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Every curse Moe knew ran through his head and he kicked the counter. “How do we save her?”
Beatrice answered. “The other organization, who just informed us about this, is working on that. Our only mission is retrieving the two of you.”
“What are your coordinates?” Rory cut in.
Moe gave him a brief idea of where they were. “It’s not on any map and I don’t have an exact position to give you.”
“Are you wearing your SFI watch?” Emit asked.
“Yeah.”
“We’ll find you. It might take a bit, but we will.”
Parker touched the walking stick propped against the counter. “Any chance you spotted an older man and a black bear when you were near the quarry?”
Total silence was the response. Moe imagined the group trading confused glances and shoulder shrugs, wondering if Parker’s head wound was more severe than she was letting on.
“Come again?” Beatrice said. “It sounded like you asked about a bear.”
Moe saw Parker’s fear that Gus and Oscar hadn’t escaped Romalov, mixed with hope they had. “We made a new friend and he helped us out,” he explained. “Seems like a good bloke, and if you do spot him, don’t shoot him or the bear.”
Another pause, as if she were processing that. “Noted. Lay low until we get there.”
Parker’s expression hardened. “What about Romalov?”
“He’s still in the mine.”
“He’s not,” Moe said. “He came after us on foot and may be in the area. Watch your backs.”
“He left the others to pursue you?” Emit asked, sounding shocked.
Moe was equally shocked that he was with the team and not at the ranch. “Yeah. Take precautions, mate. I suspect he has more vehicles than that van at his disposal.”
Parker rubbed her temple. “Leave us and get back to your place. Your safety has to come first. We’ll be fine until you can come for us.”
“I’m surrounded by SFI operatives,” Emit growled. It was rare that he ever showed anger or impatience. “You nearly died out there. You need medical attention.”
In the background, Rory said, “Got ’em.”
“We’ve got your location,” he continued and his tone softened. “Don’t worry about me, Jett. We’re on the way.”
Parker started to argue, but Beatrice disconnected. Moe replaced the receiver and rubbed the back of his neck. “I admire you going head to head with the great Emit Petit. Not many are that brave.”
She straightened off the counter and leaned a hip against it as he came around the end. “Or stupid.”
He chuckled, handing her the weapon. “Why do you say that?”
She dropped the strap over her neck and positioned it before snatching up the hat and walking stick. Together, they headed for the door. Racks of old, abandoned snacks hinted at a different time. Most had long ago molded and decayed, but by golly, there were still Twinkies.
He grabbed one, but it was hard and brittle. He tossed it aside and began inventorying what else was left in the building.
“You can’t seriously believe it would be fresh,” Parker chastised.
“Some teacher kept one in his class for thirty years to see how long its true shelf life would be.”
“Urban legend.”
“Gotta believe that something good outlasts us.”
