Distant Memory (29 page)

Hobbs shook his head in profound disbelief as he guided the unmarked CHP car down the street. “You’re a federal agent?” he asked. “Why - couldn’t we find any information on you or your truck?”

“I bet you tried to trace Lisa’s car and failed at that too.” Nick was seated in the passenger seat. He had returned Hobbs’s gun to him only after he had explained everything to the detective. He had placed Tanner’s gun in the glove compartment.

“That’s right. Why is that?”

“With all due respect, Detective, the measures used by the police today are good, but they fall short of being state of the art. Identities can
be stolen, switched, concealed, altered if you know what to do, and the NSA knows what to do.”

“So the truck, Lisa Keller’s car—”

“All owned by the NSA and used for its purposes.”

“That would mean that Keller is an NSA agent.” Hobbs’s mind was twisting and turning around the facts.

“Right. I was her contact. We were supposed to meet in Mojave and then take the next step.”

“Which is?” Hobbs prompted.

“Which is secret,” Nick answered bluntly.

Hobbs thought for a moment. The story made sense, and it answered a boatload of questions. Still, there were missing parts.

“Why didn’t you take her to a doctor, especially after you discovered her amnesia?”

“I tried, but every time I brought it up, she went ballistic. I was afraid that her agitation would make her condition worse. You have to understand, Detective, that what she knows is extremely important. It’s not an exaggeration to say that the future of the country is locked up in her brain.”

“The future of our country? That sounds a little melodramatic.”

“Perhaps, but it is nonetheless true.”

“Are you saying that our country could fall because of what she knows?”

“No, not fall, but change substantially. The country would go on, but our freedom—well, that’s a different matter.”

“You’d better explain that.”

“Sorry, that’s all you’re getting,” Nick said resolutely.

“How well do you know this area?” Hobbs asked after a brief silence.

“Fairly well,” Nick said. “I’ve lived here for a while, but we’re in the backwoods of the county here. There are several small communities ahead, each with a long road that leads to them. Massey could take any
one of them, and we would never find him from the road. If we don’t see him soon, we may lose him forever.”

“We have a helicopter up,” Hobbs said. “That’s our best hope right now.”

“He’s smart, Detective. Real smart. Dangerous, too.”

“Can Ms. Keller handle herself?”

“In most cases, yes, but her memory has been thrashed. Who knows what she recalls about self-defense. Although she gave a pretty good show earlier this evening.”

The frustration that Hobbs had been experiencing grew exponentially. Everything was as bad as it could get. He had called in his intentions and actions on the car radio using the phrase that would activate - every police unit in the vicinity: “Officer down; officer needs assistance.” Even as he and Blanchard had sped off in pursuit of Lisa and her abductor, he could hear the sirens of approaching units. Tanner would be fine. He wasn’t so certain about Lisa Keller.

“Put that on your lap,” Massey ordered, pointing down to the floorboard where a briefcase lay upended. The case had been pushed there when he had forced Lisa into the car, leaving just enough room for her legs.

“Why?” she asked. He reached inside his suit coat. Lisa knew he was reaching for a gun. “Okay, okay,” she said.

She hauled up the case and opened it. Inside was a set of electronics and a small green monitor.

“Turn it on,” Massey commanded.

Lisa studied the open case for a moment, then found a button marked P
OWER
. The monitor came to life in an eerie green haze. A second later a grid of streets appeared and a small triangle that moved along one of the lines.

“GPS,” she said perfunctorily.

“It seems you haven’t lost all your memory,” he said. “Hold on.”

The car suddenly yanked left off the pavement and down a dirt road. The road led a short distance into a mature orange grove. The trees were in full foliage and formed a canopy over the car. Massey braked hard enough to cause Lisa to throw up a hand to prevent her from careening into the dashboard. The car slid to a stop. She wished she were wearing a seat belt.

“You want oranges?” Lisa asked.

“For a woman who is in as much danger as you are, you sure have a smart mouth.” Massey’s voice was edgy. Clearly, he didn’t like to be in a situation he couldn’t control, yet he was far from panicked. In fact, he seemed more annoyed than frightened. Perhaps, she thought, he could be agitated enough to make mistakes.

“It was just a question.”

He twisted the GPS tracker on her lap so that he could see it. Lisa had to lean to her left to see the full screen. In addition to the various streets on the screen were the names of towns and a small icon of an airplane. Massey punched a button and then said, “That’s what I want—an airport.”

“Where?”

“In Santa Paula. It’s less than five miles from here.” With his left hand, he reached inside his coat pocket. Instinctively, Lisa pulled back, expecting a gun. Instead, she saw a cell phone. She recalled that the gun was on his other side. She watched as he pushed a single button. The phone number must have been stored in the phone’s memory.

As he waited for his call to go through, Lisa looked at the orchard that surrounded her. The trees were spaced in even rows like a battalion of soldiers standing at rigid attention. Between the trees were irrigation furrows. The car’s headlights reflected off the tiny streams of water that nurtured the trees. Shrouded in the darkness of night, the stacked rows of orange trees looked like a deep, forbidding forest, the kind in which elves and trolls and monsters hid.

Hid
. To hide.

It would be madness, foolishness, and could only result in her death. It was a crazy idea, but it might work. She was going to die anyway. Her abductor would surely kill her as soon as she was no longer useful as a hostage.

“Yes … yes, Mr. Moyer.” Massey seemed surprised. Although she - could not make out the words, she could hear Moyer’s voice, despite the fact that her abductor had the cell phone pressed into his ear. “Things went differently than planned, sir. I’m sorry. Yes sir, I did pull off the road. I’ve made some changes too. They were necessary. She has made no revelations …” He paused for a moment to listen, then continued, “Blanchard is a Boy Scout.”

Revelations? Boy Scout? The realization came to Lisa: Massey was afraid that someone might be listening in on the conversation. He was as paranoid as she was. Then another thought occurred to her: How did Moyer know they had pulled off the road?

Massey listened for a few moments. “Yes sir. I understand. I’m eager to get back to the office. Perhaps a helicopter would be best, sir.” More listening. “I’m sure it will all work out, sir, but time is crucial. If you - could arrange—” He had been interrupted by Moyer. “Very well, sir. I’ll take care of it.”

Lisa closed the case that contained the GPS electronics and latched it shut. Massey did not seem to notice. Then, as if gazing out at the orchard, she checked to see if her door was unlocked. It was. She also judged the line of trees closest to her to be only two feet away. There was, however, sufficient room to open the door between two trees in the row that was closest to the car. Had her abductor stopped a few feet farther, a tree would certainly have blocked her way.

She would have to be fast. Most likely, if she tried this, she would be dead. But was that so bad? If God caused all things to work out for good, then death might not be all that bad.

From the corner of her eye, Lisa saw Massey switch the phone off
and place it on the dashboard. “This is where you’re going to kill me, isn’t it?” she asked without emotion.

“It’s your own fault, Ms. Keller. You poked your nose in where it didn’t belong. You should have minded your own business.”

“It’s sad, really,” she said. “You’re going to kill me before I have a chance to remember why you hate me so much.”

“Just like a woman,” he said cynically. “It has nothing to do with hate or love or any other emotion. You stole secrets from us, and now we must protect ourselves. That is the extent of it.”

“It’s all business then? Nothing personal, is that it?”

“That’s it.”

“Then what? Do you go back to Moyer Communications and pretend that nothing has happened?”

“Not directly,” he answered. “I can never go back there without a new identity. That’s another thing you have cost me.”

“I don’t suppose an apology will suffice.” She turned to face her executioner.

“Not even close, lady.” Massey reached under his coat for the gun. “You’ll need to step outside—”

His words were cut off when she rammed the edge of the briefcase in his face. She heard something snap: his nose, a tooth. She didn’t know. Pulling back the case, she prepared to thrust it at him again, but he raised his hand quickly. She had anticipated this and brought the case down on his leg as hard as she could, digging one of its corners into the flesh of his thigh. He roared in pain and clasped his hands on the heavy case.

“Why you—”

She struck again, this time with her bare hand, aiming the nail of her right thumb at his eye. Something inside her took over. Each move she made was choreographed from the locked area of her brain. She had no time to analyze the source of her actions; she was too busy fighting for her life.

Massey’s head snapped and hit the window with a resounding crack. Her thumb missed his eye but dug deep into his cheek. A bellow of indignant pain filled the car.

Lisa reached for the door handle and pulled. The door opened easily, and she tumbled out headfirst, landing on her shoulder in the soft dirt, her feet still in the car. A ragged pain ran up her leg, and she could feel the viselike grip of Massey’s hand. He had grabbed her left leg, pressing his fingers into her calf. “No you don’t.”

Rolling on her back, she could see him lying across the passenger seat, his arm extended and pulling her back. Lisa kicked with all her might. The heel of her sneaker caught him between the eyes. His grip slipped, and she pulled herself free, her finger grasping at the moist earth of the irrigation ditch. Just as she thought she was out of reach, she felt his hand clamp down on her ankle. He jerked the leg, sending ripping bolts of agony through her body. She screamed at the flood of scorching, scalding pain.

Flailing, she sought a handhold, but the ground was too soft. Stretching, reaching, clutching, she made contact with the narrow trunk of an orange tree. With a grunt she caught it with one hand. Then, twisting her body so that she lay on her stomach again, she took hold of the tree with her other hand.

“You stupid …” Massey was shouting, but Lisa wasn’t listening. All of her thoughts, all of her energies were devoted to getting away. Looking over her shoulder, she saw his dilemma: He had her with his right hand, and he was stretched even farther over the passenger seat. Like her, he was on his belly. He couldn’t reach his gun. To do so he would have to let her go. It was a physical stalemate. He had the superior strength, but he lacked the purchase to reel her in. His body position was awkward. She had all the leverage; he had most of the muscle.

Lisa’s eyes shifted from Massey to the ground around her. She desperately needed a weapon, anything to give her an advantage, even the odds. There was nothing. No rocks, no stakes, nothing but a thin limb
of a tree that had been broken off. The limb was less than two inches in diameter and covered with thick green leaves at one end. At the other end, the end that had been attached to the trunk, was a ragged edge.

Feeling her grip loosen as Massey continued his inexorable tug, Lisa decided if the limb was the only weapon she was going to find, it would have to do. As hard as she could, she tried once more to pull away. The effort brought her one inch closer to the broken limb that lay just within her reach. Releasing the tree trunk, she grasped for the limb. She caught it with two fingers and quickly pulled it into her two hands.