like the dark. They hide. They bite."

"There are no snakes," Andy said, and pushed out lightly. It was enough to get Cap moving, but he didn't look very convinced. They walked into the stable.

For one wild, terrible moment Andy thought she wasn't there. The change from the light to shadow left his eyes momentarily helpless. It was hot and stuffy in here, and something had upset the horses; they were whinnying and kicking at their stalls. Andy could see nothing.

"Charlie?" he called, his voice cracked and urgent. "Charlie?"

"Daddy!" she called, and gladness shot through him-gladness that turned to dread when he heard the shrill fear in her voice. "Daddy, don't come in! Don't come-"

"I think it's a little late for that," a voice said from somewhere overhead.

10

"Charlie," the voice had called down softly. It was somewhere overhead, but where? It seemed to come from everywhere.

The anger had gusted through her-anger that was fanned by the hideous unfairness of it, the way that it never ended, the way they had of being there at every turn, blocking every lunge for escape. Almost at once she felt it start to come up from inside her. It was always so much closer to the surface now... so much more eager to come bursting out. Like with the man who had brought her over. When he drew his gun, she had simply made it hot so he would drop it. He was lucky the bullets hadn't exploded right inside it.

Already she could feel the heat gathering inside her and beginning to radiate out as the weird battery or whatever it was turned on. She scanned the dark lofts overhead but couldn't spot him. There were too many stacks of bales. Too many shadows.