Brett Battles - Every Precious Thing

“She?”

“Yes.”

Diana looked apprehensive. “How do you know?”

“I do, okay?”

Neither of them spoke for several seconds.

“Two minutes,” she said. “That’s it.”

He nodded his thanks and ran back to the El Camino. Dev was on the ground halfway under the car on the passenger side.

“Anything?” Logan asked.

“I checked my side,” Dev said. “And around the front. I didn’t see anything.”

Logan looked into the bed of the truck, but with the exception of his and Dev’s bags, there was nothing there that could have hidden a tracking device.

Dev scooted out from under the car. “Nothing there, either. Maybe there isn’t anything. What if they have two cars? Someone we don’t know in the other one, keeping tabs on us?”

Logan looked out at the road. That was a possibility, but if there was someone else, they weren’t in sight at the moment.

He leaned down and felt around the wheel well on the back passenger side. Having basically rebuilt the El Camino himself, there wasn’t an inch of its surface that he didn’t know. The well was clean.

Moving quickly, he ran his hand along the inside bottom of the fender all the way to the back, then got down on his knees and moved his hand along the inside bottom of the rear bumper.

He almost missed it.

As it was, he had to go back a second time to make sure there was something there. It was small, and wasn’t right on the bottom, but up the side a bit. The only reason he found it was because it brushed against his knuckle.

Carefully, he grabbed it between his fingers and pulled. There was some resistance at first that made him wonder if it had been glued in place, but then it popped free.

He frowned. He’d seen one of these before, albeit a military-grade model. It had been developed and manufactured by one of Forbus International’s competitors.

He wrapped his fingers around it, and had to hold himself back from chucking it as far into the brush as he could.

“What the hell’s going on?” Diana called out.

She was looking back at him, her head and shoulders sticking out the window.

As he jogged toward her, he said to Dev, “Get back in the car.”

When he reached the Grand Prix, he showed Diana the tracking bug. “Who are these people?” he asked.

“What is that?”

“This is a Fitzer.”

“Fitzer?”

“FT3-ZR, a GPS-enabled tracking chip with a magnetic mount. It’s expensive, so not something your normal asshole is going to be walking around with. So who are they?”

Before she even tried to answer, her companion dropped the Grand Prix into gear and hit the gas. Logan jumped back and barely avoided being hit by the rear fender as the car turned onto the highway.

As he raced to the El Camino, Dev leaned over and threw open the passenger door. Once Logan was inside, Dev hit the accelerator.

“What happened?” Dev asked.

“I don’t think her friend likes me very much.”

Dev glanced at Logan’s clenched hand. “You just going to keep that?”

Logan opened his palm and glanced at the tracking chip. Until he got rid of it, Dr. Paskota could continue to track them. Which, if they played it right, was something they could use to their advantage.

He snatched up the phone, but the line was dead. He redialed Ruth’s number.

“Sorry,” Ruth said when she answered. “Had better things to do than hang on the phone and wait for you. Figured you’d call back.”

“My fault. What about our friend?”

“Following you again. Two miles back.”

“Figured. She put a hitchhiker on my bumper. A Fitzer.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Logan, what have you gotten yourself involved in?”

“I’m not sure yet. Is there any way to track where this thing came from?”

“I might be able to get it back as far as the retailer. After that, it would depend on if they tracked who bought individual pieces,” she said, sounding unsure. “How was it connected?”

“Magnetic mount.”

“You’ll have to get that off. On the underside will be the serial number.”

“Okay. Hold on. Let me try.”

He set the phone down and took a closer look at the device. The mount was affixed to the tracker via a tiny frame that fit around the edges of the square. Using the pen he’d written down the GPS coordinates with, he worked one of the edges loose and pried it down. The chip slipped easily out.

He picked up the phone, and turned the chip over.

“Dammit,” he said.

“What?”

“The serial number’s been scratched off.”

“Then there’s not much I can do.”

“Yeah, figured.”

As Logan hung up, Dev said, “Looks like our friends are playing nice again.”

They had caught up to the Grand Prix, the driver now keeping it at a steady pace and not trying to lose them.

Logan nodded.

Let’s hope it lasts.

Trees once more began to appear along the side of the road, short and scattered at first, then growing in both height and density.

So far, while there had been several opportunities for Diana and her friend to speed off and try to lose them, they hadn’t. Logan wasn’t ready to take that as a sign they fully trusted him yet, but it was a start.

“We’re going to have to get rid of that at some point,” Dev said, glancing at the GPS tracker.

Logan was still holding it, absently turning it over and over in his hand. He nodded, but said nothing.

Several minutes later they passed a sign indicating the town of Tusayan was only a couple miles ahead, and that the entrance to Grand Canyon National Park was just beyond it. Several ideas had been playing through Logan’s mind, some more far-fetched than others. He finally settled on the one that had the best chance of improving their situation, and punched in Diana’s number on his phone.

When she answered, she was silent at first, then, “Who is this?”

“It’s Logan,” he said.

He could see her twist around and look back at him.

“Stop in the first gas station in Tusayan,” he told her.

“You’re not in charge.”

“You know the area better than I do, but isn’t this the last town before the park? Wouldn’t it be a good idea to top off our tanks so we don’t run out later?”

He could hear her breathing on the other end, and then the line went dead.

The town turned out to be basically a half-mile strip of motels, restaurants, touristy stores, and not much else. The Grand Prix sped right past the first place to get gas without even slowing.

Logan brought up Diana’s number again, ready to hit redial, but then the Grand Prix’s brake lights flashed, and it turned into a station right across the street from the National Geographic Grand Canyon visitor’s center.

A needless power play, he knew, meant to show him they were the ones in charge. Diana and her friend stopped beside one of the pumps, and Dev pulled the El Camino in behind it.

Dev started to get out to fill the tank.

“Wait,” Logan said.

His friend looked back at him.

“I’m going to leave this with you.” Logan put the Fitzer on the dash.

“Where are you going?”

“With them,” Logan said, nodding at the other vehicle.

“Are you sure they’re going to like that?”

“I don’t care. What I want you to do is drive into the park. Our shadow will follow you. Once you’re there, park somewhere there’s a lot of other cars, and keep an eye out for her. I’ll check in with you later to make sure she’s out of our way.”

“Okay, but one problem,” Dev said. “No phone, remember?”