Painless (25 page)

Chapter 54

Carolyn started off Thursday morning with a rejuvenated energy, helped by the bath and good night’s sleep. The death of Bronson didn’t seem to faze her. Billy had always marveled how she could grasp concepts far beyond her age, but she still hadn’t gotten her arms around what death meant. Maybe she did think of it as a field trip to Sesame Street. It was probably a good thing.

They grabbed breakfast at a local diner, Carolyn talking a mile-a-minute. Being constantly on the edge of paranoia, combined with lack of sleep, had begun to sap Billy’s energy, and made Carolyn’s rapid dialogue sound like the humming of a lawnmower.

Billy scanned every person with intense scrutiny, including their bon-jouring waitress who made the mistake of asking if he’d like another glass of orange juice. The bad guys might’ve been looking for them, but he was also looking for the bad guys.

After breakfast, he took Carolyn to see the Bell Center, the home arena of the Montreal Canadiens hockey team. Carolyn remained disappointed that she didn’t get to the game, but like the fickle four-year-old that she was, getting to hang out with a stripper/prostitute/drug dealer named Angelique trumped the hockey game.

Around lunchtime, he decided to head for the train station, Gare Centrale. There was no reason to stay in Montreal. Their purpose was to find Bronson Rose so he could lead them to the man with all the answers—his brother André. But now the link to answers was broken, shattered, really.

They were sucking down some greasy poutines in the train station when he got the call from Dana. They were only supposed to use the cell phone in an extreme emergency, so Dana’s call raised an eyebrow. Calvin mentioned that Operation Anesthesia could bug anything and anywhere, so he was wary.

He’d also never heard Dana’s voice like that. It had a certain coldness to it. His first thought was that she’d been forced to make the call under duress. His suspicions rocketed when she demanded to know if Carolyn was with him and needed to speak to her to confirm it. But he trusted that Dana would give up her own life before putting Carolyn in harm’s way. So he agreed to meet her in Schenectady.

Following their quickie lunch, Carolyn’s mood began to grump-up. Billy wasn’t thrilled about adding Dana to his traveling caravan, making them a bigger and more colorful target, but he did see the added advantage of the female touch on Carolyn’s frazzled emotions, just as it had with Angelique last night.

He purchased two tickets to Penn Station in Manhattan, the last stop on the route. Just because they planned to get off at the approximate halfway point—Schenectady—didn’t mean he had to make it any easier for the dragons.

“What’s with you and trains—haven’t you ever heard of a car?” Carolyn complained as they took their seats. The novelty had worn off.

“It’s not all bad. There’s no car seats on a train.”

She shrugged. “Never thought about that.”

At Rouses Point, New York, just over the United States border, was the checkpoint for IDs and passports. They again used their fake IDs with the names Chad and Abigail Foley. But this time was different. Not only was US border security much stricter than Canada’s, but the fire was sure to have been ruled as bogus by now. So chances were that somebody would be looking for a man and child meeting the description of Billy Harper and Carolyn Whitcomb.

Billy’s heart momentarily stopped when they checked him. It seemed like the border guard stared at his ID for hours. As instructed, Carolyn didn’t say a word. Even when the border guard smiled at her and said, “Did you like the train ride, Abigail?” She stood like a statue, lips pressed together. Billy explained away her behavior by mentioning that Abigail had just awoken from a nap. The guard made an “I could use a nap myself” comment and passed them through.

At 6:07 p.m. the train pulled in right on time to a stop at Schenectady Amtrak Station. The tracks sat beside a rocky cliff. The sky was turning black, blocking out the colorful beauty of the fall foliage. It was the site where the Mohawks defeated the Mohicans at Kinquariones. Billy wondered if a similar battle would take place here tonight. Part of him wished he’d risked trying to bring Bronson’s gun with him on the train.

After making sure Carolyn put her jacket on, he gripped her hand and they stepped off the train into a dimly lit, half-empty parking lot that was surrounded by pine trees. He probably squeezed too tight, but it wasn’t like she could feel it. He hoped his all-black Montreal outfit would camouflage him into the background.

He saw the men right away. They were trying to disguise themselves as traveling businessmen, wearing dark suits and carrying briefcases. They looked innocent, but Billy felt the danger. He tried to act nonchalant, but he could feel a lump in his throat when they took a measured step toward him.

His panicking eyes roamed the parking lot until they landed on Dana. She stood by her BMW at the edge of the parking area, her ringlets of dark hair blowing in the stiff breeze. Could she have brought the men? Logic said,
of course, dumbass, this is a setup!
But his gut told him she didn’t.

His eyes then returned to the men in suits. He recognized one of them. Carolyn did also. She was like a volcano on the verge of eruption. Billy put his hand over her mouth before she yelled it.

Osama Banana.

It was the obnoxious guy who worked at Jordan’s plantation, Jones, or something like that. The one who joked about putting out his cigarette on Carolyn.

When Billy was convinced she understood the urgency of remaining quiet, he removed the hand. She was scared. “Dragons,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Grab my hand,” he firmly instructed. Then led her across the parking lot toward Dana, trying to act casual.

The gang glided closer. There were four of them.

Billy picked up the pace, practically dragging Carolyn like a doll.

“Mr. Harper—FBI—we have a few questions for you,” a voice sprung out from the night.

Billy kept walking, subtly increasing his speed. Carolyn held on for dear life, their hands glued together by fear. Billy got a look at the spokesman. He was the sun-blistered man from Jordan’s plantation, but he couldn’t remember his name either, he supposedly had something to do with security. Billy didn’t have time to figure out any connection between tonight and their visit to the plantation, but was convinced they weren’t FBI.

“Dragons!” Carolyn said again. But then she saw Dana, filling her voice with hope, “Billy, look, it’s Aunt Dana!”

He didn’t look. He was too focused on the pack of wolves headed in their direction. A pack of no-good.

“Mr. Harper, I’m Special Agent Hasenfus, we have a few questions about the fire in Lake George. The Whitcombs are worried about your safety, we just want to make sure you are okay.”

Bullshit,
the Whitcombs were missing. At least that’s what Dana had told him.

The other suits expanded their net across the parking lot. The odds were stacked against him, but Billy saw one advantage in his favor, albeit a slight one. He could tell the men weren’t aware of Dana’s presence, confirming to Billy that she didn’t bring them. And if they didn’t know she was there, it was unlikely they followed her. Or had bugged her phone. But how did they know they were getting off at Schenectady? Were they on the train? Billy didn’t notice them if they were.

Like precision, the net continued to drag across the parking lot. Billy was out of options. Their only chance was to split up. He stopped in his tracks, which seemed to surprise their pursuers. He knelt down to Carolyn and looked deep into her hazel eyes. To say they didn’t have much time would be an understatement, but this was important. He needed to make sure she was completely clear.

The men stepped closer, illuminated in the dull streetlights. He could hear the rhythmic tapping of their dress shoes on the pavement. Billy kept his attention on Carolyn, inexplicitly taking his time. What always made him stand out on the gridiron, and had college coaches practically stalking him, was not just his arm or physical attributes, a lot of guys had those. It was his ability to slow the world down in pressure situations. Cool as a cucumber. To make pinpoint choices with logic, while others flailed with panic. Coach Blake shot into his mind. For someone who often repulsed Billy, the gruff bastard always seemed to come out of the woodwork at the most important of times. “It’s do or die, Harper, and dying don’t sound like all that much fun!” he would tell him with the game on the line. Nothing in high school sports was do or die, but this was.

The men got closer.

He didn’t move, continuing to stare deep in her wide ovals. “I need you to listen to me, Carolyn.”

Closer.

Her body trembled, but his voice was calm. “Did you understand what I just said?”

She nodded, but tears streamed down her face, crisscrossing each other. His heart broke like a spider web of broken glass.

Closer.

Billy shot the men a momentary glance. Guns were drawn. He made eye contact with Dana and subtly put a finger to his lips to signal her to remain quiet. “Carolyn, I need you to run as fast as you can to Aunt Dana. Don’t look back, run as fast as you can!”

She looked unsure.

“You’re a really fast runner, right? Show me how fast you are!”

She stood frozen like a statue.

“Run!”

Statue.

The man calling himself Hasenfus was within fifteen feet. Osama Banana backed him up about twenty feet away, armed like he was guarding a wall at Guantanamo.
And she picks now, this time, not to listen?

“Run, Carolyn, run to Aunt Dana!”

“What about you?”

He snuck another peek. Ten feet and counting. “I’m just going to talk to the nice men. I won’t be long, just please run to Aunt Dana.” He forced a smile, it took two tries. “I’ll bet she has a big surprise for you!”

“They aren’t nice—they’re dragons!”

Five feet.

Nice wasn’t working, so Billy got firm, “You go right now, young lady, if you know what’s good for you!”

“No.”

“I can’t believe you’re arguing with me.”

He could feel Hasenfus’ huffing and puffing on the back of his neck.

“Stick together, remember?”

“Carolyn!”

“Stick together!”

It’s do or die, Harper.

Chapter 55

In one desperate motion, Billy slung Carolyn over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and ran as fast as he could. He didn’t look back—only no-good lurked in the rear-view mirror.

The sudden movement seemed to catch the speed-limping Hasenfus off guard. He tried to alter his course on the fly, but his wobbly legs failed him. He hit a patch of sand and crashed to the pavement, ripping his suit pants at the knee.

“Freeze—FBI!” he yelled. It was all he could do.

Billy eyed the end zone—Dana—now behind the wheel and revving the engine. The winning touchdown was in sight.
Strike up the band; the Amish Rifle saves the day again!

But out of the corner of his eye, Billy saw Osama Banana pointing his gun in their direction. His graying hair was tied back in a ponytail, and his beard hung heavily from his chin. He looked uncomfortable in the suit, but then again, Billy had never seen someone with a ponytail look comfortable in a suit. But one thing he looked very comfortable doing was holding a gun.

In NFL Films-type slow motion, Billy saw him raise his gun and fire.

The force of the shot toppled Billy to the asphalt, painfully skinning the flesh off his knee. His left hand hit the pavement, jamming back his wrist, and staining it with gravel-filled scrapes. His right arm held tightly onto Carolyn, who landed on top of him. She then tumbled to a stop a few feet away. It would’ve been painful for most kids.

But it would take more than a gunshot wound to keep Billy from rescuing Carolyn. He had to get to her. He rose from blacktop and ran to her. Her face was full of its usual painless adventure. But that’s when he saw it. He first checked himself, hoping the blood staining through her sweater was from his wound. He kept desperately checking, before being hit with the cold realization that he hadn’t. What knocked him over was the force of Carolyn being shot. Her sweater was now soaked with blood. His heart sank.

He looked up at Banana, who was ruthlessly preparing to fire again. This time Billy picked up Carolyn like he was carrying his bride across the threshold—cupping her with both hands and pulling her to his chest. The patch of red on her sweater continued to grow like a cancer. He ran, knowing that the next shot would have to go directly through his back to get to her.

“If I fall you keep running,” he insisted, expecting a bullet to sever his spine any second.

Carolyn said nothing. She was mesmerized by the blood soaking through her sweater, touching it with amused curiosity. But still no signs of pain.

Billy ran and braced at the same time, feeling the gun locked on the back of his head.

That’s when he heard Hasenfus yell, “Hold your fire! Hold your fire! Jones—what the hell are you doing?”

Billy wondered what caused such an odd change of heart. But he didn’t have time to ponder it. He barreled into the backseat of the BMW, he and Carolyn crashing onto the leather seats, as they tore out of the parking lot.