The surface is flat and hot. I jump to my knees, move to the edge, and peer through the steam.
The heat prickles my skin and the moisture dampens my hair, but I should have some cover, both visual and thermal. I watch as the first Vigilante car, the one with the damaged fender, follows the Infiniti as it rolls to a stop. The second car passes, but doesn’t follow the first. That Vigilante knows I’m not in there. He’ll keep looking.
From the first car emerges a figure clad in a familiar outfit. I stifle a laugh.
It’s the cocky guard from the silo I visited with Mia. Running Man, in his close-fitting running clothes.
Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.
He moves to the Infiniti, a weapon in his hand. On his head he has some sort of monocle, probably a night-vision lens. Cautiously he sweepsthe car before yanking the door open, weapon ready. When I don’t jump out at him, he looks around. His gaze moves up to the top of the condensers, but through the mist I can’t tell if he’s spotted me.
He heads my way. His pace is unhurried, and his gaze is everywhere. He’s still looking.
He moves around to the back of the condenser next to mine. I strain for the sound of feet on the metal ladder above the constant hiss of the condensers, but hear nothing. Carefully I shift position and spot him, still circling the condenser down below. He’s between them now, staring at the soft earth instead of looking up. An apparent and futile attempt at looking for tracks, I wager.
I don’t hesitate. With a quick roll I’m off the roof and hurtling for his head. I slam into him with both feet, knocking us both to the ground. I roll as I land and am back on my feet before he’s even looking around. I aim a sharp kick at his jaw and send him sprawling back, then leap on him and wrap him in a choke hold.
His hands finally find some purchase and he digs fingers like iron bars into my bicep. I feel part of my arm go numb and my hold loosens. He twists in my grip, his hand scrabbling for a better angle.
I drop the hold and lash out with my other arm, cracking his head to the side. Then I dig my own fingers into his flesh, hunting for a bundle of nerves. He fights for a second, then goes limp.
I waste no time. That move can drop a normal person for several minutes, but a Vigilante’s training greatly reduces its effectiveness. I snag his control watch and key fob, then run back to his car. The door opens at my approach and I dive in.
I resist the urge to floor it in case the other Vigilante car is nearby, and instead make a quick yet graceful U-turn on the street. With a second turn the condensers are out of sight, their great steam clouds still billowing above the neighboring buildings.
“Computer,” I bark, “cloaking levels one, two, and three.”
“Cloaking levels initiated.”
I relax a little into the seat. I have no idea what kind of authorizations Running Man has, but I suspect they’re not very high. This will hide me from his partner, but the Vigilantes themselves will be able to track this car before long.
I drive over a gully and slow down long enough to roll down the window and toss Running Man’s gear out. The car scolds me for compromising the cloaking, but quiets down once the window is closed. That will buy me a little more time. Hopefully enough for this next step.
“Computer, deactivate cloaking level two. Send secure transmission to Operative 03773.” Hopefully Sam can handle a message from me without complications.
Sam comes on the screen full of seriousness. “What fuckup have you done this time, Paulson?” Then he sees me and cracks a smile. “You son of a gun. Did you take out Paulson?”
“Is that his name?” I say. “He needs to be relegated to kitchen duty.”
“One of Carter’s boys in Missouri,” Sam says. “I’m guessing he fouled up your apprehension.”
“In a big way. Not sure what happened to the other. Slick driver.”
“You know her well,” Sam says.
“Seriously?” I should have recognized Colette’s driving. “She going to end up on the rack because of me?”
“Nah. She’s playing by the book. She’s good.” He glances down and frowns. “Let me wipe this car before they figure out it’s you.”
The dash goes dark and everything electronic in the car goes out. The engine continues its quiet hum. I’ve left the streets of downtown Albuquerque and am heading toward the desert.
The system reboots and Sam comes back on. “I’ll be in touch as I can. I have to cover these tracks.” He kills the transmission.
Time for me to head back to Tennessee and see if Jovana is stupid enough to attend that fight.
And tell The Cure about the unfortunate state of his Infiniti.
17: Mia
