All the rave

by LaHaye, Tim F

  "No, you keep it... on the side, check out the little black button . . . it's got the, um, tape-looking thingy on it."

  "Right here," Jodi said, examining the phone. "I see it. What about it?"

  "Cool ... oh, it's just a groovy feature . . . lets you record, like, five minutes of whatcha call it? Personal memos or whatever?"

  "Really?" Jodi had never heard of that option before.

  "Let's just say I happened to record my speaks with Dr. B. the other day." Reverend Bud held his cigarette in front of his mouth as he talked. He chuckled. "Boy, Dr. B. will pee his pants with what's on there . . . like the Good Book says, 'By your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned.'"

  "That's from Matthew," Jodi said.

  "Give the lady a prize ..."

  "Gee, what am I missing here?" Jodi ran her fingers through her hair. "Why would you help me and then—" She paused, not knowing how to put it.

  "Kill myself?" Reverend Bud finished her sentence. His face appeared drawn and ghostly pale.

  "Well, yeah." Jodi's heart was on maximum spin. What could be so awful that a man would take his own life to avoid?

  "Jodi—do you believe in God?" His eyes were suddenly enlarged.

  "Huh?" Jodi guessed he must be tripping out. "Well, sure, actually I do. I believe in Jesus, too."

  ALL THE RAVE ^ 1 29

  "I ... I just pray Jesus can forgive me . . . for what IVe done." Reverend Bud blew a cloud of smoke out through his nose and then dropped the butt in the ashtray. He leaned against the sofa back, hands resting in his lap.

  "See, I can't keep going with Dr. B.'s trip," Reverend Bud said in quiet, confessional tones. "It's a nasty scene . . . Blackstone's a monster and, um, I can't walk away with what I know . . . not with the Russian barbarians—"

  "What about them?" Jodi asked, afraid Reverend Bud would pass out.

  "The bodies . . . what we did with . . . the bodies. It's flipped out, man . . . that kid in the picture? ... I'm so sorry . . . he's next. . . just dropped him at Dr. B.'s, dig—" Reverend Bud's head rolled forward. His chin settled on his chest.

  Jodi gasped. She could barely contain what she'd just heard. She couldn't tell if Reverend Bud was hallucinating and making the whole wild story up or—worse—he was telling the truth. If what he said was true, she was in way over her head.

  She didn't want to leave him this way, but she knew she couldn't stay.

  Still holding his cell phone and, with the photos tucked safely in her back pocket, she dashed out of the room, stumbled twice as she sprinted up the stairs, and then had to slow her pace in the darkness of the main floor. She bumped into the dining room table, fumbled her way through the den like a blind man, and managed to find the front door.

  As Jodi burst out the door from darkness to light, fresh, pure air greeted her thankful lungs. Like a husky in deep snow, Jodi bounded across the street to her car. She was shuffling through her keys, when a ray of sunlight, reflecting off the windshield of a black Suburban, caught her eye. She jerked her head around and noticed the SUV had turned onto Rawle Street.

  It was headed in her direction.

  1 3a ^ LaHaye and DeMdss

  Something about it seemed vaguely familiar. Maybe the heavily tinted windows. Maybe the oversize tires. She couldn't quite pinpoint when she'd seen it last. She looked back at the jumble of keys she held with hands that were sticky with sweat. She trembled as she tried to identify the correct one.

  As sudden as a bolt of lightning, the memory flashed back into her mind. She had seen the imposing vehicle as she had tried to back out of Dr. Blackstone's clinic earlier that morning.

  A coincidence?

  Her racing heart voted against that likelihood.

  Jodi hopped in her car and pounced on the door lock.

  Chapter 25 ^ Saturday, 2:23 p.m

  Jodi closed her eyes for a moment, her mind on maximum spin. Reverend Bud had said she was being watched, but it was only now, with the armadillo-looking Suburban moving toward her, that the implication of her situation dawned on her. What if they were the Russians?

  A sudden wave of panic washed over her. These were shark-infested waters. Her only chance at survival was to get out of harm's way, but how?

  A new thought surfaced. It was entirely possible whoever was driving that beast came to inflict serious pain not on her, but on Reverend Bud. After all, she reasoned, nobody knew she was coming to visit Reverend Bud, except for Reverend Bud—and Bruce. She was fairly sure neither would have told a soul. What sense would it make for Reverend Bud to help her and then turn her over to the Russians?

  Then again, maybe she was overreacting. What if they happened to live here? Could be a couple of kids out joyriding. There could be a thousand perfectly normal explanations for the presence of the Suburban. But Jodi didn't care to wait around to find out. As far as she was concerned, they were the Russians.

  Jodi fired up the engine, snapped on her seat belt, and then checked her mirror. She saw the Suburban crawling slowly down the street. She guessed the driver was checking the street numbers.

  Jodi gripped the wheel, paralyzed by fear for her safety and, at the same time, her concern for Reverend Bud. How could she just

  1 32 ^ LaHaye and DeMdss

  leave him like that? Was he dead? What if he was still alive, but just unconscious? If the Russians had come for him, he wouldn't have a chance, not in that condition.

  She kicked herself for not checking his pulse.

  A voice inside her head said, "What are you waiting for? Go! GO! GO!!"

  Jodi put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. Five seconds later, Jodi checked her mirror and noticed that the Suburban, now a half block behind her, had stopped in the middle of the street adjacent to Reverend Bud's house. She watched as both the driver and the passenger doors opened. Two men in black suits climbed out.

  Jodi fished her cell phone out of her front pocket, swerving slightly as she did. Her hands shook as she tried to steer and dial 911 simultaneously. She hit the send button.

  It rang forever, or so it seemed.

  Jodi said out loud, "Come on, come on, come on. Today already!"

  A dispassionate voice finally filled the earpiece.

  "911 Operator. What is the nature of your emergency?"

  "Um, there's a guy at 73 Rawle Street." Jodi's voice cracked as she spoke. "He's taken, like, a drug overdose."

  "How long ago did this happen?"

  Jodi was wearing her watch, but she had no sense of time. "I really can't say for sure. Like, maybe, half an hour ago?"

  "Is the individual conscious?"

  "No, ma'am." Jodi stopped at a stop sign. She used the moment to steal a look in the mirror. The two men pointed at the house and then in her direction before climbing back into their vehicle.

  "Is he breathing?" The 911 operator's voice jarred her back into the conversation.

  "I... I don't know for sure." Jodi's eyes danced between the road in front of her and the action in her rearview mirror.

  'All right. Help is on the way. Where is he in the house?"

  ALL THE RAVE ^ 133

  "Oh, he's in the basement in, like, an office . . . and you better hurry, 'cause I think there's some people coming to hurt him." Although, at the moment, it appeared the Russians were changing plans.

  'Are you still with him?" The voice had no emotion.

  "I'm . . . no, I'm not. I'm in my car. He's alone, or was when I left him a minute ago." This time, when Jodi looked back, the doors of the Suburban were closed. The monster truck was moving toward her, slow yet as ominous as a fiery lava flow.

  "What is your name?"

  Jodi hesitated. My name? How about his?

  The operator spoke again. "I repeat, what is your name? Are you a relative?"

  "Listen, I really can't talk right now Just send help, and fast! Please?" Jodi hung up, shaking. She turned left and noticed the Suburban did the same thing about half a block behind her. O
bviously, these guys had shifted their attention from Reverend Bud to her. But why? Did they know about the pictures in her pocket? Probably not. So why the sudden interest? And why did they just hang back instead of zooming up on her?

  She placed her cell phone on her lap and grabbed the wheel with both hands. She had to think. She had to clear away the traffic jam of ideas inside her head. Most of all, she needed to get a grip. She was definitely no match for these characters, and she wasn't about to outrun them in her pint-size car.

  Half in a panic, the only person she knew who might be capable of handling them was Phil Meyer. She'd call him. As an ex-Navy Seal, he'd know what to do—that is, if he was home.

  Without warning, a large yellow, red, and green beachball rolled into the street several yards in front of her. Jodi hit the brakes and skidded to a stop. As she did, her cell phone, a thin, flip-up model, fell off her lap and crashed to the floor near the brake pedal. "Oh . . . great!"

  1 34 ^ LaHaye and DeMdss

  Jodi watched the ball roll completely across the street. She started to drive again, propelled by the sight of the Russians on her tail, when several kids, without looking, darted into her path in a mad scramble for the ball.

  "Watch out//" Jodi screamed as she slammed the brakes again, this time more forcefully to avoid the children. As her foot hammered the pedal, she heard a cracking sound.

  Her heart jumped.

  She was afraid to look over the hood of her car.

  Dear Jesus, did I hit them? she wondered. For a long minute, time vaporized as Jodi's emotions were stretched between the drama unfolding in front of her and, at the same time, behind her. To her surprise, there were no screams. There was no crying. And a minute later, the kids ran back to the sidewalk, ball in hand. Their giggles filled the air.

  Thankful nobody was hurt, Jodi exhaled and then reached down for her phone. When she picked it up, she discovered her heel had mashed it. Her heart sank.

  "Now what?" she said out loud with one eye trained on the black Suburban closing in behind her. How was she going to call Phil? How was she going to call anybody?

  "What a dork!"

  * * *

  "Zhenya, too near," Illya said, chewing on a sunflower seed in the front passenger seat of the Suburban. "Give girl space."

  Illya consulted an object in his hand. It was a Global Positioning System display the size of a Palm Pilot. He was puzzled. The GPS tracked several devices, including Reverend Bud's cell phone. They had gone to teach Reverend Bud a lesson in loyalty and, until now, the GPS indicated he was at home. But, shortly after they arrived, the signal moved away from his address.

  see the label sticking up from the back of Jodi's shirt, although he didn't know who she was.

  Illya lowered the binoculars. "I say you what I think," Illya said, spitting out the shell.

  Zhenya grunted.

  "I say Comrade Bud lay down in backseat, dar

  "Da."

  Illya consulted the GPS again and then shook his head, changing his mind. "Perhaps no. Perhaps trunk?"

  "Da." Zhenya reached inside his coat pocket for a cigarette. "Smoke?"

  "Nyet." Illya waved him off and then raised the field glasses to his face.

  Zhenya lit up.

  "So, blondie, you going where now?" Illya said to himself

  * * *

  More than anything, Jodi wanted to tap her heels together three times and wake up behind the controls of an armored tank. Or, better yet, in her bed, discovering this was all just a bad dream. She settled for the option of stepping on the gas pedal.

  The engine whined. It strained and started to sputter like a lawn mower in wet grass, followed by a chiming sound.

  What's up with that? she wondered. Jodi scanned the dash and froze at the sight of the now illuminated, miniature orange gas pump in the lower right-hand corner of the instrument panel.

  The idiot light signaled she was almost out of gas.

  "YouVe probably got a little more than one gallon left," her dad had said the last time this happened. "At least that's my best estimate," she recalled him saying.

  Jodi pounded the steering wheel with both hands in unison. "So that's the way it's gotta be? Huh, God?" Jodi couldn't stop the sudden flow of tears from rolling down her cheeks.

  1 36 ^ LaHaye and DeMdss

  "I mean ... for all I know, my friend Kat's dying in a hospital at this very second. And, Reverend Bud's, like, dying back there somewhere. That kid, um, Todd, he's already dead. And, gee whiz ... I'm only running for my life—with a car that's outta gas. I really, like, need a break here."

  Jodi wiped away the tears with the back of her hand.

  "I don't know, God. Maybe I should pull over, promise to keep my big mouth shut, and just give those Russians my photos ... is that what you want?" Jodi sniffled and then dabbed at her eyes with a leftover napkin she had plucked out of the glove compartment.

  All this time she had been convinced that God wanted her to expose Dr. Blackstone and the creeps who covered up the death of Todd Rice and sold the lethal drugs to Kat. But the way things were going, she was powerless to get away from people who probably wanted her dead, too.

  In the silence, she heard a voice inside her head whisper, "My power is made perfect in weakness."

  "Fine," she said aloud. "I believe you, Jesus—so, like, right now would be a perfect time for a miracle . . . maybe along the lines of parting the Red Sea. Unless, of course, while I surrender the photos to the Russians, you want me to give them Reverend Bud's phone with the secret message, too—"

  Her heart leaped. Why didn't I think of that before? she wondered. She still had Reverend Bud's cell phone in her left pants pocket. The revelation lifted her spirits. "Thank you, Jesus," she whispered. She smiled for the first time that she could remember that day.

  Jodi carefully withdrew the phone and flipped it open. She noticed it was a sophisticated, high-end model with more features than the one she used. Same basic principle. His, however, had a color display and Web access—not that she'd be instant-messaging anybody anytime soon.

  Jodi turned left onto Cottman Avenue and headed northwest. The Suburban did the same. She'd reach Roosevelt Boulevard in

  ALL THE RAVE ^ 1 37

  seven blocks and hoped to lose her tail in the four lanes of traffic. She dialed the number for information.

  A robotic, mechanical-sounding voice asked: "What listing?"

  "Phil Meyer." Jodi spoke his name with deliberate diction, hoping the computer voice system Bell Atlantic used would recognize the name.

  "What city?"

  "Huntingdon Valley," she said.

  The machine provided the number and then added: "I can connect you for a charge of ninety-five cents. Press the pound key to accept this option."

  She pressed pound, and then whispered a prayer he'd be home.

  "Connecting," Mr. Computer Voice said.

  "Hello? It's Rosie ..."

  "Hey, Mrs. Meyer—," Jodi started to say, but was forced to stop.

  "We're not available right now. Kindly leave a message at the beep and one of us will get back to you. Have a pleasant day!"

  Jodi was on the verge of tears again. She was so close, yet so far. The tone blasted in her ear. She started to speak, but her throat was dry She cleared her throat. "Um, Phil, it's Jodi Adams. I really, really needed to talk with you right now. Gosh, I wish you were there. I just don't know what to do! See, like . . . where do I even start—"

  "Try the beginning," she heard Phil say.

  "Tell me I'm dreaming!" Jodi was elated.

  "Sorry about that," he said. "I was outside grilling steaks. Didn't hear the phone ring. What's up? You okay?"

  "Things aren't good, Phil. I . . . I'm so scared—"

  "Take a deep breath, Jodi."

  She did.

  "Now, take it slow." She could tell Phil was listening intently. She had never met a man so focused and so clearheaded in a crisis. It felt reassuring to hear his voice.

/>   "Okay. See, I've got a guy tailing me at this very second. My car

  1 3B ^ LaHaye and DeMdss

  is almost out of gas. I know some things, like, about a dead boy who's missing. He's Todd Rice. It's all kinda connected to the Pet Vet Wellness Center."

  "I know the place." Phil's voice remained calm.

  "Um, well, that's where his body is, oh, and I've got photos to prove everything. Plus, Kat's in the hospital—"

  "Jodi, I want you to do exactly what I tell you."

  "But what if—"

  "Shut up and listen," Phil said, his tone was firm, not hostile. "You're gonna make it, Jodi. You can do this. Just like how you handled the houseboat situation, right?"

  Somehow the thought of what she'd gone through two months ago wasn't real comforting at the moment. "Um, sure . . . right. So you believe me, then?"

  "You, Jodi, of all people, wouldn't lie. Where are you now?" Phil asked.

  "I think a few blocks away from Route 1." She stole another look behind her.

  "Roosevelt Boulevard. Good. You're probably fifteen minutes away. Now, turn on your high beams."

  Jodi did as instructed. "Okay, now what?"

  "I want you to drive as quickly and as safely as possible to the parking lot across the street from the Pet Vet. Do you know the one?"

  "I think so, the . . . uh, where that flower shop is, right?"

  "Exactly. Don't stop for any reason until you get there."

  "Well, I hadn't planned on any shopping," she said with a nervous laugh. "What about red lights?"

  "Run 'em!"

  "What?" Jodi pressed the phone against her ear. "I thought you said to run them?" Jodi wasn't liking the sound of this.

  "I did. Of course, slow down. Do it safely. Tap your horn as you go. I just don't want you to be a sitting target. Got it?"

  ALL THE RAVE ^ 1 39

  "I hear you." She glanced in her mirror. "Um, Phil, the Suburban is, like, two cars back."

  "Just keep moving. When you get to Roosevelt, take the center three lanes. There'll be less of a chance for a delay. Stay focused and get to that flower shop. Til contact Lieutenant Jim Johnson," Phil said. "I'll tell him what you've told me. He'll be waiting in that spot with several officers. Pull your car up next to them and wait until he says you can come out."