by Steve Brewer
"I said, where are you going?"
She shrugged free of his grasp. "I'm gonna get my truck."
"That parking lot is crawling with cops. You don't stand a chance of getting that truck out of there."
"You may be right. If I can't get to it, I'll walk away and meet you by the fire station."
"Why don't we both walk away right now?"
"They'll be looking for two people. And we need wheels. We've still got things to do."
"I know, but—"
She grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close enough for a quick kiss.
"Go. I'll meet you soon."
He put his gun away and limped down the sidewalk, going the direction the scared crowd had gone. Jackie could see a couple of the young patrons down the block, crouching behind a car that was parked at the curb. They worried her because they could point her out to the swarming police, but they didn't try to follow as she trudged back uphill to Monte Vista Boulevard.
Her gun was in her belt, hidden under her loose blouse, but she still felt sweaty and obvious as she reached the parking lot in front of the shopping center. Uniformed cops surrounded the Escalade and the front door of The Coffee Shop, some with handguns still drawn, but they hadn't yet blocked the sidewalks that bordered the parking lot. Jackie walked briskly around the perimeter, as if blind to the haphazard arrangement of patrol cars with their flashing roof lights.
A few other civilians were on the sidewalk, gaping at the police operation, and Jackie zigzagged through them, trying not to look like she was in a hurry, but not pausing to gawk.
Up ahead, a boxy white ambulance was parked at the curb. Jackie froze when she saw a young paramedic ushering U.S. Marshal Ellis McGuire through the back door. McGuire looked scraped up and he had blood all over one shoulder of his blue windbreaker. Luckily for Jackie, he was too busy negotiating the steps into the ambulance to look her direction. She veered away.
Her red truck was in the last row of cars, closest to the Taco Bell, and she reached it without being challenged by the busy cops. Her hands shook as she unlocked the door. She got behind the wheel, expecting any moment to be recognized or challenged.
She started the engine, though she could see the exits out of the parking lot were blocked by flashing patrol cars. A passing uniformed cop looked her way at the sound of the engine, but only for a second. He was in too big a hurry to join the action at the café.
Only one way out of the parking lot that didn't appear to be blocked. Straight ahead of Jackie's truck, maybe thirty feet away, was the entrance to the narrow drive-thru lane that snaked around the Taco Bell. Jackie pulled forward into the drive-thru, as if that had been her intention all along.
No other cars were in the drive-thru lane ahead of her as she crept around the corner of the stucco building. Jackie didn't pause at the pickup window. She turned north onto Girard Boulevard without being stopped.
She zoomed downhill a few blocks, but Romeo was nowhere to be seen. She passed the fire station and hung a right onto Campus Boulevard. This section of Campus was lined with houses, and it had speed bumps now, unlike when she'd dodged traffic as a student at Monte Vista Elementary a quarter-century ago. She took it slowly, the truck rattling as it bounced over the first speed bump. She turned right, scanning the sidewalks for Romeo.
The street ran alongside the school's dusty playground. The familiar old school building sat on a broad green lawn, not three blocks away from the action at The Coffee Shop. Jackie wondered whether the school was on lockdown. She pictured all the poor kids inside crying and hiding in fear.
Shit.
Then she saw Romeo, limping along the sidewalk toward her, puffing with exertion. She pulled to a stop near him, and he stumbled over to the truck, shaking his head. As he opened the passenger door, he said, "I can't believe it. How did you get out of there?"
"It's my superpower. I'm invisible."
"I'd almost believe that," he said as he hoisted himself onto the seat. "Can you make the truck invisible, too? Because this might be a good time for that."
"I can do better than that," Jackie said. "I'll get us out of this neighborhood altogether. I know these streets. I grew up in this area."
She turned onto Wellesley and zipped along the shady street, which was lined with eighty-year-old houses in a variety of Mediterranean styles. She took a left, then a right, and they were on a street that angled across the others.
"I'm lost," Romeo said.
"See? Superpowers."
She checked her mirrors, but found no prowling patrol cars, no one following them. She took a deep breath and blew it out.
"I think we're clear. You okay?"
"That's the most I've tried to run in two years."
"How's the knee?"
"Don't ask. You're okay?"
"Yes, but what happened back there? What started it? Did you shoot at those guys?"
"Not me. Your friend Ellis McGuire."
"I saw him there," she said. "Afterward. He was getting into an ambulance. Shoulder wound."
"I'm not surprised. He shot it out with those guys before they could come inside The Coffee Shop."
"He must've followed us after all."
"Probably a good thing for us. They had us outnumbered until he got there. He didn't see you leaving just now?"
"I don't think so. I went out the Taco Bell drive-thru, and the building was between me and the ambulance."
"The drive-thru? And you didn't bring me anything?"
She looked over, found him smiling.
"As soon as he gets a bandage or something," she said, "McGuire will start looking for us."
"We need to ditch this truck," Romeo said. "It's too recognizable. Every cop in town will be on the lookout for it."
"We need to park it in a safe place," she said. "It's got all my stuff in it."
He looked out the window for a second, thinking it over.
"I know," he said. "Go to the airport."
Chapter 60
Police Captain Gene Pugh blinked against the nervous sweat stinging his eyes as he rolled up on the crime scene. He had no business being here. He wasn't even on duty today, though he was in uniform and driving his official car. With a drug lord in the shotgun seat.
Flashing squad cars blocked the entrances to the shopping center. A dozen uniformed officers were working the scene, stringing yellow perimeter tape and rounding up witnesses. An ambulance and a fire truck were parked among the patrol cars, completely blocking all traffic on Monte Vista Boulevard.
"Well, ain't this a goat-fuck," Pugh said.
Beside him, Joaquin Santiago grunted in agreement.
They already knew what to expect because they'd been following the radio traffic on the way here. The three dead males at the scene had been identified as Mexican nationals, and a U.S. marshal had been wounded. Pugh assumed that was McGuire, the one who'd been hunting for Jackie Nolan.
"What kind of a bad-ass is this woman?" Pugh asked Santiago. "She takes out three of your best people—"
"She had help," Santiago said in his accented English. "Her boyfriend, the former marshal, he was there, too. And this one who was wounded."
"Sounds like three on three to me," Pugh said, "but your boys took the worst of it."
Santiago sat in stony silence. Pugh realized he'd gone too far.
"And that's a damned shame," he said. "They seemed like competent men. They were probably trying to take her alive, right?"
No answer.
"All right, listen," Pugh said. "Now that we're here, I'll go over and sniff around and see what I can learn. Confirm that it is your people and all that."
"I'll go with you. I want to see it with my own eyes."
"Now see, that would be a really bad idea. You're a wanted man and all. Somebody might recognize you."
"No one knows me here. And I'm wearing dark glasses."
"But, I mean, they'll ask me who you are—"
"Tell them I'm a visiting busin
essman from Mexico, which is the truth. And that I am here to observe American law enforcement in action. Which is also the truth, in its way."
"But—"
"You're a captain! Don't answer their questions. Just give orders."
"Yes, sir."
They got out the car and crossed the deadlocked street to the asphalt parking lot. Pugh badged his way past the uniformed officer working the perimeter tape, saying tersely, "He's with me." The patrolman didn't look twice at Santiago.
They weaved between clumps of cops and crime-scene techs and photographers to get a look at the bodies. Pugh recognized the dead from his encounter with them at the apartment complex. The little guy had been shot to pieces in the parking lot. The big guy was behind the café in the alley, his brains blown out. And Felipe, Santiago's right-hand man, lay in a pool of blood just inside the back door of the café, three red holes in his chest.
Santiago didn't say a word through this tour of the crime scene. His silence made Pugh increasingly nervous. These cartel guys were notorious for their revenge trips, killing dozens of rivals for every loss. How would Santiago react now, with three of his closest men taken down? Pugh was afraid he was about to find out.
His own transgression – leaving that apartment building after being told to watch it – likely died with Felipe, and that gave him a bitter little pill of hope. He might yet get through this messy visit from Santiago with his life and career (and perhaps even his side income) intact. He'd be glad when it was over.
"Seen enough?"
Santiago nodded grimly and they walked back to the unmarked car. Pugh's shoulders were knotted from stress. He feared someone behind them, a detective with eagle eyes, would shout out that he'd recognized the Mexican drug lord. But it didn't happen. All the authorities were too busy dealing with the crime scene to realize that a much bigger prize was in their midst.
Once Pugh and Santiago were back inside the sun-baked Plymouth with the air-conditioning running, the Mexican finally spoke.
"We will find Jackie Nolan," he said in his rolling English. "And we will make her pay for this."
"I'm sure you will, but right now—"
"No, Captain," Santiago said, "not just me. You and me. We will find her together."
Pugh could see Santiago was upset about the deaths of his men. Now was not a good time to argue.
"All right, sir."
"We will find her and we will take her alive," Santiago said darkly, "so we can make her death slow and painful."
"What about her boyfriend?"
"Anyone who interferes – the boyfriend, the police, even you, Captain – will be killed. It is that simple. I want Jackie Nolan, now more than ever. No one will stand in my way."
Chapter 61
Like a lot of Albuquerque residents, Jackie Nolan was inordinately proud of the city's smallish airport on the south side of town near Kirtland Air Force Base. The Albuquerque International Sunport, like many public buildings in New Mexico, is done in round-shouldered Pueblo Revival style, so it appears to be made of adobe. Native American art inside and out adds to the effect, so there's no mistaking that you've landed in a vaguely foreign place, somewhere different. Arriving tourists get the full effect, but the north side of the airport, facing the rest of the city, is mostly hidden behind a gray concrete parking garage, a multilevel monument to Albuquerque's adoration of the automobile.
Jackie took a ticket at a meter outside the garage, waited for the wooden arm to rise, then drove the pickup into the corkscrew ramp to the upper levels. Round and round they went, until they reached the third level, where Romeo said, "This oughta do."
She steered the truck across the mostly empty parking garage to where two dozen vehicles were clumped around the elevators. No one seemed to be around, but she knew numerous security cameras were watching. When she reached the other parked cars, she backed the truck into a parking spot, so its stolen license plate faced a fat concrete support column. Still visible if someone really wanted to check, but she could at least make it a little more difficult. She killed the engine and looked over at Romeo.
"Now what?" she said. "You planning to steal one of these cars?"
"What? No! I thought we'd rent one."
"Oh. Okay, we can do that."
"Jesus," he said, "when did we become Bonnie and Clyde? I don't even know how to steal a car."
"Never mind. A rental is fine."
"Take your overnight bag," he said. "I don't know when we'll be back for your truck. Besides, if we've got your bag, we look like travelers. We'll take the shuttle over to where they rent cars."
"We get a car. And then what?"
"Hmm. It's hard to know which way to jump."
"We seem to have enemies coming from all sides," she said.
"Three fewer now."
"If they were from Santiago, they'll be replaced soon. I'm sure he's got no shortage of shooters."
A chill ran up her spine as that thought hit home. Santiago had access to a whole army of criminals, and unlimited funds for guns and bribes. How would she ever find peace?
Romeo must've seen something on her face because he reached across and grasped her hand.
"Hey." He waited until she looked at him, then he flashed a goofy grin. "Not a scratch on us, right? So far, so good."
She had to smile in return. "Let's keep it that way."
"We can start by putting some distance between us and this truck."
They got out of the pickup and locked it up. Jackie slung the strap of her red overnight bag over her shoulder, taking some of the weight off by tucking her hand under the bottom of the bag.
"Want me to carry that for you?" he asked.
"I can carry my own bag. Keep your hands free in case we run into trouble."
"Right."
They strode across the parking garage to the elevators. Romeo, his hands free, pushed the button. An elevator arrived a few seconds later, carrying a family of four and their six hard-sided suitcases. Barely room for Romeo and Jackie to squeeze in with them, but they made it, and they soon were dumped out at street level.
The pickup zone for the rental-car shuttle was on a concrete island in the middle of six lanes outside the airport entrance, so they didn't have to go inside the terminal building. Which was a good thing, Jackie thought, since they both still carried pistols.
"We never did get any lunch," Romeo said.
"Later," she said. "After Nancy Ames secures us a car."
Romeo looked around to make sure no one could hear. "You want to use her credit card?"
"Makes sense, doesn't it? It won't be long before the cops figure out it was us at that coffee shop—"
"There were a helluva lot of eyewitnesses."
"—and they'll check the airlines and the rental car places to see if we took off. We don't want to leave a trail."
"Yeah, but you need ID to a rent a car."
"I've got her driver's license. With this haircut, I think I can pass for Nancy. If they give me any trouble, jump in with your own credit card and we'll take our chances."
"Okay."
They reached the pickup island for the rental car shuttle, where a couple of weary-looking business travelers already waited. The car rental franchises were clustered in a single location on University Boulevard, a couple of miles south of the airport. The shuttles ran every few minutes, around the clock, and Jackie barely had a chance to catch her breath before an empty one rumbled up to them.
The shuttle quickly filled up with other passengers, so Jackie and Romeo rode in silence. When they were almost there, sitting at a red light, waiting to turn, Jackie reached over and took his hand in hers. He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze.
"It'll be fine," she said. "You'll see."
And it was. The gum-chewing girl at the Statewide Rental counter didn't bat an eye at Nancy's credit card or driver's license. She was more focused on keeping her freshly painted magenta fingernails unmarred during the transaction, blowing on them while she wa
ited for the computer to spew a printout of the rental agreement.
Jackie signed and initialed all the indicated spaces for the rental of a full-sized sedan, taking the insurance package because what the hell, why not? Who knew what might happen to this car? And good luck to Statewide Rental trying to get the money out of Nancy Ames.
She and Romeo went back out into the blinding sunlight to search the lot for the correct car, which turned out to be a white Chevrolet Malibu similar to Romeo's personal vehicle, about as anonymous as modern cars get. Perfect for their needs.
"You want to drive?" she said as she put on her sunglasses.
"Go ahead. You're doing great so far."
She stowed her bag in the back seat, then got behind the wheel and adjusted her seat and mirrors while Romeo climbed in beside her. Once the engine was running and the air-conditioner had blown out the accumulated heat, they shut their doors.
"Where to now?" she asked.
"Hell if I know."
Chapter 62
Joe Dog turned up the volume on the police scanner under the dash of his Crown Vic. The commotion near the university had kept the radio busy for the past hour; a shootout with three dead was still a big deal in a city as small as Albuquerque. He'd listened as the cops locked down the UNM campus and a nearby elementary school. Apparently, shooters were still loose in the neighborhood.
Exciting as all that had been, Joe Dog only half-listened, too busy thinking about the woman who'd bashed his face and tied him up and made him look bad in front of his boss. All the humiliations he'd suffered would be avenged, as soon as he could track her down. But where to start?
A dispatcher squawked a new update: Officers were to be on the lookout for an older Ford pickup truck, red with a camper shell on the back. The truck was seen departing the scene of the shootout, the radio said, and may have been used by the gunmen.
Joe Dog felt instantly hot all over. That truck! It was her. She'd been at that gunfight by UNM. What the hell?
He zoomed over to Central Avenue and joined the traffic inching through the busy intersection at Girard. Monte Vista Boulevard was blocked by emergency vehicles. It looked as if the cops had taped off the whole parking lot behind the corner Taco Bell.