Tilting at Windmills (Claire Lance)

by Geonn Cannon

  She stopped at the end of the row of hangars and let the truck idle for a moment. Another vehicle whipped around her toward the open gate of the airport grounds, rocking her truck in its wake. Lance flexed her fingers on the steering wheel and, without planning to, suddenly slammed her fist into the top arch of the wheel. The pain didn't start for a few seconds, when her hand slowly began to turn red. She pressed her injured fist to her eyes and tried to hold back the tears. "God damn it," she hissed. "God damn it all." She wiped her face, flexed her hand to make sure it wasn't broken, and took a deep, cleansing breath.

  Gwen was leaving. No, Gwen was gone. Now all Lance had to do was get rid of Hadley and she could go back to the status quo: Claire Lance against the FBI, her sole purpose in life to put a little more asphalt under her tires. Her stopover in Saxe, Texas had muddied things up, but now was her opportunity to make things right. Soon she would be able to mark the past few days off as a bad dream — pleasant, a bit unfortunate, and quickly fading into memory.

  Maybe she would go to Colorado after all. The only thing holding her back was the knowledge Mallory would definitely be focusing on Colorado. If she did go, she would have to wait a while, a month or two, at least. It had been a long time since she'd seen her mother; a long time since she'd seen anyone who believed her, who wouldn't treat her like a criminal. Not counting Gwen, of course, whom she had just thrown out like garbage.

  She resisted the urge to slap herself. No. All she had done was get Gwen out of a bad situation. Gwen would have gotten hurt, or killed, or worse. Or Lance would have gotten preoccupied protecting her and made a fatal mistake. Moving Gwen out of the path of danger was a necessary evil. She couldn't live with herself if Hadley and his goons had gotten their hands on Gwen. She doubted they would be gentlemanly with female prisoners.

  She paused at the chain-link gate and looked both ways before she pulled out onto the main road. The light at the intersection ahead turned from green to red and she slowed, put on her turn signal, and pulled into the far left lane. She stopped at the red light and had to fight not to look back at the airport. She tried to remember the map she had looked at when she stole the truck. She wasn't in Oklahoma City anymore; she was in one of the smaller, outlying suburbs. To get back to the city, she would have to go east.

  She gripped the wheel and stared at the red eye of the traffic light. The light was still red when the truck suddenly lunged forward, accompanied by a sound of crushing metal.

  The force of the impact threw her forward against the steering wheel. Her duffel bag hit the floor like a lead weight and she slammed on the brakes to keep from going farther than necessary. She looked out the driver's side door in time to see headlights coming toward her in a blaring cacophony of horns. She braced for the impact of the oncoming truck, so close she could see the driver tensing in his seat as he tried to stop his advance. The trucks collided, his burying itself in the sidewall of her hood. She heard tires squealing on pavement and the sound of secondary impacts, but her truck wasn't hit again.

  She used the steering wheel to push herself upright and felt a twinge in her lower back. A pulled muscle. Terrific. She pushed her door open with a squeal of metal and put one foot on the pavement as someone came running up to her. She held up both hands to stave off anyone who might suggest medical attention. "I'm fine," she said. "I'm fine, I'm all right."

  "Sorry to hear that, Miss Lance."

  Garrett Hadley smiled when she looked up in fear. He wrapped an arm around her and spun them both around like a dance step, walking her quickly toward his truck. He jammed a gun into her side. "Nice and calm or I pull the trigger. You got it?"

  Lance said nothing, just let him walk her to his SUV. The back door was already open and she could see Ben Estevez sitting on the backseat with a gun of his own. Hadley shoved her into the truck and Estevez pulled her the rest of the way onto the seat. He tilted his head in greeting. "Good evening, Miss Lance. Mind telling us where you sent Mrs. Morse?"

  "She's gone," Lance said as Hadley got behind the wheel. A young guy whose name Lance didn't recall was waiting in the passenger seat. "You won't find her."

  "Oh, we'll find her," Hadley said. "Don't worry about that. In the meantime, we'll just have to take out our frustrations on you."

  "You killed our boss," Estevez said. "That kind of thing requires retribution."

  "It'll be good," Hadley said, looking at Lance in the rearview mirror. "We can find out what kind of stuff you can take, and what's too much. It'll be a nice dry run for what we do to Mrs. Morse when we find her."

  "Always happy to help out," Lance said.

  Hadley smiled and pulled the SUV away from the scene of the accident.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Despite his calm exterior, Hadley was ecstatic at his luck. While waiting for word from Keating and Pope, he had gone through the money left behind in the office safe. All the cash Lance had taken was from a certain group, so it was fairly easy to figure out the serial numbers of the cash Lance had. He decided to cut his losses and threw out all the money in that stack. He knew it was a risk, throwing away fifteen thousand dollars just to track down forty bills, but catching up with Lance and Gwen would be worth the loss.

  He had drawn up a memo to the banks in Oklahoma City, telling them what to be on the look-out for. His phone rang while he was walking out of the morgue after identifying Keating and Pope. The call was from a friend of his, a local bank manager who told him one of the bills had shown up at a local thrift shop a few blocks away from the coroner's office. Apparently the owner was suspicious of getting such a large bill from a suspicious character, so he called the bank to check up on it. Hadley got the address of the shop and they had gone there immediately from the morgue. They drove through the neighborhood until they spotted Lance and Gwen leaving their fleabag motel in a ratty pick-up, heading into the city.

  "What's the plan?" Perry asked as they fell in behind Lance's truck.

  "They're not heading for the airport," Hadley said. "We follow 'em. Maybe they're heading for another motel and we can pick them up there, nice and quiet."

  They drove for a half hour, staying far enough back that Lance wouldn't see them and get suspicious. After a while, Hadley noticed something Estevez was doing in the backseat. Sitting near the window, every now and then he would, crane his neck and peer up at the night sky. The third time Hadley saw him do it, he snapped, "Ben, what the hell are you doing?"

  "I'm watching the airplanes," Estevez said. "There haven't been very many, but they're all going the same direction. And it's the wrong direction for Will Rogers."

  Hadley frowned. "We're not even near Will Rogers, are we?"

  "Must be another airport," Estevez said.

  Before long, they realized Estevez was right. They saw the beacon swinging across the sky, and watched as a small twin-propeller plane came in for a landing on the tarmac. Hadley sneered, "Damn it. Okay, stow your guns here. We'll follow them into the terminal and take 'em down before they get on the plane." Hadley slowed and dropped back, being cautious about Lance spotting them now that there wasn't any traffic to hide behind. Lance drove through the open chain-link gate and drove down a row of hangars. Hadley frowned. "Where the hell is she going?"

  Lance parked in front of an open hangar door and climbed out. It was the first time Hadley had seen her since the bar, and he was surprised by how attractive she was. She looked across the tarmac, looking straight at them for half a second, and then walked into the brightly lit bay. Hadley kept driving and parked at the other end of the row. All three men turned and watched Lance's truck through the back window.

  "We should take Mrs. Morse now," Perry said, "and grab Lance when she comes out."

  Hadley considered it, but it was too late. Lance was already on her way back out to the truck. She opened the truck, pulled out a suitcase, and motioned for Gwen to follow her. They walked back into the hangar together and Hadley said, "Shit. They're using a private plane. We're going to have to ch
eck the flight plan. Shit!"

  "Whoa, hey," Estevez said. "Lance is coming back."

  Hadley twisted in the seat and watched Lance walk back to the truck alone and get behind the wheel. "What the hell?" he said again. After all this, she was just dumping Mrs. Morse?

  "Which one are we going after?" Estevez said.

  "Lance," he said without hesitation. He started the truck and backed up to follow her out of the airport. "She's the most dangerous. We need to find out what she knows and shut her up. Besides, you really think Gwendolyn Morse is going to be able to hide from us on her own?" They came up behind Lance's truck just as she unexpectedly came to a stop. Hadley hit the brakes, but Estevez snapped, "Go around her! We can't risk her looking in the rearview and recognizing us."

  Hadley went around her, glancing into the truck out of the corner of his eye. Lance had her hand balled into a fist, pressed against her face. He drove through the chain-link gate and pulled off the side of the road, watching in the rearview for her to join them on the main road. Hadley tried to hide his annoyance with Estevez. He was in charge. When everything settled down, he would make sure Estevez knew his place.

  When Lance finally came out of the airport, Hadley restarted the engine and waited for her to pass before he came off the shoulder. Estevez leaned forward between the front seats. "How do you want to play this, boss?"

  Hadley shrugged. "Well, nice and quiet hasn't worked well for us so far. Let's see what playing dirty does." He pressed his foot to the floor and the truck surged forward. Perry was pressed into his seat and Estevez was tossed around the back like a rag doll.

  "Jesus, Garrett!" Estevez shouted. He was on his back as their SUV slammed into Lance's truck from behind. The impact pushed her out into traffic, and another oncoming truck slammed into her from the side. Hadley threw open his door and jumped out into the ruckus. He left the door open and said, "Have your guns ready when I get back."

  #

  After being swept away from the accident site — which was actually a godsend, considering the number of police likely to be involved in the aftermath — Lance stared at the back of Hadley's head and tried to gauge her chances of escape.

  She knew Hadley was carrying a gun, and Estevez's weapon was pressed hard into her side. If one of them didn't shoot her before she got out of the truck, the other one would. And if, by some miracle, she managed to get out of the truck in one piece, she was sure that Hadley would take the SUV off-road to run her down. Hadley took her gun when he "helped" her into their truck. All she could do was sit and wait to see where they were taking her.

  As the van sped down the 39th Expressway, Lance looked out the window toward Wiley Post. A small plane had just lifted off into the night, a smear of darker black against the gray sky. She watched the blinking lights on the plane's tail as it angled away from the road and headed south. It crossed the road and she lost sight of it, but she could hear the thrumming of the engine overhead. She sagged against the back of the seat and closed her eyes.

  All that mattered was Gwen's safety. For now, at least, these bastards couldn't get to her. But she couldn't allow herself to relax. If she didn't take these men out of the equation, then they would kill her, head home, and find Gwen waiting for them. Gwen would be utterly defenseless.

  Lance had to make sure they never left Oklahoma. If it was the last thing she did on earth, or as a free woman, she had to make sure the three men in the car with her never made it back to Texas.

  #

  Mallory dressed in the bathroom, once again donning the clothes she had worn in Texas. Preferring to wear just the blouse, she left the hoodie off and stepped out of the bathroom with it draped over her arm. Lazareva was standing between the beds, struggling to get into her blouse while speaking on the phone. Mallory walked over and pulled the shirt onto her shoulders. Lazareva straightened and they looked into each other's eyes as Mallory casually buttoned the shirt for her.

  "Yes," Lazareva said into the phone. Mallory only then realized that it was her phone. "I understand. We'll be right there. Thank you for the call, Detective." She hung up and said, "Thanks."

  "Don't worry about it," Mallory said curtly. She took the phone and slipped it into her pocket. "Was that Acheson? What's going on?"

  "There was a vehicular accident near Wiley Post Airport. Any idea where that is?"

  "No."

  Lazareva shook her head. "Me neither." She pulled on her blazer and headed for the door. "An SUV hit a truck from behind and pushed it into traffic. Witnesses say the SUV driver got out, grabbed the truck driver and pushed her into his car."

  "Her?" Mallory said.

  Lazareva nodded. "Their description of the driver matches Claire Lance to a T."

  Mallory's heart pounded as she followed Lazareva to the door. "Excellent. The SUV driver must have been Hadley. If Keating and Pope were up here, it stands to reason—"

  "My thinking exactly," Lazareva said. She opened the hotel room door, but pushed it shut again and turned to Mallory. "Look. I know time is of the essence, but I have to know before we go — are we all right?"

  Mallory looked at Lazareva and brushed a strand of dark hair away from her eye, then stepped closer and kissed her. It started soft, gentle, but quickly grew hungry. Mallory pulled Lazareva close and stroked her back through her coat and shirt. When they broke the kiss, Mallory ran her thumb across her bottom lip. She looked at Lazareva's lips, still parted with surprise at the power of the kiss, and smiled. "Yeah. I think we can still work together."

  Lazareva cleared her throat and put her hands on Mallory's hips. "And you'll think about what I said?"

  Mallory stepped out of Lazareva's embrace and opened the door. She backed out into the hallway and held her hands palm-up in surrender. "I'll take any advice I think will help capture Claire Lance. You have my word on that."

  Lazareva hesitated before she followed Mallory out into the corridor. It wasn't a promise that Mallory would change her ways, but she figured it was as close as she was going to get.

  #

  The hotel they drove to wasn't particularly busy, or particularly upscale. They turned into the parking lot and Estevez scooted closer to Lance as they pulled into a parking spot near the front of the building. "We're going to play nice, yeah? We're going to walk into that lobby together, and you're going to be quiet. You don't want any innocent bystanders to take a bullet for you. Comprendez?"

  Lance said nothing, but slid out of the truck and waited for Estevez to follow. It was nearly eleven at night, but they weren't alone in the parking lot. A small group of people were standing in the next aisle, out-of-state visitors meeting with local family, perhaps. She felt the barrel of Estevez's gun against her spine and he whispered in her ear, "You won't feel this when we get inside, but trust me...it'll still be there. Keep it in mind."

  They walked to the front doors in a tight cluster; Hadley and Perry in the lead, Lance in the middle, and Estevez bringing up the rear. Despite the late hour, the lobby was as bright as mid-day. Bright light spilled over the pavement and hurt Lance's eyes as they stepped inside. A man in a black suit jacket and a red tie stood at the check-in counter and straightened as they stood in front of him. "Good evening, gentlemen," he said. "Ma'am."

  "Good evening," Hadley said.

  Lance scanned the lobby carefully. Directly across from the front doors was a glass wall, leading out into a courtyard. There were six chairs forming a three-sided square in front of the doors. Two of the chairs were occupied by elderly men chatting quietly. No help there, she decided. The rest of the lobby was empty, save for the clerk behind the desk, but she couldn't risk him or the old men by trying to escape.

  She continued through the lobby to the elevators. Once they were alone in the darker hallway, she felt Estevez's gun again, pressing into the soft skin just above her belt.

  "Nice job, bitch," he said softly. "Just keep it up 'til we get to our room and everything will go a lot easier for you."

  "What do you w
ant?"

  When no one answered her, Lance sighed and waited patiently for the elevator to arrive. The doors finally slid open and Estevez shoved her into the car. She stood in the center of their triangle, Hadley and Perry behind her with Estevez between her and the door. He hit the button for the third floor and turned to face her. Looking at Hadley, he scoffed, "Damn. I was hoping she'd be better looking than I remembered."

  Hadley didn't reply.

  Estevez said, "We shoulda done this somewhere a little more private. More secure."

  "You got a place like that here in town, Estevez?" Hadley asked. He shook his head. "Best we could do on short notice. We'll just have to make sure we clean up after ourselves."

  The elevator reached their destination with a slight lurch, and the doors opened with a ding. Either Hadley or Perry shoved her forward and she stumbled a bit over the threshold of the elevator car. For a split second, she was alone in the hallway. She considered making that the pivotal point in the abduction, something she could use to turn the tables. If she spun quickly enough, she could break Estevez's arm against the elevator door, shove him back into Hadley and Perry like she was bowling, and dart for the stairs. Then it would just be a matter of outrunning them.

  She dismissed the idea almost immediately. There was no time to put it into action. Maybe if there had only been two of them, she might have given it a shot, but with three, they would definitely send one back down to the lobby to intercept her. Besides, running wasn't an option. Either she faced them, or Gwen did. It was no contest.

  They flanked her as they walked down the deserted corridor. Perry walked ahead and used a keycard to unlock their room, pushed the door open and stepped inside to turn on the light. Lance hesitated at the doorway. The accommodations were much nicer, but she had a sudden flash of a Chicago warehouse, Madrid's cronies carrying her to a soiled mattress and leaving her there for twelve days. Her breath caught and she backed up a step, not really trying to escape but trying to delay her imprisonment.