They (41 page)

Thirty minutes later they were at the Pittsburgh Airport parking ga
rage. Mike turned to Frank. “Let’s get these in the suitcases,” he said, taking out his gun and the spare clips from his coat pocket. They packed the weapons securely in the suitcases then, carrying their luggage and looking very much like normal, upper-middle class businessmen, they made their way to the rental car agency where they turned in the keys to the Audi. Mike led the way to a United Airlines terminal. He walked to the ticket counter and talked with the agent for fifteen minutes. When he came back he was holding three tickets. “I got us stand-by seats on a flight that leaves in two hours,” he said. “Let’s go to the gate and hang out.”

They walked leisurely through airport security, then past various gates. Frank nodded toward a newsstand. “Let’s see if there’s anything in the paper about us.” Vince and Mike followed him.

Vince spotted the
New York Times
with a headline story about the shoot-out. “Here we go,” he said, picking it up. One of the sub-titles read
Victims Identified
.

Frank paid for the paper and they sat down near one of the gates, passing the paper around. Most of the article covered what they already knew. What was new to them were the identities of the three dead assassins: they were being identified as Matt Newberry, Hank Warner, and Andy Duncan, members of an apocalyptic Christian church called Soldiers of Christ. Information on the group was sketchy and a church spokesman, speaking on a condition of anonymity, said the church had no statement other than the three dead men were acting alone and that they had no knowledge of their criminal intentions.

“
This
is proof,” Vince said. “Soldiers of Christ. On a mission to wipe out the Anti-Christ. Me.”

Mike folded the paper. His features were stern. “When we get back to California we’ll do some research on the Soldiers of Christ.”

“Don’t worry, bro,” Frank said, patting Vince’s shoulder. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Vince tried to take assurance that Frank and Mike would take care of things, that now that the proof had been presented to them they would have to take extra precautionary measures. When he read that the gunmen were members of the Soldiers of Christ he’d experienced a feeling of immense dread as his fears were confirmed. “We might not need to do anything,” he said. “I’ll bet right now a bunch of journalists are all over this and by tomorrow, information about these guys will be all over the news wires.”

Mike didn’t say anything and Frank nodded. Vince checked his watch. “Guess we should head to our gate.” They stood up and began walking down the gateway, and even when Vince was strapped in his seat in the DC-10 two hours later he still didn’t feel calmed by the knowledge that he now knew who it was that was trying to kill him. If anything, it only made him feel more in fear for his own life.

WHEN THEY EXITED the plane at Los Angeles International Airport, Vince couldn’t help but be nervous. He kept expecting to be arrested by cops waiting for them to get off the plane. He scanned a sea of faces that didn’t acknowledge him as he, Frank, and Mike set off down the terminal. There were no plainclothes detectives lying in wait to ambush them. In short, they’d made it home undetected.

It was almost seven p.m. in Los Angeles; they’d had to wait for over three hours in Pittsburgh and by the time they’d taken off it was four p.m. The flight had been unremarkable and they managed to take seats near each other. They’d spent the five-hour flight in silence, reading magazines and newspapers, pausing only occasionally to talk about things unrelated as to why they’d really been in Pennsylvania. Once they reached Mike’s car in the parking structure they let their guards down as Mike unlocked the door and they slipped inside.

Vince sighed in relief as he set his bag down on the floor by his feet. “God, I’m glad that’s over with. I kept expecting somebody to pop out behind a car with a gun.”

“I gotta admit, I was kinda nervous, too,” Frank said. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

Mike started the car. “We haven’t talked about what we’re going to do next. Any ideas?”

“Not yet,” Frank said. “But we definitely need to stay on this.”

“We do,” Mike said, letting the car warm up. “I’ve got to get home and see how things are there. Carol’s probably worrying to death. I think we should use tonight to tie up whatever loose ends we may have and then reconvene late tomorrow morning at Vince’s.” He looked back at Vince. “That sounds okay to you?”

“Fine.” Vince’s mind was racing; maybe he could see Tracy tonight and have her out of the house before Mike and Frank came over.

“We’ll meet tomorrow morning at Vince’s to talk more strategy,” Mike said. “Say ten-thirty?”

Frank and Vince nodded that ten-thirty was fine with them.

“Where are you going to go?” Vince asked Frank as Mike backed out of the parking space.

“After Mike drops us off at your house, I’ll get myself a motel room,” Frank said. “I gotta call my agent and see how Brandy and the kids are doing.”

“Whatever we do, we lay low,” Mike said as he steered the car down the parking garage toward the tollgates. “I’ll try to get some information on the shootout in Lititz and give you all an update tomorrow morning. If I hear of anything vital, I’ll call you.”

“Think you can hold off calling your girlfriend for another day or so?” Frank’s question was directed at Vince but he didn’t look at him. He was looking out the window at the passing scenery of South-Central Los Angeles as Mike drove down Century Boulevard toward the 405 Freeway.

“Oh, I think so,” Vince said, playing casual. “I’m so damn horny though, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.”

“If you behave tonight and all goes well tomorrow, maybe you can see her tomorrow night,” Mike said. “How’s that sound? I’d like to meet her.”

“Yeah, me too,” Frank said. He turned to Vince, his features impassive.

Vince shrugged. “Sure.”

They made the rest of the drive to Orange County lost in their own thoughts.

VINCE WASTED NO time. The minute he walked in his front door he headed to the phone in the living room and dialed Tracy’s phone number at home.

Tracy picked up on the third ring. “Hello.”

“Tracy, it’s me. Vince.”

“Vince!”

Hearing her voice again melted his heart. Knowing that she was so close now, merely blocks away, added to his growing need to see her. “I’m home,” he said. “And I don’t know how much longer I’ll be home. We’re supposed to get together again tomorrow. Can you come over?”

“I’m leaving in five minutes,” Tracy said.

She arrived thirty minutes later.

When he opened the front door she rushed into his arms. They held each other close; Vince kissed her and when Tracy kissed him back he felt tingles run up and down his spine. He closed the door and took her hand. “God, I missed you,” he said.

“Not now,” she said, melting in his arms and kissing him again.

Somehow, they made it to the bedroom.

AFTERWARD, VINCE TOLD Tracy everything.

He’d already told her what happened in Lititz while he was holed up in the Marriot at Harrisburg last night. Understandably, she’d been shocked. Now he filled in the details, as well as what Mike and Frank found out last night and his own discoveries and feelings as he read newspaper accounts and learned the identity of the men involved. “Soldiers of Christ,” he said, leaning against the pillow. “Ever heard of ’em?”

“No,” Tracy said, her mouth set in scowl. “Should I?”

Vince shook his head. “I guess not.
I
surely never heard of them until today.”

Tracy was reflective. “So you really think that…because these guys were part of a cult called the Soldiers of Christ that they were trying to kill you?”

“I don’t know,” Vince said, sighing. “I know it sounds stupid, but…everything that’s happened has just been so…chaotic and…just imbued with secrecy. Like why did my mother have all this information buried in a box in her backyard? Why was she afraid to talk about it? Why did she pull stakes twenty-five years ago and take me, change our names, tried to bury our past? Was she hiding from something? Running away from something, or somebody? I don’t know.” He looked at her. “And Frank. He just suddenly pops into my life, telling me I’m in danger and he knows all this stuff that’s happened. He knows my mom was murdered, he knows about Laura’s death, he’s been spying on my friends—”

“That’s the scary part,” Tracy said, looking concerned. “The fact that this guy actually poked around in your life.
My
life!”

“Exactly! I mean, he seems to be a pretty nice guy and all, and consi
dering the circumstances of what he and Mike have told me and what I’ve found out, I don’t blame them. In fact, I feel good that you came up clean.”

“What do you mean?” Tracy frowned.

Oops
. Vince tried to dismiss the blunder with a shrug. “Nothing. Just that Frank said that you and Brian and some of my other friends came up with clean records. You aren’t part of the all-sinister Children of the Night.” He chuckled, trying to make everything a big joke.

Tracy looked serious. “What if he’d told you that I
was
a member?”

Vince’s laughter dried up. “You’re kidding, right?”

Tracy shook her head. Her features had taken on a grim, stony-faced appearance. “No, I’m not. Suppose Frank
had
told you that I’m a member of The Children of the Night.” She cocked her head. “What would you have done?”

All the spit seemed to dry up in Vince’s mouth. His stomach turned into a ball of lead. “Um…I don’t know…”

“You don’t know?”

“I…” Vince was at a loss for words. Tracy waited for him to answer. Her persona had taken on a tone of deadly seriousness; she was no longer the flirtatious, laughing, sexy woman he’d met and fallen in love with. Now she resembled a dangerous, sly, secretive woman who was holding a winning hand.

“You don’t know what you’d do…isn’t that right?”

Vince nodded. “I guess not.” He searched her face for some tell tale sign of the Tracy that he knew.

Finally, she smiled. “Scared you, didn’t I?”

Vince relaxed, feeling as if a sudden weight had just been taken off his shoulders. “Jesus, Tracy, you scared the hell out of me!”

Tracy laughed. “I got you good, didn’t I? You didn’t know what to think!”

Slightly embarrassed by having scared the crap out of him, and slightly imbued with playfulness, Tracy didn’t resist as Vince wrestled her onto her back. She squealed. “Hey, wait a minute, I was only kidding!”

“Only kidding?” Vince tickled her sides. Tracy howled with laughter. “Only kidding? How’s
this
for kidding, huh?”

Vince tickled Tracy’s side and under her chin as she laughed and playfully slapped his hands away. The tenseness that had been present between them when Tracy suggested that she was a cult member was gone now. Vince caught her flailing wrists and pinned them down to the mattress above her head. Tracy’s eyes flared. “Oh, you domineering man, you!”

Vince laughed and kissed her.

The kiss led to other things. When those other things ended thirty minutes later they reclined again against the headboard. They lay atop the sheets, the sweat cooling from their bodies amidst the air conditioning. Vince swallowed some water from the bottle of Evian on the nightstand. “Can I ask you something?” Tracy asked. He looked at her. “Seriously?”

Vince nodded. He capped the bottle and replaced it on the nightstand. “Sure.”

“Suppose Frank
did
come back and say I was a cult member? Suppose he did it to keep you away from me due to his…his paranoia?”

Vince thought about it. She had a point. “I don’t know if I would believe him.”

“I would hope not.”

Vince laughed. “Really, Tracy, I’d have to make him see the error of his ways. I mean, if you
were
a cult member why would you seduce me and lead me on like this?”

“As part of some grand scheme to get you back into the group?”

Vince shook his head. It was bullshit, but in a way it made sense, too. It would be the kind of answer Frank would give him. “There’d be no arguing with him I guess,” he said, regarding her calmly. “Then I’d
know
he’s a nut. Especially if he claimed Brian was a cult member, too.”

Tracy rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, Brian Denison, mister atheist. Guy who has no time for religious lunacy in any way, shape, or form. That would be a
big
giveaway.”

Vince chuckled. “Of course you and Brian are pretty similar. If Frank thought you were a cult member I’d
know
he was full of shit.
I
know you;
he
doesn’t.”

“And you don’t think your theory is full of shit?”

“What theory?”

“The one you just told me,” Tracy said, looking serious. “That you think you’re their Anti-Christ.”

So this was where Tracy’s tactics were leading. Suddenly Vince saw his theory for what it was worth. A fragile notion perpetuated by his own rising sense of fear and confusion over the chain of events that had taken place over the past few weeks. A notion helped along by good old-fashioned paranoia. “Well, now that you put it that way,” he said.

Tracy’s mouth was set in a smirking grin. “See? You
can
see the error of your ways!”

Vince laughed. “I guess I can.”

Tracy smiled. She took his hand in hers. Vince smiled back at her and the look in her eyes told him that she supported him and believed in him. And in knowing that, he began to believe in himself.

FRANK WAS TYPING the week’s diary entries into his journal when his cell phone rang.

He’d spent thirty minutes on the phone with his literary agent, Peter
, who reported that everything was fine with Brandy and the kids. Naturally they were worried and missed him, and Frank had assured Peter that what he was working on was almost finished. He’d been assured his family was safe (“not even the IRS knows where they are, Frank,” Peter had said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”). Frank had given Peter a message to relay to Brandy and the kids, then hung up. He’d been detailing the weeks’ events in his notes on his Compaq laptop when the phone jarred him out of his thoughts.