Exo: A Novel (Jumper) (8 page)

“You were thinking that far ahead?” Davy asked.

“Well, no. Training—you don’t drop your weapon.”

“Why’d you unload it?”

The man shut his mouth.

“Did they tell you to? I mean, the scenario was obvious. Threaten the mother to keep her still, then Tase my wife, hoping that would give you enough time to use the hypo. But I don’t see how having an unloaded gun fits that scenario.” Davy kicked at a small rock. “So why empty, Mortimer? Is that what they call you? Mort? Morty?”

The man grimaced. “Hunt. They call me Hunt.”

“So that’s your real name? Not an agency-issued alias?”

“That’s my name.”

Davy noticed Hunt hadn’t said
that’s my
real
name
. It reminded him of what he’d told Cent when they were living in New Prospect.
Don’t think of it as a
false
name. Think of it as who you are
now. “They must give you a lot of grief at the agency for that. Or is it something you try to live up to? And where’s your agency ID? The folded one in the blue case, name up top, photo below?”

The man didn’t say anything.

“You ever hear of the Daarkon Group?”

The man’s eyebrows went up. “I … have.”

Davy jumped within two feet of the man.
“Do you work for them?”

The man’s hands were up in a guard position instantly and he lashed forward toward Davy’s shin with his good leg, but Davy wasn’t there.

Davy was impressed. The man’s face hadn’t flinched at all, just dropped slightly below the upraised hands.
Lots of training. Years, probably.
Davy resolved to keep his distance.

From four feet behind Hunt, Davy said, “Well, do you?”

Hunt dropped his hands back down and pivoted slowly on his buttocks until he could see Davy. “Can you believe anything I say? For what it’s worth, I don’t work for the Daarkon Group.”

“Where did you hear about them?”

Hunt tilted his head to one side and eyed Davy. After a moment, he said, “I read it in your file.”

My file
? “Oh, really? Is this from eighteen months ago?” That was when Davy had discovered Daarkon, following links from twenty years before. Millie had passed the group to FBI agent Bekka Martindale after Hyacinth Pope escaped prison.

“I shouldn’t say.”

Shouldn’t
? “You already told me there was a file. Kinda late, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps.” Hunt sighed. “The first entry was eleven years ago. That’s when they first filed incorporation papers in California. They got put in the file because many of their directors were affiliated with Lawrence Simons.” Hunt watched Davy carefully as he said the name.

Despite his best efforts, Davy felt his mouth go tight. “Did I react enough?” With an effort he relaxed his face. “Are you agency or not? We’re talking my old NSA file or its descendants, right? I’m actually thinking you aren’t with the Daarkon Group or, if you are, you aren’t aware of it.

“Just tell me why you emptied the gun. Did they tell you to or was it your own idea?”

Hunt blinked and looked
embarrassed
. “I didn’t like the idea of pointing my weapon at a bedridden old lady who probably couldn’t lift a weapon even if she
was
armed. And I needed my finger on the trigger, so your wife would believe me.”

“Ah. And since it was a Glock, the safety projects from the trigger. You didn’t want to risk a discharge.”

“Yes. They specifically told me not to point my gun at you or your wife.”

“But they were okay with you pointing it at a helpless old lady?”

Hunt looked away.

“So it was
your
idea to empty the weapon.”

“I had spare clips!”

Davy shook his head. “What else is in my file?”
Maybe I should be spending my time trying to get CIA records instead of watching that building in LA.

Hunt pursed his lips. “There’s a lot from when you worked for the NSA and later, when you went missing. The stuff after that is peripheral, investigating known associates. That led to the Daarkon Group stuff, some surveillance of your wife’s family, of your father until his death.” Hunt licked his lips.

Davy wondered what was in the file that Hunt
wasn’t
talking about.

“Then there was a new section dating from the recapture of Hyacinth Pope in New Prospect.
That
was eighteen months ago.”

“Why this attempt on Millie?”

“Standing order, I’m told, but
I
wasn’t assigned until your mother-in-law’s health deteriorated and the likelihood of a contact increased.”

Davy took a step back. “Why are you being so forthcoming?”

“
My
assignment is to get you working for U.S. interests again. I didn’t come up with the snatch attempt on your wife and, in fact, deleted it from the early mission planning since it was more likely to turn you against us. But my supervisors put it back in and gave it priority one.

“I think I have a better chance of achieving my mission goals by being open with you.”

Forget the unarmed combat training—this guy is dangerous in
lots
of ways.

Davy jumped back to the Yukon and uncapped the hypodermic. Returning to the rim above the pit, he marked Hunt’s exact posture and position, and jumped.

“Shit, that stings!”

Davy was already twenty feet away but he’d left the hypodermic standing upright in Hunt’s thigh, the plunger fully depressed. Hunt carefully pulled it out and stared at it, frowning.

“What was it?” Davy asked, hoping he hadn’t poisoned the man.

Hunt didn’t say anything.

“You should tell me in case I have to get you to an ER. You know: allergic reactions; overdose.”

Hunt’s head nodded or maybe it was wobbling. Reluctantly he said, “Haloperidol.” His next words were slurred. “They were gonna use loraze … ze … ze … pam but it can depress resp–ration and they—” Hunt fell back onto the sand with a thud.

Davy didn’t think he was faking but he tapped Hunt’s injured ankle with the toe of his shoe just to be sure. There was no reaction. Hunt’s pulse and respiration were slow but regular.

Davy carefully capped the hypodermic, then took a full-face picture of Hunt with his cell before returning to the cabin. When he came back to the pit he put Hunt’s cell phone, battery, and wallet in the man’s jacket pockets.

He left Hunt lying on the grass in front of a six-foot-high concrete bust of Einstein in Plaza Einstein, a tiny park on the Via Agentina in Panama City, Republic of Panama.

*   *   *

When Davy returned to the cabin, Millie was leaning over the kitchen table looking at the gun, Taser, hypodermic, and handcuffs. He breathed out, his shoulders dropping.

“S’okay?”

Millie nodded, then gestured at the weapons. “We can’t leave her there. As soon as her physicians pull the surgical staples, we’re bringing her home.”

They’d already discussed it. They’d fought about it.

Davy wanted to move Samantha to a different nursing facility, under an assumed name, probably in another country. But Millie wanted her in
their
home.

She’d said, “I don’t know how long I’ve got. If you knew
your
mother was going to die soon, wouldn’t you want to spend as much time with her as possible?”

That was the clincher. He certainly hadn’t known how soon his mother would die when she’d been killed thirty years before. He’d have given anything for more time with her.

“Have you talked to Cent?”

“Not yet. Mother only just agreed. I don’t think she’s ever had a gun pointed at her before.” Millie’s mouth drew down into a tight line. “I was worried she’d have heart failure or go into respiratory distress. Instead she just suggested that
you
stay longer next time.”

Despite the grim look on Millie’s face, Davy laughed, tried to stop it, then laughed some more.

Millie’s mouth softened and one corner turned up.

Davy said, “Well, the gun was empty, at least. He had no intention of hurting her.”

Millie raised her eyebrows.

Davy told her about his conversation with Mr. Hunter.

“God. That’s got to be his real name. No one would assign that to an agent, would they? So, not
them
?”

Davy shrugged. “I don’t think so. Doesn’t mean someone above him isn’t.”

She sighed.

Cent appeared on the living room side of the island counter. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” said Davy.

Cent spotted the gun and hypodermic on the table. “Anything wrong?” Her gaze moved back and forth from Millie to Davy.

Millie summoned a smile. “I told you about my mother’s new injury?”

Cent nodded, her eyes wide. “She’s not—”

“Oh, no. She’s okay. But I don’t know how long we’ve got. I’m bringing her home next week, to live with us.”

“Oh. That’s good, right?” She gestured at the gun. “What’s with that?”

“CIA tried to snatch me.”

Cent turned to Davy. “Are
they
okay? Do I need to avoid the pit?”

“They’ll … be all right.” He took out his cell phone and showed her a picture of Hunt’s face. “In case you see him.”

Cent studied it. “Right. About Grandmother, do you want to use my room? I could move downstairs.”

Millie smiled. “I was going to talk to you about that. Would you be comfortable sleeping in the Eyrie? We’re going to bring in some help and I was hoping to put
them
in the sewing room and the library.”

Cent looked at Davy. “Uh, there’s not exactly any privacy at the Eyrie. It’s all one big room and all.”

Davy said, “I don’t have to go there.”

“What about all those books, Daddy? You have as many
there
as you have
here
. What if I have … company?”

Davy grimaced. “I can move my books,” he said. “I’m going to have to clear out the library here, anyway, so I thought I’d take over part of the warehouse. We’re going to cut back on the relief work while we’re taking care of Samantha, and the supplies we haven’t used can all go into one corner.”

Cent looked shocked. “Uh, Move the library? It’s
always
been there.”

“Not always,” Millie said, smiling at Davy. “It’s been moved before.”

Davy rubbed at his forehead. “It was
smaller
back then, but yeah.” He pointed at Cent. “I’m just moving the books. You can use the shelves in the Eyrie.”

Millie nodded. “When do you plan on starting that? I want the room completely ready by next Tuesday.”

Davy sighed. “I’ll get right on it.”

FIVE

Cent: Fainted? I don’t faint

Friday afternoon I met Tara at her apartment while her mom was still at work. “What’s the story?”

“I told her I’m visiting Jade.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I told her that the two of us went in on the price of a plane ticket,” she said. “That I’m taking the bus to Salt Lake City International. The tricky part is that Mom’s going to drive over there on Sunday to pick me up.”

I winced. “I don’t have a jump site in Salt Lake City.”

“Shit! What airports do you have?”

“I avoid airports. They have lots of cameras.” The last airport I’d been to was in San Antonio, Texas. But the main problem was that here in New Prospect I was as close as I’d ever been to Salt Lake City, and that was still a couple of hundred miles away. “I’ve got
nothing
near there.”

“Should we cancel?” The expression on her face told me everything I needed to know about what
she
wanted.

“No. Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.” If worse came to worst, I could do my ballistic thing.

Tara phoned Jade and confirmed she was alone in her dorm room, so I jumped Tara directly there. It was already 5:30, dark, and near freezing in Northampton, but we bundled up and ate wood-fired gorgonzola pizza at Pizzeria Paradiso. The two made a show of including me in the conversation, but they really only had eyes for each other.

I gave up before dessert.

“See you Sunday afternoon.”

I walked out into chilly Northampton alone, leaving the booth to them. Not their fault, of course, but too much a reminder of Joe.

*   *   *

The Eyrie is about twelve miles from the pit, deep in El Solitario, a cliff house two hundred feet from the bottom of a steep canyon.

Long before I was born, Dad took a ledge with an overhanging shelf and enclosed it with a wall of natural rock. He used dye in the mortar to match the rock, but you can’t really see it from anyplace but the opposite wall of the canyon. From the floor, the ledge blocks it. From above, even on the opposite ridge, the shelf blocks it. Dad says he’s seen hikers in the canyon, but it’s been secure since before they got married.

I was surprised when Dad said I could have it, but Mom filled me in.

“He’s not comfortable with the idea of live-in help. I insisted we have medical resources on-site, but he’s worried we’ll end up with a mole—with one of
them
. He was the one who suggested you
not
sleep here. He figures you’ll be fine while awake, but he didn’t want anyone sneaking up on you.”

That I could understand. Dad is paranoid, but he has reasons for his paranoia.

I’d already helped Dad set up new shelves in the warehouse. He started loading them with his books out of the Eyrie immediately after that.

I jumped the contents from my bedroom shelves to the knotty pine shelves in the cliff house. It was clear why Dad hadn’t moved them. The ledge that formed the Eyrie’s floor sloped from one end to the other, a gradual descent. All the shelves had been built in place to be level on that uneven surface.

I spread out my collection of books and manga and videos, leaving room for expansion, but there were still four empty units down at the far end when I was done.

Mom had me take my desk and chest of drawers, and we rigged some rods for my hanging clothes. We moved my bed, with the reading nook beneath, to the warehouse.

It was weird standing there, in the empty bedroom. The carpet was still there, but Mom said she was going to pull it for sanitary reasons. “Your grandmother has enough trouble breathing without dealing with old mold and dust.”