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“Flamed out, I guess.”
Timmy must have realized that Rye was baiting him. He instructed Nate to let him and Brynn out at the entrance. “Don’t want the lady to have to walk through the rain.” As he claimed Brynn’s arm and propelled her forward, he looked over his shoulder and taunted Rye with a wink.
Brynn kept her head forward.
Nate parked in the visitors’ parking lot. Looking around, he said, “I hate to leave my car here. I hope it will be all right.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about it.”
“It could get stolen.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about it,” Rye repeated. “Once you give the senator that drug, you’re dispensable. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
Rye could tell by Nate’s whey-faced expression that the prospect hadn’t occurred to him, but Rye figured it would preoccupy him from now on. He got out and ran through the rain toward the building. Nate came along behind.
Everyone who’d been there earlier had cleared out except for the older man working the desk. Recognizing Rye, he waved him over. “You’re not thinking of taking off in this, are you?” He pointed to his television screen where a Doppler radar map showed a wide band of red.
Rye swore.
“They’ve been doing weather bulletins, one after another,” the man told him. “Better wait it out.”
Rye didn’t see a way to communicate to him the trouble they were in without endangering all of them, the older man included. If he raised an alarm, called 911, some or all could be dead or injured long before the police arrived.
Brynn would be the first casualty. Timmy kept her at his side. His knife was no longer visible, but Rye didn’t trust that. Timmy could access it in a flash.
Not only was she Timmy’s hostage, so was the vial of GX-42. In any kind of altercation, it could be damaged or destroyed.
Rye walked over to the group. “We’re going to have to wait out a line of storms.”
Naturally, Nate argued. “But the whole point of flying was to beat the clock.”
Rye motioned for him to look out the wall of windows. Just since they’d entered the building, conditions had worsened. Jake’s plane was being slashed by rain and buffeted by high winds.
“If you want to drive through this,” Rye said, “you’d better get going. Tack on an extra hour to the trip.”
Nate gnawed his lower lip with indecision. “How long do you think this weather will last?”
“Let’s look.”
Rye led them into a room where a counter held an array of computers, all tuned to weather-reporting stations. He sat down in front of one. “We’re here, and we’re going there,” he said, pointing out the two spots on the map. “This line of storms stretches between those two points, almost solid. Red means bad. Purple’s worse. There’s hail in this,” he said, touching another spot on the screen.
“I’ve flown in worse,” he said, speaking over his shoulder at Nate, who was hovering. “I’d willingly take off with you and him,” he said, inclining his head toward Timmy. “But Brynn would stay. I don’t care if you die. I don’t care if I do. But I wouldn’t risk her life, especially to benefit yours.” Lambert puffed up, but Rye ignored that and said, “So what’s it to be, Lambert? Your call.”
“It’s my call,” Timmy said. “We wait it out.”
He pushed Brynn down into one of the folding chairs lined up against the wall, sat in the one beside it, and linked their arms together.
12:13 p.m.
Brynn resented the cheerfulness with which Nate phoned the Hunts.
In a chipper voice, he said into his phone, “I have good news and bad news.” In carefully guarded language he informed them that the rather drastic measure Timmy had proposed proved to be unnecessary.
“Dr. O’Neal surrendered what we came after. She is returning with us. Mr. Mallett is flying all of us back, landing on your airstrip. The bad news? We’re waiting out a rainstorm before taking off.” He listened, then said, “Yes, it was a coin toss, but we all agreed that flying there would take less time.”
Nate listened, occasionally murmuring splendid or a synonym of it. “Perfect. Mr. Mallett needs the…what was it?”
“Identifier,” Rye said.
