Sienna’s eyes darkened at the thought of Bellasar.
“He’ll learn about every other place the Agency tries to hide us. The only way we’ll be safe is on our own — where we won’t be in prison, where nobody’ll keep us apart.”
“I don’t want to be separated from you ever again,” she said.
Malone took her hand, leading her toward the back door. The cold rain lessened to a drizzle as they ran out toward murky trees. In a few minutes, it would be too dark for Laster and his men to see to follow. Maybe we can circle around to the front and steal a car, Malone thought. Or maybe we can … Vague possibilities encouraged him. He had the wallet from the dead man in the house. He had money, credit cards, a new identity. He knew that Laster would eventually figure out whose identity he was using. Bellasar’s spy would pass the word. But that was a problem to be worried about tomorrow. For now, the two of them were free, vanishing into the mist-shrouded woods.
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EIGHT
1
The hypnotic clack-clack-clack of the train’s wheels reinforced Malone’s exhaustion. He and Sienna slumped next to each other in a locked compartment, barely noticing the lights of towns that flashed past. It was almost midnight. They had boarded the train an hour earlier at Washington, D.C.’s Union Station, where they had driven after Malone had followed his first impulse and stolen a car from the front of the burning house while Laster and his men searched the woods. Hoping to conceal his trail, Malone had left the car in a restaurant’s parking lot and taken a taxi to the train station. There, he had used the credit card in the dead man’s wallet to buy two tickets to Dallas. Despite the rain, the burned house wouldn’t have cooled enough for Laster’s men to search it. They wouldn’t find the body for quite a while. Even then, there was a good chance the fire had so charred the corpse’s clothes that no one would realize the wallet was missing. When the credit-card charges persisted after the man’s death, Laster would understand what had happened, but by then it would be too late. Meanwhile, Malone and Sienna were together. That was all he cared about.
“Hungry?”
Sienna looked at the bag of sandwiches they’d bought. She shook her head no. “Tell me what we’re going to do.”
“It depends on your expectations. We’re not going to be able to live the way you did on your husband’s estate.”
“I wouldn’t want to.”
“I don’t mean the tension you went through. I’m talking about the absence of luxury. I’ve got plenty of money in various places, but I can’t think of a way to get to it without letting your husband or the CIA know where we are. They’ll have computer experts watching for any transactions in my accounts. The instant I order a wire transfer — to a bank in Dallas, say — they’ll be after us. The airport, the train station, the car-rental agencies — they’ll all be watched.”
“You make it sound hopeless.”
Even in her damp, rumpled blazer, her hair combed with her hands, Sienna somehow managed to look more beautiful than ever. How do I hide one of the most striking women in the world? he thought. “I promise, there is a way out of this, but it’s going to be a lot less first-class than you’re used to.”
“Is that why we’re going to Dallas?”
“We’re not going there.”
“But our tickets —”
“We’re getting off before then. At a town called Braddock.”
“In case Derek finds out we took the train and he’s waiting for us in Dallas?”
Malone nodded. “And because there’s someone I have to meet in Braddock.”
2
The Texas sky was cobalt blue as they stepped from the train and studied the small depot and waiting area. Beyond were low buildings: a gas station next to a car-repair shop, a hardware store next to a bar. A few trucks moved along the street. Otherwise, the town seemed deserted.
“A place this small, it’s a wonder it has its own train station,” Sienna said.
“Clint’s got the influence to make sure he gets what he wants.”
“You’re telling me people other than actors actually have names like Clint?”
“Chase, ol’ pal, it’s been too damn long,” a man’s voice said in the deepest, twangiest drawl Sienna had ever heard.
She turned toward the open door to the waiting room, from which a man in cowboy boots, jeans with a belt buckle shaped like a saddle, a denim shirt, a leather vest, and a cowboy hat stepped grinning into view, embracing Malone, slapping his back.
“Why didn’t you let me send the jet to pick you up?” the man asked. “And how come you phoned collect? All the money I paid you over the years, you can’t be short of cash.”
“Sort of.”
The man looked puzzled.
“A long story.”
“Well, I hope you’ll be stayin’ long enough for me to hear it.” Still smiling, the man turned expectantly toward Sienna. “And what a lovely lady you’ve brought along.”
“Clint, this is my friend Beatrice. Beatrice, I want you to meet Clint Braddock.”
“I’m one of Chase’s biggest fans.” Braddock’s smile was even broader.
Sienna was tall enough that she wasn’t used to looking up at most men, but for Braddock, she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eyes. His cowboy hat made him seem even taller. He had grainy tan skin and a bushy salt-and-pepper Zapata-style mustache.
“Clint, you did what I asked, right?” Malone’s tone was serious. “You didn’t tell anybody about my phone call. You didn’t let anybody know I was coming.”
“Hey, this is me, compadre, remember? When have I ever let you down? You’re the man. What you say goes.”
Malone visibly relaxed.
“But what’s goin’ on? When I offered to send the jet, you said you couldn’t go near an airport. I couldn’t help wonderin’ if you’re in trouble.”
“You’re not far wrong. Where’s your car? I don’t want to stand around in the open.”
“Around the corner, pard. Where’re your bags?”
“We don’t have any.”
The wrinkles around Braddock’s eyes deepened. “Yeah, you’re in trouble all right.”
At the side of the depot, they reached an almost empty gravel parking lot, the prominent vehicle in which was a gleaming red pickup truck with fence posts in the back. As Braddock got in the driver’s side, Malone guided Sienna toward the passenger door, whispering to her, “Don’t let the drawl and the getup fool you. Clint’s real first name is Peter. He was born and raised in Philadelphia.”
“What?”
They got into the truck. “Clint, I was just explaining to my friend that you saw a lot of Westerns when you were a kid.”
“And grew up to earn the bucks to live ’em.” Braddock smiled. “See a movie, be a movie.”
3
Bucks is right, Sienna thought, watching the grassland stretch away. Every mile or so, a shade tree punctuated the view, but otherwise, there was only sky and land. And cattle, plenty of cattle. And then an oil pump, then another, and another, until hundreds cluttered the landscape, their armatures bobbing up and down. Braddock had been driving for a half hour before they got to a sprawling two-and-a-half-story white house. With a porch that went along almost the entire front, it made Sienna think she’d seen it before.
Then she realized she had.
“Recognize it?” Braddock asked.
“Wasn’t this in that James Dean movie, Giant?” she asked in amazement.
“Sort of,” Braddock said. “The real house is south of here on somebody else’s spread. It’s not even a real house. It’s just a shell they built for exteriors and then let fall apart when they were done with the movie. So I had this replica built.”
They drove through an arched entrance that had the word RIATA written across it, the same name as the ranch in Giant.
“With all your interest in the West,” Malone said, “I never understood why you collected me instead of Remington or ano
ther western painter.”
“Variety.”
“And all the time I thought it was my genius.”
“I didn’t want you to get a swelled head.” Braddock chuckled. “The truth is, little lady, the first time I saw Chase’s work, I knew I had to own it.”
Sienna understood after they parked on the curved driveway in front of the house, then crossed the lawn and the echoing porch to go inside. Braddock stayed outside to give instructions to one of his ranch hands, then joined them, enjoying the way Sienna admired the paintings on the walls.
There were at least twenty, all landscapes, all vibrant with color. She saw Chase’s signature on the bottom of several and turned toward him in surprise. “How many of these are yours?”
Braddock answered for him. “All of them. I’ve got some in the dining room, too. How come you’re surprised?”
“It’s just … well, the only work of Chase’s I’ve seen was a portrait of me. And some sketches of me and … ” She looked at him in amazement. “I had no idea what your real work was like.”
“The portrait of you was the best thing I’ve ever done,” Chase said.
Braddock straightened. “Is it for sale?”
“I’m afraid that can’t be arranged.”
“Money’s no object.”
“It isn’t with the man who owns it, either. Plus, there are” — Malone hesitated — “personal reasons for him to want to keep it.”
“I’ve never seen paintings that make me feel so many other senses. I can almost smell the dew on the grass,” Sienna said.
“You should have been an art critic.”
“Don’t joke.”
“He’s not,” Braddock said. “You got the point right off. Chase’s paintings celebrate life. You’d be a better art critic than those SOBs who don’t know pretension from piss.”
Sienna laughed.
“The two of you had breakfast?” Braddock asked.
“No.”
“Why don’t I tell the cook to fix you somethin’.” Sienna’s stomach rumbled. She laughed again.
“But I warn you,” Braddock said. “My cook’s not one of those namby-pambies who worries all day about how much cholesterol’s in his menus. He’ll give you good honest bacon and eggs, hash browns and pancakes, or a breakfast burrito with salsa and refried beans.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Sienna said.
“Meantime, the biggest guest bedroom’s to the left at the top of the stairs. The two of you go get yourselves cleaned up. The closet has extra clothes in various sizes. I like to keep spares for my guests. I’m bettin’ you’ll find this or that to fit you.”
“Thanks,” Sienna said.
“Then we’ll get down to business” — Braddock directed his gaze firmly at Chase — “and find out what kind of trouble you’re in.”
4
Sienna bit into a chunk of burrito stuffed with eggs, rice, beans, and sausage. “Great. Especially the sausage. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
“Chorizo. It’s Mexican,” Braddock said. “Not too hot for you?”
“I can’t get enough of it.” She spooned more green chili over the burrito.
“Yeah, you’ve got fiery skin. A lady after my own heart.”
Malone raised his spoon from a bowl of refried beans topped with red chili and melted cheese. “What I need,” he said, “is a patron.”
Braddock set down his coffee and waited for him to continue.
“Somebody to subsidize me.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“Somebody to buy my paintings in advance.”
Braddock narrowed his grizzled eyebrows. “You need cash that bad?”
“Things are a little tight.”
“After everything I bought from you?” Braddock pointed toward the dining room wall across from him, where there were three other of Malone’s paintings. “Over the years, I must’ve paid — what, six million? What on God’s earth did you do with the money?”
“I still have it, but I can’t get to it. As soon as I try, someone who’s looking for us will know where we are.”
Braddock squinted at Sienna, then back at Malone. “Somebody like a husband?”
Malone spread his hands.
Braddock’s bushy eyebrows narrowed more severely. Then his head started to bob. He laughed. “Shoot, boy, why didn’t you just say so? Twenty years ago, I had a situation along husband lines myself. I always had a suspicion you and I were alike. You want some travelin’-around money while he cools off, is that what you’re askin’?”
“Maybe more than just traveling-around money. He’s not going to cool off for quite a while. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever going to cool off.”
Braddock studied Sienna for several seconds, then nodded pensively. “Yeah, I can see why. This husband — you can’t use offshore accounts to dodge him?”
“I wouldn’t dare try,” Malone said, “and I’d never risk getting a friend to do it for me.”
“But isn’t that what you’re doin’ right now, askin’ a friend?”
“To pay me in advance for paintings I’ll deliver.”
“Assumin’ you live to complete ’em,” Braddock said.
Sienna felt the color drain from her face.
“It’s that serious, right?” Braddock asked. “Your husband’s a player.”
“Yes.”
“Who doesn’t believe in rules.”
“Yes.” Braddock thought a moment, then whistled to himself, low and pensively. “How much do you need?”
“A million dollars.”
Braddock didn’t even blink.
“In cash. Hundreds,” Malone said.
“Exactly what am I gonna get for this lavish amount?” “Ten paintings.”
“Ten.”
“That’s a hundred thousand apiece.”
“I never paid less than two hundred thousand for any of your work.”
“Call it a fire sale.”
“If word gets around, if you do this with any of your other collectors, you’ll drive down the market.”
“You’re the only one I approached,” Malone said. “The only one I’ll ever approach.”
“Where do you figure to hide?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Braddock thought about it. “You’re right. And you don’t want me to know, either. In case somebody comes around.”
Sienna broke her silence. “How can we be sure someone won’t?” She looked at Malone. “One of your biggest collectors. Isn’t it logical that my husband will make the connection and wonder if we asked for help?”
“Nobody knows I’m one of Chase’s biggest collectors,” Braddock said. “One of the reasons I’m successful is, I don’t let people know my business.”
“Then you’ll do it?” Malone asked.
Braddock thought about it. “With a condition.”
“Name it.”
“One of the works has to be of …” Braddock looked at Sienna. “I assume your real name isn’t Beatrice.”
“No.” She sounded apologetic.
“I’d like one of the paintings to be of you.”
“Don’t worry.” Malone smiled. “In a way, she is Beatrice. From now on, I’ll be doing a lot of paintings of her.”
5
“Thank you.” Sienna kissed Braddock’s cheek.
It was ten the next morning. The sky was bright. The breeze smelled fresh. Malone, Sienna, and Braddock stood on the front porch.
He rubbed his skin where she’d kissed him, then blushed. “Shoot, that’s almost fair-enough payment for what I gave you.”
Malone held the money in a brown suitcase that Braddock had supplied. Ten thousand one-hundred-dollar bills took up less room than Malone had expected — and weighed less: only about twenty pounds. To fill out the suitcase, Braddock had added some denim shirts and jeans in Malone’s size. Sienna’s suitcase contained similar basic articles of clothing.
“As soon as we settle
somewhere, I’ll get to work,” Malone said. “In a month or two, you’ll start receiving paintings.”
“No rush. Whenever inspiration strikes.”
“I’ve got plenty of that.” Malone smiled at Sienna. “By the way, Clint, wherever I ship the paintings from won’t be where we’re staying.”
“I figured. I’m also figurin’ I won’t see you for a while.”
Malone shrugged.
“Maybe a long while.”
Malone looked away.
“Be careful, my friend,” Braddock said.
“Believe me, I’m going to try.”
A silent moment lengthened.
“I guess we’d better get moving,” Malone finally said. His mouth was dry from emotion. He shook hands with Braddock — firmly.
As he and Sienna got into the car, his chest ached with the regret of severing this connection. It’s a good thing I don’t have close family, he thought. I’d need to sever those connections, too.
Then he realized he was wrong — he did have close family. He studied Sienna as she got into the car, wishing he had the time to sketch how she looked this morning. It wasn’t just that the white blouse Braddock had found for her brought out the quality of her skin and the luster in her hair. It was something deeper, something that he knew he would never stop wanting to draw.
6
The car was an eight-year-old Ford Explorer that Braddock had bought from one of his ranch hands for more money than the man had ever seen at one time in his life. It had a dented front fender and spewed foul black smoke, but it would get them where they needed to go.
The wallet Malone had taken from the dead man contained ID for Dale Perry. In Abilene, Malone used it to get a Texas driver’s license in Perry’s name. He registered the Explorer in Perry’s name.
They headed west.
7
Yuma, Arizona. Malone had been there twelve years earlier on a military training exercise at the Marine Corps Air Station on the edge of town. During the summer, the city was small, about fifty thousand people, but during the winter, the population doubled, the area’s sunny climate and the Colorado River attracting snowbirds from the north, most of whom stayed in trailer parks. At the end of March, the city was still booming.
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