Twisters was a huge, antiquated amusement park filled with a wide variety of rides, all of which looked to be in need of some serious attention. Adam suspected the place was just trying to hold its own in the face of mega-parks that were quickly overtaking the industry.
The distant Ferris wheel and endless, intertwined white roller coaster tracks brought a comfortable feeling of nostalgia. Adam remembered the many summers he and Elliot had spent at parks much like Twisters, riding the Boomerang and the Whiplash. He was sure that by today’s standards such rides would barely offer a thrill, but in his time, they provided the edgy rush that every generation seeks.
Adam had systematically worked his way from one locker area to another but still had yet to find the prize he sought. Nevertheless, he had noticed that many of the unused lockers held keys that looked remarkably similar to Maria’s. Despite his lack of success, Adam was now quite convinced the key he held fit a locker somewhere in the park. It was just a matter of time.
Ahead of him, he saw what was, according to the park map, the second-to-last unexplored locker area. This one was inside an open-air building with a small, outdoor restaurant attached to the front of it. A bright red-and-blue sign identified the fine eating establishment as the Waffle Cone Cantina. Even at eleven thirty at night, the place was buzzing with young life.
Adam carefully pushed his way through a crowd of rowdy teenagers, many of whom had a collection of decorative rings hanging from their noses, belly buttons, and lips. The young men and women laughed and jumped about without regard to whom they bumped or banged. The source of their jubilation was rap music pounding out of a portable boom box.
Adam couldn’t understand most of the lyrics as they were drowned out by a deep resonating bass, but he could clearly hear a surprisingly vulgar chorus as it rang out, “your pussy ain’t worth the Ramada.” He guessed that single line pretty much summed up any deep, hidden meaning the song had to offer.
Looking past punked-out heads of purple-and-orange hair, he made out several rows of lockers inside. He continued toward them until he could read the numbers: T1159, T1160, T1161. He was close.
He forced his way into the open-air structure. At knee height toward the back of the building, he finally found it, locker T1276.
He slapped his forehead with an exaggerated understanding as it finally registered that the “T” stood for Twisters. Adam was feeling very good, so good in fact he couldn’t have wiped the smile off his face with a Brillo pad and a half bottle of Clorox. He’d managed to put several pieces of the puzzle together, and the payoff was finally at hand.
Out of habit, he looked left and right but saw no one watching him with any interest. The rowdy youths were busy slam-dancing and couldn’t have cared if he was about to remove a nuclear warhead from the locker, so long as he didn’t touch their radio. A man grinning wildly at having found a locker was about as interesting as a bottle of ketchup.
Adam knelt and faced the locker. It wasn’t particularly large, just big enough to hold a few pairs of sneakers and shorts before the big water splash ride. He withdrew the key from his pocket and slowly inserted it into the lock.
Taking a deep breath, he gave it a twist. The key turned to the right, an audible clunk sounding as the locking mechanism sprang open. The key was now held in place, the locker being the type that required the user to put in additional quarters each time it was to be used.
He looked around again, this time motivated by a feeling that he was being watched. Something important was about to be revealed, and in his experience, revelations often came with conflict. Despite his uneasy feelings, the frolicking, half-naked teenagers danced on, not a single one looking in his direction. Perhaps tonight would be different.
He turned his attention back to the locker, slowly pulling the metal door open. And there it was, sitting against the far wall. The map.
He carefully removed it, letting the door slam back in place. To his surprise, the map wasn’t an antique parchment stamped with some secret Masonic symbol. Instead, it was a commonplace road map that might be picked up at a gas station for navigating a cross-country trip with a carload of kids. He read the blue lettering on the front of the map.
Rand McNally—United States of America.
“Okay, now I’m confused,” he said, his words barely making it to his ears in the presence of the thumping rap melody. “Maria, what the hell were you doing hiding this?” He looked at the map, thinking of possibilities. “If it isn’t the map itself, then it’s something on the map.”
He started to unfold it but quickly decided that Twisters wasn’t the best place to study a full-sized road map. His hotel room, Elliot’s office, or even Lulu’s Diner would be a more suitable location. He stuffed it into his coat pocket. Mission accomplished.
A sudden rush of movement to Adam’s left caught his attention. He whirled, his hand instinctively moving to the firearm hidden inside his jacket. Four men in dark suits were shoving their way through the crowd of teenagers.
Not waiting to see who the uninvited guests were, Adam turned and darted out the back doorway. He immediately collided with a heavy-set couple, the man and woman each carrying a large souvenir cup of soda and a funnel cake. Despite showering them with cola and powdered sugar, he didn’t apologize, offer to help, or even slow his reckless advance. Instead, Adam bolted full speed through the colorful lights and chiming sounds of the amusement park.
* * *
Elliot looked a bit like Dirty Harry hosting a slumber party—dressed in red flannel pajamas, glasses off, hair still wet from the shower. In his hands, he gently cradled the loaded Browning Hi-Power handgun. He turned the barrel towards the mirror, sighting in on his reflection.
“I’ve got him covered, Adam,” he said with mock excitement. “Don’t worry, bro, I’ve got fifteen bullets.”
Elliot chuckled at the utter foolishness. He hadn’t let himself go this far out in a very long time. Maybe getting a gun hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. It did give him a newfound sense of strength, even if that vigor came stapled to a stomach full of butterflies. He held in his hands the means to kill someone. Not outtalk them. Not bankrupt them. To kill them.
But he already knew how to kill. Knew what death looked like up close and personal. Knew the sour smell of blood. The difficulties in disposing of a body. He closed his eyes, forcing dark memories to retreat before they overwhelmed him. This was not the time for guilt. He was having fun. Living for a change, rather than wallowing in self-pity. He took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the mirror, forcing himself to smile again.
He stuck the firearm back in the holster then quickly pulled it free. “Thought you were going to get away, didn’t you?” he said to his evil counterpart looking back at him from the glass. “What? You want to see that again?”
He pushed the gun back into the holster, watching his adversary for any sudden movement. “Ready… go!” He jerked the Browning free again. But this time, because he was still unfamiliar with its weight, the gun slipped from his fingers. It smashed into the mirror and then crashed heavily into the porcelain sink.
Elliot jumped back, his body stiffening for the impact of a bullet. The fact that the gun hadn’t discharged was of little consolation. He drew in a shaky breath and stared at the now-splintered image before him. After a moment of silent reprimand, he carefully retrieved the handgun from the basin. Without another word, Elliot walked into his bedroom and put both the gun and holster in the drawer of his bedside table.
* * *
Adam was covered with sweat. For nearly twenty minutes, he’d been racing in and out of novelty shops filled with warped funhouse mirrors, long rows of Skee-Ball games, and worthless carnival souvenirs. He couldn’t see his pursuers at the moment but instinctively knew that he hadn’t shaken them. They were still very close.
Several times during the pursuit, he’d been tempted to get to a vantage point and initiate a fight with one or more of them. Adam had never minded a good scrape, but he suspected the four men were well prepared for any resistance he might offer.
Even in the unlikely event that their sheer numbers wouldn’t be enough, they were likely carrying stun devices or other disabling tools of the trade. Of course, they could also just stab or shoot him, depending on the seriousness of their particular agenda.
Adam tended to discount the likelihood of deadly force since it seemed improbable that anyone would be willing to kill in such a public forum. He also hesitated to brandish his own weapon for the same reason. If push came to shove, though, he would draw it and see how far they were willing to play the game.
Any way he looked at it, it was a no-win situation. A shootout with four government agents, which he assumed they were, was not something he could ultimately win regardless of who walked away from the gunfight.
He wasn’t sure how they’d been able to track him from the hotel. Perhaps they had a phone tap on the front desk, or maybe they were careful enough to watch the service entrance. Either way, it confirmed that they were professionals.
He told himself that if it hadn’t been for the chaos of screaming children, spinning rides, and flashing lights, he would have detected them sooner. Fortunately, that same advantage now fell to Adam in his attempt to escape. He worked to stay amidst the largest crowds and the noisiest noisemakers, hoping that somewhere along the way he could slip out one of the park exits.
Regrettably, with Twisters scheduled to close within minutes, the crowds were quickly thinning. Adam understood that his luck was about to run out. If he tried to leave with the mass exodus, he would quite probably be grabbed by the goons. Unfortunately, being grabbed in a dark parking lot offered up new kinds of nasty alternatives to his captors.
As Adam spun out of a particularly noisy arcade, he spotted an opportunity. Directly ahead was Monster Mansion, a haunted house ride complete with spiderweb windows, tombstone-covered lawn, and its fair share of life-size ghoul statues out front.
With the late hour, and the ride evidently not being hip enough for the teenage crowd, there were only a few people standing in line. He ran for the entrance. As he got closer, he began vaulting his legs up and over the maze of railings used to corral the heavy midday crowds. Within seconds, he was face to face with a pimple-faced attendant. The boy’s only responsibility was to administer the boarding of passengers into small floating vessels, each shaped like a coffin.
Adam showed the red ink stamp on the back of his hand, and without waiting for the young man to motion him forward, leapt into the nearest boat.
“Slow it down, mister,” the boy droned without a hint of conviction.
Adam dropped to his knees between two small benches. After only a few seconds, the vessel jarred and began moving forward. He rose up slightly to see if there were any signs of his pursuers.
To his great disappointment, all four men were standing just outside the railing surrounding Monster Mansion. And they were looking his direction. The leader motioned for two of the team to enter the ride and the remaining man to follow him to the disembarking ramp.
Before Adam could formulate a plan, he was blanketed in complete darkness as the floating car bumped its way through the haunted house entrance. A gigantic green monster suddenly leapt at him with a loud pneumatic hiss.
Adam gasped, instinctively drawing back and putting his hands up defensively.
“Moo haa haa,” the mechanical beast moaned. “Scared you, did I? Well, don’t be afraid, boys and girls. I’m Gordo the Goblin, and I will be your guide through Monster Mansion. You must remember above all else to keep your feet and hands inside the coffin at all times. The water around you is filled with all kinds of things that love to eat little fingers and toes. Now sit back and enjoy the ride. I’ll see you again at the end of your brief visit … if you make it that far. Moo haa haa.”
Adam saw that Gordo was in reality nothing more than a huge plaster head. It was painted bright green and had glowing yellow eyes, although one of them remained milky and dim. Large flakes of crusty paint were peeling off the side of its massive jaw. After the creature finished the safety speech, its features darkened, and the mechanized monster slowly retreated into a small alcove in the entryway wall.
He couldn’t hear the men outside but knew that two were undoubtedly getting into a vessel behind him. The ride was incredibly dark, making it impossible to see what was ahead or behind by more than just a few feet.
“Shit,” Adam cursed himself. “Trapped.”
Several smaller automated ghosts and ghouls sprang up from the banks along each side of the narrow channel of water. Distorted screams and laughter played overhead on hidden loudspeakers.
He scanned the channel banks for anything large enough to hide behind, whether it be a headless specter or a mummy’s sarcophagus. It was then that he saw a possible way out of the dilemma. Along the far right wall was a dim red-and-yellow sign with the single stomach-soothing word, exit.
“Service exit,” he reasoned aloud. He glanced back over his shoulder to be sure his pursuers couldn’t see him. Only a thick darkness lay behind him. Knowing that this might be his only chance, Adam placed both hands on the sides of the floating vessel and carefully stepped over the side.
Surprisingly warm water soaked him to his waist. The coffin continued to pull him, and he found it difficult to stand. He leaned awkwardly forward, instinctively refusing to let go. The vessel began to drag him toward a large black door leading to the next room of the ride. Taking a chance, Adam released the coffin.
And though he could feel the steady current tugging at him, he spread his legs and managed to steady himself. He looked at the outline of the shore that was now completely inanimate and dark. Ten feet. No further than that.
Adam fought the urge to run or dive ahead. Instead, he began inching himself forward with small, deliberate steps. The walls and bottom of the water channel were slippery due to years of water polishing as well as being covered with what looked like a layer of genuine monster slime. With each passing second, his heart began to pound harder and faster. He knew that he didn’t have much time.
The giant goblin suddenly sprang to life at the entrance to the chamber.
Adam plunged face first into the water. As he dropped below the surface, a wet silence as complete as anything found in the ocean’s depths suddenly engulfed him. He wanted to credit his reaction to keen survival instincts, but it was little more than a panic reflex induced by the monster’s sudden animation. The damn thing had scared him again.
He also knew that it had probably saved him since the contraption would only have come to life if the next boat had triggered the limit switch. His pursuers were very close.
Adam stared up through murky water and saw only a smear of yellow light. The goblin, he thought. To be absolutely sure that the men were out of sight, he would have to wait until it was dark above him. It would mean waiting until both the goblin and smaller creatures had finished their “moo haa haa’s.” He forced himself to relax.
How long can I hold my breath? he wondered. A minute or two? Will it be long enough? He wasn’t sure.
He stared up through the water, feeling the pressure building in his chest. After what seemed like forever, Gordo’s yellow glow finally dimmed. Despite the temptation, he stayed underwater.
He saw the surface glow green and yellow once again as the smaller creatures animated along the bank. A dark depression at the water’s surface no more than three feet from him floated ahead at a painfully slow pace.
Adam’s eyes began to burn, and he felt his heart pounding powerfully against his chest. I will stay down until the light goes out. I will stay down. I will stay down! He fought the growing urgency for air that was only a foot above his head. Just as he felt he could bear it no longer, the room fell dark.
He leapt up from beneath the water, sucking in deep gasps of damp air.
* * *
“Hello?” a tired voice croaked from the other end of the line.
“Elliot, it’s me. I need your help,” Adam said in short puffs of air. “Adam?”
“Listen, I’m at a gas station at the corner of Thirty-Fifth and Federal. I need a ride as quick as you can get here.”
Adam was still winded from his long run, and the cold night air burned his lungs. After his escape from Monster Mansion, he’d slipped out one of the smaller park exits and hurried down dark side streets until there was little risk of anyone happening upon him. From the lit silhouette of distant roller coaster tracks, he guessed that he was now about a mile from the park.
“What’s happened?” Elliot asked. “What are you doing on Federal at this time of night? Adam, tell me what’s going on.”
“I’ll tell you all about it when you get here,” he said. “Can you leave now? I’m cold.” Saying the words brought with them the realization of just how chilled he really was. The February Colorado wind, along with his being drenched from head to toe, raised a dense array of goose bumps over his entire body.
“It’ll take me twenty or thirty minutes, but I’m leaving now. Just stay put. I’m coming.”
Adam moved to the dark side of the gas station and waited. He considered going into the convenience store to warm up but decided that he couldn’t chance it. With the kind of luck he was having, his pursuers stood a very real chance of happening by for a late-night cup of coffee or a Slim Jim with cheese.
Twenty-two minutes later, Elliot’s black Audi A-8 pulled into the parking lot.
Adam hustled over to the car and climbed into the passenger seat. Visibly shaking from the cold, he blew on his hands trying to keep them from stiffening. The crisp leather seats felt hard and brittle through his wet clothing.
“You’re freezing,” Elliot said, looking at his brother with concern.
“I’m all right,” he answered in a shaky voice.
“Grab my suit coat from the back seat and put it over you.”
Not having the strength to argue, Adam leaned back and retrieved the coat.
Elliot adjusted one of a myriad of controls on a dashboard that resembled the cockpit of a modern jetfighter. Warm air began to circulate over Adam, and a concentrated heat spread from the seat cushion beneath him.
As weary and cold as he was, Adam couldn’t help but smile when he noticed Elliot’s red flannel pajamas peeking out from beneath his long gray overcoat. It was heartening to know that his brother cared enough to hurry. Adam was grateful but felt particularly pathetic as he reluctantly draped what must have been a thousand-dollar worsted wool suit coat over his chest and shoulders. He closed his eyes and finally let the world stop moving. He was safe.
The one thought that kept coming back to him was that his bright idea of going it alone might not have been so bright after all. It wasn’t that he thought Lara, or even Elliot for that matter, would have offered much resistance against the four assailants. It was more a feeling that with one of them in tow, different decisions would have been made. Decisions that probably wouldn’t have left him soaking wet, exhausted, and cuddling feebly behind a fancy suit coat in his brother’s European luxury car.
Elliot cruised slowly down Federal and waited for Adam to warm a bit before initiating his questioning. After a couple of minutes, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” His words were words of frustration, but his tone was soft.
“I got the—oh shit, the map!” Adam dug his hand into the inner pocket of his wet jacket. He pulled out the folded shape of the map. It was soaked all the way through but hadn’t degraded to the point of coming apart. With careful attention and a bit of luck, it looked salvageable.
“You found it?” Elliot asked, startled.
“Yeah. Unfortunately, it got a bit wet,” he said, holding it up between them. “Hopefully it’s still in good enough shape to answer the big question of why Maria thought it was so valuable.”
“But where did you find it?”
“In the amusement park,” he said, motioning towards the roller coaster tracks in the distance.
Elliot stared at the soggy, folded Rand McNally map. “She hid a road map? This is what she thought was worth a million dollars? Are you sure?”
“Best as I can figure. Perhaps by studying it back at your place we can figure out what she’s gotten herself into.”
“Maybe it’s a treasure map of some sort,” Elliot thought aloud. “You know, perhaps it shows the location of an ancient artifact or a bag of money stolen from an armored car robbery. Something like that.”
Adam considered the possibility for a moment. “Could be. But if so, why wouldn’t she have just gone after it herself?”
“Could be it was too difficult for her to get to alone.” After he spoke, though, Elliot seemed to dismiss his own idea saying, “I don’t know. It’s probably something else entirely.”
For an inexplicable reason, Adam found the words “something else entirely” to be a bit ominous. It was often the yet-unseen evils that proved the most terrifying. On the other hand, he wasn’t willing to completely surrender to his intuition given that his brain was currently not much warmer than a banana popsicle.
The car unexpectedly lurched forward, sending both men reaching for the dash. They spun around to see the headlights of a large dark sedan dropping back after having collided with their rear bumper. With the intense shine of the high beam headlights, it was impossible to tell who or even how many people were in the vehicle.
“What the hell?” Elliot exclaimed both in fear and confusion.
After the car retreated a few feet, the engine roared and it raced forward, crashing once again into the back of the Audi. Adam’s palm hit the windshield, cracking it into a star-like pattern that spread several inches across the glass.
Adam pulled the Glock from its holster, barking, “Get us out of here! Whatever you do, don’t crash or let them force you off the—”
His words were cut short as the car smashed into them for a third time.
Elliot pressed the accelerator, and the Audi immediately began to pull away from the sedan. Adam wrapped his left arm around the headrest and gripped the handgun with both hands. He hesitated to fire. Even shooting at the engine of the pursuing car could accidentally kill someone, and he just wasn’t ready to up the stakes that high yet. He waited.
The Audi quickly reached eighty miles an hour as it raced down a long stretch of Federal Street. The sedan was keeping pace but unable to get close enough for another collision. Luckily the road, which was bustling with impatient drivers during the day, was now relatively deserted.
As if in answer to the optimistic assessment of the road conditions, an unaware motorist suddenly turned blindly onto the street in front of the speeding Audi.
“Hang on!” Elliot yelled, swerving briefly into the oncoming lane of traffic. The Audi started to fishtail, but he turned into the skid and brought it back under control.
The sedan used the opportunity to close in, and the cars were once again bumper-to-bumper.
Ping, ping, ping. Small metallic jolts resonated through the frame of the Audi.
“Shit!” Adam exclaimed. “They’re shooting at us. Keep your head down!”
Elliot looked over at Adam, fear filling his eyes. “This is crazy,” he whined. “Let’s just pull over and give them the map. Throw it out the window or something. This isn’t worth dying for.”
The major flaw with his line of reasoning was that people who are willing to kill for a map, are just that: people willing to kill. They would need to take care of Elliot and Adam once they retrieved it. This wasn’t one of those games where everyone shook hands at the end.
Ping, ping. More bullets plunked through the trunk. Adam could see a man leaning out the window of the sedan, a large pistol in his hand. Since he couldn’t hear the shots, Adam assumed the weapon had some sort of silencer.
The back window suddenly exploded into thousands of tiny shards of glass. The blast sent Elliot into a high-pitched squeal.
“You okay?” Adam yelled, hoping his brother hadn’t been hit.
Elliot stopped screaming but otherwise didn’t answer. His eyes were now glued to the road, hands maneuvering the car nimbly across the lanes. He seemed to finally realize that he was racing for his life.
He’s okay. Just scared, Adam concluded.
He looked back at the sedan. Their pursuers had upped the ante. The time for restraint had passed. He took aim, yelling over the engine and fresh rush of cold night air. “It’s going to get loud in here! Just keep us moving!” He saw Elliot nod, gripping the steering wheel with all his strength.
Adam fired through the gaping back window. The report of the Glock was deafening inside the car. He fired again and then a third time. All three rounds hammered into the engine compartment of the sedan.
With the third shot, the pursuing car pitched violently to the right, the left, and then began dropping back as a steaming spray of green liquid began spilling out from under the hood.
The chase was over.
* * *
A bright red electric sign brazenly announced to all weary travelers that the Cherry Pit Motel offered free HBO and an outdoor pool four months of the year. It further proclaimed that the rooms were recently renovated, and every form of credit card was readily accepted. What it didn’t proudly broadcast were the stiff, smelly mattresses long since retired from hospitals and nursing homes, toilets that ran all night long, and carpet irreversibly stained from years of traveling pooches making it their personal outhouse.
Neither Elliot nor Adam noticed the deficiencies of the less than luxurious accommodations. Both men stared down at a large map spread across the queen-sized mattress that had been incurably infested with smoke, urine, and dried semen.
After eluding their roadway attackers, they had agreed it was time to get somewhere safe. If nothing else, it would give them a chance to talk—to make sense of things before returning to a world in which they were the hunted.
In front of them was an ordinary traveler’s map showing the roadways, rivers, and appropriate borders of the continental United States. The only unusual markings on the map were three small blue circles around the cities of Washington, Dallas, and Las Vegas. Beside each location were the blurred images of words. Words that were once undoubtedly clear and would have proved invaluable. Now, however, they had degraded into little much more than smudgy ghosts of blue ink.
“Shit,” Adam said with a heavy sigh. “After all this trouble, it’s ruined.” He felt absolutely sick with disappointment. I should have just shot those schmucks instead of hiding like some pussy.
“Maybe not,” Elliot countered with an unexpected note of optimism. “Look at this.” He pointed to a smudge above Dallas. What does that look like?”
To Adam it looked to be an incomprehensible blue ball with tentacles. “If this is one of those psychiatric ink blot questions to see if I’m all screwed up, I can save you the trouble.”
Elliot smiled, clearly enjoying being in a position of strength. “Look carefully. And here above the other two cities.” He moved his finger from one to the next. “Notice anything?”
Adam stared intently at the blurred images. The smears were all different, each having once been a single character. Below the single characters were longer, more complex blurs indicating writing of some sort. “Sorry, nada.”
“Numbers, Adam. The cities are numbered.” He moved his fingers from Dallas to Las Vegas to Washington, saying, “One, two, and three.”
Adam stared at the blue smudges again. It was a reach, but he thought he could make out the numbers one, two, and with a couple of shots of Irish whiskey, maybe even three. The cities did indeed seem to be numbered.
“Okay, you’re hot tonight. So what does it mean?” Adam asked, already considering the implications. In his given state of depression, he couldn’t immediately come up with anything. He found himself replaying a continual reminder that they wouldn’t be playing this game of “smudgy ink balls” if he hadn’t ruined the map in the first place.
“Of course, I don’t know the specifics, but in the broadest sense, it means that there is some order to the cities. Perhaps suggesting one must travel to Dallas to get or do something, then to Vegas, and finally to Washington. I think there’s a sequence of events being outlined here.”
“Even if that’s so, just knowing the order doesn’t seem to get us much. We’re back to where we were with the key. We’ve got the what but not the why.”
Elliot started to speak but stopped himself. Finally, he said, “So it would seem.”
Adam flopped back onto the nasty bed. “This sucks,” he said.
Elliot remained quiet for nearly a minute as he studied the map, rotating it, looking at it from both sides, and even using his eyeglasses as a magnifying glass. After the careful examination, he said, “Aha.”
Adam opened one eye. “You see something?”
“No … but I think I have something nonetheless.”
“What?” Adam asked, sitting up.
“Let me show you rather than tell you.”
Adam leaned in close. “Maria came to me saying she’d found a map. By ‘found,’ I’m now pretty sure she meant stolen. You agree?”
“I’ve never met her, but if you think so, then that’s probably the scoop.”
“Yes, she most definitely stole a map. But from whom? My guess is from someone she was seeing. After all, Maria wasn’t a burglar, and her boyfriends were the only people she had intimate access to. It wouldn’t be too far of a reach for me to believe that she would swipe something she thought valuable from a client.”
“A real give-and-take girl,” Adam said.
Elliot didn’t break stride. “She stole a map from her lover and hid it at the amusement park. Then things started to heat up. She realized she was in danger, which is why she sent the key to her sister for safekeeping. Just in case.”
“Along with a cryptic note that offered a hint as to the map’s location,” Adam added. “Only neither ever arrived due to a careless mistake of being cheap with the stamps, leaving Lara completely unaware of her sister’s predicament.”
“Exactly. Then things went bad for Maria. Her boyfriend hurt her trying to get the map back.” Elliot’s voice shook just a bit as he said “hurt.” “Only it wasn’t just him. He called in professionals, the type who specialize in extracting information.”
“Which means her boyfriend was either in the agency himself or had some important ties to them. Perhaps a politician,” Adam offered. “Whatever the map is, it’s important enough for the CIA to get involved in a very personal way.”
“A politician … yes, I could see that.” Elliot’s eyes moved about as he considered the new idea.
“It would have to be someone with political clout.”
“Not just clout,” Elliot corrected, “but also actively engaged in something of national interest.”
“Something worth killing for. Those boys weren’t shooting dart guns.”
“Are we reading too much into this? Could it just be some sort of criminal organization?” Elliot asked.
Adam recalled the four men in the theme park. “The guys who chased me sure carried themselves like agency operatives. Well coordinated, not to mention well dressed.”
Elliot grinned. “Can’t have our country’s spies dressing like bums.”
“One thing we know for sure. They want this map.”
Adam turned to look at his brother. “No?”
“That’s what we missed. Ask yourself why they want the map.” Before Adam could answer, he continued, “Remember, we’re assuming it was their employer’s map to begin with. He surely already knows what’s written on it. So, why go to the trouble to recover it?”
Adam looked down at the map with newfound interest. “Of course. It’s not about the map. It’s about keeping the information contained.”
Elliot nodded. “The interesting part is that they must assume that by now we’ve read the map, which of course we haven’t. That puts us in a curious position.”
“Not curious. Dangerous. There’s only one good way to make sure someone doesn’t reveal information.”
“What’s that?”
Adam made his fingers into a mock pistol and tapped the barrel against his forehead.
Elliot shuddered. “Then we need to fix this. Let them know that we’re not a threat.”
Adam shook his head. “I don’t know how we’d ever convince them of that. Besides, being a threat is the only thing we’ve got going for us. If we want to have any hope of finding Maria, we have to force them to make a mistake.”
Elliot thought about it for a moment before nodding. “What do you think they’ll do next?”
Both men sat quietly on the flea-infested bed, considering that all-important question. After a moment Adam turned to his brother, his eyes wide with concern. “Lara. They’re going to try for Lara.”
Elliot looked confused. “Why Lara?”
“Think about it. She’s the one person whose whereabouts are still known. If nothing else, she’ll give them something to barter with. These people won’t wait until morning. They’re out on the road tonight and will sure as hell want something to show their superiors after screwing the pooch with us.”
Adam stood up, haphazardly folding the map. “That ‘something’ is going to be Lara.”