Giles Blunt - No Such Creature

“Bright side,” Max said, “that shot probably saved us from a lengthy semester at Oxford.”

“What about the guy’s life, Max?”

“I value yours more. This is our fifth adventure together. I don’t see why it should be a surprise that sometimes things can go wrong.”

“Max, you didn’t used to shoot people. We have to abort the rest of the trip and head home. And you have to retire for good.”

“Never, lad. Banish Max and banish all the world.”

“This is no time for Shakespeare! This is real life! Those were real bullets! We’ve caused real pain!”

“You’ve missed the turn.”

Owen made a U-turn at the next intersection. They parked in the shadow of the Rocket and went inside.

“What did you think of the accent?” Ek-cent . “Bruce Whittaker, strite outta Queensland, at yer service.”

Max embarked on a recitation of Portia’s speech on mercy, translated into Australian. In other circumstances it might have been funny, but now it was unbearable. Owen turned on the kitchen light and peered into the sack. He was trying mightily to behave as if this had been a normal show, no disasters.

“We should sort out the cellphones first. We can dump them in a mailbox tomorrow. Look at this necklace I found upstairs. It was right in front of the mirror. She must have been trying it on just before the guests arrived.”

“Let’s just stash it for now, laddie.”

Owen loosened a couple of screws and pulled back the dishwasher, and Max handed him the sack. He was tucking it into their hidden hutch when Max said, “Good God. What the hell are you doing here?”

Owen whipped around to see who he was talking to.

Sabrina was lying on the bottom bunk, just now raising herself on one elbow.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice fogged with sleep.

“The girl’s gone deaf,” Max said, moving closer to the bunk. “I asked what you were doing here.”

“Bill turned up at the hotel. He was waiting in the lobby. Luckily, I saw him before he saw me.”

“How did he know you were in Tucson,” Owen said, “let alone which hotel?”

“Well, he does work in hotel security.”

“She called him,” Max said. “Didn’t you? You called him and told him where you were.”

“I didn’t. I swear.”

“If you didn’t call him,” Max said, “the only way he could find you would be to follow us-which he could not possibly do, because when we drove out of Las Vegas he was still in the hospital.”

“All right, I did call him. I mean, I dialed him-he wasn’t there. I just left a message saying I hoped he wasn’t hurt too bad and that I was sorry for how things worked out. But I didn’t speak to him or tell him where I was.”

“If he has connections to the cops,” Owen said, “or maybe the phone company, they can pinpoint the location of a cellphone to the nearest tower.”

Max’s brow furrowed into Shar-Pei-like folds. “I begin to suspect, young lady, that you haven’t told us everything there is to know about Preacher Bill.”

“I guess I should have mentioned …” Sabrina winced, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I just-I didn’t want to scare you away, that’s all.”

“What are you talking about?” Owen said. He was surreptitiously nudging the dishwasher back into place.

Max wheeled to face him. “Our damsel in distress here-our sweet, innocent, saintly young lady-failed to mention that her mentor, her man , also happens to be an officer of the law.” Then, turning back to Sabrina: “Isn’t that right?”

“You gotta be kidding,” Owen said. “He’s a cop?”

Sabrina nodded miserably. “Not is a cop. Was a cop. He quit years ago. I guess I should have told you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Owen said.

“Because the devil child knew that if we’d had the slightest idea she was consorting with a copper, we’d have nothing to do with her.”

Owen sat down at the kitchen table. He looked at Max. “Still, I don’t see how it’s that big a deal. What difference does it make?”

Max went into lecture mode, hands on hips. “The difference, my son, is that he’s connected to an organization that is very good at tracking people down. He has access to networks, faxes, radios. By now he’s probably got her picture on every bloody cop computer in the country.”

“You’re right,” Sabrina said. She grabbed her coat from the top bunk. “I’ll go.”

“How did you get in here, anyway?” Max said.

“Oh, come on, Max. My dad taught me a few things.”

She brushed by Owen. He grabbed her arm. “Wait,” he said. “You don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Yes, I do. Max just said I do.”

“No, I didn’t,” Max said. “Though at this moment it is an extremely attractive thought.”

“Max, even if somebody should recognize her, we’re not going to get into any trouble. We’re just on holiday and Sabrina’s along for the ride.”

“I don’t like surprises,” Max said. “This was not the way the Pontiff brought you up, I’m sure.”

“Oh, please. My father is no bloody hero.”

“John-Paul would never teach you to mislead friends who try to help you.”

“Okay, Max. I’m sorry. I should have told you right away.”

“Right,” Owen said. “And what-we would have left her there in the parking lot with that Bible-thumping nutcase? Let him beat her half to death?”

“Never. I have a few faults, but cruelty to the fair sex is not among them. I would have done everything the same.”

“So, fine. In other words we’d be exactly where we are at this moment.”

“Not so. For one, I would have confiscated Her Highness’s cellphone and mailed it to Ouagadougou before she could alert the entire bloody country as to her whereabouts. Hand it over, hell spawn.”

She pulled out her cellphone, but instead of handing it over she began to dial.

“I’m calling a cab.”

“You don’t need a cab,” Owen said. “You can stay with us. Max, you promised your friend you’d look out for her.”

“I know. But that was before I realized she was being followed by an insane policeman.”

“He’s not insane,” Sabrina said.

“Yes, he is,” Max and Owen said together.

Bill Bullard entered the hotel room and switched on the light. Getting access had been no problem: Baxter Secure Solutions provided the security for half the hotels in the Southwest, and this one happened to be among them. If he wanted to park himself in their lobby keeping an eye on traffic for a few hours, hotel management had no problem with it.

Tracking down Sabrina’s cellphone hadn’t been too hard either. He had help from a friend at Nevada Nextel-well, not a friend, exactly. Bullard had once caught the guy with an underage hooker, and had held it over him ever since.

The hardest part was getting time off work. Lance Baxter was not a congenial person, and about as far from a Christian as it was possible to be without being an outright Satanist. Bill could have just phoned in sick-he still had bandage on his head, even if it was now reduced to a small square of gauze-but sometimes he was too honest for his own good. He told Lance he needed time off for compassionate reasons, he had to help a friend who was in an emotional crisis. Really, he should have known better.

“Oh, God,” Baxter had said.

Right off, this was a response guaranteed to upset Bill. “Lance, how many times have I begged you not to take the Lord’s name in vain?”

Baxter couldn’t have cared less about Bill’s religious sensibilities. “This is about that girl,” he said. “I knew it, the minute I saw you with her. She’s too young for you, Bill. What the hell are you thinking?”