Who would have thought that being burned half to death, followed by nearly drowning in a grimy canal, followed by a two-mile sprint up a small mountain, followed by struggling against being raped and murdered would leave me with nothing in reserve?
In any case, Obadiah took another reluctant step back, raising his hands slightly as his eyes darted between Max and the gun.
I flinched as Max approached before looking up at him with watery eyes as he gave my shoulder a hesitant squeeze, rummaging inside his leather jacket.
“Shit, I forgot to bring water. Sorry, I usually have people for everything,” he said apologetically as he helped me into a semi-reclined position. “By the way, I’ll take that envelope, too,” he said to Obadiah, who handed it over sullenly. Max turned back to me. “I think this was intended for you.”
Not that it mattered when the note was lost to the wind. What else could be in there that I could possibly need? Even money was no help now. The only thing that could help was the law on my side. But I didn’t have that anymore, and neither did Max. And neither did Wheatley, most likely, so there was no point in counting on him. I just prayed that wouldn’t leave Erica and the others sheltering at Ivy’s house totally exposed.
“Can you walk? Okay, that’s a no,” Max said after I remained motionless. He kneeled down, his gun hand still pointed toward Obadiah. The other gently curled around the backs of my knees. “Do you mind? Your boy might, but I won’t tell if you don’t.”
I paused. “Can’t trust you.”
“No, really, I won’t?—”
“Not aboutthat.”
He looked perplexed. “But I thought you knew that Resi?—”
“I know,” I sputtered. “But I also have it on good authority that you don’t doanythingwithout an ulterior motive.”
Max sighed and ran a hand through his uncharacteristically tangled hair. “Your boy taught you well. Look, while I figure out the best way to prove myself—other than saving your life, that is—will you at least trust me to get you somewhere where nobody will kill you? After that, it’s all negotiable.”
I nodded. Good enough. At least good enough to melt into the smooth, fragrant, buttery leather of Max’s jacket and bury my head on his shoulder as we descended the steep sandstone steps. And if my boy had a problem with it in principle, well, I knew he’d understand in practice. We were doing it to helphim, after all.
“How’d you get here?” I murmured.
“The Datsun followed you. I followed the Datsun.”
“What the hell are you yapping about over there?” the old gardener growled as he followed along. “I don’t got all day.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, how inconsiderate of me. Is this throwing off your entire rape and murder schedule?” Max demanded. “No? Then shut your goddamn piehole. I told you I’d give you what you want, and I will, but only after you take us where we want to go, which is to Resi and the kid, because they sure as hell aren’t here. Sorry,” he stage-whispered to me. “Didn’t mean to get you stuck in Fuckface’s company even longer. I wanted to kill him, too. Really.”
“But—” I looked frantically behind me as he carried me down. “We can’t leave. He’s somewhere in this park. The chip can’t lie. Can it?”
“No,” said Max gravely. “It can’t. Not by itself. But your boy can make it lie for him.”
“Then that means?—”
I dug deep into the envelope, heart racing, and after a few seconds of rummaging, emerged with an object. An object that sat between the dirt-caked ridges of my torn-up fingers. For a second, Max and I just stared at it.
“The kid did it,” he said quietly. “He goddamn did it. And I suspect something in that envelope tells us how.”
Mind-boggling that something so small was the key to keeping millions of people enslaved.
Or possibly, freeing them.
“Is it too late, though?” I asked. A grave question for a man whose entire fortune and life had been wrapped up in this thing. “For Project White Cedar? For—” For him? For my father? For all of us?
Max took a deep breath and surveyed the vast coolness of the lake spread out below in the fading twilight. I followed his gaze. “I don’t know. All I know is that we have to get that envelope somewhere safe, and then findhim. I have an idea how, but until we do that, everything else can wait. I only wish we could take the helicopter.”
“No?”
“No.” He turned away from the vista resolutely, and I relaxed further into his arms. “Now that I’m a fugitive, it’s time to switch to something less conspicuous.” He turned to Obadiah. “Where’d you park that Datsun?”
18
HIM
