Double Danger

by Trilby Plants

  “Why, that’s precisely so, Mrs. Smythe. I’m concerned about your order. Can you bring your van by and I’ll load it for you?”

  “Okay, okay.” Alyssa understood. She chewed her lip in thought for a moment. “I know. Carl, bring my car. Nick can take it.”

  “Nick? – well, that nick is just a surface flaw, nothing to worry about, Mrs. Smythe. The police are almost done here. It may take about forty-five minutes before I can be there. Where shall I … deliver it?”

  “Bring it to the Smythe mansion. You remember? I’ll meet you by the special windows and come home with you. And not a word until I can explain things. Make sure nobody follows you.”

  “Right, I’m counting on hearing the whole story when I see you, Mrs. Smythe.”

  “Thanks, Carl. Oh, and will you toss the sleeping bag and the tent and big flashlight in the car? Bye.”

  Alyssa disconnected and exhaled in relief. “That’s set. We’ve got forty-five minutes to kill.”

  “How about I drive?” Nick said.

  Alyssa nodded. Her head ached. They traded places. It must just look like they had driven a long way and were exchanging drivers.

  As Nick started the van, a plaintive wail issued from under his seat. A gray paw shot out and batted his shoe.

  “What the hell ‒”

  “Oh, Bella,” Alyssa said. “Here kitty, kitty. I was so scared when you told me to leave the shop that I panicked. I took her and your jacket” ‒ she pointed to where she had tossed it in the back ‒ “and ran.”

  Isabella poked her face out from under the seat, then carefully pushed her way past Nick’s feet and jumped onto Alyssa’s lap.

  Nick gazed at the cat for a moment as it settled down, then raised his eyebrows quizzically. “You brought a cat.”

  Alyssa sat silent.

  Nick shifted into reverse and backed from the parking space. He pulled out of the parking lot, a fierce look of concentration on his face.

  “You think I’ll need a sleeping bag?” he said.

  “Well, you might. You said you didn’t want to be traced. With a sleeping bag and a tent you can camp. Campers are pretty anonymous.”

  “I’ve never camped.”

  “Never?”

  “No.”

  “What about your Indian grandmother?”

  “She was only a quarter Indian, and she lived in a nice house in town.”

  Alyssa found herself at a loss for words.

  Nick glanced away from the road to her. “Not bad for an amateur.”

  “Thank you.” She felt absurdly pleased that he approved. But did he think she was more than she appeared?

  “So where are we meeting?” he said.

  Alyssa smiled. “It’s an old joke. Carl and I used to pretend we had this fabulously rich client, Lady Smythe, and the largest place we could think of for her to live was the old Taggart Music Building across from the public library. It had white pillars and was originally the home of some very influential people who made cars, before they donated it and it became the Music Building. Now there’s a big new building next door. It doesn’t look much like a house, but once in a while we still talk about Lady Smythe’s mansion. A friend of my aunt’s works in stained glass. She did some beautiful windows for the new building.”

  “That’s what you meant by the windows.” Alyssa nodded.

  They rode in silence for several minutes.

  “Do you trust Carl?” Nick said.

  “What do you mean, do I trust him?”

  “I mean, how well do you know him? What’s he like?”

  She took a deep breath. “I’ve known Carl since I was twelve. He worked for my aunt until they became partners. Carl is kind, gentle, honest, and very smart.”

  “Will he tell the police?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Alyssa, if he’s an honest man, he may feel duty bound to report this.”

  Again, Alyssa shook her head. “No, I asked him not to, so he won’t. It’s not a matter of whether I trust him. It’s a matter of friendship. He’s the closest I have to family.”

  She leaned back in her seat and absently smoothed Bella’s fur. They meandered through residential sections of the city. From time to time Nick glanced at the dashboard clock. Time crawled until, finally, Alyssa directed him through side streets to the arts district. He cruised past the building while Alyssa searched the few cars parked on the street for her blue Honda CR-V. When she didn’t spot it, Nick drove around the block. This time the car was there, and Carl was getting out of it.

  “Perfect,” Nick said, and pulled into a parking space in front of the Honda. Before he opened the door, he scanned the area, then climbed out of the van. Alyssa set Bella on the seat and followed him.

  Carl stared at Nick. For just a moment, Alyssa saw Nick through Carl’s eyes: a tall, dark, bearded man who was too cool, too calm, standing too close to Alyssa. The woman Carl had always protected like a younger sister.

  Carl’s mouth was set in a grim line. “Alyssa, what the hell is going on?”

  Despite her racing heart, Alyssa tried to sound calm. “Don’t worry. I’m fine,” she said. “This is Nick. He’s going to borrow the van. You and I’ll take my car home.”

  When Carl opened his mouth to ask questions, Alyssa added, “It’s a long story. I’ll explain on the way home.”

  Carl opened the car’s hatch. The back was packed with camping gear.

  “I see you brought what I mentioned,” Alyssa said, “and a few dozen other things.” She spotted the one burner camp stove with a bottle of propane attached, a battery powered lantern and the set of nesting pots her aunt and uncle had used for cooking on camping trips.

  Carl grinned. “You said sleeping bag and tent, and that means camping gear, so I grabbed everything I could find in that closet.

  “Uh, thanks,” Nick said, “but I really don’t think this is necessary. The fact that you’re letting me borrow your car is wonderful.” Nick was already pulling things out of the car. “So we’ll just send most of this all back with you,” he said as he carried an armload to the van.

  “Okay,” Alyssa said. “Suit yourself.” She followed him with the camp stove, lantern and nesting pots. He opened the back door of the van, and they slid the gear across the floor. Bella crouched behind the seat, glaring at Alyssa.

  “Honestly, cat,” Alyssa said, worried she would jump out. Bella hadn’t been outside except for occasional brief escapes since Alyssa’s kindergartners had rescued her.

  Alyssa watched Bella, ready to snatch her if she tried to escape, while Nick tossed things into the van and Carl rolled the sleeping bag in next to the tent.

  Passersby strolled along the opposite sidewalk. A warm breeze rustled the leaves on the trees along the street. A car approached, slowing as it came near. It stopped behind the Honda, and a man got out on the passenger side.

  Carl came up between the van and the Honda. “Ready?” he said.

  Alyssa nodded and was about to call Bella, when she glanced at the car behind hers. The man who had gotten out pointed a gun at them. She tried to speak, to warn Carl, but sound froze in her throat. A gun. Danger.

  Nick leaned over to push the tent further into the van, and Carl stepped toward her. There was a popping sound. Carl stumbled forward a few steps, then crumpled to the asphalt. The man turned the gun toward Alyssa. She started to reach out to Carl. Strong arms pulled her back, then pushed her into the van. She plunked down onto the worn carpet.

  “Stay down,” Nick growled at her. “These guys are serious.”

  Carl lay prone on the pavement.

  Nick went down on one knee, pulled his pistol from under his jacket and aimed. The man who had shot Carl had ducked behind the open door of his car. Nick fired. Alyssa flinched at the sound. Put her hands over her ears. A hole appeared in the car door. People on the sidewalk scattered.

  Nick jammed the gun back into its holster, jumped into the back of the van, dragging Alyssa further insi
de with him, and slammed the doors. He scrambled over her and into the driver’s seat, started the van and rammed the gearshift into first. Bella vanished under the passenger seat, and Alyssa crouched behind the driver’s seat. The van screeched out onto the street, away from the dark car and away from Carl’s body stretched out on the pavement.

  Chapter 7

  Alyssa sat with her back pressed against the driver’s seat, her face buried in her drawn-up knees. She covered her ears, trying to block out the gunshot echoes.

  Vivid images played in her mind, creating a surreal sense of disorientation.

  She was in the office of the shop with Uncle Henry.

  Lyssa. She heard his voice clearly. The gun. Hand me the gun ….

  But she did not move … could not move .... The gunshot exploded again and again. Uncle Henry thudded to the floor. Carl shot. Both were dead because of her.

  The SUV jounced and swayed. On a sharp turn Alyssa toppled, and her head struck the side of the vehicle. Stars danced around her. Then, dimly, she became aware that Nick was speaking to her.

  “I said you can come out now.”

  She looked up. This wasn’t a dream. They’d been shot at. And Nick had shot back. But it wasn’t Uncle Henry. It was ‒

  “They shot Carl.” Alyssa grabbed the back of Nick’s seat and pulled herself up. She balanced on her knees, closed both hands into fists and rained blows on him. “Stop. We’ve got to help him.”

  “Ow.” Nick raised an arm. “Stop that.”

  He grabbed her right wrist and pulled. She had to either follow that pull or have her arm wrenched. She followed, rising with the pull. With a twist from Nick’s hand and shoulders she went between the seats and half onto the passenger seat. She landed on her right side, her head against his thigh. The Suburban barely wavered from its track.

  “Sit up,” he said.

  Rough denim against her cheek. The muscles in his thigh tensed as he let up on the accelerator, then pressed it again.

  “I. Said. Sit. Up.” Cold, controlled anger in his voice.

  She struggled to a sitting position. Bella poked a paw out from under the seat and then shimmied out and climbed onto Alyssa’s lap. She held the cat against her and stroked her.

  Alyssa’s head hurt where she’d bumped it, and her arm was tender where Nick had gripped it.

  “Lady,” he said, “no more stupid stunts like that one. And buckle up, dammit.”

  She did and slumped against the door. Interstate-75 whizzed by. They were headed north.

  “Where are you going?” she said. “We should be going to the police.”

  Nick glared at the road. “No cops.”

  “But ‒”

  “No cops,” he said. “I can’t explain this to them. They wouldn’t be able to corroborate my story, so I’d be a sitting duck.”

  “What do you mean, wouldn’t corroborate your story? Your agency ‒”

  “My agency.” The sarcasm in his voice stung her. “No one will vouch for me. I don’t exist. I’m off the books. ”

  “I could tell them ‒”

  “Tell them what?”

  “I thought you were undercover.”

  “I am. My cover is I’m a college professor. You’d tell them I’m being threatened by unknown persons for unknown reasons. And when they call the NSA, I don’t exist. And by the time they finish checking and double checking and verifying, I’ll be dead. I’m not contacting anybody until I figure out who to trust.”

  He guided the SUV into the left lane to pass a slower-moving car.

  Alyssa was living a nightmare. She wove her fingers into Bella’s fur, hoping to get some comfort. Bella trembled.

  “Okay,” she said with a dull sense of resignation. “Let me out. I won’t go to the police. I’ll just go home.” She wanted to be in familiar surroundings even though her home was a shambles.

  Nick’s chin raised as he glanced in the rearview mirror. “You’re staying with me. I can’t afford to let you go.”

  For a moment, she remained silent, visualizing her friend lying on the street. “They shot Carl. And we just left him. And you shot at people.” Tears squeezed from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

  “I had no choice. It was me or them.” His jaw was set and tense.

  What about me? she wondered. She’d been shot at, too. Who and what was he, really?

  Danger, hammered a little voice in her brain.

  “So,” she said, surprised at how calm her voice sounded, “you’re holding me against my will.”

  Nick pounded on the steering wheel. Bella startled but did not leave the safety of Alyssa’s lap.

  “There’s no explaining things to you, is there?” he said. He glanced at her, and his voice lowered. “Fine, have it your way. I’ve kidnapped you, and you’re my hostage.”

  He stared at the road for a moment, and then broke into her thoughts with a final command. “And keep that cat on your side.”

  She did as he said, swiping tears off her cheeks.

  For twenty miles they rode in silence. Alyssa’s mind tried to come up with an escape plan, but she couldn’t form a coherent thought. She reached for the door latch. Could she open it and jump out? Not at seventy miles an hour.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Nick said.

  Bella dozed and purred. Nick drove.

  Alyssa glanced at him occasionally. His eyes seemed to be in constant motion. He shifted his attention smoothly from the road to the rearview mirror to the gauges in front of him. He wove in and out of traffic, avoided slower vehicles. His speed did not vary more than five miles above the limit.

  In spite of her predicament, she admired his driving. It was different from her cautious method. He was good: smooth, consistent and alert. He seemed to see everything. Except Alyssa. He ignored her.

  Dismissed, she thought. She was not a problem. She’d been taken care of. Neutralized.

  Traffic thinned as they traveled north, and Nick seemed to relax. He didn’t slow down. He leaned back in his seat, and some of the tension left his shoulders. His glances at the rearview mirror became less frequent.

  “Well,” he finally said, “they don’t seem to be following. I’m safe for a while.”

  “Safe?” An image of Carl lying on the street filled her mind, and as much as Alyssa tried, she could not hold back the tears. They dripped down her cheeks, spilling onto Bella’s fur. “How safe was Carl?” She tried to swallow her sobs, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She hiccupped a few times. Caught her breath.

  “Alyssa, he’s all right.”

  “How can you say that? He could be badly hurt. He could be … could be ....” She couldn’t say it, but neither could she banish it from her mind.

  “He’s not dead.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve been replaying that scene in my mind. Something doesn’t jibe. Did you hear the shot?”

  “I … it sounded like a pop.”

  Nick shook his head. “It wasn’t the right sound for a silencer. And there wasn’t any blood.” She looked at him, uncomprehending. “Your friend was shot with a tranquilizer dart.”

  “What?” Alyssa stared at him. He was a computer geek. How did he know the difference between a gunshot and a tranquilizer gun? “Why would someone do that?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t figured it out yet.” He fished in his jeans pocket and brought out a clean white handkerchief and offered it to her. “Here.”

  Alyssa stared at the folded white square of cloth for a moment, then accepted it and wiped her eyes and her nose. The man carried a pocket-handkerchief. How odd.

  “Is this yours?” she said.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  She pursed her lips. “I was just wondering what kind of a man carries a pocket handkerchief. It’s kind of old-fashioned.”

  Nick shrugged. “Early training. Mom and Grandma insisted.”

  So, even kidnappers had mothers.

  They both fell
silent. Nick turned his attention back to the road, while Alyssa crammed the handkerchief into her pocket. The two bills crinkled. She had money. If she could get away, she had resources.

  This man, this former government agent – this kidnapper – had come into her life and turned it upside down. He made her angry. Yet he took care of her. She’d been shot at, judo flipped and yelled at. He had gotten her away from two men with guns, and he’d given her a handkerchief.

  He was dangerous. Yet something about him made her want to believe in him.

  Alyssa bit her lip and looked away from him. Things could get worse. She tried not to think about what worse might be.

  Chapter 8

  Nick piloted the aging Suburban down a clear stretch of highway. He tried not to look at the woman beside him, but she was maddeningly in his mind. What kind of woman would yell at a man in a parking lot, accept his help and then back away? For the first time in three years he felt torn between duty and personal feelings. Why him? Why had she chosen him? And why in God’s name had he dragged her into the SUV? He could have – should have – left her. She probably would have been all right.

  He knew damned well he could never have left her. In the seconds after Carl was shot, Nick had made a conscious decision to protect her. Something about her fascinated him, drew him to her. Even if she turned out to be something other than what she said she was.

  For the hundredth time he glanced in the rearview mirror. No pursuit. He stole a covert glance at Alyssa. This woman came with a million unanswered questions. Could it be she was not as innocent as she seemed? Was all this too coincidental, too clever? Were they not being followed because Alyssa was part of this? She could lead whoever was after him right to him, either passively with some electronic device on her person, or a discreet phone call when he wasn’t looking.

  “Where’s your cell phone?” he said.

  “Why?” She didn’t look at him.

  “Give it to me.” She hesitated. “Now.”

  She reached down on the floor for her purse, opened it and withdrew the phone. He grabbed it, disengaged the battery, lowered his window and threw the battery and the phone toward the grassy median. They bounced on the asphalt into the grass.