“Why would you go back there?” Dawn pressed.
“Because we got to eat, and I got no job,” LeBron said. “You never know when you might have missed something.” He paused, and Jonathan could see the wheels turning in his head. Did he want to say more or not? “Okay, and there’s one more thing. I don’t like those people. I’ve never trusted them from the first minute I saw them. They got no business bein’ here. I wanted to see what I could see.”
LeBron looked into Jonathan’s eyes. “And Scorpion, yes, there are guards at the loading dock. There are always guards at the loading dock. That’s another reason I don’t like them bein’ in my hood.”
Jonathan smiled broadly. “Well, God bless neighborhood watch,” he said. “How did you get a truck around there? The map shows trees.”
LeBron moved to the computer screen. “Zoom out some,” he said. “Get to where we can see the whole thing.”
Boxers pulled away to about the two-hundred-foot mark.
“There.” LeBron pointed to the woods line on the black side of the building. “There’s like a clearing right in here.” He squinted and leaned closer. “I don’t see it here. Can you bring back that daylight picture?”
Boxers clicked and the satellite image reappeared.
“You can almost see it here,” LeBron said, pointing. “And there’s a road that runs just behind the fence. Doobie’s truck is smaller than yours, though, and it barely fit through.”
“That’s okay,” Jonathan said. “It’s a way in.”
“It’s a way out, too,” Boxers said. “I’m not thrilled with the open-field run, but it’s doable if we stage the Expedition.”
“I’ll come with you, if you like,” LeBron said. “I can show you the opening in the fence.”
“No!” Dawn snapped. “You’ll do no such thing.”
Sometimes there was only one right answer to a controversial question, and in this case, it was obvious. “I’m with Dawn on this one,” Jonathan said as he closed his laptop and slipped it back into his ruck. “I made a promise that you would not be placed in jeopardy. I’m sticking by that. You’ve already helped us more than you know. Now it’s time for us to go.”
Boxers had already begun to pack up the Raven’s electronics.
“There has to be a way we can help. We’re in it this deep. It’s like it’s too late to quit.”
Boxers shot Jonathan a death glare. In the past, Jonathan had included people he probably shouldn’t have in the execution of 0300 missions, and almost always with massive complications.
“Big Guy and I have done this gig too many times as a duet to expand now.” He extended his hand. “Really, though. I appreciate the offer.” He shrugged into his ruck.
“Suppose we see something that shouldn’t be?” Dawn asked.
The source of the question startled Jonathan. Clearly, that showed in his face.
“Watching is different than getting shot,” she explained. “And a boy’s been kidnapped. I can’t stand by and just let that happen. Do you have a cell phone number or something?”
Boxers’ glare screamed, I’ll kill you if you do. Cell numbers were traceable, and therefore sensitive.
But the offer was one that intrigued Jonathan. They were working blind tonight. An extra set of eyes on the outside was a damned good idea. “Tell you what I’ll do,” he said.
“Scorpion.” Only Boxers could put so much menace in a single word.
“Relax, Big Guy.” Jonathan worked his way back out of his ruck and dug into its main pocket, from which he produced two standard, commercially available cheap walkie-talkies, the kind anyone could pick up in the mall. A well-learned lesson over the years preached that sometimes, as the shit hit the fan, the simplest technology worked best. He turned them both on, and keyed the mike for one of them. The feedback squeal told him that they were functioning.
He handed one of the radios to Dawn. “Just push that button to talk,” he said. “But please don’t do it unless it’s really, really important. I don’t want to be sneaking up on somebody only to have your voice blast through the night telling me that the stars have come out. Follow me?”
Dawn turned the radio over in her hands, examining it. “I understand.”
“Be sure you do,” Boxers growled. Seeing their fearful reaction, he added, “I’m nowhere near as nice as my little friend.” He shouldered his ruck as if it weighed nothing, and with the suitcase of Raven controls in one hand, and the empty aircraft sack in the other, he left.
“He means no harm,” Jonathan said to the family. “But please do us all a favor and don’t piss him off.”
“So, what happened?” Graham asked. He examined Jolaine’s wounds as best he could without the use of his hands. She wasn’t particularly cut up, but man, was she bruised. Her left eye had swollen shut, and her jaw was swollen. “Who did this to you?”
“Who do you think?” She spoke through nearly clenched teeth.
“I mean, which one of them?”
“Does it matter?”
He took a few seconds to answer. “Yes, it does.”
“Let’s just say they took turns.”
“Why?” he asked. “You don’t know anything.”
Jolaine closed her eyes against an obvious spasm of pain. “I kept telling them that,” she said. “It wasn’t what they wanted to hear. How did they get you?”
“They were transferring me to a foster home,” Graham said. “They killed everybody but me.” Until he said the words, he’d blocked the images of those nice people’s murders from his mind. He couldn’t even remember their names.
“I’m sorry,” Jolaine said. “That’s not right.”
“That’s why I had to tell those assholes something,” Graham said. “This… thing has killed too many people. It’s hurt too many people. It has to stop.”
Jolaine gave a wry chuckle. “I don’t know what their verification procedure is, but once they find out, my money says the end will be nearer than we want.”
“You’re giving up,” Graham said. “You can’t do that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Graham. Sometimes reality has to trump hope. It’s freezing in here.”
“Give it time,” Graham said. “This is nothing.” He walked around to stare into Jolaine’s face. “You can’t go pessimist on me, Jolaine. Not now. We’ve got time.”
“To do what?”
“I don’t know! Goddammit, I don’t freaking know, all right? Something. Our only other option is nothing, and that one sucks.”
Jolaine fought another spasm.
“I’m sorry I got you into this,” Graham said.
“And I’m sorry I didn’t protect you better.”
Graham kept walking to keep his feet from going numb.
“Why did Mom set me up?” he asked. He spoke the words without emotion.
“Now who’s being pessimistic?”
“I’m serious, Jolaine. She gave me that code knowing that people would come to get me. Do you think she knew it would come to this?”
Jolaine inhaled, hocked once, and spat a wad of blood. “I think she was scared,” she said. “I think she’d been shot and she was just trying to do something.”
“But you said that the code was for some kind of bomb.”
“Actually, I said I thought that’s what it might be.”
“Do you still?”
Another spasm, and she didn’t even try to speak. She just nodded.
Graham stopped pacing and turned as it dawned on him: “And these guys are terrorists,” he said. “Mom wanted them to have the code. That makes my parents terrorists.”
Jolaine scowled as well as her battered features would allow as she considered what he’d just said. “Oh, my God.”