Angela and I jumped at Boone’s sudden appearance outside of McDonald’s. Felix didn’t notice, or if he did, he didn’t show it. It was becoming more clear to me that I wasn’t cut out for this spy stuff. So far I had had a knife held to my neck, had to escape from a deranged chef, had run through a hurricane to spy on cars, spent way too much time with a smelly dog, been right in the middle of a navy SEAL op, and then there was the pigeon poop I’d gotten all over my hands in Philadelphia. And even worse, I didn’t have a deck of cards to calm myself down with.
My nerves were jangled. I needed food and sleep. And my stuff. Not having my stuff was making my mind race to previously unrecorded levels.
“Wondered about what?” Boone repeated Angela’s question to Felix.
We were at the door of the McDonald’s and Felix was nonplussed by Boone’s sudden appearance. Apparently he hadn’t heard or didn’t care about Angela’s questions and headed inside. When he opened the door the smell was nearly overwhelming and my mouth made involuntary chewing motions.
“Where’s Croc?” Angela asked, using the old technique of answering a question with a question.
“Guarding the coach. And getting a little exercise. Wondered about what?” Boone was insistent. Smart as Angela is, I doubted she could trick someone like Boone into answering a question. He’d been doing this too long and was too smart to be caught off guard. And also, I doubted Croc was guarding the coach. Sleeping in the coach was a more likely possibility. Smelling up the coach was a certainty.
“We were just talking about Felix and his background. Did you know he was assigned to Delta Force?” Angela said. Give it up, sis, I thought to myself. Of course Boone knew this. Felix wouldn’t be with SOS if Boone didn’t know every detail about him.
“He bounced around,” Boone said. “What was it you were wondering about?”
“Actually it was Croc. How everyone says he looks like the same Croc you’ve always—”
“Good genes,” Boone said quickly as he followed Felix into the McDonald’s.
“He’s really starting to tick me off,” said Angela, biting on her lip so hard I thought it would start bleeding. Which meant she was ready to give him a long lecture about keeping secrets from her or something but she was literally biting back the words.
“So much for my idea of getting any actionable intelligence out of Felix,” I said. “He’s worked with Boone. He must have seen him do some weird stuff. Or maybe not. Maybe they haven’t faced anything like the ghost cell before.”
Angela stared at me with an odd expression on her face.
“What?”
“You said ‘actionable intelligence,’” she said.
“So?”
“Somebody likes this spy stuff,” she said, grinning at me.
“Hah. No thanks. It’s hard not to pick up the lingo when you’re traveling with a bunch of ex-spooks. Or current spooks. Or whatever they are. But I’ll stick to magic. And now,” I said, waggling my hands like a magician, “behind this door, I shall make food appear.” I held open the door. I could see Angela trying not to fall victim to the overwhelming smells of fast-food goodness. But she still found the energy to roll her eyes at my lame joke.
Just as we were about to head inside, my new phone chirped. It was a text from P.K.
There was a link attached. I clicked on it and a black-and-white photo of a man in some kind of military uniform appeared. He was standing in a forest clearing and even though the photo was old and a little blurry and his hair wasn’t long or as gray, it sure looked like Boone. Even more, the dog sitting on the ground next to him looked exactly like Croc. That sealed the deal.
“Wow,” I said. I handed the phone to Angela and her eyes got as big as dinner plates.
“What is Boone doing in a Nazi uniform?” she said.
“I … have no idea. Could—do you think …” I was stumbling around for words.
“Do I think what?” she said.
“I mean, I thought he was joking when he mentioned killing the last of the vampires one hundred years ago. But do you think what he does is like some sort of time travel?”
Usually Angela would have rolled her eyes or shot me down for saying something so outrageous. But this time she didn’t have a comeback. The photo wasn’t lying.
“Tell P.K. we need a source for our assignment. He can send another link. Photos can be faked,” she said.
It was my turn to give her one of the looks she usually gave me.
“Angela, after what we’ve seen Boone do, do you really think the photograph is fake?”
“Honestly, Q, I don’t know what I think anymore.” She handed the phone back to me. “Just ask P.K. if he can find out if this photo is legit.”
After I sent the text, we followed Boone and Felix to the counter and minutes later we were back in the coach. Felix wolfed down three breakfast sandwiches in about five seconds and got behind the wheel. We pulled out onto US 64, heading west, when Boone’s phone rang. He listened a minute. “Got it,” he said and hung up.
He placed another call. “X? Ziv just called. Malak is flying out of Manteo airport on a Gulfstream. Follow it wherever it goes. She told him San Antonio.” He paused, then said, “Good. That’s great work.”
“They managed to get a tracker on the remaining SUV,” he told us. “Ziv heard from Malak. At least we know where she’s headed. And no matter what resources they have, they’re not going to be able to hide a plane in midair. So we can track her,” he said. “The intellimobile is following the last Tahoe. It’s wired with a bomb like the others. It’s on the interstate, heading west. They’re going to keep following it unless it looks like they plan to blow something up. If they do, Uly and Vanessa will take them out. The cell doesn’t normally act like this. Something has changed. Why would they keep that SUV on the road this long?”
Boone was pacing and asking questions. So far, the cell had put car bombs in places where they could cause damage. Felix had blown one up. Ziv and Eben had taken out the other. But now this third one was doing … what? Boone’s face was wrinkled under normal circumstances. Now he was thinking so hard his wrinkles had wrinkles. I could tell the idea of leaving the SUV on the loose bothered him. But he also wanted to know where it was going.
“Boone, what about—” I began, but he held up his hand as he punched a button on the phone.
“Ziv, it’s Boone. You and Eben get to Norfolk right away. I’ll get a navy jet to get you and your gear to San Antonio. X-Ray will let you know where she lands and you can pick up Malak’s tail. Yes. I know about the watches. Yes, I have one. No, I can’t get you one. That’s up to J.R. Time to go,” he said and hung up, his face somewhat calmer looking.
Boone was going to let the intellimobile keep tracking the Tahoe. Heck, if he had to, he could probably call up J.R. and order an air strike. And then—poof—no more Tahoe. But Boone didn’t want just to stop four terrorists. He was trying to bring them all down. Besides, an air strike would be hard to keep out of the papers.
Boone was pacing again. He punched another button on his cell phone. “It’s me,” he said. “I need you to do something.” He headed to the back of the coach, near the door to the master suite, where it was hard to hear him. After a few moments of talking he disconnected and returned to the table.
Boone looked at me. “You were saying?”
“Um …” I nodded my head toward Felix. “Does he know?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah. I told him about Speed in the McDonald’s,” he said.
I nodded my head toward the lavatory.
“What about my dad?” I asked. “When do you plan on letting him out? Because … well … I have to pee.”
Boone reached for Angela’s laptop. “May I?” he asked her. She pushed it toward him. He clicked on something then turned it around. A map appeared on her screen, showing our location as a green dot moving along US 64. A few miles back was a red dot, taking another highway south.
“I already let him out,” he said in a low voice, “about ten miles ago.”