Authors: Russell Blake
Esina and Malerov exited the meeting with considerably less spring in their steps than when they’d entered, and as they stalked from the minister’s offices, both men had scowls on their faces that would have been enough to send their subordinates running for cover. One thing was obvious as they emerged into the cold gray light of late morning, pausing on the steps of the Kremlin, eyeing the soldiers in the light snow standing rigid as statues in their dress uniforms.
Their lives had just changed dramatically, and they’d now devote every waking moment of their existence to locating the missing bomb – or die trying.
Chapter 9
Present day, Tucson, Arizona
The freeway exit resembled countless others Jet and Matt had passed during their marathon drive from Washington, D.C., but the Explorer needed gas and they were near enough to their stopping point in Tucson to justify pulling off the road and finding a hotel for the night. Tomorrow would have them crossing into Mexico, and then, with any luck at all, driving to the first airport and catching a flight to Mexico City, from where they could get to Uruguay so Jet could finally reunite with Hannah and put the entire ordeal of the last weeks behind her.
It was already dark, the sky clear as only the high desert night can be, the twinkling tapestry of stars breathtaking and immediate. They filled the SUV with gas and drove down the frontage road that paralleled the freeway until they came to a two-story strip motel that looked no worse than anything else they’d passed.
“This’ll do. How are you feeling? Up for some dinner?” Matt asked, eyeing the dreary stucco façade and anonymous styling as they pulled into a parking slot near the office.
“Sure. I’ll tell you what, being cooped up in this rattlebox is already getting old. Let’s get a couple of rooms and then see if there’s a downtown where we can stretch our legs a little while we find a restaurant,” she said.
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll go book the digs. Be back in a second.”
Jet watched as Matt strode to the office, which she could see through its picture window was filled with glossy brochures and factory-manufactured art exuding plastic cheer. She closed her eyes. Only another day or two and she’d be back with her daughter Hannah, finally able to begin her new life. But one completely different than the one she’d envisioned a week ago, when Alan had been alive and everything had seemed possible. How quickly things could change, she mused – in the blink of an eye she’d lost him. And then Matt, whom she’d believed dead, had suddenly reappeared…
She’d spent much of the last forty-eight hours thinking about that abrupt reversal in her fortunes. There had always been a powerful attraction between herself and Matt, but she’d presumed him dead in Thailand; and then Alan had entered her life and everything had gotten complicated.
A few minutes later Matt swung the glass office door open and stepped outside. She studied his face as he approached – strong jaw, definitely handsome, but shopworn in an interesting way – the face of a man who had lived, who had spent time outdoors, and who had seen joy as well as horror. But most of all, right now, a man who looked tired, with several days’ growth of stubble and a preoccupied air, the sort of daze usually seen on passengers disembarking from transatlantic flights. They could definitely use a little rest. Neither had slept much the night before, and their driving day had begun at dawn.
“
Voilà
. You have the honeymoon suite. Hot tub in the bedroom, pink champagne on ice…” He opened the door and handed her a room key. “Ground floor. Number eighteen. I’m in twenty-two.”
“Champagne? More like one of those vibrating bed things that costs a quarter, by the looks of this place,” Jet said.
“Don’t knock those. I once went through five dollars before I figured out it wasn’t a slot machine. My teeth are still loose from the experience.”
She smiled and peered past him at the motel. “How long do you need before we go for dinner?”
“Maybe half an hour? I really want to take a shower,” Matt said, moving to the rear of the truck and opening the cargo door. “That work for you?”
“You bet,” Jet said, and hopped out of the passenger seat to join him. She grabbed her overnight bag and shouldered it. “Which way?”
“Down at the far end, looks like.”
“Did you get any dining recommendations?”
“There’s an area downtown that has a bunch of southwestern places. That seems to be the draw here.”
“Southwestern?”
“Expensive Mexican.”
“Ah. Enchiladas with attitude.”
“Exactly. Twenty-dollar mango margaritas with almost no tequila in them.”
“Sounds heavenly…”
They found their rooms, and Jet collapsed onto the bed before forcing herself back upright and into the bathroom. After a long hot shower she felt more human, and she took her time, enjoying not being in a headlong rush for once. Washington and all the killing seemed a million miles away now, and even though they’d only left two days earlier it could have been an eternity – part of another life, a chapter thankfully closed for good.
As she towel-dried her hair, her thoughts lingered on Matt. He’d just naturally accompanied her. It had never even really been an option to go their separate ways again after the assault on Arthur’s compound…and Alan’s death. Ostensibly, he was going with her to recover his diamonds, but they both knew that there was more to it than that. At least they had time, now, with no deadlines or pressure. Time to explore the energy that crackled between them whenever they were close…
She knocked on his door, her hair still damp, and he greeted her, barefoot, wearing jeans and a dark blue button-up silk shirt with a stylized martini glass and brand name boldly embroidered on the back. Very American, she thought fleetingly as he welcomed her in.
“I’ll just be a minute,” he said, gesturing to the two chairs by the window.
“No problem. So…do they pay you to advertise stuff on your clothes?”
He laughed, his face lighting up at the unexpected question. “No, but now that you mention it, they should. These things actually cost more because of the design…”
“The American consumer is never short of things to spend his money on, is he?”
“More the global consumer, nowadays. But yes, it’s amusing that we’ve had to invent ways to spend a hundred fifty bucks on a ten-dollar shirt. I’m told it’s good for the economy, though,” Matt said, sliding his shoes on.
She noted he had shaved, and again remarked to herself that he was a good-looking man. “Then why does the economy suck?”
“I haven’t bought enough shirts, I guess.”
“Selfish bastard, aren’t you?”
“You don’t know the half of it. This is a knockoff I got in Thailand.”
Jet held his gaze and they both smiled at the same time. “What’s for dinner? You going to keep starving me?” she asked.
“After the mastodon steak in Dallas, I’d have thought you’d sworn off food for a month.”
“Nonsense. I’m just getting started. Got to keep my strength up.”
“Excellent. I figured we could head downtown, park, and walk around till we see something promising.”
“Lead the way. I’ve got all my stuff locked in the room safe. You have money?”
Matt patted his pants. “Big wad of green so I can show the lady a good time.”
“Now you’re talking.”
They spent twenty minutes strolling along the sidewalks with the other evening pedestrians, ambling with no particular destination in the balmy night air, the temperature perfect. Eventually Jet took Matt’s arm and pulled him toward an upscale restaurant with a Mexican courtyard theme, and in moments they were at a cozy table near one of the oversized windows, surrounded by well-heeled diners. Music seeped softly from hidden speakers, a sultry melody with a crooning male singer just loud enough to embellish the backdrop of chatting patrons. After studying the menu for a few minutes, they made their selections and settled back into their seats.
“So
mañana
, huh? We’re headed down Mexico way? Kind of exciting, don’t you think?” Matt asked.
“I’ll never be happier than when we’re across the border. Let’s just say I don’t have particularly fond memories of the U.S.”
“No, I don’t expect you would after the last week. Frankly, I’ve been away for so long that it seems more of a foreign country to me than Thailand. I guess you acclimate to whatever you’re around, and that becomes your norm…”
“That has to be weird for you. I mean, this place is so…big. Everything’s big. Big roads, big cars, big malls, big portions, and big people. Almost the polar opposite of Thailand.”
“Yes, and everything is clean, have you noticed? We’re obsessed with hygiene. Most everywhere we’ve stopped has been spotless by Thai standards.”
“By Mexican standards, too. Wait till you cross the border. Have you ever been?” Jet asked.
The waitress arrived with their drinks and deposited them before turning to take another order at one of the tables across from them.
“Years ago. At least twenty.”
“Wow.”
“You probably hadn’t been born yet.”
“Tell me what it was like back then. Did they have electricity? Did everyone ride horses? Were you raised in a mud hut?” Jet teased, taking a sip of her drink – something red with a fruity name.
“It was primitive. People listened to music on these disks called CDs, and the former vice president still hadn’t invented the internet, so people still talked to each other. And cell phones were becoming a big deal – but they didn’t do anything but call other phones. It was like living in caves,” Matt explained.
“Wow. Had they invented Viagra yet?”
“They were dark times, young lady,” he intoned solemnly, taking a pull on his artisanal beer. “No joking matter. There was no reality TV, and it could take hours to get a message to someone. You would actually have to write something and put it on a scanner and then send it across phone lines using a primitive device called a fax machine.”
“I think I saw one of those in a museum, next to the stone axes.”
They were interrupted by an elaborately coiffed server carrying their meals, which he placed on the table with a flourish before automatically asking whether they would like anything else. Jet shook her head and the young man threw her a wan smile and then sashayed away to care for other diners.
“It’s kind of funny, isn’t it? I mean no matter where we are in the world now, technology is there. Even in the jungles of Laos or Myanmar, you’ll see a smuggler with an iPod,” Matt said, taking a taste of his chicken. “Wow. This is pretty good.”
“And there’s a lot of it, I see. Do they make the chickens here lift weights or something? That looks like a turkey breast in cheese sauce. It’s the size of your head,” Jet said, then took a bite of her soft taco.
Dinner passed with agreeable banter, Jet and Matt enjoying each other’s company, already easy together, as if he hadn’t just reappeared from the dead after many months of absence. When the bill came, he paid it and then they strolled down the street, Jet clasping his arm, as naturally as if they’d been an item for years.
“I called Hannah earlier. Everything’s fine. I told Magdalena I’d be back soon. She seemed relieved,” Jet said as they watched ostentatious luxury cars glide by, tinted windows safeguarding the occupants’ anonymity.
“I would be. Everyone’s been through a lot. Ferry explosions, attacks, manhunts…it’ll be good to get home, won’t it?”
“It’ll be good to get back to Hannah. But home? I’m not sure where that is anymore. We can’t stay in Uruguay. We’ll need to move someplace else and start over again.”
“You keep mentioning Argentina. I heard there were pretty dramatic economic problems there,” Matt said.
“There are. But if you have money, it’s a great place to live. It would just suck to have to try to earn a living or run a business.”
“Ah. Which you don’t have to do.”
“Exactly.”
“And is it safe?”
“Depends on where. Mendoza is incredible, from what I’ve seen, and seems extremely quiet. Maybe not Buenos Aires – there’s a lot of poverty, and it’s a massive city. I suppose that’s more like asking if New York or Paris is safe – it would depend on what part.”
The ride to the motel was short, the evening traffic light, and they sat side by side in silence, tired after the cross-country jaunt. When they arrived, Matt walked Jet to her room and then hesitated. Jet stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, her full lips soft and yielding, and the moment stretched into a minute before they pulled apart.
“Good night, Matt. Sleep well,” she said, and then unlocked her door.
He wasn’t going to press the point. There was no rush, and it wasn’t the right time. “You too. See you bright and early.”
Jet listened to the sound of his footsteps echo off the walkway, and then his door closed with a finality that made a small part of her sad. She moved to the dresser and slipped out of her clothes, changing into an oversized T-shirt, and then padded to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She felt exhausted, the hours, meal and the drink all seeming to hit at once, and minutes later she was on the bed, the lights out, the only sound the muted purr of the air conditioner and the distant rumble of traffic on the freeway.
Chapter 10
Jet awoke with a start, something in the room’s atmosphere different, triggering an unconscious alarm. Her pulse rocketed as she sensed a presence by the door – she wasn’t alone. A soft scrape sounded from near the window, and she threw herself at the barely discernible shape of the intruder, hearing him grunt with surprise as she went from being fast asleep to an attacking wildcat in under a second.
A muffled cry met her elbow’s connecting with a face, and she was rewarded by a gush of warm blood from his crushed nose. She was just about to follow the strike up with another using the heel of her hand – a fatal blow – when her entire body went into convulsions and her legs buckled, her limbs refusing to obey the commands her brain was sending.
She hit the carpeted floor and her vision dimmed, the room’s darkness replaced by a starburst of exploding synapses, and then the lamp on the night table next to the bed illuminated as sensation returned slowly to her body. A man wearing dark slacks and a black windbreaker leaned against the wall by the window holding his face, blood streaming down his arm from his brutalized nose, and another stood by the side of the bed, a stun gun in his hand.