But this wasn’t foreign ground, and different rules applied. From the kids’ point of view, Jonathan was the invader, and they were defending—
“LeBron,” the leader said. “My name’s LeBron.” He pointed to the factory beyond the fence. “What are those dudes doin’ in there? Are they, like, terrorists or something?”
Jonathan’s heart skipped. LeBron knew something, and the something he knew could be of great value. “They could be, yes,” he said.
“Don’t bullshit with us,” another kid in the crowd said. “Either they are or they ain’t.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jonathan said. “If they’re the people we think they are, then yes.”
“I knew it,” Georgie said. “Rag-head douche bags. I told you—”
“Not that kind of terrorist,” Jonathan said. He looked back to Boxers, who just seemed bored. Or ready to shoot someone. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference in the dark. “Can you tell us what you know?” Jonathan asked.
“What kind of gat is that?” LeBron asked, nodding to the rifle in Boxers’ hands.
Boxers raised his rifle a little higher to get it in a better position in case it was needed, yet without pointing it directly at anyone. Jonathan took a half step to the right to make sure he had a clear firing lane in case LeBron was planning to do something stupid. “That’s a Heckler and Koch Model 417 assault rifle,” he said.
“Like an M16?” LeBron asked. “Kinda looks like an M16.”
“Think M16 on steroids,” Jonathan said. He didn’t bother to clarify the difference in calibers and the dozens of other factors that made the 417 and its little brother the 416 (christened the M27 by the US Marine Corps) head and shoulders better weapons than the old M16.
“Machine gun?” LeBron asked. “Fully automatic?”
“It can be,” Jonathan said. “I gotta tell you I’m not comfortable with the direction this chat is taking.”
“I’m just tryin’ to figure out why a non-army non-cop has fancy guns and a big truck, and they’re watchin’ a place I been worried about for a long time.”
“Sounds like we might be on the same side,” Jonathan said. “If they’re who I think they are, we can help you get rid of them.”
“What’d they do?”
Jonathan shook his head. “Nope. You first. Tell me what you know.”
LeBron shifted his posture as he considered his options. Even in the dark, Jonathan could see his eyes sharpen. Everything about the kid’s demeanor screamed intelligence. Everything, that is, except the wardrobe.
“Not out here,” LeBron said. “I got a crib around the corner. We’ll talk there. Just you, though. Gigantor will scare my babies.”
“We’re a team,” Jonathan said. “We stay together.”
LeBron considered some more. “Why don’t we just shoot you all down and be done with it? It’s what, six against one.”
“Not nearly good enough odds,” Boxers said. His words rumbled the sidewalk. His delivery dared someone to question the veracity. “Where he goes, I go.”
More thought. “All right, then,” LeBron said. “Follow me.”
“Just give me an address,” Jonathan said. “I’ll drive to it and meet you there.”
“I’m serious, man,” LeBron said. “It’s just around the corner, not two hundred feet from here.”
“Let’s get going, then,” Jonathan said. “We’ve spent too much time parked at the curb as it is.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Graham had never been so cold. It was winter-cold inside this little room with its metal table and its forest of hooks hanging from the ceiling. He was wearing so little that the cold seemed to wrap around him like some kind of cooling blanket. He couldn’t stop trembling, but he suspected that a lot of the trembling was due to fear instead of cold.
He’d rather it be from the cold. Show no weakness, Deputy Price had said.
Jolaine’s words resonated even louder. All he needed was time and opportunity. With those things, he stood a chance of getting out of here. With just those things.
But he’d need strength, too, and with all the shivering, he could feel energy draining out of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, and that thought triggered a rush of hunger that consumed his gut, cramping his stomach and making him feel nauseous.
Jolaine.
Another wall of emotion broke over him. Jolaine was all he had left. She was the last one who gave a shit about him at all. Now it was just Graham and these terrible people.
3155AX475598CVRLLPAHQ449833D0Z.
The thought came from nowhere, still intact, still ready to go. The code that was more important than so many lives. How was that even possible? What could it mean?
Well, that was easy, wasn’t it? It meant the difference between life and death for Graham, and maybe for Jolaine as well. As long as he kept it to himself, they would have to keep him alive.
Another terrifying thought bloomed: Maybe that was the plan. This shit with the freezer and the cold air was a form of torture, right? Sure it was. He’d seen it on TV. It was the kind of thing that happened to the Iraqi prisoners in that prison he’d read about in the history books. The books called it torture.
Well, what was the point of torture?
In this case, it was to get him to talk. They’d made that very clear. They’d make him suffer until he gave them what they wanted. And then what?
Well, Jolaine said that if he gave up the information, they’d kill him. So, his choice was to suffer or to die.
That wasn’t a choice at all. That was—
The lock on the other side of the door moved. It made a loud sliding sound followed by a solid thunk when it reached the end of its travel. He waited for what was coming next. Under the table as he was, occupying the same spot for all this time — a spot that had therefore become at least a little warmer — he hoped that he wouldn’t be seen.
Should he be ready to lunge at whoever opened the door? Was this the opportunity that Jolaine had told him to be ready for? How could he know?
The door opened quickly. That was a surprise, because in his mind, the opening would have been a long, drawn-out event, complete with creaking noises and a demonic laugh. He couldn’t see the door because it was blocked by the vertical rectangle that served as one of the legs for the stainless-steel table, and for long seconds, nothing happened. No one entered as far as he could tell, and he didn’t move. The heavy thrumming of his heart was the loudest sound he could hear.
“Come on out, Graham,” said a heavily accented voice. It wasn’t Teddy, but it might have been his brother. The same accent, but a lot thicker. “I know you are here because there is nowhere else for you to be.”
Graham didn’t move, as if by remaining still he could become invisible.
“So you want to play seek and hide,” the man said from the door. “Sure. Fine. We can do that.”
The hiding strategy suddenly seemed like a bad idea. What was the sense of pissing them off? It would be different if he’d set a trap, or if he had some kind of ambush plan. As it was, all hiding could do was make all of this more difficult, more uncomfortable for him.
“I’m here,” Graham said. It came out a little too loud, but that probably didn’t matter. He scooched his butt along the floor the point where he was clear of the table, and then he stood. He didn’t realize he’d raised his hands until he saw that he’d done it, and the realization embarrassed him. When he was standing at his full height, he lowered his hands to his sides.