T. Parker - Storm Runners

“Can he stay lost for a year?”

“If he makes it past the first eight hours. All he had on them was about an hour head start.”

“But they haven’t caught up with him yet, have they?” she asked. “He’s been gone since eleven last night? That’s eight hours ago, exactly.”

“If he makes it past the Mexican border, he can stay lost forever.”

“And it’s easy to get back in,” said Frankie.

“Children do it.”

“Oh, man.”

“Frankie, you’re going to have to stay alert to stay alive. Every second, every minute. You can do it if you stay patient and relaxed. Don’t let it hurry you. Eyes open. Mind open. Always thinking. It isn’t a bad way to live once you get used to it. I did it for years undercover. You have to understand it’s a long run. You have to slow everything down.”

“I’m getting my own carry permit.”

“You should.”

“We’ll practice every day at the range, then come home and make loud, explosive, ballistic love.”

He smiled.

“I need a cup of coffee,” she said. “Hopefully Tavarez isn’t waiting for me in the kitchen.”

“I checked it out. You’re good.”

“ You’re good.”

Ace arrived on scene, yawned, then stretched out in a bed of sunlight coming through an east window.

“I just had an idea,” said Frankie. She was halfway to the kitchen. “What if we get an apartment downtown? But instead of living there, we just sleep there, and spend the rest of our free time rebuilding the barn?”

Stromsoe considered. “You’re just as exposed downtown as you are here. It wouldn’t take him long to figure out the change of address.”

“Right, but we just sleep there. Then, bright and early, we get up and head for the barn. We’ll get the gate lock fixed so only we can get in. There’s only the one road. And once we’re there we can see in every direction, you know? If anyone came walking up or came in off road, we’d see them way early. Ted can stand guard. He’d love to. And we work outside until I have to go to work, we build a new barn and I can set up all the stuff. My formula works, Matt. It works. ”

“I saw it work, Frankie. I can vouch for that.”

“We got four and three-sixteenths inches in two hours. Santa Margarita Preserve, right next door, they got two and three-tenths. Fallbrook got two and one-tenth. San Diego got two. Temecula, Valley Center, and Escondido got two and a quarter. ”

“I know, Frankie.”

“What I’m saying is I’ve got the real thing, Matt. The real, actual thing that Charley was almost onto. I’m going to be a genuine, legitimate rainmaker.”

“I’m a believer.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

“Then wait right where you are,” she said. “I’ve got something for you.”

She went down the hall and into the river room. He could hear the closet open, then the sound of objects being moved. A few minutes later he heard the closet door slide shut.

She came back with a sheaf of stapled papers in her hand.

“I had to make some small changes after last night. It’s all here — the components and where to get them at the best prices, how to make it, how to disperse it. It’s everything Charley started and I continued. You might need Ted or a chemist to figure out some of it. Oh, and when you stir the final mix don’t get the fumes directly in your face and don’t stir too fast. It’s not like whipping egg whites — if you go too fast the hydrogen atoms bond up too early with the chlorides and it gets mucky. Watching me in the truck mirror wasn’t quite enough for you to learn it right. There’s touch involved, and concentration.”

She handed the booklet to Stromsoe.

He looked up at her. “I never thought a few sheets of paper would make me feel so honored.”

She sat down next to him. “Look, I can probably get the rest of the week off, but they’ll need me for tonight. I’ll call Darren.”

“That’s a smart thing, Frankie. It’s not surrender.”

“I might do some of that. Where shall we go?”

“The mountains. You’ve never bottled the San Joaquin River.”

“I’m there.”

Ten minutes later it was set. Darren gave her four days off so long as she could broadcast this evening. And a dog-friendly cabin with a view of Mammoth Mountain was on hold with Stromsoe’s credit card.

Stromsoe packed a week’s worth of things then talked to Dan Birch, Ken McCann, and Warden Gyle. Tavarez had not been seen. Gyle learned that Lunce had been in El Jefe’s pocket and this was not the first time that Lunce had escorted Tavarez outside his cell for “unauthorized activities.” Some CO heads would roll, he said — the union be damned. His most trusted situation manager, Cartwright, was a good ear inside the guard union. Gyle was still not sure whether Lunce had uncuffed the prisoner and allowed himself to be surprised by the razor blade, or if Tavarez had concealed and wielded the blade with his mouth, then let himself loose using the guard’s key. It was also possible that the second or third parties who had cut the hole in the fence had subdued Lunce. He said it was the bloodiest thing he’d ever seen.

“The guards are going to set up a fund for the family,” said Gyle.

“I’ll kick in,” said Stromsoe.

“I’ll let you know when we pick him up.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

He called John Cedros’s cell phone. Cedros said he and Marianna and Tony were already halfway to Bishop. Stromsoe said there was a GPU homing device under the rear bumper of his car, please pull it off and mail it to Birch Security. Stromsoe wished him luck and asked Cedros to give him his home address when he got a chance.

“I’m mailing you the evidence against Choat,” said Stromsoe. “I’ve got copies and so does Birch Security. Choat clearly solicits you to burn down the barn. He roars it out, over the sound of the river. The fact that Mother Nature did it for him doesn’t change anything. I doubt he’ll ever bother you again.”

“Thanks, man. I really mean it.”

“Thank Marianna for making that call to Birch. It saved at least one life. Take care of your family.”

“Vaya con Dios, PI.”

“Always.”

Stromsoe sat in the living room for a moment, listening to the hum of water going through the pipes to Frankie’s shower. They’d be leaving for her work in less than an hour. The thought of Frankie Hatfield cheered his heart and he looked through the windows. The guns of Pendleton began thundering away in the west.

A faint feeling of relief came to Stromsoe, and he was surprised by how large and welcome it was.

He loaded his bags into the pickup, then Frankie’s as she got them packed.

Frankie was in the kitchen packing up some food to take when Stromsoe’s cell phone rang.

“Hello, Matt.”

“Hello, Mike.”

Frankie looked up and her face went pale.

“I’m out.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t think it would feel this good.”

“Enjoy it while you can.”

“I’m going to come see you sometime soon.”

“Let me know when you’re in town.”

The artillery went off again. Stromsoe heard the concussion of it hit his chest like a bass drum in a marching band.

He also heard it coming through the cell phone into his ear.

He motioned Frankie to the floor. She pulled the gun from her purse and sank down, her back to the refrigerator. The dogs waddled over and Frankie had the presence of mind to reach up and set the gun on the counter then take each animal by its collar.

Think of something. Keep him on.

“I heard you made a real mess up there,” said Stromsoe.

“I can’t get the smell off.”