Vanessa was driving the coach while Boone rode shotgun. They were towing the Range Rover and Felix and Uly were in the intellimobile. Felix drove while he and Uly argued over who was the best running back of all time. X-Ray sat in the back doing X-Ray stuff. Boone’s phone sat on the console of the coach. It was on speaker, so they were all in constant contact. Croc was curled up in one of the chairs at the dining table behind them, snoring away. Quite loudly.
“Eric Dickerson,” said Felix.
“No way. Barry Sanders,” Uly said. “Wait. Can I change my answer? Walter Payton. No. Sanders. Nope. Payton. Definitely Payton. Or Sanders. I’m going to have to think about this some more.”
“You’re both wrong,” Boone said. “The greatest running back of all time is Jim Brown. He was also an All-American in lacrosse. Even made the National Lacrosse Hall of Fame.”
“I still say Dickerson,” Felix said. “Bigger and faster than Brown.”
Boone shook his head in mock indignation. He clicked the mute button on the phone. Felix and Uly continued the argument, but Boone had a question for Vanessa.
“Why only take Q?” Boone said after a brief moment of reflection.
“What?” she asked, never taking her eyes off the road. Vanessa always paid careful attention to her driving.
“In San Antonio. They come to the hotel and snatch Q, but leave Angela behind. In Kitty Hawk, they take them both. In San Antonio, Q is moved out of the blast zone, but not Angela. Why?”
“We’ve all been wondering the same thing,” she said.
“You have? Why didn’t any of you mention it?” Boone asked.
“Because you were thinking about the next moves. You don’t like to be pestered with questions when you’re thinking about our next moves,” she said.
“I don’t?”
“Well, no, not historically. At least ever since I’ve worked with you. You like to suss this stuff out on your own. But we talked about it. After everything calmed down. It didn’t make sense. Still doesn’t.”
“I know,” Boone said. “It’s bugging me. Q and not Angela. That means there is something about Q. And that makes me think back to Kitty Hawk. And Speed showing up out of nowhere. And how I don’t believe in coincidences.”
He pushed the mute button off.
“Hey, X-Ray. Remember that tracker I had you monitor in North Carolina? You got a location on it?”
“One second,” X-Ray replied. “Key West,” he said a few seconds later.
“Thanks,” Boone said, muting the phone again.
“Huh. Something is just not adding up here. Malak has reached the very top leadership of the ghost cell. In Texas she was worried about them uncovering her real identity. And how that would threaten Angela. So they still believe she’s the real Anmar, otherwise they would have taken Angela and left Q behind or killed them both to make up for losing them in Kitty Hawk.” He ran his hand through his long gray hair and fiddled with his ponytail.
“Well, don’t forget they were going to kill Angela,” Vanessa said.
“I haven’t. Believe me,” Boone sighed, “but it’s just not adding up. Killing Angela just eliminates a witness. But they planned to leave Q alive. At least as far as we know. They had to know we’d come after him. Why not kill them both? Which means, there’s something about Q in this. The question is, what?” They rode in silence for a few minutes.
“Maybe we got to them before they had a chance to move him,” Vanessa said. She was quiet a moment. “You look tired, Boone,” she finally said.
“Vanessa, I’m more tired than you can possibly imagine,” he said.
“Why don’t you get some sack time? I got this. We’ll be in Chicago in another few hours. And … whoa … detour,” she said.
Up ahead were the familiar orange and white barrels signifying road construction. A sign with a blinking arrow directed them to the right lane. They had taken turns driving through the night. They had already passed through most of the bigger towns and cities along their route. At midmorning on this stretch of interstate there was very little traffic. Vanessa slowed the coach and turned off onto an exit ramp. At the top of the ramp an orange sign read “Detour” and pointed to the left.
They followed a four-lane divided highway for a few miles and another sign turned them onto an even smaller two-lane road. There was nothing but cornfields on either side of them.
“This is going to take forever,” Boone said.
“No kidding,” Vanessa replied.
Boone settled back in the seat and rubbed his eyes. Two miles behind them three black SUVs pulled out of a rutted lane in the cornfield and onto the road and zoomed off in pursuit of the SOS team.