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“Really?”
Mac shrugged. “She’d know, I suppose.” He scanned the street in front of the apartment building to check it was clear. “Patsy has a helicopter.”
Theo dragged the table into position and climbed onto it. Even so, she couldn’t quite reach the fire alarm on the high ceiling, but it was close enough. Aerosol deodorant in one hand, a lighter—which she also stolen from the old lady’s bag—in the other. A little bit of coordination, and she had a flame thrower. She worked quickly, strangely calm. Bedlam was her only chance. Day Delos would be watching her every move in light of Gus’s lawsuit. All the trust she’d built, the plans she’d carefully put in place were undone. She had to go now before they shipped her off to God only knew where. “Dammit, Gus! Why now?” Still, it wasn’t his fault. She’d handed in that manuscript, allowed it to be published, and sent it out as a message, though she wasn’t really sure what it said. What did she expect Gus would do? She should have known it would be something.
Theo took a deep breath, held it, and flicked open the lighter and pressed the nozzle. Carried on propellant, the flame surged and licked the sensor. Two seconds and the alarms went off. Theo kept pressing, to make sure the alarm would be well and truly tripped. That done, she climbed down. She grabbed the backpack she had prepared from what she could find in the suite and acquire without suspicion—aerosols, packing tape, cash she’d collected in small amounts over months, water. She was wearing three layers of clothing. Her hair was tucked under a knitted cap.
She cracked open the door. Guests were spilling out into the hallway, making for the fire escape. Theo slipped out into the stream of people and followed the only slightly panicked flow to the stairwell. Theo stopped at top of the stairs to tie her shoelace and then stepped back into the line behind a woman with an overstuffed tote bag under her arm. The anxious guests barely noticed, let alone protested her movements in and out of the line.
Theo stumbled, falling onto the woman in front of her, and in the process slipping her phone into the tote bag. Given to her by Day Delos and Associates, the cell phone had a tracking device. She’d silenced the ring, so its new bearer wouldn’t be alerted to its presence in her bag. And then Theo stopped to tie her shoelace again and quietly slipped back into the hotel at the next floor.
Mac cursed as he glanced into the rearview mirror. The Buick. It was close on their tail. He pressed the accelerator and called Zeke again, giving his brother their exact location.
“Zeke—we’re going to be coming in hot. A black Buick.”
“Roger that, Mac. We’ll take care of them. Caleb’s been itching to put the tank through its paces.”
“Thanks, Zeke.”
“Tell me he was kidding about the tank?” Gus asked tentatively.
“Probably not.”
“They’re not going kill them, are they?”
“They did just try to kill you.”
“Mac…”
“No…they won’t. Not intentionally, anyway.” He glanced again at the rearview mirror and put his foot down as he hooked the Mercedes into the turnoff. “If the bastards catch up, they’ll try to force us off the road, and then their good health will be the least of our concerns.”
Gus looked over his shoulder. The Buick had its headlights on high beam. They were gaining. Horse licked his face from the back seat. He put his arm back to settle his dog. Horse was an old dog now… Knife fights and car chases were probably a bit much to expect him to endure.
The Buick tried to get abreast of them. The Mercedes jolted as its back bumper was struck. Mac turned hard to compensate and keep the car from careering. The Buick tried to push them off the road again, but somehow Mac coaxed out another burst of speed.
The road they were on was unlit—the way out to the Ponderosa. Mac knew the road, could anticipate each wind and sweep, and so he was able to gradually stretch the distance between them and the Buick. Gus spotted the vehicles on the side of the road in the Mercedes headlights. Not tanks but modified pickups with armor plating and floodlights fitted to roll bars.
As the Mercedes passed, they screamed onto the road and the floodlights came on. In the rearview mirror they could now see the Buick fishtailing off the road.
Mac slapped the steering wheel triumphantly. “Yes!”
Gus flinched as gunshots cracked behind them. “Should we—”
“Caleb and Sam have been practicing defending this road since they were kids. They’ll be all right.” Mac said confidently. “Patsy’s place is a couple of properties down the road.”
“Should I ask why she owes you a favor?”
“Probably not.”
The property into which they were admitted through a series of monitored gates was not unlike the Ponderosa. Mac slowed the car down to ensure they didn’t hit crossing livestock—goats mainly. The surrounds were heavily wooded and the house almost invisible until you were nearly upon it. Mac drove past the house, to what appeared to be an old tennis court, in the middle of which, under floodlights, was a helicopter.
“The ultimate bug-out vehicle,” Mac said. “Patsy has bunkers all over the country and a property in New Zealand. She’s a lot more high-tech and organized than normal preppers.”
“Normal preppers?”
Mac grinned. “Run-of-the-mill preppers.”
Patsy, a woman in her fifties, wore diamond earrings with her army fatigues. Zeke Etheridge was with her as they approached the helicopter. She flung her arms around Mac and kissed him on the mouth and then made huge fuss of Horse, kissing him similarly.
