Blue Smoke and Murder

76

SEPT 17

6:15 P.M.

Zach sat in the right-hand seat of the orbiting aircraft, binoculars against his eyes. Ten thousand feet below, he saw the glint of water and slash of green that was the Indian Springs oasis. The glare of slanting sunlight on the metal roof of the gas station was like a fire.

The pilot had taken up station about a mile west of the highway and was trying to more or less match the speed of the Cadillac on the desert floor. It was tricky. The opposition had Jill running back and forth and around like a hamster on a bent wheel.

The only good news was that she was a Western driver-eighty miles per hour unless she hit a straightaway, then up to ninety.

Talk about going nowhere fast. Zach shook his head and told himself to be patient.

The Escalade sat beside the front door of the gas station. Through the binoculars, he followed Jill as she came out of the station and stood beside the car, sat phone in one hand, BlackBerry in her belly bag. He could hear her end of any conversation.

“Now what,” she said impatiently into her sat phone.

Silence.

“Yes, I’m filling up on gas at a price that makes the paintings look cheap.”

More silence while she listened.

“Again? I’m getting tired of that stretch of highway. Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Zach wondered when and where the opposition was going to stop playing games. The sun was already sliding down the sky, heading toward the western horizon and the dark velvet twilight of a summer desert evening.

His sat/cell vibrated. He hit the connect button, read the caller ID, and said, “Nothing new.”

Faroe wasn’t any happier than he was. “They’ve had enough chance to vet Jill and everyone else on the highway. Are they waiting for dark?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Craptastic.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Zach said. “The good news is that it will make it easier for her to escape, if it comes to that.”

“The bad news is that in the dark, you’ll have to tighten up the chase units. Actually, that’s good. We’ve switched chase vehicles four times. Won’t need to worry as much about being made after dark.”

“This has to be hard on Jill’s nerves,” Zach said.

“Worry about your own. She’s solid. Steele is already making noises about signing her up as an op.”

“Is that good or bad?” Zach shot back.

“Not our choice, is it?”

Faroe broke the connection.

Zach wanted to put his fist through the thin aluminum skin of the airplane. Instead he took a few slow breaths and turned hot impatience into the cold stillness of a predator. He wouldn’t be any good for Jill if he was on the breaking edge of frustration.

Quick playing jerk-around, you bastard. It’s time to party.