Page 51 of Exit Strategy
“Yes, you’re going to stay here and coordinate from the Nerve Center. Jacobson and Cullen will be with me, and if we can find a fourth to peel away, we’ll take them too. Mac, see if we can find someone from PR or even the New Eden Centre itself – a negotiator or something, maybe someone pretty that Kurt wouldn’t shoot in the face the moment he saw them.” Mackenzie nodded and I knew she would have me a fourth by the time I was ready to go.
Who could I trust here? As much as I wanted us to be a brotherhood and share the trust and camaraderie that Kurt talked about with the Royal Marines, we weren’t. Some of us were mercenaries, some belonged to New Eden, some belonged to people inside New Eden. I had to do this perfectly, and not just for me. Calanthe Rex was out there somewhere, and she was perfect, she was the ideal. She was everything that I wasn’t, but because of that, I could rescue her. Calanthe would be a mother to New Eden, with beautiful healthy children who would have a green and pure world as their legacy, either to help restore it or inherit it. That part depended on us, and how well we did or how badly we failed.
“We will need to requisition one of the hydrogen-cell vehicles,” I said. “Let’s see if Rex will let us take REX3. He’s not going on any junkets for a while.”
“We could probably fly a lot faster, you know,” Jacobson said.
“Know of any hybrid jets, electric aircraft, solar-powered stuff that doesn’t have a top speed of sixty miles an hour and is the size of a sports store?” I asked. “We will find both of them without burning a tanker truck of fossil fuel doing it. We have more than one responsibility.”
“What’s the point of those carbon credits that New Eden promotes?” Mac asked, looking up from her computer terminals.
“We aren’t shilling environmental indulgences. The carbon credits aren’t prepaid forgiveness for environmental sin.” I gave her a stern look. Apparently, there were no religious studies or history majors on my team. That was regrettable.
* * *
California turnedto Nevada under the wheels of REX3, a forty-foot, ten-wheel, hydrogen-cell electric-touring bus. We had a brief rendezvous with Team Sigma, the personal security detachment for his eminence August Emerson himself, in Las Vegas. This in and of itself was no major deal. New Eden held many summits and conferences in Vegas. The number of facilities there that had gone green more than suited our green and pure Earth agenda, plus, it was an easy place to get to.
Things were turning into a mess back at the set. Rex had packed his things and thrown a fit before removing himself to his personal retreat, a chalet in Colorado. I watched the gossip packet where paparazzi caught the celebrity couple boarding a personal jet and flying out of a municipal airport. I didn’t know who was with him. Her face was covered, but the red hair was obvious.
“Claire?” I asked. “From human resources?”
“I’d bet money that it’s Frederika, from accounting. She could be a body double for Calanthe,” Cullen said.
“It’s Carson Lovell,” Mac said over the earpiece. “He works in the motor pool and logistics section.”
“That’s a guy?” I asked.
“Yup, a really short, skinny guy, wearing a wig,” she chirped.
“That’s so lame,” our HR coordinator, Lisa, groaned.
“It’s what needs to be done, and there is a good reason for all of this,” I said. There was some grumbling, but it wasn’t unexpected. This was going to be a long drive, and there were certain places we had to stop to recharge the hydrogen cell in the bus. We might have lacked top speed, but we had something that Kurt didn’t. Endurance.
By switching drivers, we never had to stop moving, and with the accommodations on REX3, we didn’t have to use hotels or motels. If he had arranged any sort of electronic counter surveillance, he wouldn’t see us coming.
“Good news, Obe,” Mac chirped, when Vegas was six hours behind us. “Found his registered vehicle, and I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
“Shoot.”
“It’s a 1968, short bed, GMC pickup truck, off-road capability, with a solid V8. He can go pretty much anywhere.”
“Where did you find the registry?” I asked.
“Maryland, of all places.”
“It would be too obvious for him to go there, wouldn’t it, Mackenzie,” I said, hoping that she would follow my lead.
“That would be literally the first place we would look, and Kurt isn’t dumb enough to run to ground like that,” Mac chirped in quick agreement. “I did a search of the state and there isn’t anything there under his name.KurtWorthingtondoesn’t own any land in Maryland,” she responded.
“Copy that,” I said.
“Cullen?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we still set for Omaha?”
“Yeah, everything okay?”
