72 Hours (A Thriller)

by Moreton, William Casey

CHAPTER 39

  Archer’s plan was to disappear amid the anonymity of the morning rush hour, and become just one of the millions of commuters clogging the city’s arteries. The Hummer pulled out of Zero’s shop and turned into the morning sunshine. A big black monster of a machine with mirrored windows. No one outside could see in, but Archer still felt terribly exposed.

  The Hummer was headed out of the city, moving against the grain, against the flow of most of the traffic. The influx of commuters into the city brought the freeways to a standstill while the lanes running the opposite direction flowed mostly without interruption. Archer notched the needle of the speedometer at seventy and set the cruise.

  The Hammonds were again hidden out of sight in a space in the rear.

  Archer put on his Ray-Bans to compensate for the glare coming through the windshield. He watched the landscape of glass and steel and concrete roll by. The monstrous urban sprawl of LA. The cell phone Kline had given him was turned off. It was no longer needed, and he’d had Lindsay and Ramey turn off their cells as well.

  The Hammonds were silent in the rear.

  Archer glanced at the odometer, estimating the drive ahead of them. He watched the mirrors, memorizing details, studying the road ahead and behind.

  All was quiet. But that would change.

  * * *

  Soji had tailed the Volvo through the fog and over the mountains. Tailed it to the bike shop in the city and waited a block away with his telephoto lens all night. He saw the same man from the woods again at first light leave on foot, then return with coffee. Soji watched him through the long lens. Soji knew the Hammonds had to be hiding out somewhere inside the shop.

  Then the Hummer came and went, and Soji had to make a decision. He decided the Hummer had to be the next link in the chain. So he jumped on the freeway and followed the big SUV toward the desert.

  CHAPTER 40

  The private jet landed at an airfield in the foothills outside Burbank. A car was waiting to take Mr. Jupiter to his appointment. They drove up a long and winding private drive in the hills to a massive security gate that opened automatically as they approached.

  Mr. Jupiter was greeted by his business associate. They went inside the mansion to talk, and Mr. Jupiter received a very encouraging update. He was told that Lindsay Hammond was indeed still alive. And he was also told that attorney Leonard Monroe had been contacted and had confirmed that the five hundred million dollars was still available.

  CHAPTER 41

  The producer tapped on the glass partition to get Johnny Smackdown’s attention. Smackdown cut to commercial. Wes opened his door and stuck his head through.

  “What gives?” Smackdown asked.

  Wes was grinning. He was a short, balding British import, and a dead-ringer for Phil Collins with a five o’clock shadow. Wes formed a gun with his index finger and thumb and aimed it at Smackdown.

  “Your amigo Soji is on Line Four.”

  The gleam returned to Smackdown’s eyes. Soji had been mostly quiet all night. They had waited for his call. The meltdown in Malibu had been a thing of beauty to watch. Smackdown couldn’t have asked for it to go any better. He wanted more of the same. Soji was his new hero.

  Smackdown swiveled in his chair. He decided to put the call on the air.

  “Soji, baby!”

  “Yo, Smackdown!”

  “Where are you, my man?”

  “On the road.”

  “Sweet. I think my listeners owe you a big round of applause.”

  (Sound effect of standing ovation)

  Soji said sheepishly, “Am I on the radio?”

  “You got it. You’re the man of the hour. People, I’m talking to my right hand man Soji. He planted the big red flag right on Lindsay Hammond’s forehead last night. So tell us, are you still hot on the trail?”

  “Absolutely. I’m like glue, Smackdown. Can’t shake me.”

  “Rock on! I love it! So, you have visual contact right now?”

  “Bingo.”

  (Sound effect of the Bill Murray character from Caddyshack saying, “So I got that going for me, which is nice…”)

  “Awesome. Paint a picture for us. Set the scene. What’s she wearing?”

  “That might be a problem, bro.”

  “Say what?”

  “She’s in a Hummer about a quarter mile ahead of me, doing seventy on the freeway.”

  “Whoa! So it looks like Little Miss Lindsay has found herself some serious horsepower!”

  “No doubt.”

  “What direction are you headed? Give us a landmark, or a street name. Anything, man. We need to know where you’re at.”

  Soji was clearly distracted by traffic. “Listen, I’ll call back. I keep losing them. Let me catch up, and I’ll give a better report when I can.”

  “Don’t to this to me, bro! Can’t leave me hang’n!”

  “Sorry, dude. Later.”

  And Soji was gone.

  CHAPTER 42

  The city skyline faded in the rearview mirror. Archer was pleased to see it go. Too many people back there. Too many eyes. Too many variables to try to control amid the sprawl of buildings and cars, streets and humanity. He needed to wrangle the Hammonds into an environment he could better manage.

  An hour outside of LA there was activity in the back of the Hummer. Archer glanced in the mirror and saw Lindsay coming over the backseat. She crouched behind him.

  “Do you think it’s safe for me to sit up there with you?”

  Archer couldn’t see the harm. They were shielded from the eyes of the outside world by the mirrored glass.

  “Come on up,” he said.

  She squeezed between the seats and settled into the leather of the passenger side.

  The highway unfurled straight and true. The sky was almost entirely cloudless. The sun was already bright and harsh in the morning sky. Lindsay swung her visor over to block some of the glare out of her face.

  “Where are we going?” she asked him.

  “To a place I know where we can hide.”

  “How far?”

  “Several more hours.”

  “Will we be safe there?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In the desert.”

  Lindsay folded one leg and tucked it beneath her, squirming in the seat. It felt nice to sit up in a car like a normal human being for a change.

  “Will anyone be able to find us there?” she asked.

  “Almost impossible. But if they do, they won’t like what they find.”

  Lindsay listened to the singsong hum of the tires moving over the road. Twenty-four hours earlier her biggest headache was carpool and the drama of being divorced. Now she was running for her life. She glanced at Archer and studied him in her peripheral vision. She couldn’t see his blue eyes behind the Ray-Bans but had glimpsed them earlier in the morning at the motorcycle shop as he drank his coffee and spoke to the man he called Zero.

  The A/C chilled her, and she hugged her arms around herself.

  “I can turn that down,” Archer said, never taking his eyes of the road. “But I’d suggest you soak it up while you can. There won’t be much cool air where we’re headed.”

  “It feels fine.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He gestured at a duffel bag behind her seat.

  “Zero packed some energy bars for us,” he said. “He keeps them at the shop. Some bottled water in there too. You’re gonna need the water if you eat one of those things. It’s like eating dirt. Lots of good protein, but you’ve got to just choke it down. Help yourself.”

  “Thanks. Want one?”

  He shook his head, no.

  Lindsay tugged the duffel around by its Nylon strap and pulled it up between the bucket seats. She fished out a chocolate bar packaged in a foil wrapper and a warm bottle of Aquafina. There were guns in the bag also, along with several boxes of bullets. She made no comment. She simply zipped
the bag closed and shoved it back behind the seat.

  She twisted the cap off the water and took a long swallow.

  “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done,” she said.

  “Don’t thank me.”

  “You saved us.”

  “My job is to keep you alive until Monday. Don’t thank me for anything until then. Getting off the side of that hill was only the first step in a long, dangerous process.”

  She was quiet a moment.

  “Last night you mentioned Special Agent Kline. He hired you?”

  Archer nodded.

  She said, “Special Agent Kline is a good man. I’ve known him for a few years. Ever since my sister and niece disappeared. If he personally selected you to protect me and my family, that tells me you are very good at what you do.”

  Archer did not respond. His attention was on his surroundings, the road, the passing desert, and the same few dozen cars he had watched with strategic caution the entire trip.

  “Are you FBI?” she asked. “You don’t look FBI.”

  He glanced at her, her reflection framed in the mirrored lenses of the Ray-Bans.

  “What do I look like?”

  She tucked blond hair behind one ear. “I’m still trying to figure that out,” she replied.

  Cars passed going the opposite direction. A couple on a Honda Goldwing had stopped on the side of the highway, turning a map at different angles, pointing and arguing. Heat shimmered up from the asphalt.

  “Kline was the one who caught Dunbar. That’s why I have so much faith in him. Dunbar almost got away with the murders. He tried to cross into Mexico, but Special Agent Kline arrested him.”

  “I remember.”

  “I hate Dunbar. I want him to die.”

  “He will. At twelve-oh-one Monday morning.”

  She sighed. “He is the reason my sister and niece are dead. He is also the reason my marriage fell apart, because of the stress of it all.”

  There was movement in the rear, one of the children waking, twisting about beneath the blankets. Lindsay turned in her seat to look, then twisted back around.

  “It’s not terribly comfortable back there.”

  Archer changed lanes, speeding up to pass a tanker truck hauling natural gas.

  Lindsay glanced out her window at the mostly barren landscape swishing past in a blur.

  Half an hour passed. Lindsay was lost in her thoughts, staring out at the monotony of the highway. Then she heard Wyatt’s voice.

  “Mom,” he said.

  She turned in her seat.

  “Hey, sweetie. How’re you doing back there? Get some sleep?”

  The boy nodded, squinting in the stark sunlight. “Need to pee,” he said.

  “Can you hold it?”

  “Really gotta go, Mom.”

  Lindsay turned to face Archer. “What do you think?” she asked him. “Can we take a bathroom break?”

  Archer glanced at Wyatt in the rearview mirror and frowned. It wasn’t as simple as pulling over to the side of the road and letting the kid take a leak in the weeds. He considered having Lindsay pass an empty Aquafina water bottle over the seat to him and have him urinate in it. Efficient but potentially messy.

  “Okay,” he said. “Give me a few minutes to find a spot.”

  Wyatt was grunting, holding a hand to his crotch, making pained faces.

  “Please hurry,” he pleaded. “It hurts.”

  Ramey sat up. “I’m starving.”

  “Have a candy bar,” Lindsay told her. She pitched one of Zero’s energy bars at her head.

  Ramey took one ravenous bite. “Gross.”

  Lindsay passed her an opened bottle of Aquafina.

  Ramey did her best to wash the taste out of her mouth, then she dropped the remainder of the energy bar back over the seat, rejecting it. “Bury that somewhere,” she said. “Blaaaah. Nasty.”

  Archer scanned the roadside, hoping for a turnoff. Maybe a dirt road they could detour down for a mile or so. Maybe an abandoned building or other structure to park behind for a couple of minutes. He figured by the time they found a reasonably safe spot to pull over Ramey might have to go too. And probably Lindsay. So they were looking at a good five minutes of exposure. That was a lot of time to be sitting idle.

  Archer watched the horizon. They drove on for another seven or eight minutes before a truck stop materialized amid the shimmer of heat rising in the distance. Like a mirage sticking up from the desert floor. He exited the highway and pulled in. Rows of big rigs were parked in the sun. The fuel pump islands squatted in the shade and shelter of a sprawling metal portico.

  The Hummer eased up beneath the portico and stopped alongside a gas pump. Archer glanced at the fuel gauge and decided it might be a good idea to top off the tank.

  The kids had climbed over the back seat and were now seated directly behind Archer and Lindsay.

  Archer assessed the activity among the pumps and the flow of foot traffic drifting in and out of the truck stop entrance. He was evaluating how best to handle the next ten minutes.

  He checked the Beretta and tucked it in his pants. He opened the zipper on the duffel bag and pulled out a blue Dodgers cap. He turned in his seat.

  He said, “Okay, show of hands. Who needs to use the john?”

  Three hands went up in the air.

  “Here’s the plan. Do exactly as I say and don’t waste time in there. You’ll go one at a time. Lindsay, you’re up first. Put on this cap and keep your eyes down. Remember, it’s your face on the news. Find the toilet, do your business, and get back out here, pronto. Don’t look around, don’t buy anything. Don’t talk to anyone. Get in and get out. Then Wyatt, then Ramey. I want this thing back on the road in ten minutes. Got it?”

  They nodded.

  Lindsay pulled the cap down low to her brow. She turned to Ramey.

  “How do I look?”

  Ramey snickered. “Cute.”

  Lindsay opened the door. The desert sun poured in. They watched her disappear inside the building. Archer stared out at the world from behind the Ray-Bans as he pumped gas. He would have rather stayed on the road. He watched traffic passing on the highway.

  Lindsay was back in less than three minutes. She climbed into the Hummer and let out a deep breath. She cued Wyatt to go next. She gave him precise directions how to find the restroom so he wouldn’t have to waste time wandering and looking.

  They didn’t have to wait long for him. In and out in two minutes. All business. He jogged toward the Hummer, his shadow merging into the shade beneath the portico. He came around on Archer’s side to climb back in.

  Lindsay told her daughter, “No makeup or freshening up in there. Just pee and hurry back.”

  “I heard him, Mom. Gawd.”

  Lindsay stared after her daughter, unconsciously holding her breath. “Two down, one to go,” she sighed to herself.

  Wyatt found a bottle of water and started chugging.

  “Don’t fill back up, mister,” Lindsay scolded, frowning at him. “That’s the reason we had to stop in the first place.”

  “It’s just a sip,” he said, swallowing.

  “Next bathroom break is a long way off.”

  He just shrugged.

  Ramey exited the restroom and hurried back outside. She noticed someone walking quickly away from the rear of the Hummer but didn’t think anything of it. The person disappeared between the rows of big trucks. Ramey paused, standing in the heat. She shielded her eyes from the glare overhead. She was already starting to sweat.

  She heard footsteps behind her.

  “Let’s go,” Archer said.

  Ramey nodded. She had already forgotten what she’d seen.

  Archer got them back on the highway. He removed the Beretta from his pants and rested it on the seat between his thighs. The rest stop had been quick and uneventful. But it had also been a major error in judgment.

  CHAPTER 43

  Soji walked quickly between the rows of trucks,
taking long, hurried strides through a shadow made by the trailer rigs blocking the sun. He was wearing a very light windbreaker jacket with the collar flipped up. He was baking in the heat and his heart was pounding.

  They had not spotted him.

  He had waited for the man driving the Hummer to step away from the vehicle. All he had needed was twenty seconds. Just long enough to plant the tracking device on the metal of the undercarriage.

  Soji was sweating heavily by the time he returned to the Prius. He turned up the A/C. Then he opened his laptop and plugged the GPS receiver into a USB port. The GPS application booted up. A few seconds later the icon representing the position of the Hummer blinked into view onscreen. Soji smiled, sweat dripping from his nose.

  CHAPTER 44

  From the highway, the first gate was ten miles down a poorly maintained dirt road. The gate was secured by a chunky Master Lock and a thick chain. The Hummer came to a stop amid a cloud of red dust. Archer got out.

  The fence stretched into the distance for miles. Simple barbed-wire. He followed it on foot in the suffocating heat to the sixth fencepost to the right side of the gate. Next to the fencepost was a rock the size of a bowling ball. He rolled it aside. The dry alkaline ground had been dug out beneath the rock and an empty soup can was inserted in the hole. The key to the lock on the gate was inside the can.

  Archer fished it out and unlocked the gate.

  The second gate was fifteen miles beyond the first. The dirt track leading to it was primitive and ungraded. Bouncing along it inside the Hummer, fifteen miles felt like a thousand. This time the hidden key was to the left of the gate, at the twelfth fencepost. He threaded the chain through the metal panels and swung the gate wide. He drove the Hummer through and then relocked the gate.

  The primitive road was a vague, meandering line cutting across the desert floor.

  “This is so freaky,” Ramey sighed. The road had beaten most of the spirit out of her. The big tires jolting from rut to rut made the grueling ride seem interminable.