Marie had keys to a spare car that had been left around the back of the block—a white Toyota. They got in, Marie driving, and left as quickly as was practical without drawing attention. As they turned at a traffic light to enter a ramp signed as leading to I-75 North, three military trucks painted in dark camouflage shades and moving fast passed them, heading the other way. Still numbed, Cade felt the unfamiliar bulge in his jacket pocket. Why had Marie given the gun to him? Obviously, because she was already carrying one, was the only answer to suggest itself.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MARIE DROVE TENSELY, moving the wheel in quick, jerky motions to weave through the evening traffic, constantly watching the mirror. She had switched on the radio and tuned it to a local country-music channel where a deejay was playing phone-in requests. It seemed odd to Cade. Maybe it calmed her nerves. A helicopter appeared from the west and went into a wide circle above the highway. Marie slowed down and eased into the traffic stream to be less conspicuous.
“Was it really such a good idea to leave that phone there?” Cade asked. “I mean, it’s traceable to me. They’ll know I was there.”
Marie smiled humorlessly. “You think they didn’t know anyway? Rebecca was ISS, or whatever.”
Cade shook his head as if clearing it. Of course. His mind still wasn’t functioning. “So what do we do?”
“We’ll need to get off the Interstate,” Marie answered. “They might seal off this whole area, which means everything on the exit routes will get stopped. They’ll have voiceprints on both of us—maybe visuals as well. They’ll already have yours in any case.”
“Great. . . . So where are we heading, right now?”
“Just covering as much distance as we can, while we can. I don’t really know this area. I only just arrived here. . . . We have to make contact with local people who are sympathetic.”
“How do you propose doing that if you only just arrived in the area?” Cade asked. It didn’t exactly sound like the kind of thing someone would advertise.
Marie seemed to be of two minds as to how to answer. “There are ways,” was all she said, finally.
The radio deejay prattled on amiably. “Well, that was a good one from way back. And now we have another caller on the line. Hello there? Who are we talking to?”
A man’s raspy voice answered. “Hi, Mike. Name’s Al. Folks call me Big Al. Been listenin’ to that show o’ yours for aw . . . must be close to five months now. Moved out here to Cleveland, a little under twenty miles north o’ the Big Nooga. Wouldn’t go any farther’n that mind you, ’cause I’m kind of a city boy originally. I’ve always thought that somebody oughta—”
“Well, it’s real nice to hear from you, Al. So what kind of a song can we play for you today?”
“Oh yeah, right. Well, what I’d like to hear is one that I used to—”
Marie switched the radio off. Cade glanced at her questioningly, but she kept her eyes ahead. She passed the next exit, and then left the Interstate at the one after that. Cade noticed that it was signposted Cleveland.
They came to a small town center and crossed to the far side, away from the highway. Marie left the main street and found a minimall with a convenience store, several smaller shops, and a Burger King, and pulled in. Outside the convenience store were a couple of public net-access booths. “Stay here,” was all Marie said as she got out of the car. Cade watched her go into one of the booths, sit down, feed a bill into the machine, and peer expectantly at the screen. Police sirens were sounding in the direction of the town center, where they had just passed through. Cade eased back in the seat, stretched his head upward, and exhaled shakily. Only now was his mental machinery beginning to operate anywhere near normally again.
Rebecca had been a plant, sent to infiltrate CounterAction. Very probably, an inflammatory piece denouncing President Ellis and the Washington administration had appeared from opposition sources, but she hadn’t authored it. That had been part of a cover story exploiting the opportunity. Presumably, the aim had been to uncover a part of CounterAction’s routes and methods for moving people out of the country. Cade could think of nothing further. That was all he had asked Udovich to convey in the message—along with the information that would identify Cade as the sender, to Marie.