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“They used to get together for poker games every Wednesday. Even when Bertram Grunwald was teaching at Harvard, Emerson’s father used to fly up there for the game. That was how he gave Professor Grunwald his first million, by deliberately losing to him. It was their little joke.”
“Emerson doesn’t seem to be friends with the Grunwald boys.”
“They never hit it off. And they didn’t get to see much of each other. There was a big difference in age.”
“Emerson’s father must have been devastated when Bertram died.”
“I suppose. Although it’s rumored they had a falling-out shortly before Bertram passed. I don’t know what that was about.”
Riley looked around. “It’s hard to see in the dark, but it looks like Vernon’s RV is all alone here. Where’s your house?”
“My place is down the road a bit,” Myra said. “Vernon lives here in a cabin tucked into the woods. He likes it here because he’s right on a good fishing pond. We’ve got a couple hundred acres of property between us. Most of it’s uphill and downhill. Larry can stay in the RV and the rest of us can all stay in Vernon’s little cabin tonight. I guess tomorrow you and Emerson will be taking off. I imagine he has a plan all laid out.”
—
Vernon’s cabin was half a notch above a man cave. Not a lot of frills but clean and comfortable, with indoor plumbing and a flat-screen television. Riley slept in the loft, where she was stuffed into a sleeping bag. Vernon and Myra had bedrooms, and Emerson slept on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Everyone was up early drinking coffee and eating Myra’s pancakes.
“You know how to drive a Redhawk, right?” Vernon asked Riley.
“Not only can I drive it,” Riley said, “I can change the oil and rotate the tires.”
“Good to know she’s gonna be taken care of,” Vernon said. “She’s borrowed from my friend Andy Gattle. He’s got a bunch of these old girls that he rents out to city people looking for a country experience. I gave him a jug of our special moonshine for it, and he brought it over at the crack of dawn all gassed up and everything.”
“I thought we were taking your RV.”
“No way,” Vernon said. “You’re going off the grid. You take mine and the feds will be on you like flies on a fruitcake.”
They hiked a short distance in the chill mountain air, and Vernon handed keys over to Riley. “Your RV is the one next to mine. She’s a beauty, right?”
Riley bit into her lower lip to keep from whimpering. It was a total hunk of junk. Rust everywhere. Nondescript paint job. She thought it might have at some point been painted with rainbow colors. Bumper sticker from Mama Jolene’s Campground, and another advertising the NRA. Hula girl bobblehead on the dashboard.
“I know it looks a little over the hill,” Vernon said, “but Andy keeps his girls tuned up and ready to roll. Plus you got an extra case of motor oil in the storage under your vehicle in case you need it.”
Riley climbed into the driver’s seat, and Emerson climbed in next to her. What few worldly possessions they had were stashed in the back, and Emerson had his rucksack at his feet.
Riley started the engine, slammed the Redhawk into reverse, and took out a lawn chair. She put it in park and leaned out the window. “Sorry about that, Vernon.”
“Never mind that old chair,” Vernon said. “I got three more.”
Riley eased the Redhawk off Vernon’s property, down the country road, and pointed it at the highway.
“Son,” she said to Emerson, “we’re going on a road trip.”
“You sound like Vernon.”
“I like Vernon. He reminds me of my brothers.”
Emerson took a large fold-up map of the United States out of his rucksack and opened it. A bright yellow line had been traced across it with a highlighter.
“I’m guessing the yellow line is our route,” Riley said. “What’s at the end of it?”
“Nevada. When we were in Günter’s office I showed you a note that said ‘Shipments made to Groom Lake.’ In light of all that’s happened I feel it could be significant. Günter’s office had been swept clean, but this note was handwritten on a yellow pad and overlooked.”
“Groom Lake and Area 51 are all within Nellis Air Force Base,” Riley said.
“Precisely. It’s a top-secret government installation. People have theorized for years about what goes on there, but the NSA keeps them away.”
“Everyone knows that aliens are kept at Area 51 along with all the X-Files and Close Encounters doodads,” Riley said.
