Catherine Coulter – FBI 3 The Target

The Honda Civic paused at the row of ticket windows, but didn’t stop. He knew they wouldn’t stop. He wondered if they knew they’d been spotted.

He gunned the Toyota as soon as they got back onto the road. When they got to the intersection with Highway 89, he took a right toward Tahoe City. No one had said a word.

He was thinking about how the hell he could lose the Honda behind them in very small touristy Tahoe City with its endless restaurants, ski rental shops, and souvenir kiosks. There was a shopping center. It was good sized. There were walkways all around the indoor center. He didn’t know where most of them led, but he was fairly certain he could get them lost there.

It was on the right, he remembered, as you drove into town. He’d have to get rid of the Toyota. Pity, but no choice now. He didn’t see them behind him for the moment. He turned into the huge parking lot and eased the Toyota right up front.

“Out. Quickly!”

He grabbed Emma’s piano and they were through the shopping center doors in five seconds. “Go directly out the back, Molly. There’s a walkway out there. Take the nearest one to the back door. I’ll be with you in just a second.”

There were just a handful of people in the shopping enclosure. He saw Molly weave her way through, Emma pressed against her side, moving as quickly as they could.

He didn’t need to wait long before the Honda pulled around. They saw the Toyota and stopped. It was all he needed to know. He was out the back door in ten seconds, several unhappy people behind him.

He took the nearest walkway and started running. He caught them behind a small Louisiana-type restaurant.

“Molly, you and Emma go into this restaurant and stay in the bathroom. In five minutes, I’ll pull up out front. Be there. Five minutes, by your watch.”

He ran back toward the shopping center. He didn’t see them. He walked quickly around the north side, into the parking lot. There was the Honda, double-parked right out front. It was empty.

He smiled.

Four and a half minutes later, he was in front of the restaurant, and Molly was opening the passenger side.

“Excellent. Emma, you all set back there?”

“Yes, Ramsey. My piano’s okay, too.” She was hugging that box so tightly her knuckles were white.

It was hard to smile, but he managed it. “Hold on, kiddo. We’re outta here.”

“Will they follow?”

He looked over at Molly as he pulled back onto 89. “No, they’re going to be a while. I took the distributor cap. They probably have a cell phone and will make some calls. Since they know where we are, we can’t take the chance of going back to the house.”

They were on Highway 80 ten minutes later, heading west.

“We never got to hike, Ramsey.”

“We will, Emma, we will.”

THEY drove over the Golden Gate Bridge three hours and thirty-five minutes later. The day was sharp and clear, a picture-postcard day. The fog was just beginning to curl through the arches of the bridge.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Ramsey?”

“I don’t know, but I’m tired of running. My base is here,

Molly. It’s time we got help. We discussed this before. You didn’t disagree.”

“But the men who are after us, surely they’ll find out who you are very soon. When they find out, they’ll be on us like a shot.”

He cursed under his breath. “You’re right. I’ll just bet they already know what I like to eat for breakfast. Okay. Let’s just stop at my house so I can change, pack, and make arrangements. We’ll fly to your father this afternoon. Sorry, Molly, but I just can’t see any other choice unless you want to go to the cops right here in San Francisco.”

“No.” Molly cursed under her breath. “There’s just no good alternative, is there? Let’s go to Chicago, then. I’d still rather have her with me than being questioned by police psychologists, hordes of cops, not to mention the FBI. If Special Agent Anchor is representative, then the FBI is scary.”

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