Authors: Angie West
I secretly wondered if they knew somehow.
That was ridiculous, I knew.
There was no blood on my hands
, no
lingering scent of violence around me.
I was just a very tired, very bedraggled woman in line at an airport.
I mean, sure, the caked mud was probably a little off-putting
, and
I was most likely frowning at everyone, too.
I made an effort to relax and smile.
The woman across from me stared openly
,
wide eyed
,
before looking away.
Across the aisle, a little girl buried her face against her mother
’
s skirt.
The line moved forward, and steps were suddenly in front of me.
“
Just get on the plane, Claire
,
”
I sighed.
Two hours later, things were looking up.
Well, maybe they weren
’
t exactly looking up
—
yet.
But despite that, I was feeling better.
A cool drink and a change of clothes did wonders for my nerves and my outlook right then.
I still hadn
’
t been able to bathe.
Why hadn
’
t I taken a bath at the hotel?
But I did a half decent scrub and repair job of my face and arms.
I also took the time to change into a pair of thin shorts and a pale blue t-shirt.
I decided that congratulations were in order for that one.
Try
changing clothes in an airplane bathroom sometime.
It
’
s not easy.
Judging from the looks I received, it wasn
’
t common, either.
I leaned over a little in my seat to peek out the window.
It didn
’
t bother me that there was little more to see than the clouds below.
That would always be my favorite part of flying, staring out the window at nothing in particular.
I did the same thing when I took the bus, too.
I used to joke that I went to college so that I could afford the window seat when I traveled.
Evidently another alumni perk was getting through a metal detector with an old hunk of metal in my purse with minimal fuss.
After all, I was a
doctor
.
Huh.
As I closed my eyes and drifted off, I wondered if I would ever get used to saying that.
The Portal
Zaire was hot.
The second I stepped off the plane,
the dry heat blasted me
.
I shielded my eyes and stared into the blinding sun above.
I was suddenly more grateful than ever for the en route wardrobe change.
After I retrieved my luggage I stood on the bright sun washed street planning my next move.
You would think that I would have already had my game plan firmly in place
, but
I didn
’
t
, not
really
...not
anymore.
If I were to be truly honest
, I thought to myself,
I would have to say I
did
not expect to make it this far
.
The
biggest shock of the past week was that I was alive.
I sat down on my suitcase, braced my hands on my knees, and took a deep breath.
Right then I was unconcerned with how strange I might have appeared to the masses of onlookers coming and going around me on the crowded street.
I was suddenly very grateful to be alive.
After all, I reasoned, I had cheated death several times in the last week alone.
More than that, I had not only sensed the danger around me, but walked into it with my head held high
and my blinders on.
I smiled and tossed my head back, letting the sun warm my face.
Even I had to admit that going back home armed with gardening tools and black skinny jeans was not a plan
...it
was a death wish.
Although, personally, I thought that the black headscarf and the pepper spray that had been attached to the key chain in my back pocket qualified as at least a sketchy plan.
Too bad I forgot the pepper spray was in my pocket until I had jumped back into my car and sat on it, effectively spraying my own rear end.
If I thought back to that night it was still vivid and fresh in my mind.
The feel of the shovel in my hands and of blindly lashing out as hard as I could was all too real.
I remembered the feel of connecting with the solid weight of the man in front of me
; the
frantic search for the gun in the cool damp grass
;
and the short lived but sweet relief when my hands had closed over the metal.
I could still see myself aiming and hear the
booming discharge
in the still night air.
Even though I was not completely ignorant when it came to weapons I was convinced it was more
due to
luck than skill that I
had
managed to hit my target.
Of course,
the fact
that he had not been moving
had helped greatly
.
I opened my eyes and sighed.
As crazy as I knew it sounded, the most frightening experience of all had been my escape from the back yard that night
—retrieving
the box and running down the dark alley to the car.
After all,
thug number one had fallen down next to the damn thing.
The adrenaline had been starting to wear off by then
,
and somehow that made it worse.
At
least during the fight I
’
d had the instinct for self preservation spurring me on and helping to keep the nerves at bay.
Seeing those men on the ground and running past them was much worse. I think I half expected them to rise up like zombies in a horror flick.
It had taken three hours and
170 miles
to feel semi
-
safe again.
The phone call from John had helped.
There was nothing like getting good and mad to make you forget your troubles for a little while.
And even though I was certain those men would have killed me it was a relief to know that at least one of them was alive.
The larger one I shot
, I thought, trying to recall that part of my conversation with John.
After a minute I nodded to myself.
Yes, that was the one he had told me would make a nice recovery.
I had no idea about the man that I had hit with the shovel.
For all I knew he was dead by now.
I shrugged and sighed again.
I hoped that I had not killed that man.
But they had given me no choice other than to defend myself.
I would not lose any more sleep over
either
of them.
And a very small, very mean part of me thought that if someone broke into my house and held me at gun point in my own back yard
,
they deserved what they got.
Once again I closed my eyes and was simply thankful to be alive.
This brought me back to my current problem: my lack of planning.
I had made it to Zaire and I was not dead. So now what?
I stood up and looked around while I dusted off my shorts and tried to focus.
Obviously
I needed to get to the rendezvous site.
I had no idea where that was and no clue how to get there.
I had not been to Africa for several years.
Besides that, I had travelled to Kenya
—
several miles away from where I now stood
and
in the opposite direction from where I estimated I would need to go.
The pain in my stomach reminded me of more immediate needs. As much as I hated to admit it I need to eat, rest, and regroup for the rest of the afternoon and evening before I did anything else.
***
“
Well.
”
I yanked the pen out from behind my ear and tossed it onto the papers I had spread around me on the bed earlier in the morning.
“
Isn
’
t this just dandy?
”
I said through clenched teeth.
I let out a long slow breath and went over the pages one more time to make sure I hadn
’
t missed anything
, but
I knew that I wasn
’
t going to find some missing link.
I was too good to have overlooked anything.
It wasn
’
t a statement that was made out of vanity, but of simple fact.
Pharmaceutical research was hard work and an exact science.
The same could also be said for science as a whole.
There are rules, formulas, and boundaries.
There was very little that ever escaped my notice.
“
That
’
s rich coming from the woman who maced her own butt
,
”
I snickered, laughing at myself.
I leaned back against the headboard and folded my
arms behind my neck.
“
Well, that
’
s it then
,
”
I said to the cracked plaster ceiling.
“
The doorway is under a star
,
in a dark cave.
Should
have known.
”
The muttered words were accompanied by a shrug.
That
much was true.
I should not have been surprised
, but
I couldn
’
t help it.
Was it too much to hope for
...
I don
’
t know
...
a MapQuest version of the directions?
I tapped my fingers on the paper I had chosen from the pile.
Something like
,
‘
Turn
left at Monroe rock and follow Main Street twelve miles to Jefferson cave
.
Forty paces
northeast
,
X marks the spot
.
’
God, these were going to be all but impossible to follow, I realized grimly.
Being
unfamiliar with the area and the most of the terrain to boot
didn
’
t make matters any easier
.
It
wouldn
’
t be an easy task in broad daylight, let alone in the dark.
I wondered at that for a moment
,
curious about the reasoning behind such clandestine instructions.
I felt the first tremor of nerves begin and vowed not to give it another thought.
The plan was to
start out that night, just before sundown.
Going alone would slow me down considerably, but
hiring a guide was out of the question.
A guide was exactly what
was
needed, but I was forced to remind myself that there could very well still be people after me
. There was
no way to know when John would be arrested, or who he may already have hunting me.
It was impossible to
say for certain that John
would
be arrested.
But I trusted Mike,
wherever he
was
,
and as such was
pretty sure
my boss
would be taken into custody before too long.
Still, there was no guarantee
of safety
.
My eyes widened suddenly as an entirely new angle occurred to me.
Had I made a mistake in handing the box over
to
the cops back in Seattle?
Would the last official order that an enraged John Hanlen gave to an angry mob be something along the lines of
“
Kill Claire
”
?
I bit my bottom lip and peeked out the window
of
my tiny room, suddenly wary.
Would he do it
if
he had nothing left to lose?
Just how far would he go
? I wondered.
Would he go after Megan?
God, I had to warn her.
I grabbed
m
y purse and started out the door.
I would find a phone and call her
, warn
her to
...
what?
I let my hand drop away from the doorknob and set my purse down.
What could I possibly tell my sister?
To stay
away from her cheating scum of an ex-husband?
She already did that very well.
There really wasn
’
t anything I could say to her that wouldn
’
t put her
in
danger, was there?
And if they had somehow managed to get a
wiretap
on her phone they would know I contacted her.