The Devil's Elixir

by Raymond Khoury

  “But Michelle wasn’t part of our task force,” Munro reminded me. “She had nothing to do with the raid on Navarro’s lab.”

  “No, she didn’t,” I told him. “But I did.”

  The realization tumbled down to the pit of my stomach like a cluster bomb, then ripped me apart from the inside out.

  “They didn’t want anything from her,” I added, the tumblers in my brain falling into place and lining up with brutal clarity. “They wanted me. That’s why they came after her. They knew I was the guy who took out McKinnon. They must think I know something.”

  I saw Michelle get hit again, saw her looking at me with death closing in around her, saw her lying there on the sidewalk with life seeping out of her, saw her mouth those last words to me with her dying breath—and I wanted to tear myself apart.

  It was me they were after, all along.

  They came after her to get to me.

  She died because of me.

  My blood turned to acid, a torrent of it rushing through my body and scorching everything in its path. I guessed that they must have come after Michelle because they didn’t know about Tess. Or maybe New York was too far out of their reach, and they needed to draw me here, to their turf, a short hop from the border.

  And if that wasn’t enough, I then realized something else.

  Alex.

  “They weren’t just after Michelle,” I hissed, feeling short of breath. “They were after Alex. They must know he’s my son. That’s why they came after them. To grab him. To use him as leverage. To get to me.”

  Which had to be why they were still following me. Not because they didn’t know Michelle had been hit. Because they wanted me. They wanted something from me, and they wanted to use Alex to make me get them whatever the hell they’re after.

  Which meant Alex was still a target.

  He was at risk.

  As was Tess.

  My vision went all blurry at the edges as the whole plan played itself out at fast-forward speed in my mind, and I pulled my phone out and stabbed Jules’s speed dial.

  43

  “Wow, look at that one,” Alex screeched and pointed excitedly as he stared at the planes outside the Air and Space Museum.

  They were standing under the Lockheed Blackbird that towered over them from its mount on three metal columns at the museum’s entrance.

  “This is the fastest one. It’s like a rocket,” he said, marveling at the sleek black spy plane that had first taken to the air from the salt lakes of Area 51 in Nevada. He was all bouncy and animated, his gaze darting back and forth from the Blackbird to the smaller Convair Sea Dart that also flanked the entrance.

  Jules saw the delight on Tess’s face as they watched him run around, and she couldn’t help but smile, too. She knew how Tess felt. Seeing Alex happy like that after everything he’d been through, even if for a fleeting moment, was as warming and intoxicating as a tumbler of fine aged single malt.

  Tess glanced over and flashed Jules a smile that was loaded with gratitude before turning to Alex and asking, “How about we go inside?”

  He was already scooting off ahead.

  The circular museum was made up of an outer ring jam-packed with aircraft of all shapes and sizes that were set around a central pavilion, the entire display dominated by a huge, World War Two–era seaplane. Alex had told Tess he’d been to the museum before, but he hadn’t yet seen any of the 3-D animated films that were showing at its Zable Theater, films that had added physical effects that some marketing wiz had decided to call 4-D, even though, strictly speaking, all 3-D movies were already being screened within an Einsteinian four-dimensional manifold.

  They walked around the exhibits, with Alex leading the way, gesturing excitedly from one aircraft to another, the excitement spilling out of him effusively. The place was buzzing, as busy inside as on the promenade outside, and as they ambled through, Jules found herself unconsciously surveying the scene around them. People from all walks of life seemed to be there—families, couples, locals, foreigners, old, young, a hugely diverse cross section of humanity that had converged around an outstanding sampling of man’s genius at conquering his primal urge to fly.

  They’d been in there for about half an hour and were waiting to go into the screening room when a man caught Jules’s eye. He was a Latino with dark olive skin and wore jeans, a Windbreaker, and cowboy boots. A hands-free cell phone cord dangled from his ear, and he was talking into its mike. Jules wasn’t sure why her eye lingered on him for that extra little beat. Something about him just struck her as odd, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. He just seemed out of place. Didn’t look like a tourist. Seemed uncomfortable in his surroundings, like he wasn’t really there to check out the planes. But after watching him for a few seconds, Jules decided that she was overthinking. He hadn’t looked over at them once. He was probably just taking a work call. Or maybe he’d been forced to go on an outing by his new girlfriend and her kid and he didn’t want to be there. Whatever his story, Jules decided he didn’t merit more of her attention and chose to ignore him.

  She chided herself about the episode. Yet another demonstration of how she could never relax, not entirely. She’d been at the job too long to allow her guard to drop completely. She could picture her friends rolling her eyes at her, but the fact was, she loved being an agent for the Bureau. Her college roommate and best friend, in particular, took great pleasure in goading her about marriage and children, but Jules laughed off both her barbs and her encouragement. She kept promising she’d work on lightening up and allowing the rest of what life had on offer to seep in, but they both knew it was just wishful thinking.

  The line for the showing moved along, and as Jules headed into the theater, she took a second to note the exits—other than the main door, there were two doors at the back of the tiny thirty-six-seat space leading to the Education Center—before realizing she’d made the sweep entirely from instinct.

  Even out for a day’s fun with a four-year-old, she couldn’t leave the job behind.

  She saw Tess and Alex don their 3-D glasses and sit down to soak in the delights of Jet Pack Adventure, and decided to wait for them outside the theater, where she could download the most recent case updates to her phone. For a second, she even contemplated having a go in the flight simulator—she’d been in plenty of helicopters and small aircraft, but never in an F-18 fighter—but before the idea could take root, her phone vibrated.

  She confirmed the caller ID—it was Reilly. Probably calling to check up on his son.

  “Where are you?”

  He sounded agitated.

  She tensed up as she told him, her eyes instinctively surveying the ground around her.

  Reilly bypassed the pleasantries and said, “I need you to get Alex and Tess out of there without alarming them. David’s organizing a safe house.”

  An icy finger slid down her spine. “Why, what’s happened?”

  “They’re after me. That’s why they came after Michelle and Alex. To use them to get to me. Which means Alex is still in danger. Tess too.”

  She listened as he ran through what it was all about—Mexico five years ago, Raoul Navarro. She sensed a mixture of frustration and thinly veiled unease as he said the name, and it chilled her further. In the little time she’d been around Reilly, she’d been impressed by his clear-headedness and his drive, possibly even developing a pointless little crush on him. To hear him rattled like this was unsettling.

  He also told her that the goons who took out the Eagles were probably ex-military, that it was Navarro’s MO.

  When he finally took a breath, she asked, “Shall I call for backup?”

  He hesitated, then said, “No need at this point. I don’t want to freak out Alex any more than he already is. Just take them back to the hotel and pack everything up. I’m heading back to San Diego now.”

  “You got it.”

  She ended the call, edged across to the cover of a low-slung plane, and did a quick 360-degree swee
p of the museum. She didn’t see anything suspicious at first—then she saw the Latino again. Just inside the central pavilion. Only this time, he was standing next to another guy who also had a hands-free cable dangling from his ear. The second guy was holding some kind of handheld device, and both of them were looking intently at the screen. Then one of them looked over in Jules’s direction and gave the other a discreet nod aimed at the theater, and as he did, she saw it. A small dimple under his Windbreaker, one she knew was from a handgun that was slung in an underarm holster.

  The back of her neck went all fuzzy with the sense of something bad about to happen.

  Jules’s eyes locked on them, but the men stayed put. They looked straight past her and didn’t seem to register her. Her mind leapt ahead, as it had been trained to do, instantly assessing options. Best case, the guys were playing Angry Birds or checking sports scores. Worst case, they were hostiles. Which is what she read in their eyes and in their body language.

  Meaning they were there because they were tracking Alex and Tess.

  Meaning somehow, they had a GPS lock on them—with the most likely suspect being Tess’s phone.

  But if that were the case, they didn’t seem to be looking to make their play now. They seemed to be waiting for Tess and Alex to come out, maybe to move out into the open—or to be in transit, in the car—before they took action.

  Dammit.

  Jules had no idea how many of them were deployed, but she knew that the last thing anyone needed was a gun battle in a crowded public place on a summer afternoon. And if the recent past was anything to go by, it was clear that this Raoul Navarro had no compunction about the loss of innocent lives and that he was set on getting to Reilly in any way he could, including through women and children.

  Her mind scrambled for options, then it hit her—if the men were indeed cartel enforcers tracking Tess, she could use the GPS lock against them. She might be able to move Tess and Alex to safety with zero casualties. Her only doubt was whether to call Reilly back—as an agent he’d want to be kept up to speed, but as a father the last thing he needed was the play-by-plays. Villaverde had already taken her aside the day before and told her that although Reilly was right in the middle of whatever was going on, they needed to be careful that his personal involvement in the case didn’t cause any problems, not least for Reilly himself. Her priority was Alex. Taking down the bad guys could wait until the boy was safe.

  Still, she had to call him.

  She speed-dialed Reilly and described what she was seeing.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  He went silent for a quick second, then said, “Don’t engage them, okay? Do not engage them in any way. Like you said, we don’t know how many of them are there. There’s got to be cops in the plaza or close by. I’ll get you some backup.”

  “Sean, I don’t want a shoot-out here. Not with all these people. Not with Alex and Tess in the middle of it.” Instead, she ran through her idea with him.

  He exhaled with frustration, then said, “You’d be leaving them unguarded.”

  “Yes, but with a bit of luck, they won’t have anyone on them.”

  He went silent again, clearly juggling between unattractive options.

  “I can do this, Sean,” she insisted. “It’ll work.”

  “Okay. But be safe, Jules. No heroics. I mean it.”

  She cracked a nervous smile and was suddenly aware of how quickly her heart was beating. “I’ll keep you posted.” Then she hung up.

  44

  Jules turned casually, walked over to the theater, and slipped inside. She spotted Tess and Alex immediately. They were sitting at the edge of a row, with Tess on the aisle seat and Alex beside her, his face all lit up with wonder.

  Jules crouched down beside her.

  “There’s a couple of guys outside. I think they might be bad news.”

  She looked at Tess, making sure the information sank in calmly, before adding, “We don’t have much time. There’s a chance they’re tracking you through your cell, so I need you to give it to me. I’m going to use it to lead them away from you.”

  “But—”

  “I spoke to Sean,” she insisted, keeping her tone calm and low. “It’s the safest option. Give me your phone.”

  Tess took out her iPhone and passed it to her. Jules guessed that the novelist had been through her share of potentially lethal situations and probably knew that efficiency was often the key to survival.

  “Stay here for ten more minutes,” she told Tess. “Then meet me by the exit of the lot where we parked.”

  She handed Tess the keys to her car. Jules reckoned it would take Tess and Alex no more than ten minutes to walk to the parking lot they’d left it in. Once the three of them had regrouped they could drive straight onto Park Boulevard and slip away.

  “Good luck,” Tess said, before putting her hand on Jules’s forearm. “And thanks.”

  Jules nodded, then skulked back toward the doors.

  She turned off the iPhone, slipped it into a pocket, then left the theater. She hated leaving Tess and Alex alone, but the risk of staying with them and being overpowered was even worse.

  She emerged from the darkness into the brightness of the museum’s main exhibit area and scanned her immediate surroundings. The two hostiles were now over by an unusual, boomerang-shaped plane. If they were pros and they were tracking Tess’s iPhone, then they were going about it the right way—anticipating the movement of the target, but positioning themselves so they could change direction if they needed to. Staying close, but not too close.

  More confirmation that they were what she suspected.

  Using a group of museum visitors as cover, Jules ducked low and walked briskly toward the main entrance. She figured she had maybe half a minute or so before the hostiles knew they’d been made. GPS tracking was pretty good, but it wasn’t perfect. The signal had a massive bounce before it got to the phone company. Then there was the latency between the signal itself and whatever cell network the hostiles were using to track it. As long as she had the iPhone turned back on within thirty seconds, she’d buy herself the time she needed to put some distance between them, and the hostiles wouldn’t ever know they’d lost signal lock.

  Jules left the museum by the main rotunda entrance and switched the iPhone back on. She ensured the slide-lock was active, then headed north toward the Museum of Art. The plaza was still heaving with summer-camp day-trippers, groups of tourists climbing in and out of buses, parents helping their toddlers out of SUVs, and lovers holding hands and carrying picnic baskets—all of them enjoying the gorgeous weather. Jules knew she couldn’t allow herself to walk any faster than an excited four-year-old, but she used every bit of cover available: gaggles of retirees, oversize vehicles, and families arguing over what they should see first. As she stepped onto the wide sidewalk that ran alongside the parking lanes, she joined a large group of tourists and allowed them to swallow her.

  She tried to avoid looking back. The hostiles would certainly know what Alex looked like—they might even have a picture of Tess—but there was no way they knew Jules by sight. To pick out one four-year-old boy from a moving crowd wasn’t going to be easy for them. Jules just had to trust that the men wouldn’t notice they were following a false trail until it no longer mattered.

  After another hundred yards, she ducked behind some trees, found cover, and peered back the way she’d come. Sure enough, the hostiles were following, eyes darting between the handheld and the large group of tourists moving slowly away from the museum.

  As Jules worked her way through the trees and up the ramp toward the Marie Hitchcock Puppet Theatre, she saw the perfect move. Crawling at a snail’s pace heading away from the theater was an electric buggy carrying two elderly ladies. Emblazoned on the side of the cart were the words SAN DIEGO ZOO.

  The zoo was all the way at the other end of the park, and the cart was obviously heading that way. Jules glanced back, assessed that she was out
of sight of the hostiles, and sprinted up to the buggy.

  She slowed right down when she reached it and caught the driver’s eye.

  “Excuse me,” she asked, motioning for him to stop.

  He hit the brake.

  “Will you be coming back this way?” she asked him, smiling. “I’ve got my grandparents here and they could use a ride to the zoo.”

  The buggy’s driver told her he’d come back for them in about twenty minutes. Jules thanked him and stepped aside, and as the buggy started up, she dropped Tess’s iPhone into one of its rear baskets, then ducked back into the cover of the trees and waited.

  Barely twenty seconds later, the two hostiles passed within ten yards of her as they tracked the iPhone’s GPS signal. She stayed put and watched them, every nerve pulsing, then slipped out from her cover and started walking back.

  After a few seconds, she glanced behind her and saw them rounding the curve. She was now out of their sight line. She jogged back toward the museum, her jog quickly turning into a sprint as she put more distance between her and them. Soon the Air and Space Museum was just a couple of hundred yards ahead of her, and she was about to take a pathway down to the lot where she’d left her car, along a service road that ran between two large administration buildings, when she stopped in her tracks.

  There was a third hostile.

  Another Latino, no more than thirty yards away, standing right at the edge of the lot, next to a black Chevy Tahoe SUV—the one she’d seen on the clip from the dead deputy’s in-car video. He also had a phone cord going up to his ear.

  He turned around just as she noticed him, and for a split second they locked eyes, both of them knowing instantly that each had made the other. Which meant he’d probably guess that Tess and Alex weren’t where his compadres thought they were.

  She had no way of calling Tess to warn her because her phone was by now halfway to the zoo.