Remember the Future (5 page)

14

Accelerating down the feeder road of the Beltway, Grant sat red-faced behind the wheel of his car, quietly attempting to digest his chaotic thoughts.

Maddy watched him patiently, trying unsuccessfully to gauge his level of anxiety.

Glancing over, his eyes fell on the gun that remained in her hand.  His first thought was that he’d never been this close to a gun before, but then he remembered his tour of the chop-shop.

It had been a hell of a memorable couple of days for him.

Maddy followed his eyes and carefully placed the gun on the floor. “You should probably breathe now.”

Grant shot her a wide-eyed look then returned his eyes to the road.  “How much trouble am I in right now?  Am I going to prison for assaulting a federal agent?”

“Oh those weren’t FBI agents, Grra…Granted, I could see how you might think that.”

She tried to put on the brakes--
True, it was a really feeble attempt at damage control
--but she’d already said his name once and almost did it again.  The only thing left to do was throw up a smoke screen, misdirect him, and hope that she hadn’t completely botched this up by displaying the crazy card too soon.  She knew that it was coming but she had hoped to put it off as long as possible.

He shot her another warning.  “Tell me how you know my name.”

“You introduced yourself in the restaurant,” she replied quickly, then before he could analyze it too deeply, she barreled forward.  “But let’s get back to the gun.  It belongs to a police officer and has my prints all over it, so we should get rid of it as soon as possible.”

Crazy card,
she chastised herself again. 
Back your happy ass up, now, and stop talking before he kicks you completely out of his car!

Grant seemed to consider this, opened his mouth, then closed it again.  He raised a finger then shook his head and instead pulled the car into the nearest gas station on the feeder road, pulling the car up to the nearest pump.

Too late,
Maddy thought dejectedly.

“Out please,” he said in an even tone.

“I’m not a felon.”

“Out now,” he repeated, somewhat louder.

“Grant, you’ve already seen why I can’t involve local authorities.  They are ill-equipped to deal with these people.”

“These people,” he murmured to himself.  Turning his head away from her, Grant simply stared out his window with a hard expression.  “We’ve all got our problems, apparently.”

“You can’t leave me out here in the middle of nowhere.  These men are dangerous!”

“You’re at a public gas station two blocks from Bush International Airport,” he exclaimed.  “I even gave you a hundred dollars!”

“See!  That’s the thing.  I know you’re a good man, Grant, for just that reason,” Maddy continued.  “I could tell from the coffee shop.”

Grant threw his door open and leapt outside.  Walking around the car, he stepped up to the pump and withdrew his wallet from his front pocket.  He pulled his lone credit card out and held it out toward the pump.  His hand quivered perceptibly as he attempted to slip the card into the appropriate slot.  He took a deep breath and managed to settle his nerves enough to insert it.

When it accepted his card, he whistled appreciatively at the fact that it hadn’t been cancelled yet.  On second thought, why would they stop him from running up his debt?  This only justified the higher interest rates.  Bigger racket than the mafia those credit card companies, yet people recklessly signed up for as many as possible.

As he began to fuel his car, the passenger door opened.  Maddy slowly rose to her feet.  “Thank you for the money, but I can’t take this,” she reached out and slapped the hundred dollar bill to the seat.  “Sounds like from your conversation with Mr. Personality yesterday, that you need it more than I do.”

Grant glanced over at Maddy, who stood with her head lowered in front of the open passenger door.  She lifted her satchel from the floor.

“Did you get the-the..?” he started, his eyes scanning the floor of the car.

“Gun?  Yes?”

Grant sighed and turned his back to her.

“Look, can you at least spot me a bottled water before you leave?”

Grant looked over at Maddy.  “Yeah.  Okay.”

He turned and started toward the store.  Just before entering, Grant glanced up above the entrance, spotting a surveillance camera scanning the parking lot.

“Grant!”

At the sound of his name, Grant turned as he was nearly to the entrance of the store.  Maddy rushed across the lot and held out the keys he had left in the car’s ignition.

For a moment, Grant stared in confusion before reaching for them.

Maddy held fast for a moment and locked eyes with him.  “This is a night which the Lord hath made.  You’re an angel of God.”

Releasing the keys, Maddy started toward the store ahead of him.

“Hey, do me a favor and stay in the car,” Grant asked her, his eyes on the satchel on her shoulder.

Hesitating briefly, Maddy finally gave a smile and headed back to the Toyota.  “Right, the gun.  Sure thing.”

Grant gave a furtive glance at the camera one more time before starting into the store.  He headed quickly to the refrigerated case at the back, craning his neck to glance out at his car one last time and nearly colliding with a diminutive little woman with an enormous beehive hairdo trying to reach a carton of milk on a rack just a bit too high for her.

Grant watched the woman struggle for a few moments before stepping around and retrieving the milk for her.  “Can I help you with that, ma’am?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, dear,” she responded in a tiny yet warm voice.  “Need anything on the bottom shelf?”

“No, I’m good,” Grant answered, handing down the milk and grabbing a bottled water.  He flashed the woman a smile and started away.

“Thank you, dear,” the little woman said as Grant started towards the register.  “You’re an angel of God.”

Grant craned his neck as he started to the register, but noticed a raised four-wheel drive monster truck blocking the view of his Toyota.

“How’s it going tonight?” the stony-faced black cashier asked Grant.

Grant gave an ironic laugh.  “Possibly the strangest night of my life.”

“Thankfully it’s almost over.”

Grant blinked at the casher.  “My life?”

“Your night,” the cashier replied flatly, making eye contact with Grant for the first time.  “Dollar even.”

Grant scooped the last of the change from his pocket, spilled it to the counter, and began counting out coins.

With a bit of a yawn, the cashier glanced up at his surveillance monitor, where Grant could see that the view revealed nothing beyond the monster truck.  “This is a night which the Lord hath made.  Let us rejoice and be glad,” he stated.

Grant went stiff, his vision going fuzzy as he stared down at the coins.  “Excuse me?”

The cashier glanced vaguely at the coins before him and expertly slid the desired amount off the edge of the counter into his hand.  “This oughtta do it.  God bless ya now.”

Grant retrieved his bottle from the counter, giving the cashier an off-center smile as he backed away and nearly collided with another customer entering behind him.  He excused himself and stepped awkwardly down from the curb, breaking into a trot toward the monster truck and his car hidden behind.

He found the car empty.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” a familiar voice said from behind him.  “We’ve got cameras.”

Grant turned to look at Rudy, hand placed strategically in his jacket pocket.

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about that than me?”

Ignoring the comment, Rudy took a slow look around the station.  “Where’s your little friend, Frederickson?”

“I told her to run.”

Rudy glanced up at Grant, checking him for sarcasm.  “The waitress from the coffee shop, right?  Y’see, I knew that you two already knew each other.”

“She’s a stranger to me,” Grant replied.

“C’mon to my car.  You and me need to talk about what just happened.”  Without removing his hand from his pocket, he nudged him roughly with his elbow toward the Mercedes parked at another set of pumps just in front of the Toyota.

“Where’s the gun?”

“What gun?”

“Don’t play games, Frederickson,” Rudy snapped, prodding him with his elbow.

“She was the one with the gun and she took it with her.”

“You want to tell me what sort of fun she’s into that she needs one?”

Grant stopped and turned to Rudy, giving him a matter-of-fact look.  “You mean, you don’t know who she is?”

Rudy studied him for a moment before removing his hand from his pocket and shoving him against the side of the Mercedes.  “Get in,” he ordered, throwing the back passenger-side door open.

“I’ve got a better idea,” a voice said from inside the car.

Squinting into the darkness, Rudy found Maddy huddled low in the backseat with the gun trained on him.

“Throw your gun inside,” she prompted.

Rudy dutifully started to reach inside his jacket.

“Stop!” Maddy snapped.  “On second thought, take your jacket off and lay it down.  Slowly.”

Rudy glared at her.  “Now why would I want to remove my favorite Argentinean leather jacket?”

“Because you’re starting to think that maybe you don’t have the full story and maybe we’re capable of much more than you thought.”

Rudy scoffed and glanced at Grant resting against the side of the car.

“You better just do what she says,” Grant murmured.  “I’m not sure what this woman is capable of.”

“Fuck this,” Rudy snarled, reaching for his weapon.

Maddy cocked her gun.

Instantly, Rudy showed her his open palms.

“Jacket,” Maddy prompted.

Rudy slowly removed his leather jacket, his face a mask of frustration and tossed it in a bundle on the floor of the car.  “Now what?”

“Now you’re the proud new owner of a slightly used Toyota.  Fully-fueled and everything,” Maddy said, waving Rudy backwards as she stepped out of the car.  “Grant step around to the driver’s side, please.”

Grant rushed around the car without hesitation and climbed inside.

“Keys inside?” she asked him.

“Yeah!”

He cranked the engine.

“Can you please hand me the keys to the Toyota?”

Grant hesitated briefly before removing the keys from his pocket and pushing the passenger door open for Maddy.

“Really, Frederickson?  Grand Theft Auto?  You sure you want to do this?” Rudy called out to Grant, raising his arms dramatically as he stepped back to the pumps.  “Up until now, this was just business.  You really want to make this personal?”

“What part of murder is impersonal?” Maddy asked, standing in the open doorway of the passenger side.  “Put your arms down, you knucklehead!  The cameras can’t see around that monster truck.”

Rudy glowered at Maddy and slowly lowered his arms, attempting to find the pockets of his jacket out of instinct and missing.  “Y’know, the boss is going to get real sore when he can’t reach me on the cell phone that’s in the pocket of that jacket.”

“That would be something to discuss with the boss,” she replied, lowering the window and sliding inside.  “While you’re at it, you might want to ask him what secrets he’s been keeping from you, Rudy Pedroza.”

Maddy dropped the keys to the ground between them.

The Mercedes pulled away from the pumps, leaving Rudy standing alone and staring down at the keys to the Toyota.  He spared a look at his retreating Mercedes in utter confusion.

15

Continuing down the feeder road, Grant glanced over at Maddy.  “Are you going to level with me now?”

“I’ve been completely honest with you from the first minute.”

“You said you’re not a felon,” Grant said with a nod.  “Why did you ask those two men if they’ve read your file?  What file?”

Maddy studied Grant then turned away from him to look out her window.

“See, I knew it,” Grant exclaimed, pounding his fist on the steering wheel.

“I’m a lot of things, Grant, but I’m not a criminal,” she snapped, then glanced ahead of them and pointed.  “We should get on the beltway south and head towards Interstate 10.”

Grant ignored her and continued down the feeder road, increasing his speed slightly.  “I’m waiting for some sort of reasonable explanation for everything that just happened.”

Maddy studied Grant.  “You would think I’m crazy.”

“Lady,” Grant said with exasperation.  “I already do.”

Maddy stomped the floorboard.  “I know Rudy’s type.  He’s a man of action.  Not a man of thought, like you.”

“You don’t know me,” Grant growled.

“I know this.  Without me, you would be dead or in the backseat of that hoodlum’s car.”

“Hoodlum?” Grant murmured under his breath, impressed at the anachronism. 
How old was this girl anyway,
he wondered?

“I’m the one who separated him from his gun and I have him second-guessing himself right now.  Also, he’s on edge because he’s trying to quit smoking.”

Grant raised his brows in interest.  “And how do you know that?”

Maddy kicked the empty cigarette boxes at her feet and pointed to the plastic box of nicotine gum in the dashboard console.

“And you know for a fact that this
hoodlum
had a gun?”

“What?” Maddy exclaimed in exasperation.  “Are you serious?”

She suddenly glanced around in agitation.  Turning in her seat and climbing up onto her knees, Maddy craned her neck over the seat.  Finally, she straddled the center console and pressing in close, reached around onto the floorboard of the backseat, her behind waving beside Grant.  Glancing over, he gripped the wheel more tightly.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Maddy yanked Rudy’s jacket up and returned to her seat.  She retrieved a gun from one of the pockets and displayed it to Grant.  “See!”

Grant leaned away from her, swerving slightly out of his lane.  “Whoa!  Easy!”

“What did I tell you?  Bad guy.  Bad,” she exclaimed, looking out over the road behind them.  “What do you think this is for?  Shooting cottonmouths in the back yard?  This was for you, Grant.”

Grant leaned in toward the wheel, grip increasing, his face reddening slightly.

Maddy watched Grant with a slight smirk.  “Are you angry?”

“I’m glad I stole his goddamn car,” he remarked stiffly.

Maddy nodded in satisfaction.  Catching a glimpse of red within the black interior of the jacket, she laid it on her lap and turned it open.  There, sewed in red thread into the black lining of the jacket, were the words “R. Pedroza.”

“Pedroza,” she whispered to herself in sudden understanding, then turned her attention back to the weapon in her hand.  “We have to get rid of these guns as soon as possible.  Are we going over any bodies of water?”

Grant massaged the bridge of his nose, while he consulted a map in his head.  “No, nothing.  Dumpster?” he managed lifelessly.

“That’ll do,” Maddy responded.

He pulled off the road and took the car behind a strip of shops, finding the inevitable set of dumpsters and pulling the passenger side window as close as he could to an open container on the end.

Grant watched Maddy as she tossed Rudy’s gun into the dumpster.  “You knew him.  You knew his name,” Grant said.  “And the thing is, I’ve been going over the conversation at the coffee shop, and I’m positive I never told you my name.”

Maddy unzipped the satchel at her feet and retrieved the police officer’s gun.  “Maybe it was Rudy then,” Maddy replied, tossing the second gun in the dumpster after the first.

“He’s never used my first name.  Ever.”  Grant peered down at the satchel on the floor and saw money.  Twenties and fifties and hundreds, stuffed in and around clothes and shoes and a make-up bag.  Grant straightened in his seat, his face paling.

Maddy rolled up her window but continued staring out into the dumpster.  “There’s a reason why those men have a file on me.”

Grant nodded, turning away from the wheel and giving his full attention to her.  “Okay, I’m listening.”

As promised, here comes the crazy,
Maddy thought. 
Be smart now.  Soft peddle it.

Maddy turned back to Grant, folding her hands pensively in her lap.  “I've got this ability that makes me valuable and dangerous at the same time.”

Grant nodded more fervently.  “Go on.”

“A certain skill-set,” she continued, staring him straight in the eye.  “Call it an insight into probabilities.”

Grant furrowed his brow, his mind spinning around like a roulette wheel until he narrowed in on an explanation like the dropping of a ball into a pocket.  “So, wait.  These men are after you because of some kind of special gambling technique?  Like a system?  Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”  His eyes flickered to the satchel lying securely on the floor beneath her feet.

She cocked her head at him and searched his face.  “No, not exactly,” she started to say, then waved distractedly at the dumpster where they sat parked.  “Look can we please start moving away from the guns.  I’m getting a little jumpy and that makes it hard for me to concentrate.”

Nodding, Grant pulled away from the dumpster and headed back toward the feeder road.  As an afterthought, he reached into his jacket and sheepishly handed the bottled water to Maddy.  “Almost forgot.”

Maddy took the water and stared at it, appearing close to tears.

Grant glanced furtively at her then down at the bottle in her hands.  “Is this the wrong brand or something?”

Maddy gave a little laugh then took several gulps from the bottle.  “It’s always like this when I’m coming down off an adrenaline rush.”  She held out a hand, shivering uncontrollably.  “Look at me.  I’m falling apart,” she began to sob quietly and turned away to look out her window.

Grant drove in silence for a few minutes.

He arrived at the transition to the Highway 69 intersection and spontaneously decided to get on.  There was no method or plan.  He was winging it now.  Going on sheer instinct.

Maddy stared at Grant with wide eyes.

“What?” Grant asked, noticing her attention.

“You—You’re..?” Maddy started to say, then simply shook her head.  “I didn’t know you were going to do that just now.”

“No,” Grant replied with a sigh.  “Neither did I.”

Through her puffy, tear-stained face, Maddy studied Grant with an intensity reserved for museum pieces.

Feeling vaguely awkward, Grant glanced over at her.

Giving him a gracious smile, she blotted her eyes on her sleeve and relaxed back into her seat, feeling more secure in the moment than she could remember feeling in a very long while.

She had no idea where she was headed right now.

Which meant, neither did the Blank Men.