Spencer’s fishing act must have been convincing, because as the little boat drifted around a bend and out of sight, no high-velocity bullets blew them to pieces. He remained in character until he was sure they were clear, and then pulled the tarp off Drake and Allie, who were drenched with sweat from just the short time without any breeze.
“Safe to sit up?” Allie asked.
“I wouldn’t. Just in case. But don’t worry — we’re coming up on a bridge. We can get off there if we can climb one of the pontoons.”
The shade of the bridge was a blessing as they passed beneath it. Spencer used his hands to paddle the boat closer to a support, and the bow bumped against brick and concrete and came to a stop. Drake sprang up and tied off the line to a piece of corroding rebar. “Can you manage Allie’s bag?”
“Sure thing,” Spencer said.
Drake clambered up the crumbling face of the support, using the gaps where bricks had worn loose as hand and footholds, and Allie followed him up. As she was nearing the top, she lost her footing and, with a small cry, dropped toward the water below. Drake’s arm snaked out and his hand locked on hers, and he pulled her up to him, muscles straining. He hauled her over the rim and they lay panting beside each other as Spencer climbed the sheer side.
Allie sat up with a look of alarm. “Drake, do you feel that?”
“Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
She swatted him. “I’m serious. The vibration.”
Spencer’s head popped up at the edge of the platform, and Drake rolled away from Allie, almost knocking himself unconscious on a metal rail. He stared at it as Spencer heaved himself onto the bridge, and then turned to call out a warning. He was interrupted by the deafening klaxon of a train horn as an engine came into view, bearing down on them at high speed.
“Damn,” Drake cried, and pulled Allie to the side. “Hang on to the outside of the bridge. We can’t stay on the tracks — it’s only wide enough for the cars.” He inched around a girder to where he could just maintain a grip on the steel, his toes wedged in a gap. Allie joined him, and Spencer made it with only seconds to spare.
The train roared past, car after car. The bridge rumbled with the weight, the structure shaking like a drunk with the DTs as they held on for dear life, eyes closed against the black dust blowing from between the girders with hurricane force.
Several long minutes later, the last car passed and the train receded down the tracks, leaving them stunned and deafened. Drake helped Allie back onto the platform and Spencer joined them. Soot darkened his face, and his teeth glowed when he grinned.
“That’s one way to get our attention,” he said. “If the cops don’t get us, India will.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Allie said. “Let’s get off this thing and find a road. The police will eventually figure it out, and when they do, we can expect them to pull out all the stops.”
They trudged down the tracks to the far side of the bridge, jumping over holes where the surface had collapsed into the river below. Spencer shared his worry about the hair dye supplies when they were near the bank, and Allie patted his arm.
“Not to worry. I bagged it all and brought it with us when we went to the morgue. Tossed it at the market, so your secret’s safe — for now.”
“That was good thinking,” he conceded. “You might just make a decent field operative yet.”
She glanced at Drake. “I’ve been told not to quit my day job.”
“I never said that. I think you’re amazing,” he protested.
“Amazingly hot and sweaty — and don’t forget grubby from our little jaunt.”
“You look awesome to me.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I take back everything I said about you. Maybe you stand a chance after all.”
“Everything you said?”
“We can talk about it later,” she said softly, the promise in her eyes unmistakable.
“I don’t mean to break up this mutual admiration society, but how do you think they were able to remotely erase Carson’s phone? I know it’s possible to track one, but erase it?” Spencer asked.
Drake’s moment of ebullience quickly faded as he considered the question. “I don’t know. But the real question isn’t how…”
Allie nodded and finished his sentence. “Right. It’s why.”
They plodded along in silence, the ramifications troubling.
Spencer broke the quiet first. “Maybe Reynolds didn’t tell us everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, but all along, it’s felt like we’re being used for… for bait, or something.”
“I told you I didn’t trust him,” Drake said.
“That was the driver, Roland,” Allie reminded him.
“Him either.”
“He kind of saved our asses just now,” Spencer said. “Assuming he didn’t call the cops himself.”
“But why would he do that? What would the motive be?” Allie asked.
Spencer stepped from beneath the overhang of the trestle bridge and into the sun. He looked back at her with a frown.
“I don’t know. But there’s only one way to find out.”
Chapter 19
High horsetails of clouds streaked the afternoon sky like white smoke over the Pothohar Plateau, the celestial blue of the heavens so vivid it seemed painted. A cluster of dwellings encircled a clearing where young boys kicked a soccer ball with competitive enthusiasm. They were watched by a few old men who, with their working years behind them, spent their days gossiping and condemning the wicked ways of a world that had left them behind.
A silver Toyota Hilux truck pulled away from one of the modest houses and tore down a dirt road that led to town, the driver one of several men renting homes in the area, who kept to themselves. When he reached the main intersection, he made a left and headed south, away from the city, and kept going for fifteen minutes, at which point he pulled onto a tributary and then rolled onto the drive of a walled compound.
An armed guard studied the driver as though he’d never seen him before, a ritual that was repeated whenever the Toyota appeared, and the guard spoke into a handheld radio, fingering the trigger guard of the Kalashnikov AKM that hung from a shoulder strap, its curved magazine iconic and instantly recognizable.
The radio crackled and a voice brayed from the speaker. The guard nodded to the driver and moved to slide the heavy iron gate open. Inside, two men joined him in heaving the barrier aside, and the truck rumbled down the gravel drive toward the two-story main building.
A bearded man with a stern expression, wearing a flowing amber robe, a turban, and sandals, waited at the entrance. Intelligent eyes beneath a thick brow watched the truck approach, and when it stopped, he nodded to the driver, who returned the gesture as he stepped from the vehicle.
“Welcome, Abdul Aziz. It is good to see you,” the bearded man said.
“It is an honor, as always, Razzaq,” the driver replied.
Razzaq led him into the house, which was surprisingly cool thanks to overhead fans and thick walls, and they sat together while an attendant served them tea. Once they had sipped the pungent brew appreciatively, Abdul Aziz glanced around to ensure they were alone and leaned toward Razzaq.
“We have received the funds,” Abdul Aziz said. “Yesterday. They are ours to use as we wish.”
“Excellent. Will there be any problem withdrawing it in cash?”
“No. It was delivered in two suitcases. All euros, as requested.”