by Scott Blade
"You sound like you're ready to give up."
Gray turned away from him and stared out the window at the rain. Her movements were big and dramatic as if she was performing. Widow started to wonder what she was doing.
She said, "What if they're watching us?"
"They are watching us."
"I'm serious! What if they go after Aker's kids again or one of us?"
"That scares you?"
"I'm not scared of anything."
Widow believed her.
Gray looked into his eyes and lipped something to him, which took him off guard. He stared at her lips, not reading them, just seeing them. They were full and red with white teeth underneath. He remembered she had a great smile.
She poked at his chest and lipped, "Widow! Pay attention!"
He nodded.
She lipped, "The phone they gave you."
Widow had forgotten about it. His eyebrows rose, and he reached into the pocket of his Havelock and came out with the burner phone. He showed it to Gray.
He lipped to her, "It's the phone from them."
Gray lipped back, "Might be bugged?"
Widow took it into the palm of his hand and examined it. He flipped it from side to side. Then he eased the battery cover off the back and studied it.
He returned the cover.
Widow said, "It's not bugged. But they could be tracing it. I bet they are. A cheap phone like this is a great decoy for having some kind of GPS app downloaded onto it."
Gray poked at his chest again and said, "That's why I was doing all that! Didn't you pick up on my signals?"
"No. Guess I'm rusty."
"At least now we know they're not watching us, but tracking us."
"You had me going. I really thought you were throwing in the towel."
"No way! These assholes killed one of our own! Plus, they're threatening two innocent little girls! I say we take them down."
Widow asked, "Dead or alive?"
"I prefer alive, but I'm not going to cry over dead."
He said, "Call Cameron. Let's get back on track."
"What do I tell her?"
"Tell her we're getting lost for a while. They'll track me, but they can't watch us in the flesh if we're not here. We need to get away from their boots on the ground. Throw them off."
"Where are we going?"
"I need to show a big sign that I'm leaving town. Let them think we're walking away."
"So? Where are we going?"
Widow looked at the clock on the dashboard. They had a booked flight to Hawaii. They weren't going to make it, not even with Gray's Formula One racecar skills.
"We can't fly. Not out of here. They'll suspect something. Plus, they can check the flight destinations. And I thought of something else."
"What?"
"The case file said that Cho's parents lived in Los Angeles, and Shore's are in Hawaii. We should talk with both. We need flights to LA, and then we can get one to Hawaii from there."
Gray said, "We should rent a car from LAX and drive down to San Diego since we're going to be there."
"Why?"
"The agents who worked Cho's murder case are out of San Diego. Remember? We should talk to them in person. I can set it all up. But what about you? What about now?"
Widow said, "We'll split up for now. Take me to a Greyhound station. From there, I'll call you on Aker’s phone and give you a different airport for us to fly out of."
Gray nodded and pulled out her phone. She googled Greyhound stations in the area and set her map app to give verbal directions. She flipped on her signal and merged into traffic.
Within twenty minutes, they pulled into a bus depot. Gray parked the car in a drop-off lane, and they both got out. Gray left the engine running. She walked around the nose of the car and met Widow halfway. The rain pounded down on their heads.
Gray said, "Goodbye, Widow."
She said it loud like an announcement and then she did something unexpected. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
She whispered, "In case they're watching now."
Widow knew the odds of them tailing her and watching them now was almost zero, but he didn't complain. He hugged her back. He wrapped his arms around her, swallowing her up. He stayed gentle. As tough as she was, she was tiny compared to him. He was afraid to squeeze hard. He was afraid he might crush her.
Gray let go and backed away and smiled. She waved at him as she got back in the car and drove off, leaving him to buy a ticket and get on a bus. He considered his choices and picked Atlanta.
Widow bought the ticket and waited. When they called his bus, he took one last look around and boarded the bus.
Thirty-Nine
The odds that Widow’s enemies were watching were almost zero, but not quite zero. At the same moment that Gray was hugging Widow goodbye, a black Escalade with tinted windows pulled up into a good perch in a parking garage across the street from the Greyhound bus depot. The engine hummed, the tires swelled, and the sounds of the rain pounding on concrete echoed all around them.
Inside the Escalade, Sathers and the guy with the forgettable face stared through the windshield and through the rain and down two floors to the Greyhound bus depot.
They followed far behind the GPS signal from the burner phone that Widow had in his pocket. While Widow and Gray were parked on the side of the freeway, they’d had the opportunity to get closer, which they did, but they had to pass them at one point. They were afraid of being spotted, but then, as if the heavens were on their side, it started pouring rain. They passed them on the freeway, while they were parked, and managed to go unseen by blending in with a cluster of cars and the advantage of the gray sky and the rain. They took the next turnoff and turned around and doubled back from the other direction. Following the GPS led them to arrive in the parking garage across the street just as Widow and Gray were hugging in the rain in front of the NCIS Charger.
They watched the targets hug. Then they watched Gray get back in her car and pull away.
Sathers asked, “Should we stay with her?”
“No. Let her go. We can’t keep following a federal agent around. She’s bound to make us, and then she’ll have her probable cause to justify investigating further. Plus…” the guy with the forgettable face paused and smiled and said, “we know where she lives.”
“What about Widow?”
“He won’t be coming back. I think he got the message.”
“What if he didn’t?”
“He did. I saw it on his face.”
“What if he was faking it?”
“You don’t think I can see when someone’s lying to me?”
“Haspman swore not to tell. Look at what he did.”
The guy with the forgettable face stared at Sathers with a flattened smile. He didn’t say it, but his subordinate had a good point.
Sathers asked, “Didn’t he use to lie to his SEAL teammates? Part of his being an undercover rat? Which means he must be an expert liar.”
The guy with the forgettable face thought for a moment. He stroked his chin with his fingers.
He said, “You’d better get on the bus with him. Just to be sure.”
“Get on the bus?”
“Yeah. He’s never seen you. Just stay back. Hang tight. Make sure he stays gone.”
“Want me to retire him?”
The guy paused a second to think it over.
“If you get the chance, take it at a rest stop or bus transfer. Get him alone and take him out. But if you don’t get the chance and he gets off the bus at his final destination, and you think he’s going about his merry way, let him go. We don’t need more of a body trail.”
“Sure thing.”
Sathers grinned and brandished his Glock 34. He racked the slide and chambered a bullet. He repocketed the weapon. He turned to the guy with the forgettable face and nodded. Then he got out of the Escalade and shut the door.
The guy with the forgettable face got out
after him, walked around the back of the truck, and got in the driver’s seat. He waited and watched Widow buy a bus ticket. Then Widow walked over to the platform and took a seat on a bench.
Thirty seconds later, the guy with the forgettable face saw Sathers down below on the street. He crossed with his hands in his pockets, just a guy crossing the street. He watched Sathers walk past Widow. Then Sathers went to the bus depot counter to purchase a ticket. He pointed at the platform where Widow was seated like he was asking the attendant, “What bus is loading up there?”
Then Sathers bought a ticket and casually found a place to sit far from Widow, but kept him in view.
Twenty-three minutes later, the guy with the forgettable face watched both men get on a bus to Atlanta.
Widow boarded the Greyhound bus and did something he hardly ever did when given the choice. He took a seat just past the middle of the bus. He sat at a window seat halfway between the middle of the bus and the rear tire. He sat in front of an older couple, which was on purpose. He wanted to know who was directly behind him.
He said hello to them both and smiled. His smile was returned warmly with a pair of smiles from both.
The bus loaded nearly full in no time at all, but the driver had set parameters as to how long he had to wait before the final boarding call. It was a good thing he did wait until the end of his parameters because right before he boarded and closed the doors, one final passenger got on the bus.
Widow watched a man step onto the bus. It wasn’t the BAM guy. He knew that. But it was an associate of his. He knew that too. For any good Special Forces operator, the giveaway wasn’t subtle at all. This didn’t tell Widow that the guy wasn’t any good at what he did. It just told him the man didn’t care if Widow spotted him or not. Plus the guy was most likely under the impression that Widow wasn’t expecting him to get on the bus. So why would he even be looking for anyone to be following him?
He was both portly and muscular. He was built somewhere between Mr. Universe and an oil drum. He was closer to the oil drum. The guy had a cue ball head, completely bald, whether from shaving it or an unlucky draw of the genetic lottery, was unclear.
The guy wore black canvas pants and a dark button-down shirt under a gray bomber jacket. He might’ve been older than Widow by a little or by a lot. It was hard to tell because he had that rough, weathered look on his face, which could mean a younger man with plenty of rough-life experience or an older man with the same.
He had broad shoulders like tire wells. He was shorter than Widow, maybe by just two inches.
At first, the guy boarded the bus and swiveled his head from left to right like he was seeking out someone in particular.
Widow stared out the window. He was just a rider minding his own business, eager to get the show on the road. But he felt the guy’s eyes find their target—him. He felt the guy stop searching halfway back as soon as he saw Widow seated.
Widow saw out of the corner of his eye as the guy slowed his pace and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He sailed past Widow and took a seat near the back of the bus.
Widow had taken a slight risk by allowing the guy to sit behind him, out of his view, but he figured the guy wasn’t going to make a move on a bus in broad daylight with dozens of witnesses.
The bald guy’s seat was a few rows behind Widow.
Widow shifted in his seat and leaned his head against the window. Once the bus left the depot and started its trek down to Atlanta, he closed his eyes and went into a deep nap.
Forty
Widow woke several hours later to witness the bus slow and pull off the freeway. It exited an off-ramp and circled behind a long service drive until it came up along the back of a truck stop. Dozens of tractor trails were parked in the rear. Some were way off to the back of the lot and some were lined up to pump gas.
The truck stop was a chain thing; he recognized the name. Attached to the gas station section were a small convenience store and a diner. The diner was also a name-brand chain that Widow recognized.
The bus driver pulled alongside the main building and parked the bus. He stood up from his captain’s chair and announced a thirty-minute break. It was just enough time to grab a bite to eat and hit the bathroom. He made a point to mention that the bus was leaving in thirty minutes on the dot and wouldn’t wait.
The other passengers got up and started slowly moving to the front and unloading. Most of them just stretched their legs. Some headed straight to the toilets. Some pulled out snacks and ate them outside, staying near the bus. Others went to get coffee, and a few took the chance to grab a bite to eat at the diner.
Widow waited for his neighbor to get up and head out. Then he stood up, stepped out into the aisle, and stretched his legs.
The older couple sitting behind him were slow to get up. They seemed to have waited for almost everyone else to disembark first, as if they were used to letting the younger people go first.
Widow smiled at them and said, “Are you guys going to get out and stretch?”
Both of them were white-haired and glowing with cheerfulness.
The woman said, “Oh, you go first, dear.”
The man said, “We’re two slow old folks. We usually let everyone else go first.”
The woman said, “We don’t want to get in the way.”
Widow said, “You’d better go ahead of me. I’m very slow.”
They smiled at him and started to shuffle and move and get up out of their seats. Widow offered a hand to the woman, who sat near the aisle.
“Oh, thank you, dear,” she said.
The man said, “Be careful, son. That’s my girl.”
Widow smiled big, all teeth, like he was thoroughly amused.
He said, “I’m sure you’re a better man than me.”
He helped them both out to the aisle. The whole time, he could see that all but one of the other passengers who had sat behind them had already stepped past him and were off the bus. The one passenger left was the bald guy. Widow saw him from the corner of his eye. He stayed seated, looking out the window like he was trying to be inconspicuous.
Widow was starting to question his earlier assumptions that the bald guy wasn’t trying to hide. Maybe the guy was just that bad at it.
After Widow had helped the older couple out of their seats and into the aisle, he turned back and took a long look at the bald guy.
The bald guy tried staring out the window like he didn’t notice Widow staring at him, but then he turned forward and looked directly at Widow.
Widow locked eyes with the bald guy. It was only a second, but it was a long second.
Widow broke off the stare and the eye contact and turned away and stepped off the bus.
He walked to the store first, taking his time. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled to the store like a man without a care in the world. He glanced back once he was at the store’s front door and saw the bald guy had stepped off the bus and was headed in his direction.
Inside the store, Widow picked out the largest bottle of water he could find. Then he searched for something else. He walked the aisles with the water in hand until he found the automotive section. There he sifted through items that could be potential weapons. He was hoping to find a hammer or a screwdriver or even a pocketknife. Some gas stations even carried hunting supplies like a hunting knife, but there was none of that here. There was no hunting section. The automotive section looked like it had been cherry-picked of any sharp or blunt objects that could do any significant damage. The closest thing Widow found with a sharp edge was a keychain nail clipper with a pointy file on it.
He walked by the refrigerated aisle, hoping for a beer bottle that he could empty out and break, making a jagged shiv, but the county he was in was a dry county. The gas station didn’t serve beer or any glass bottles. Everything was in aluminum cans or plastic bottles.
Shit, he thought.
He took the nail clipper with him and walked away from the refrigerated aisle and head
ed to the front of the store to pay for the water and the nail clippers. He paid with cash for both items. He pocketed the nail clippers and opened the bottle, taking a big swig.
The bald guy entered the store right then. He took a glance at Widow, checked out what Widow was buying. He saw no threat in a plastic water bottle. The guy stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and turned and headed down the candy aisle.
Widow watched the guy in one of those curved mirrors over the back wall behind the register, so that the attendant, if he was facing that direction, could just look up and see the entire store from that curved, fish-eye view.
Widow looked at the attendant.
He asked, “Where’s the toilet?”
The attendant didn’t answer. He just pointed to the other end of the store, near the entrance from the truck lot beyond.
Widow nodded as a thank you and turned and walked to the toilet. He passed the truck-side entrance door and stopped. He looked out the windows and saw a small building way out farther, among the sleeping trucks. It had a single slight bulb on the exterior, lighting up the entrance. Widow saw two doors, the same size, same colors. There were signs on both. It was a second toilet, probably for the truckers who were eager and on the go. That way, they could just stop and pump gas and use the toilets and leave. There were probably showers in that building.
He ignored the bathroom in front of him and turned and walked out of the trucker entrance. He headed toward the other bathrooms.
Around the main service station building were vapor lights way up on poles. He walked out of the cone of light and into the dark parking lot beyond, between the service station and the second bathrooms.
Tractor trailers were everywhere, engines humming like they were in hibernation. He passed one trucker on his way. The guy nodded and smiled at him. He returned the same friendly greeting and followed the guy for a moment with his eyes. It gave him a natural chance to look back. He caught a glimpse of the bald guy about thirty meters back.
Widow continued on, picking up his pace.
At the satellite bathroom hutch, Widow stopped and entered the bathroom marked for men. Inside, he checked around. The bathroom was large. There were several cracked mirrors with rusted metal trim and the same number of sinks to match. More than one of the faucets dripped water. There were half as many soap dispensers as sinks. They were tacked up on the wall between sinks for sharing. There were three metal paper towel dispensers. One was completely empty. Behind the door was a large trashcan.