Amanda gasped when the driver stepped out of his car. He was just a kid—blond, lean, and handsome, with features that would age well.
“What’s wrong?” I said. “Should we run?”
“No. No. It’s all right,” Amanda said. “It’s just that—he looks just like Tom when Tom was young.”
The kid walked to her side of the truck.
“You’re Amanda,” he said. “I’m here for Tom Kingston.”
“I know,” she said.
The kid gave her a long look.
“He was stupid to cheat on you.”
“You look just like your father,” she said. “Is he coming, or did he send you alone?”
“Chickenshit called in all my chits. Made me come alone. He’s home in bed with his latest squeeze,” the kid said.
“Were you followed?” I chimed in.
“I don’t think so. I didn’t see any headlights most of the way through Idaho until I got into Bozeman.”
“Do you have the money?”
“Don’t worry. It’s safe.”
“All right,” I said. “How about we find someplace to talk—and transact business?”
“Sounds good,” the kid said. “I need to get rid of some coffee and inject some more. You want to lead?”
We turned around and headed to the heart of Bozeman where I had seen a cowboy diner promising steak and egg breakfasts.
Amanda fumed beside me.
“How old would you say he is?” she asked.
“The kid? Oh, I don’t know. He’s got those grown-up features that some guys get early in their teens. I guess he could be eighteen, but I suspect he’s in his early twenties.”
“I’d say twenty-three or twenty-four.”
“Okay. That could be right,” I said.
“I divorced Tom twenty years ago, as soon as I found out about his girlfriend.”
I did the math.
“I’m sorry, Amanda. It must hurt like hell.”
She turned on me, punched my shoulder, and cried. When she spoke, she accentuated each word with a punch to my shoulder.
“It does,” she said. “It hurts. It still hurts. It hurts like hell.“He could have been my son.”
*
We chose a booth in front where we could look out the window. Without consulting the menu, we ordered coffee, juice—orange for them, tomato for me—and steak and egg breakfasts.
“So, what do we call you?” I asked.
“A lot of people call me bastard, including my father,” the kid said, repeating a line I suspect he used often. He exuded hostility and resentment from every pore.
“That must make it a little tough in polite company,” I said.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been there.”
His eyes dared me to challenge him.
“My mother named me after him. She hoped it would convince him to marry her and adopt me,” the kid said. “She was apparently naive in a whole lot of ways.”
“Do you go by Thomas then?” I asked. “Tom, Tommy…?”
“Not Tommy. Never Tommy. Just Tom, or T. My friends call me T,” he said.
“Then maybe we can call you T,” Amanda said.
He shrugged.
“Sure.”
“Your father didn’t tell me you were coming,” Amanda said.
“He wouldn’t. He’s such a chickenshit.”
“So, you know him pretty well?” I said, taking a cheap shot at the absent ex.
“Not all that well, but you can find out all you need to know about him in about five minutes,” T said.
“So, what did he have on you to get you to make an overnight drive to the middle of nowhere?”
“Money. What else? I borrowed a bunch. It’s amazing that someone with the morals of an alley cat can make money like turning on the tap. He’s supporting three ex-wives and he’s got a girlfriend now who only knows how to do one thing—shop. Well, I guess she knows two things.”
He looked at Amanda.
“Sorry,” he said.
“It’s all right. I divorced him a long time ago.”
“Yeah, the loser.”
“Did he tell you what this is about?” she asked.
“Yeah. You two are on the run from somebody nasty and need cash. I’m delivering the cash. End of story.”
“So why didn’t you take the cash and tell him to screw himself?” I said.
“Hey. I’m not a thief. And I don’t cheat on my girlfriends,” he said. “Did you get to choose your father?”
“No.”
“Well, neither did I,” he said.
“Your mother might have been able to use the cash. Fifty thousand is a lot of money,” I said.
“I’m not a thief,” he said. “And my mother died about a wife or two ago. I lived with her sister, my Aunt Meg, until I got out of high school.… So, what did you do? What are you running from?”
“Oh, you know,” I said.
“No, I don’t. That’s why I asked.
”It didn’t take much to set the kid off. Amanda put a halt to it.
“It’s a long story, and it’s better for you if you don’t know too many details,” she said. “The bottom line is someone shot my lawyer when he was talking with Sebastian. The bullet was intended for Sebastian. Discretion is the better part of valor, and here we are.”
“So how long have you two been an item?”
“Long enough,” I said.
“Married?”
“It hasn’t come up.”
T addressed Amanda:
“You always pick losers?”
“Apparently so,” she said. “You’re sitting here.”
The kid looked like he had been slapped. I chuckled. So did he. Maybe he wasn’t all teenage resentment after all.
“Is she always that tough?” he asked.
“Worse. This is her soft side,” I said.
T laughed out loud, then lowered his voice: “Okay, how do we do this? I hid the package outside of town. I didn’t want to have it on me in case—well, you know, just in case.”
I deferred to Amanda. It was her money.
“We’ll finish breakfast, then follow you,” she said. “You can head back to Salt Lake as soon as we’re done. Maybe you can give me your cell number. We could stay in touch a bit.”
He looked her over and made a decision.
“We can do most of that, but I’m coming with you.”
Chapter 47
T
I gagged on my coffee. “No way.”
Then I put my foot in it.
“It’s bad enough there are two of us. You want to add a third person and another vehicle. Let’s just get us a couple of semis and have a real convoy. Nobody’ll ever find us then.”
Amanda had caught my “oops” moment, of course.
“What do you mean, it’s bad enough there are two of us? Are you saying you don’t want me along?” she asked.
I glared at the kid.
“T, why would you want to come with us?” Amanda asked.
“Why not? I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“You’re what, twenty-three, twenty-four?” I said. “Don’t you have a job you have to be at?”
“Nope. Unemployed, or employed just when I want to be.” He grinned like the Cheshire cat.
“Really, T,” Amanda said, “why do you want to come with us? This is not a game or a lark.”
“I get that,” he said. “But …”
He shrugged.
“No job. No family. My father’s a shit and probably won’t want to have anything to do with me now, not like he ever did. Maybe I can help out.… Maybe we could get to know each other a little. You know.”
“There’s no way you can help out,” I said, “and you are just another way to trace us.”
“Nobody important knows I exist. And there’s no connection with my father, and certainly not with you two.”
“What about your cell phone?” I said. “I’m sure the people tryin
g to find us can get any cell records they want. They almost certainly have checked on your father. You’ll show up, and the connection will be made.”
“Not really. Dad uses a special cell to get in touch with me. It’s not on a plan. So, no biggie.… Besides, what’s your plan? Just go dig a $50,000 hole in the ground?”
“Things are happening fast,” I said. “We need to slow them down in a place where we can’t be found. There are some people working on this for us.”
“Who? Cops? If the cops are on your side, why are you on the run? I don’t think so.”
The kid oozed attitude, but he was sharp.
“Sounds like a real forward-looking plan you’ve got,” he said. “I’m telling you I can help, because I don’t exist in either of your orbits. I know how people get found by backtracking their social networks. I can be a go-between.”
“Sure you can, “ I said. “ And how do we know we can trust you?”
“I showed up at the meet; I haven’t threatened to withhold the money. You don’t know you can trust me, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.”
“Speaking of which, why don’t you take us to the money? Then you can go your way, wherever that is, and we’ll go ours,” I said.
“What happens when you need more money?”
“We’re not going to be on the run that long.”
“Really? What if the bad boys decide just to hang loose and wait for you to fall back onto the grid? I could write a program in half a day that would alert me any time anyone in the universe ever looked for anything remotely associated with you. I suspect the people who are after you know someone who can do that, too.”
“All right, stop, you two,” Amanda said. “You’re both right, and you’re both wrong. Bottom line, and I am the businessperson here, we do need T or someone like him, Sebastian. We still use cash, but he could rent a place for us, legally. We wouldn’t have to break in and always be looking over our shoulder for the police to arrive. But T, you have to understand that these people mean to kill. I don’t think they want any witnesses. We still don’t know why they tried to kill Sebastian, but we know they’re good. They fired only one shot.”
Her eyes bored into T.
“Your father’s a lot of things,” she said, “but he doesn’t scare easily. And he was scared. I’m willing to bet he’s dumped that cell phone that connected you two.”
“You think so?” T asked.
“Try it. Let’s find out,” I said.
T dialed, waited, and frowned.
“It’s down. There’s no answering machine,” he said. “The shit has dumped it.”
“Are you sure you want to do this, T?”
I started to speak. “Amanda, I don’t think…”
“Sebastian, please.… Well, T, do you still want to do this?”
“How was your lawyer killed?” he asked.
“Sniper,” I said. “Quarter of a mile away at least. All he needs is a clear shot.”
“Okay. That means we need a place with no long vistas. We need him up close. Someplace in a forest. I can rig up some motion detectors so he can’t sneak up on us.”
“Do I take it this means you still insist on coming with us?” Amanda said.
“Absolutely.”
“Amanda, what about…?”
She looked at me. I put my hand to my face like I was thinking and tapped my right cheek with one finger.
“There’s another thing you should know, T,” she said.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Sebastian can kill you just by thinking about you.”
*
I wouldn’t have told the kid that, but this was Amanda’s show. T just laughed.
“That’s a good one,” he said.
“Unfortunately, it’s true,” I said. “And it seems to be the source of our problem. Someone with powerful friends died, and they’re holding me responsible.”
I didn’t particularly care whether the kid believed me. I was focused on getting the money and continuing our flight.
“Yeah, right. You’re not talking me out of coming with you. And if that’s the best you’ve got, you really need me.”
“I think that’ll have to be between you and Amanda,” I said. “I think it’s bad idea for you to come along, but we make decisions together, at least when we can.”
“And when can’t you do that?”
“When the spirit takes over,” Amanda said.
T shook his head.
“Aw, not you, too. Maybe my father was right. You’re crazy.
”Amanda was trying to level with the kid, and he was making fun of her, attacking a vulnerable point, her desirability and her ex-husband’s faithlessness.
“Just zip it, loser,” I said, heat rising in my face.
Amanda placed her hand on mine.
“Sebastian, it’s…”
“You call me a loser?” the kid said. “You think somebody’s trying to kill you. You drag Amanda around with you just so you can get into her pants and tap into her bank account. Who’s the—”
He didn’t finish. Instead, he fell off his seat and rolled on the floor, writhing in pain.
Chapter 48
News
Back in his seat opposite me, T eyed me warily, rubbing his throat.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he said.
“Do what?” I said.
I noticed other customers stealing glances at us. I’d faked giving T the Heimlich maneuver to cover his Empaya Iba experience. Others had rushed to assist. The diner was quiet now, but still unsettled.
He spoke to Amanda.
“I’m sorry for what I said, but don’t let him do that again.”
She nodded.
“I’m still going with you,” the kid said. “But that’s good to know—about him, I mean.”
*
Amanda and I followed T south out of Bozeman to Gallatin National Forest, about forty miles away. He had obviously taken the long route from Salt Lake City. I felt better about that. It meant he was worried about being followed, too, although I wondered why.
He pulled off the road at a wooden sign pointing the way up to Gallatin Peak. I had more doubts about him when he pointed to a worn, dirty backpack lying in a pile of barrel cacti at the foot of the sign. His idea of hiding $50,000 in cash was to just leave it lying around in a cactus garden.
In fairness, he did have to use a ten-foot branch to lift it out of the cacti, but I thought he’d gone too far with the idea of hiding in plain sight, though that’s pretty much what we planned to do.
Our original idea was to decide in Bozeman which way to go, west toward Idaho or east across Montana to the Dakotas. With T available to us as a go-between, we decided to stick around the Bozeman area. That allowed us the option of using I-90 to go east or west and created other options as well. We could also backtrack through Yellowstone or head north into Canada on backroads. I liked having options.
I insisted on leaving the backpack filled with rocks farther up the dirt road to Gallatin Peak in case there was some tracking device in it that we hadn’t seen.
Amanda thought I was being excessively cautious.
“I suppose you’ll want to put the money under infrared to make sure it doesn’t have robbery identification markers on it,” she said.
“No need,” T said. “I checked it out before I left.”
Amanda and I looked at him.
“What?” he said. “It’s my father we’re talking about. He could screw us both by marking the money and making an anonymous call to the cops.”
Whom to believe about Tom Kingston? Amanda, who had lost her love for the man but felt she knew him, or the kid, who had no love to lose and knew him more recently?
Maybe Mike Owens would have a line on the guy—if I could trust Mike.
“I hate to interrupt this conversation about your mutual relative, but I think it’s time I contacted Mike again,” I said.
“Even though we’re using burn
phones, I don’t want to do it where we might settle.”
“Where will you do it?” Amanda asked.
“Go to U Big Sky,” T said. “Plenty of people there, compared with the rest of Montana and Idaho. All the Wi-Fi connections should give you some protection.”
The kid actually had a good idea.
“How far is it?” I asked.
“Couple hundred miles.”
“That’s doable,” I said. “So, you guys will find us a place to stay and let me know?”
“Yes. Be careful, Sebastian.” Amanda kissed my good cheek, then my lips.
T watched, amused.
I retrieved two new cell phones from our stash. We exchanged numbers and agreed to touch base at dinnertime. Amanda rode off in T’s car back to Bozeman, and I headed off to Missoula to contact Mike. We had a lot to talk about.
*
All the way to the University of Montana, I thought about Amanda and the kid. He might be useful. He had balls and street smarts. Amanda was clearly taken with him. If he could lose the attitude, he might prove to be a friendly guardian for her during the year or two I figured I would be away. I’d made my decision: I planned to leave the country in the next few days—alone.
I hit Missoula around lunchtime and headed for the University District, where I expected my cell phone to get lost among the college traffic.
Jan, Mike’s wife, picked up on the first ring, but said nothing.
“I need Mike,” I said.
She reeled off a telephone number. “Got it?”
“Yes,” I said.
She disconnected. Elapsed time, a couple seconds. I bought a soda at a hot dog stand, roosted on a planter nearby and dialed the number.
“You still with me?” I said.
“Yes.”
“What’s up?”
“Interesting news, bad news,” Mike Owens said. “Forensics believes you were not responsible for any of the incidents we discussed.”
“Say again?”
“It wasn’t you. Autopsies showed two completely different types of long-term, undiagnosed heart disease.”
“You buy that?”
“That’s what science says.”
I watched the summer school kids in shorts and flip-flops pass by, their noses buried in cell phones.
“Does this mean your people are no longer interested? Without the long-distance connection, I’m no longer as useful as you thought.”
The Mark of the Spider: A Black Orchid Chronicle Page 24