by Jenna Kernan
She smiled at the memory.
“We need a new set of wheels,” he shouted back at her.
Numerous cabins and lake houses lined the steep banks of the western shore of the lake. Ryan slowed several times as she admired how the water of the lake reflected the bright blue sky. It was going to be another clear day, she realized.
Finally, Ryan found what he sought, a late-model RAM pickup with rusted-out rear fenders and filled with a load of firewood heaped in disarray.
It was a good choice, she thought, easily overlooked and forgettable.
Haley held the bike as he worked under the console of the truck. She craned her neck at the house, expecting someone to emerge at any moment.
By the time the truck motor turned over, she was certain the family in that lake house would hear them. But despite appearances, the motor purred like new. Ryan returned to her and took the motorbike, secreting it behind the woodpile, and then opened the truck’s passenger door for her.
Once underway she glanced at the dash and saw it was nearly ten in the morning.
“Where are you supposed to meet the courier?”
“Not meet. I’ll be checking a dead drop.”
“What’s a dead drop?”
“It’s a predetermined place for your contact to leave information that will not be accidentally discovered. It takes two agents to make an exchange without meeting in person. We use wireless drops now. We can transmit data from a handheld device just by getting close to it. But this drop is old-school. If Takashi made it, I just need to pick it up. He carried the intel over the Canadian border and I take it from here.”
“Why?”
He paused and she remembered what he’d said about telling her nothing other than what she already knew. Ryan rubbed his neck, thinking.
“You’ve risked your life to help me.”
She nodded because that was true.
“My courier’s name is Takashi. He’s a foreign operative who has dual citizenship, US and Japanese. He is currently working with the Company from China, an ally, but that doesn’t make him welcome at headquarters.”
“What company?”
Ryan’s mouth quirked. “The Company is what we call the CIA.”
Her eyes widened but she nodded her understanding. “I thought you said he was a Japanese intelligence agent.”
“He is.”
“But you said...” She gasped. “A double agent!”
“Shh,” he said. “He’s no double agent. He works for the Japanese government. His people felt this intel needed to be with us. He delivered it.”
She covered her mouth and hunched. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Do you know where this information has come from?”
“I know where we believe it to have originated.”
“Will you tell me?”
He glanced at her then returned his focus to the road. “Haley, the less you know the better.”
“I have never found that to be true.”
“We’re here. They’ll be looking for both of us together so I need you to stay in the truck.”
She planned to do just that, at least until he was out of sight.
Chapter Thirteen
Haley watched Ryan walk along the street that faced the lake. The tourist area had changed little since she had seen it last. There was the ice-cream shop where her dad would buy his daughters sundaes that neither of them could finish and right next door the candy shop where they would buy saltwater taffy for his younger sister. A gift that Haley later learned that her aunt loathed because the sticky taffy pulled at her dental work.
Ryan continued past the T-shirt shop, skirting around the family sticking their heads through the cutouts of nineteenth-century passengers preparing to board the paddle wheeler.
There, he crossed the street, heading toward the dock that stretched out over the water, offering slips for various boats, and led, she remembered, to the paddle wheeler, Minne-Ha-Ha.
Was he planning to go on board?
Haley thought this her best chance to check on her parents, so she slipped out of the vehicle and headed in the opposite direction. She did not know where the police station might be, but remembered that there was always lots of police presence in the tourist area. The town was careful about protecting its most reliable source of income.
She passed the ice-cream shop pausing only to glance through the window, past the ornate gold lettering, to the table where she had sat with her family back in the time when they were whole and complete. Before Maggie’s death tore the family in half. A new family now sat there, happy with their treats and with time to do as they pleased. She looked at the children, a girl and young boy, and hoped they’d fare better than she and her sister, Maggie.
“I love ice cream. Don’t you?”
Haley startled.
“Sorry!” said the unfamiliar male voice. “I startled you.”
Her smile was automatic as she regarded him, judging the man to be of college age. He wore a T-shirt advertising a band that she was vaguely aware of and Jams shorts. His sneakers were unlaced with the ends tucked into the shoe. His face was lean and his mirror sunglasses disguised his eyes.
“They pipe the smell of the caramel corn and fudge out here in the street.” He smiled and pointed at the vent between the awning and window. “It’s a killer later in the day.”
She smiled. “I remember.”
“Can I buy you a cone?” He pointed to entrance. “Can I buy you a cup?”
She hesitated. “Um, you know, I’d like that, but would you mind me borrowing your phone? I left mine in my hotel room.”
“Oh? Sure.” He handed it over, smiling brightly, hoping to buy her an ice cream. Really, she should tell him to run in the opposite direction and keep running until he lost sight of her.
“Thanks.” She accepted the phone and paused before dialing. Calling her father was risky. They might be tracking all calls to his number. But this stranger didn’t know her father. Was she dragging him into this mess in the same way that she’d been ensnared? If they traced this call, they might find out where they were.
“What’s wrong?” asked the young man.
She forced a smile. “Nothing. Just trying to remember the number.”
Not knowing if her parents were safe from all this was tearing her up. She gritted her teeth and dialed her father.
The phone rang only once before connecting.
“Hello?” said her dad, cautious as he prepared for a telemarketer.
“Dad?”
“Haley? Is that you?”
“Hi, Dad!” she was laughing now, relief mingling with a sense of normalcy.
“Everything okay? I didn’t think you could use your phone.”
“Well, I’m borrowing one.”
“Oh, is everything okay?”
She sniffed. “Fine.”
He must have heard the strain in her voice. “Haley, if you really hate it, you can come home. I’ll think of something to tell your mom. I’m just sorry that she was right again. I really thought you might like it.”
Adventure camp. He thought she was upset by adventure camp.
“No, I’m fine. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Ah, honey.”
“I’ve got to...run... I have a...a class in a few minutes.”
“What class?” He sounded excited now.
She smiled. “It’s like orienteering.”
“Oh, like a treasure hunt? What’s that called, geo-caching. Right?”
“Sort of.”
“That sounds great. Just great!” He was overemphasizing again, as he did when trying to coax her into joining something. This time she had. She’d joined something bigger than herself.
“It is great. I love you, Dad. Please tell Mom the same from me.”
&nb
sp; “Sure, honey. I love you, too.”
The silence stretched. Now he’d say, Bye, honey, I’m hanging up now. Then he’d lower the phone gently back to the cradle and she’d hear that familiar clunk. She waited and then thought of him, at home, worried that she might not be quite all right and wondering if he should hang up or continue to reassure.
“Um, bye, Dad.” Haley disconnected. She handed back the phone to the young man. “Thanks very much.”
She spotted the police officer who was now moving in her direction, his eyes fixed upon her.
“Haley Nobel?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Why had she said yes. She turned to face him. The officer’s hands went to his sides, to the gun and the radio.
“I need you to turn around,” he said.
The young man was gawking at her, clearly speechless.
She did and then she leaped over the park bench and ran. Behind her the officer shouted. She had two advantages: she was a regular at her gym in Brooklyn and the officer was carrying about fifty pounds of gear. He, however, had a mobile police force, which he was likely calling. She glanced back and saw he had opted for his radio. The hunt was on.
* * *
RYAN WALKED PAST the six-and-a-half-foot Frankenstein who wore full makeup right down to his elevator shoes. The employee of the House of Horrors wax museum posed with two tourists while a third took the photo on her phone. Beyond the museum, the adjoining building jutted out an additional three feet before the shops continued. Along that blank stretch of wall sat a blue soda vending machine. Ryan leaned against the wall. Frankenstein did a great job of distracting the crowds of vacationers from him as Ryan slipped his arm into the gap between the vending machine and the brick wall.
At first he felt nothing, and his heart sank. Dead end, he thought. All for nothing.
Then he swept his hand slightly lower and felt adhesive tape. Takashi was several inches shorter than him. He’d extended his arm and placed the drop just slightly below a comfortable sweep of Ryan’s arm.
He stooped as he pried the corner of the tape away until he removed the envelope with the gray duct tape still clinging to the front.
“Bingo!” he whispered and tipped the envelope, disappointed that no flash drive fell into his palm. He withdrew the folded page.
At that moment he heard someone shouting.
“Hey, stop!”
Frankenstein and the tourists all swiveled their heads in the direction of the commotion. He slipped the envelope into the pocket of the garment he had taken from the murdered hiker and a sinking feeling pinned him in place.
She hadn’t stayed in the truck.
He just had time to tug down the zipper of the pocket when Haley dashed into view, long legs pumping and arms swinging as she ran. She did not look behind her at the police officer in pursuit. He was falling behind and, perhaps seeing the folly of continuing on foot, slowed and lifted his radio.
Haley dashed by and Ryan lifted the hood of his jacket as he pushed off the wall and ambled after the two. The officer slowed as Haley darted down an alley. The officer continued at a lope down the narrow passage where she had vanished and then turned back to the street. Ryan knew he should return to the truck, deliver the package left by his courier and forget he’d ever met Haley Nobel.
An image of her face peering down at him from her car as he lay bleeding in the road flashed in his mind. She’d saved him and she’d attacked one of the two female agents who’d gotten the drop on him and she’d distracted the trooper so he could escape the mobile home.
He owed her. Big-time.
But that didn’t supplant his orders.
The pursuit offered a wonderful distraction. He should leave her.
Instead, he trailed them to the back of the row of shops and the wide expanse of the parking lot beyond. Haley disappeared behind a row of vehicles and ducked out of sight.
From somewhere far too close came the sound of sirens. The village of Lake George was responding to the call for backup. If they took her into custody, it would be one less distraction. But he knew that the first to respond to the news of her arrest would not be DEA officers. Once they took her, there was little to no chance of getting her back. And he wanted her back, badly enough to risk his mission. He darted out into the parking area. The police officer never saw him as he ran parallel to his course. Once he reached the row where Haley disappeared, he dropped and scanned for her legs. Seeing nothing, he moved forward and repeated his efforts. On the sixth try he saw her wet boots and muddy socks.
He reached the row where she crouched at the same time the first two police units entered the parking area. He waved and she spotted him. Then he motioned for her to come. He knew the police would fan out and check this lot, every row, every car, and that meant they required a new hiding place.
They’d be searching low, so they needed to go high. He scanned the lot for some means of escape. The young officer, the first responder, had remained posted at the alley. This gave him a view of much of the lot. The responding officers were blocking the two accesses to the road. But without a vehicle, the road didn’t appeal.
Ryan clasped her hand and kept low, crouching as they jogged together back in the direction of the first responder. Ryan waited at the first row of vehicles to see if the young man would leave his post. The lure of the other officers’ arrival being the bait.
Ryan lay down to watch the young officer’s legs. He took a few steps toward them, speaking on his radio. Telling them that the woman had not left the lot. He walked forward, pausing before the bumpers of the cars parked closest to the access alley. That might be the farthest he went. Ryan took the chance. He squeezed her hand and pointed in the direction he intended them to go.
She nodded her understanding and he glanced back. The officer must’ve stepped between two vehicles, because Ryan could no longer see him.
If he turned his head, he’d spot them. If they made any sound they’d be caught. Ryan knew his chances against a young officer were good, but they dropped considerably against three officers. Add Haley to the mix and this was his best shot.
He darted out from cover, keeping low and gripping Haley’s hand as if she were his mission. He didn’t understand it. Couldn’t think about it right now. He just had to get them to the row of four dumpsters.
When they cleared the closest one and reached the brick wall at the rear of the building, he paused, listening. The sirens stopped but red lights still reflected off the metal screen door just to their left.
Haley’s breathing was fast and frantic. He glanced at her and saw her color was bad, too pale, and her irises too large and black. From the position behind the dumpsters, Ryan contemplated his next move. If they were spotted his chances of getting them both clear were poor. If they reached the rooftops, they’d be stranded for hours at least.
Ryan looked out from between the dumpsters. Then he crept forward to watch the search in progress. The officers crouched, focusing on a methodical search of each row of vehicles.
Now or never.
He climbed to the dumpster lid and offered his hand. She accepted without hesitation and he dragged her soundlessly up. From there it was an easy hop to the fire escape. He was glad for the approach of a new police unit. Still out of sight, its siren blared, covering the sound of their feet as they scaled the metal stairs. At each landing, he glanced into the apartments. Some were covered with curtains but others showed glimpses of a living room. The third landing had a potted plant left out and strategically placed to catch the drips of the window AC unit. It was the sort of thing one did when they planned to be away.
They reached the top of the fire escape. He paused to glance down. The police, six officers now, continued their search pattern. Any one of the men below could spot them if they were to look up.
But people rarely did.
“We ha
ve to get all the way to the roof,” he said.
Haley glanced from him to the roof that lay twelve feet above where they now stood.
“How?”
“Escape rail and then I’ll boost you up.”
“Are you crazy?”
“So they tell me.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll climb.”
Haley looked back at the brick wall. She backed up into him and then spun in his arms.
“I can’t.”
He gripped her shoulders and growled in her ear. “You can.”
She dropped to her knees on the escape. Below them the sirens ceased. Curious folks had arrived to watch the hunt. Time was against them. Spectators would spot them eventually. He wished he had his poncho. He might cover her up so she looked like a grill or chair or garbage bin on the top escape. As it was he needed them off this metal staircase.
He scrambled up to the railing and reached. The roof lay another two feet beyond his extended arms, but in between lay the wooden sashing of the large window and above that the dental molding and lip of the flat roof.
Ryan bent his knees in preparation to jump and something clamped about his leg. He glanced down to find Haley, her face white, her hair sticking out in all directions.
Ryan offered a hand and she climbed up beside him. He waited until she braced against the building and then he jumped, easily reaching the roof’s edge. The next part was more difficult. He had only his fingers over the edge. He managed a straight pull up and then lift until his arms were extended and his hips pressed to the metal flashing. He threw his leg up and scrambled onto the roof.
There he removed his flannel shirt and tied a loop in one sleeve and a knot in the other. Then he lay on his belly, pushed the shirt over the edge toward Haley, retaining a tight hold of the knot.
From his position, he saw that the officers were gathering beside one of the units. They would have a fine look at him, with his plaid flannel shirt, waving like a flag of surrender.