Moving Target

by Desiree Holt

  “Damn it, Miguel. She never, ever comes here unexpectedly. Certainly not like this. Why should I expect she would tonight? Of all nights?”

  “In our line of work you must expect the unexpected. Your lapse in judgment will cost us dearly. You won’t like the reaction from the top, I promise you.”

  Peter scrubbed his hands across his face. “I was ready to make the new entries right after our meeting. There was no risk. No one was supposed to come near this place.”

  “You should consider yourself lucky she didn’t take any of the hard copy files with her. Unlike the ones on the flash drive, they aren’t encrypted.”

  “I don’t know why she took anything, for God’s sake.” He slapped his hand on the desk. “I’ll find her. Count on it.”

  “We need to make some arrangements.” Miguel pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “I’m not sure after this we can trust you to handle things by yourself.”

  “What does that mean?” Peter curled his hands into fists.

  “It means I’m going to use our available resources. As soon as I make a phone call, our men will start looking for her.” He punched in a number and in a moment began speaking in rapid Spanish. When he paused, he looked at Peter. “Give me that picture of her on your desk.”

  “Picture?” Peter frowned.

  “Never mind.” Miguel Osuna picked up the framed head shot himself and snapped it with the camera in his phone. A few more sentences, and he disconnected his call. “They have her picture and general description. People will start looking at once.”

  “She can’t have gone far,” Peter told him. “She hasn’t the experience or the guts to figure out how to hide herself away.”

  “Do you think after what happened tonight I’d put any confidence in your assessment of Kathryn Burke?” He was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. He listened for a few minutes, then hung up without saying a word. “She’s not at the condo. There’s no sign of her car, and we know she hasn’t had enough time to get there and leave again. Wherever she went, that wasn’t it.”

  “I can’t believe she’d just drive off into the night with nothing,” Peter said, his jaw set in frustration. “That isn’t her style.”

  Miguel skewered him with a murderous look. “It seems there’s a lot you can’t believe, unfortunately for us. Especially unlucky for you.”

  Peter tried furiously to think of what to do next. He looked at his computer, snapped his fingers, and in a moment his hands were flying over the keyboard. “Money. She’ll need cash. She never carries much with her.”

  “What are you doing?” Miguel asked.

  “Checking her bank accounts. Maybe she used her ATM card. It will tell me where she’s been, anyway.” He sat back and watched while information scrolled across the screen. When it stopped, he leaned forward. “There it is.” He shook his head.

  “What did you find?” Miguel demanded.

  “She’s hit some machines in town, pulling money out. But not enough. My guess is she’s still running. When she thinks she’s far enough away, she’ll hit the ATMs again or cash a check. But the pattern shows us she’s heading north.”

  “Where would she go?”

  “God knows. I don’t think she’d call any of her friends, and she has no close relatives left.”

  Miguel stabbed a finger at Peter. “I hold you completely responsible for this. There will be consequences. You know I’ll have to make a rather unpleasant phone call tonight to report everything.” He was gone before Peter could frame a reply.

  He slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples. Hell and damnation. He’d planned so carefully for everything. How had it fallen apart like this?

  Where are you, Kathryn? When I find you, you’ll be begging me to kill you before I’m finished.

  Chapter Two

  Charlotte, North Carolina

  Kathryn didn’t think the rain would ever stop. The storm followed her up the east coast, getting worse the farther north she went. She tried not to startle every time lightning streaked across the sky and thunder boomed in her ears. It was bad enough that she was afraid every car pulling close to her carried Peter or his friends.

  The storm was behind her and the sun full up when she pulled off the Interstate into Charlotte, N.C. She was exhausted from tension and the long distance driving, stoked only by industrial strength coffee from two gas stops, and she was about at the end of her rope. This needed to be the end of the line for Kathryn Burke, but she had some things to care of to make that happen.

  Peter would be tracking her, which meant her credit cards were useless. She had stopped at an ATM before leaving the city to pull out her daily maximum of cash, emergency money just in case. If Peter, with his skills, discovered it, he’d hopefully think she was still in the city. She’d put the check the insurance adjuster had thrust on her in her purse, thinking to discuss it with Peter before cashing. Now it could be her lifeline.

  She’d have to be careful how she handled it, though. She was sure Peter wouldn’t put a hold on her accounts, thinking to use that as a way to track her. She’d write a check that didn’t raise red flags with the bank and make that last withdrawal while still in the city, then get the hell out of Dodge. With money in her wallet, she could figure out what to do next

  Yes, Kathryn, exactly what would that be? Think, think, think.

  She also she needed to change her method of transportation. She could ditch the car, no problem, leaving them at least a temporary dead end. That would also give her some extra cash, although she’d get the short end of the stick in that deal. But airplanes were out because they required identification. A Trailways bus blew past her at a light and she took that as a sign. Buses were very innocuous.

  At a diner, she ordered coffee again and a sweet roll and asked for a telephone book. She easily found the listing for the branches of her bank—having one that operated nationwide would make this easy. The book also had a map of the city. How lucky could she get? She picked a branch way out of the way and cashed a check for an amount that wouldn’t throw up red flags. She felt a little more secure financially. Although the money wouldn’t last forever, but it gave her a lot of breathing room.

  Finished with her stops, she left her car parked on a side street and called a cab to deliver her to the bus terminal. She did her best to blend in with the people entering the building. She was sure Peter was checking her banking every five minutes, and she had no idea how long it would be before they had someone on her trail here. He was smart enough to guess she’d ditch the car and that the bus would be the only anonymous way out of town short of hitch hiking.

  “We pay off everyone—cops, prosecutors…”

  Was that brown sedan at the curb the same one she’d seen at the diner? What about the gray one sliding down the street? And the cop car idling at the light?

  Stop it. He can’t catch up with me that fast. I hope.

  Inside the terminal she bought a ticket for the next bus out of town, leaving in an hour.

  Too much time. Peter will be tracking my bank account and see the ATM withdrawals. Hurry, bus. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

  For most of the hour, she huddled in a corner of the room, making herself as inconspicuous as possible, hoping her fear didn’t emanate from her like a visible cloud. Every time someone came through the doors, she tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. She clutched her purse, with her money and the flash drive, as if they were a lifeline.

  The hour was almost up when she saw them. She knew in her gut they’d come from Peter. Or his friend, Miguel. They had an air about them—quiet, methodical, deadly-looking. They probably had people checking the airport, too, just in case. Good thing she was staying away from planes.

  The men searched the big waiting room quietly and methodically, glancing from their cell phone screens to the faces of every woman in the in the waiting area. The frightening realization that whoever Peter was involved with had tentacles everywhere and unlimited resources to s
eek her out nearly paralyzed her, but she had to get away.

  Picking her moment, she eased her way down the hallway where the rest rooms were and out the side door. Her bus was just pulling up at the curb. Looking carefully to make sure the men were still inside, she blended in with the line of people waiting to board.

  They were thirty minutes out of Charlotte before her breathing slowed.

  ****

  Tampa

  “What do you mean, they lost her?” Miguel raged as he paced Peter’s office.

  “We covered everything,” Peter told him. “Airports, car rentals, the bus terminal. I called our contact there, and he sent out several teams. Nada.”

  “She won’t rent a car or take a plane, you idiot,” Miguel stormed. “She can’t use her ID. That means buses. You had people on it right away. So where did she go?”

  “Calm down.” Peter searched for calm himself. He’d been popping antacids like candy. “She’ll show up. Maybe she got on a bus before they got there. Maybe she was somewhere else in the area.”

  “I’ll calm down when I have her and that damned flash drive in my hands. Are you still tracking her bank accounts?”

  “Of course.”

  “She didn’t get enough money to do anything with. She’ll need more. I want people on it the minute the hit pops up.”

  Peter tossed another antacid pill in his mouth and tapped his keyboard.

  ****

  Los Angeles

  A snippet of the conversation Kathryn had overheard flashed back to her.

  “They should have remembered we can reach out anywhere in the country—in the world—to find out what we want. To find anyone. Anything. Anywhere.”

  Her stomach hurt, her head ached, and her rear end was practically numb from riding one bus after another. Once, she’d been a totally different person, eating lunch at trendy cafes and expecting a marriage proposal. That was a person she no longer recognized.

  She had become someone else. A new person who thought life at the moment really sucked. Her food came from vending machines and fast food restaurants, and she hopped from one bus to another, praying her so-called lover didn’t find her and kill her. And her vocabulary was now sprinkled with language she’d picked up from her travels. Words like crap, damn, shit, fuck. Language foreign to Kathryn Burke, who she was beginning to realize had been a very uptight broad.

  She was getting much better at this, surprising herself. The night she’d fled Peter’s office in such terror the panic had almost incapacitated her. At first, she was on autopilot, knowing only that she had to get away. Somewhere. Anywhere. And hide where they couldn’t find her.

  She knew she was out there alone. No one was going to save her but herself. She couldn’t contact her friends or her boss. Peter would be watching them. The urgent need to stay alive forced her to think and plan. And somewhere, on her crazy bus odyssey from city to city and state to state, strength she didn’t know she had welled up from inside her.

  The metamorphosis had begun. Goodbye, Kathryn Burke. Hello, Kate Griffin.

  The fear hadn’t disappeared, just been pushed to a place where she could manage it. Kathryn would have let it consume her to the point of helplessness. Kate used it to stay alert as she rode the edge of danger.

  Kate. It took some practice, but she’d finally gotten used to her new name.

  By now the bus terminals had all begun to look alike, the only difference being size. This one, in Los Angeles, was the largest yet, and she blended easily into the mixture of people. They were all sizes and shapes, enough of them in clothes as scruffy as hers that she didn’t stand out.

  Shielded by the protective bill of the gimme cap she’d picked up at a truck stop, Kate’s eyes never stopped moving, scanning every inch of the waiting area, registering the crowd filling the benches, standing against the walls, reading, using their cell phones, napping, listening to iPods.

  She’d learned to be extra careful, to watch everything that was happening, to study the scene before ever making a move. When she was sure no one was paying attention to her, she slipped into the line at one of the ticket windows.

  “That bus outside?” she asked when it was her turn at the window. “Where is it going?”

  “Albuquerque.” The bored ticket clerk didn’t even look up at her.

  “When does it leave?”

  “About forty-five minutes. You want a ticket?”

  Make up your mind, Kate.

  “Okay. Yes.”

  “One way or round trip?”

  “One way.”

  She glanced around as she waited for her change. Was that grubby individual off to her left looking at her for too long? Who was he calling on is cell phone? God, was she seeing shadows everywhere?

  She fidgeted while the clerk, with slow, unconcerned movements, completed the transaction. Grabbing the ticket and stowing it in her pants pocket, she found an end seat on a bench and scrunched into the corner. Fatigue pulled at her, but she willed her eyes to stay open.

  She was so tired, more than she’d ever been in her life. Too many hours of hyper-awareness and too little rest. Keeping her guard up, trying to ignore the itch between her shoulders as if someone’s eyes were pinned to her. And fighting the panic that always threatened to overwhelm her. She clenched her fists around her duffel, willing the fear to disappear, forcing back the sound of the voices in her head.

  God, what if she hadn’t decided to surprise Peter at his office? What if she hadn’t overheard that conversation?

  Who were these people he was involved with? What kind of resources did they have that they could reach out anywhere? Unconsciously, she rubbed one hand against her stomach, feeling beneath her jacket and shirt for the fanny pack where her money was safely tucked away in tight little rolls.

  Along with the all-important flash drive nearly burning a hole in the cloth. Her only bargaining chip, providing she lived to use it. What a stroke of luck that had been, even though she’d almost been caught. Seconds. That was all that had separated her from capture, all that had allowed her to get away.

  Reading the files might give her some leverage, although she didn’t know with who. But she was fully aware what a pipe dream that was. She’d tried library computers at a couple of places between buses, but as expected, everything was encrypted and password-protected. She needed to find someone with the software to decrypt it. But who? She certainly couldn’t go to the police.

  “I’m not concerned,” Peter had said. “We’ve spread enough money around. You know that. There are enough people we’ve paid off everywhere to make them look the other way. Cops, prosecutors, government agents, whatever. It didn’t take us long to learn everyone has a price. It’s all a matter of finding it.”

  Shivering as she remembered the words, Kate stole a glance at the clock on the wall, willing the minute hand to move faster.

  Come on! Come on!

  Idly, she wondered what Albuquerque would be like. Could she fade into obscurity there, or would it just be another place to change buses again? God, if she could just get out of L.A. before Peter’s friends showed up, she was ready to find a hole and go to ground. Someplace to sleep for more than an hour. Take a shower, even eat a real meal. A day. Maybe two. Maybe even a whole week in one place.

  Her eyelids drooped, and she sagged against the bench. Something plucking at her jerked her awake. An old woman’s claw-like hands were tugging at her duffel. Heart racing, Kate yanked the bag closer to her body.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to scoot away from the skinny hag. “Let go.”

  “Dear, you’re dropping your bag.”

  “Don’t touch my things.” Kate forced herself not to shout.

  “Well. Excuse me,” the woman sniffed. “You were falling asleep and your bag was about to drop.”

  God, how had she let her eyes close? It seemed like only seconds since she’d sat down. What if this had been Peter pulling at her or someone he’d sent?

  The old wom
an stared at Kate, her pinched face accusing. “I just didn’t want you to lose it. Next time, I won’t bother.”

  Kate slid her arms farther through the duffel straps and hugged it closer to her body. She was beginning to hate buses and bus terminals. If only she hadn’t had to ditch her car. Instead, here she was, among the great unwashed, piling up frequent rider miles.

  See America First.

  How many states had she already passed through since that night, getting off one bus, boarding another, not even caring about the destination? How many more would there be on her trip to nowhere before she found someplace safe.

  Safe!

  She nearly laughed. What a fairy tale that was. She had a feeling whatever Peter was part of, there didn’t seem to be any place they couldn’t reach out and touch her. Hopefully, he and his friends would think she’d disappeared into Middle America somewhere, but she had a feeling they’d cover all bases. Did they have a network they could send her picture out to? Pay people to locate her? She’d read enough stories in the newspaper and online, seen enough on television to know people like the ones Peter was mixed up with could reach out anywhere they wanted. Her stomach heaved as the thought cycled through her brain. She had to be on the alert at all times.

  Biting hard on the inside of her cheek to keep herself awake, she watched the minute hand on the wall clock crawl by at a snail’s pace. Thirty minutes since she’d purchased her ticket, time inching along like cold molasses. Still fifteen minutes until her bus left.

  She felt rather than saw the old lady sneaking curious glances at her every few seconds, but she deliberately ignored her. Pulling her cap even lower over her face, she continued scanning the room, always alert for anything out of the ordinary.

  So far, so good. Nothing seemed to set off alarms in her head. Too much coffee eating away at the lining of her stomach served to keep her awake.

  As she shifted in her seat, her glance was caught by a woman two benches away. The woman sat ramrod straight, clutching a large purse to her side as if it contained buried treasure. Long, thick chestnut hair was clipped back at her neck. Tailored pants suit, inexpensive but classic. Low heels. Tote bag hooked over one shoulder.