“Ink,” he said. “Oh, fine. Just great. Listen, get ahold of that fat chick from American Hero. The one that’s on the Committee. Tell her that her number-one fan has just escaped from a federal detention center and is traveling with an extremely dangerous killer ace. If Bubbles hears from her, we need to know about it, at once. Right. See you.” He turned off his phone, and looked thoughtful. “Whatever happened to Genetrix’s last generation of kids?”
Pendergast hesitated a moment. “Deceased,” he finally said. “Old age—”
“Old age, hell,” Justice broke in. “Two escaped with her. I told you the one we captured wouldn’t stand up to the grilling you put her through—”
“We had to find Drake quickly—,” Pendergast interrupted.
“And did you?” Ray asked.
“No,” Pendergast said quietly.
“Interesting,” Ray said. “Not only are you incompetent fuckwits. You’re also sadistic incompetent fuckwits.” He turned to Justice. “I want your report on these interrogations ASAP.”
“Yes, sir,” Justice said stonily.
Life flared on Pendergast’s face with a furious blush. “No one talks to me like that!”
“I’m not no one,” Ray said conversationally. “I’m Billy Ray. I was spilling my blood in service before you tortured your first rat in Psych 101. I’ve encountered plenty of assholes like you over the years, Doc. Let me clue you in. Chumps like you are tolerated as long as you deliver the goods. When you fuck up, the politicians higher up the food chain will throw you to the wolves to cover their asses and find another white coat to run the rats through their mazes. Count on it. I don’t know what kind of snake pit you’re running here, but this breakout was engineered by desperate people. How’d Genetrix get so desperate, Doc?”
Pendergast’s face had taken on the hue of someone who’d bitten into bad sushi. He was about to reply, but was interrupted when his cell phone tootled. He grabbed it, held it up to his ear. “Yes,” he said, and as he listened his face became even queasier. He hung up.
“What?” Ray asked.
“Four dead state troopers have been found on Interstate 70 outside Alamogordo. They were pretty badly mangled. One seemed partially eaten.”
“Sharky,” Justice said quietly as Norwood grimaced in disgust.
Ray nodded. “Sounds like a clue to me. Where, exactly?”
“I’ve got the map reference,” Pendergast said, noting some figures down on a notepad, which he handed to Ray. Ray accepted the pad with one hand while hitting his cell phone’s speed dial with the other. He knew that they needed to run this down fast and he knew who to contact for help. Lady Black was in charge of the team securing the blast site down in Texas, and she had a bunch of aces with her.
“Ray,” he said.
“Yes, Mr. Ray.”
“Since when have I been ‘Mr. Ray’ to you, Joann?” he asked.
“Since you got to be the Man, Mr. Ray.”
“Let’s have this pissing contest later,” Ray said. “I’m at BICC right now, but we’re headed for Alamogordo. We’re going to need Moon. Can you spare her, and someone to bring her?”
“Are you asking or ordering? Sir?”
Restraining himself, Ray answered, “Asking.”
There was a short silence. “I suppose.”
“Fine,” he said. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Sir.”
Ray broke contact, suppressing a sigh. More shit to clean up. He never thought that he’d piss off an old comrade like Lady Black. They’d both been in SCARE a long time, and she’d wanted the directorate herself. Truth was, Ray knew she’d be a better director than him, but he wasn’t in human resources. It wasn’t his job to make everyone happy. Suddenly, he looked at Pendergast and smiled.
“Pack your knapsack and slip into your Birkenstocks, Doc. We’re going to Alamogordo.” He turned to Justice. “Get in touch with local and state law enforcement. Give them descriptions of all escapees, but tell them they’re not to approach if they’re spotted. We don’t need any more half-eaten state troopers. Just relay any info about sightings to us.” Ray looked back at Pendergast as the director made a sputtering kind of noise. “Something wrong, Doc?”
“Why do I have to accompany you?” Pendergast asked indignantly. “I’m not a field agent.”
“No,” Ray said with faux patience, “but you are the foremost authority on the escapees.”
“Yes,” Pendergast admitted reluctantly.
“I’m going to need that expertise, Doc.” He stood quickly and stretched. Action was right down the road. He could smell it. “You got fifteen minutes to get ready.”
Pendergast stared at him.
“You’ve just wasted five seconds.”
Pendergast turned, muttering.
“I sure hope there’s someplace in Alamogordo where we can get breakfast,” Stuntman said.
Alamogordo, a town of thirty-five thousand about fifty miles from the Texas border, was noted for two things. The first, its proximity to White Sands Missile Range, had led to its Museum of Space History. The second, its proximity to Holloman Air Force Base, had led to a string of water bed motels on its main drag, as well as the town’s ubiquitous wild card theme.
“I don’t get it,” Stuntman said through a mouthful of honey-fruit-and-nut pancakes. It was afternoon and they’d stopped at the first roadside diner they’d seen outside Alamogordo, the Interplanetary House of Pancakes. It had a billboard flying saucer on its roof being smothered by a deluge of maple syrup from a large upended bottle. Inside, it was unrelentingly cheerful with a shiny chrome ambience and a decor that a modern, cutting-edge bistro would kill for. And it smelled like pancakes and waffles. Unsurprisingly, the three of them had ordered breakfast. “What’s with all this space stuff in the middle of cowboy country?”
Ray shrugged. “You can’t blame the locals. Much. They’re stuck here in the middle of Nowhere, New Mexico, hemmed in by desert on one side and missile range on the other. They can’t all work for the government. They have to make a buck somehow, so they latched on to Tachyon’s landing here back in nineteen forty-five.”
“Nineteen forty-six,” Pendergast said around a mouthful of omelet.
“Right.” Ray stared him into silence. “Forty-six. Even if they have to dress up as Tachyon imitators and perform quickie marriages, there’s worse ways to make a living.”
“I guess,” Stuntman said. “So that explains the tacky gift shops, the T-shirt emporiums, the Famous Alamogordo Joker Dime Museum, Dr. Tacky’s No-Tell Motel and Wedding Chapel, not to mention the tours to two competing Tachyon landing sites—”
“Which,” Pendergast pointed out pedantically, “are both nothing more than obvious tourist traps, since Tachyon landed on the base . . .” He ran down to silence as Ray and Norwood both stared at him. “Excuse me,” he added, after a moment, “I have to go to the boys’ room.”
He got up and slid out of the booth. Stuntman polished off his sausages and held up his coffee mug as the waitress went by with the pot.
“Here you go, hon,” she said, filling up his cup. Ray waved her off. His kidneys were already floating, and he didn’t know how much longer they’d have to wait until Moon showed up with her handler, as Ray had texted them to meet at the diner. The waitress turned, paused, stared. “Oh, hon—you can’t bring your dog in here.”
“She’s not a dog,” the Midnight Angel said. “She’s a government agent.”
Ray looked over the back of the booth and their eyes met and something passed between them. Ray didn’t know what it was, but he guessed that it wasn’t good. For a moment he swore quietly to himself. Lady Black knew that he and the Angel were on the outs. She could have sent someone else to shepherd Moon. But part of him was glad that she hadn’t.