72 Hours (A Thriller) (45 page)

CHAPTER 118

They left before dawn, the Hummer turning onto the highway from the motel parking lot and heading west.
 
The highway was quiet and empty.
 
The desert landscape spread out on both sides of the road like a vision from a dream.
 
Hour after hour and hundreds of miles of stark barren nothingness.

They drove beneath the stars until the first hint of sunrise appeared in the rearview mirror.
 
They drove in silence, Raj and Penny and both kids asleep in the back, Lindsay curled into a ball in the passenger seat, her head against the window, eyes closed.
 
Archer watched the horizon, waiting for the cityscape of Los Angeles to sprout up from the desert floor far in the distance.

Daylight arrived.
 
The highway widened and traffic thickened and slowed as they neared the outer reaches of the city.
 
Archer called Kline when they were an hour away.
 
Kline suggested a place for them to meet.

Raj awoke from time to time, groaning, still in tremendous pain.
 
His sister popped the lid off a bottle of pain meds and washed the pills down his throat with a short swallow of water.
 
She whispered to him, comforting him.
 
Combed her fingers through his short hair.
 
Cooled him with a damp cloth.

Ramey and Wyatt slept most of the way into the city.
 
They awoke when Archer bumped the Hummer off the freeway and jinked through a circuitous maze of intersections and surface streets.

Archer turned down a wide, paved lane into a city park.
 
Acres of lush green grass surrounding a body of water too small to accurately call a lake and too big to classify as a pond.
 
Trees in full bloom dotted the landscape.
 
There were plenty of people out enjoying the park on a beautiful, sunny, Southern California day.
 
Walking their dogs.
 
Lounging in the shade.
 
Reading.
 
Tossing footballs and Frisbees.
 
Joggers dashing down paths along the perimeter of the water.

Archer spotted a dark sedan with government plates idling in the shade of a copse of oaks.
 
He parked the Hummer behind the unmarked car and climbed out.

The back door of the car opened.
 
Kline swung his legs out.
 
He stood slowly and gingerly with the aid of an aluminum crutch under each arm.

“What happened to you?” Archer asked.

Kline shrugged.

“Sometimes this job can be hazardous to your health.”
 

“You look like hell.”

“Thanks for the love.
 
Where is Lindsay?”

“She’s here.
 
She’s safe.”

“You did well, Archer.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Kline nodded.
 
“Bring Lindsay out here,” he said.
 
“I think she’ll want to hear this too.”

Archer turned and signaled her with his hand.
 
Lindsay pushed her door open and walked toward them, the Dodgers cap pulled down low over her brow.
 
She was still feeling unsure about the reality of the world no longer being a hostile, dangerous place for her.

The three of them stood in the dappled shade of gently swaying branches.

“It’s good to see you again, Lindsay,” Kline said.

“It’s good to be seen.
 
Feels good to be alive.”

“I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through.”

“No, you certainly can’t.”

“Well, the worst is behind you.”

“What happened to Dunbar?” Archer said.

Kline replied simply, “Let’s take a walk.”

The small lake formed a cove where the water narrowed at one end of the reservoir.
 
A wooden footbridge arched over the water from shore to shore.
 
They moved toward the bridge, Kline doing most of the talking.

“There is good news and bad news,” Kline said.

Archer flicked his gaze at Lindsay first, then frowned at Kline.

“Good news first,” Archer said.

“OK.
 
Lindsay is safe.
 
There is no more bounty on her head.
 
Dunbar’s offer has been withdrawn.
 
The threat against Lindsay is over.”

“And the bad news?” Lindsay said.

They stopped in the middle of the footbridge, their silhouettes reflected on the water five feet below.

Kline glanced away, staring out across the water toward a middle-aged man paddling a kayak.
 
He cleared his throat.

“Gaston Dunbar has escaped.”

Lindsay gasped, “What?”

“What are you talking about?” Archer asked.

Kline pursed his lips, still not turning to face them.

“It’s complicated.”

“Is that why you have the crutches?”
 

Kline hesitated a beat, then nodded.

“He put together a brilliant plan,” Kline said.
 
“In hindsight, it’s clear he never had any intention of giving up the bodies or going out by the needle.
 
He was patient, and his escape plan was well thought out and ingenious.
 
We still don’t know how he pulled it off, and I’m not sure we ever will.”

Lindsay squatted beside the handrail and put her face in her hands.
 
She shook her head slowly side to side.
 
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered.
 
“After all this time and pain, he is free again.”

“What are you doing to find him?” Archer said.

“Everything we can, but again, it’s complicated.
 
We made the decision to announce that he had committed suicide for a number of reasons, first and foremost being that we had to get his money off the table, make certain the public was aware that the deal is off.
 
We had to put the word out that the five hundred million was no longer up for grabs.
 
It was an effort to get the mob off the streets, and we also had to take the media into serious consideration.
 
Because if we told the truth the media would chew us up, and the governor would have no shot at reelection.
 
It came down to his call.
 
Dunbar was smart enough to foresee all of this.
 
He used our own weaknesses against us.
 
We will continue to look for him, but we have to be careful how the search is conducted.
 
Neither the media nor the general public can ever know that we let him slip away.
 
Too many heads would roll.”

“Where is his money?” Archer asked.

Kline shook his head.
 
“We never found it.”

“So he’s free and still has the five hundred million?”

“We will find him.
 
And we will find the money.”

“Save it,” Archer said.
 
“You couldn’t find your own asshole if you’re thumb was already shoved three inches up it.
 
All of your credibility has flown out the window.”

“All we need is time.”

Lindsay stood and placed both hands on the rail.
 
She stared down at water bugs scuttling across the glassy ripples.

“Do you really believe I’m going to be safe now?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Kline answered.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Dunbar doesn’t care about you.
 
The bounty was simply a tactic.
 
It was a distraction.
 
This was never about having you killed.
 
This was entirely about orchestrating his escape from prison.
 
He needed all our energies focused on protecting you.
 
And his ace card was the secret location of Sidney and Robin.
 
This was nothing but a devious chess match to him.”

“And he won,” Archer said.

“For now, perhaps,” Kline replied.

“I’ll never be able to sleep.
 
Never again,” Lindsay said.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Kline told her.
 
“He’ll never show his face again, Lindsay.
 
You’ve heard the last of Gaston Dunbar.”

She shook her head.
 
“As long as he’s alive, and as long as he’s out there in the world, roaming free and unaccounted for, I’ll never be able to feel safe.”

Kline nodded.
 
“I understand.
 
And I’m sorry for that.”

Lindsay turned to Archer and pressed the side of her face against his chest.

“What do we do now?” she asked him.

Archer kissed the top of her head, then glared hard at Special Agent Kline.

“Now we go after him,” Archer said.

CHAPTER 119

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

Amsterdam, The Netherlands

It was her third full day on her own and she decided to enjoy it.
 
The city of Amsterdam was truly beginning to grow on her.
 
This was her first visit, but she planned to hopefully return someday soon and catch the museums and check out the local tours and the nightlife.
 
Lindsay spent the morning shopping.
 
She strolled through the boutiques and bakeries, browsing past flower kiosks on the street.
 
Strolled along the canals and watched the sleek boats in the glassy water.
 
She drank expensive coffee and watched the people crisscross down the sidewalks and slink across the stone bridges spanning the canals.

She ate an early lunch at a brasserie overlooking the water.
 
Motor scooters and tiny European cars sputtered by on the narrow brick streets.
 
She sipped coffee and stared at an old man seated on a stool with an easel, painting a landscape in acrylics.
 
He wore a long, tangled beard and a blue beret, and he seemed lost in a world of his own imagination.

Lindsay answered her cell phone and spoke briefly.
 
She smiled to herself.
 
She had a dinner date.
 
They had agreed to meet at Café Roux.
 
She stowed the cell away in her handbag and strolled past elaborate displays in clothier shop windows filled with the latest fashions from Milan.
 

Café Roux had been suggested to them by the deskman at the hotel where they were staying.
 
Their previous meal there had been exactly one week ago.
 
Lindsay looked forward to dining there again tonight.
 
She glanced at her watch and decided to get there early and enjoy a glass of wine while she waited.
 

She passed under a honey-colored stone arch and emerged into the courtyard of what had been a 15
th
century convent.
 
The bricks that paved the walkway were hundreds of years old.
 
The former convent was now the Grand Hotel, a gothic edifice covered with a classical baroque façade.
 

The interior of Café Roux glowed in hues of pink and gold, sinuous flowing lines in the marble, glazed glass sconces and chairs framed in ebony.
 
The windows faced the Oudezijds Voorburgwal canal, warm light streaming in and dappling the table settings and marble with golden highlights.

Lindsay was seated, and a waiter promptly delivered her favorite vintage of red to her table.
 
She swirled the wine in a stemmed glass and watched the graceful water traffic on the canal.
 
She sipped wine and glanced occasionally at her watch.

Then she saw Archer come through the entrance of the restaurant.
 
He stopped to speak to the maitre d’.
 
Lindsay raised her hand very femininely over her head.

Archer offered a gesture of recognition.
 
He weaved through the tables on the dining floor and glided up alongside her chair and kissed her neck.

“You’re almost late,” she said, smiling demurely.

“I think you’re almost drunk.”

“Not even close.
 
My first glass.
 
I’m just getting started.”

Archer took a seat and glanced at the view beyond the canal glowing in the early evening light.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” she said and touched his hand across the tablecloth.

“Has it been three days already?” Archer said.

She nodded.

“Have you ordered?” he asked.

“Of course not.
 
I waited for you, though I’m starving.”

“Good thing.
 
That would have been terribly rude of you.”
 
Archer winked at her.