Дэвид Балдаччи - Long Road to Mercy

“International conspiracy thing? Care to explain?”

“It’s just a feeling.”

“You think your brother is, what, a spy?”

“Middle East, Kazakhstan? A company that doesn’t exist? And now this? It’s hard for me to admit, but I don’t really know my brother at all. At least not his professional side.”

“But you said you knew your brother was going to go to the Grand Canyon.”

“Yeah. He phoned and told me about the trip. He’d never done the mule ride. Said it was on his bucket list. He was excited. He’d scheduled it a long time ago. I guess you have to.”

“You do. And you have no idea how the guy I showed you on my phone ended up going in his place?”

“No. Are you sure that my brother wasn’t part of the group that went into the Canyon?”

“I showed the picture you sent me of your brother to the mule wrangler who traveled down to the floor of the Canyon that day. He said your brother was definitely not part of the group. He said there was no one even close to looking like him, even if maybe he was in disguise. Your brother looks to be, what, six three and about one eighty?”

“That’s right. He got all the height in the family, too,” he added nervously, glancing at Pine’s FBI shield. “But my brother is a good guy. He wouldn’t be involved in anything bad, that I know.”

“You just told me you didn’t really know your brother at all, at least his professional side.”

Priest slumped back. “Yeah, I guess I did say that.”

“So, what were all the voice mails on your phone?”

“Hang-ups. I finally checked them. They were all from the same number. When I called the number back no one answered.”

“Can you give me the number? I can check it out.”

Priest took out his phone and read out the number, and Pine added it to her phone contacts.

“What are your plans while you’re out here?” she asked.

“I don’t have any. I flew out here really in a panic. Then I decided to call you. To see what you might suggest.”

“I’m not sure I have a good answer for you. But you have to understand, Mr. Priest, that if your brother is involved in something serious, you could be in some danger.”

“Me! Why?”

“Certain people may assume your brother told you something important. Or by your coming out here they may think your brother communicated with you, and that you flew out here to meet with him.”

“But no one knows I’m here except you.”

“Did you book your flight with a credit card?”

“Well, yes. Of course, I did.”

“Then you’re in the system. And people who can access the system could know your movements. They could be watching us right now.”

Priest looked around the restaurant before staring back at her. “Shit, are you serious?”

“Very serious.”

“I feel like I’m in a freaking movie. So what do I do now? Should I get a hotel somewhere? Or maybe I can stay with you?”

Pine pondered this for a few moments. “You can stay at my place at least for tonight, or what’s left of it, until we think of other arrangements.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be an imposition. And if you’re right and people are watching me, then you could be in danger, too.”

“I signed on for that when I took the job, Mr. Priest.”

“Please, just call me Ed. Can I hit the restroom before we leave? With everything going on my stomach’s giving me fits.”

“Sure thing. I’ll get the check.”

Pine kept Priest in her periphery as he headed to the restroom, while she went to the woman at the cash register and paid the bill. Later, she led him to her truck and loaded his bag into the back.

They got on the road and headed back north.

She checked her watch. It was going on two in the morning. One thing Pine was certain of: She wasn’t going to get a lot of sleep this night.

Pine gave Priest her bedroom and she took the couch in the front room. She had insisted on this. She lay down on the couch and closed her eyes. The dawn was not that far off.

She estimated it was about thirty minutes later when she heard the noise for the first time. A bump, a footstep, a squeak of door or window. Or something else.

Her fingers closed around her pistol as she blinked rapidly to adjust her eyes to the low levels of light.

The tick-tock of the kitchen clock echoed in her head as she listened for the sounds to resume. When they did, she rolled quietly off the couch and laid the two pillows out lengthwise, covering them with the blanket she’d had over her. She next slid along the hardwood floor to a far corner of the room, crouched there, and took aim with her pistol. With her free hand, she reached to her left.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Then squeak, then steps.

She kept her gun trained on a certain spot across the room.

The figure appeared in the doorway and then hurried over to the couch.

The silhouette of a gun was pointed at the couch. It remained there for a few seconds, the hand holding it shaking precipitously. Then the gun was lowered, and the figure stepped back and started to turn away.

With her free hand, Pine hit the light switch.

The figure jumped back.

“Put the gun down and lie on the floor facedown with your hands over your head, fingers interlaced, and your feet spread. Do it now or I will shoot you.”

Ed Priest did exactly as Pine had ordered.

His every limb quaking, he set the pistol down, got on the floor, and put his hands behind his head, his legs spread-eagled. He started to quietly sob.

Pine rose and walked over to him, picked up the pistol and set it down on the coffee table.

She sat on the couch and looked down at the man.

“How... how did you know?” asked Priest, his cheeks wet with tears.

“You made it easy. One, you’re a really bad liar. I had training on that at the FBI. But I didn’t really need it. When I asked who had called you all those times and you said you had called them back but no one answered, you showed every sign of lying. And I called the number you gave me. It’s not in service. And then there were all the furtive glances you gave me at the IHOP. And your suitcase. That was the real giveaway.”

“My suitcase!”

“It has a CAGPT sticker on it. That stands for ‘check and give protection to.’ It’s what they do with valuable or fragile instruments. And also, it’s what they sticker a case with that has a gun inside. But I knew for certain you had a gun in there, because the airline had zip-tied it, probably at the point of destination. It’s a procedure they started to use after the Fort Lauderdale shooting. One zip tie for a pistol, two for a rifle. Yours has one, hence, a pistol. And in addition to that, your suitcase is easily small enough to be a carry-on. But you had to check it, as evidenced by the baggage claim sticker on the handle. Again, because you can’t carry a gun on a plane. So why would a seemingly mild-mannered CPA be carrying a gun with him? Except maybe to use on the first person he called when he landed in Arizona? When you quickly suggested that you might stay with me, that sort of sealed it.”

“If you knew all that, why didn’t you just arrest me?”

“Simple. You hadn’t done anything illegal. You can carry a gun in a suitcase. You can carry a concealed weapon in Arizona. I needed to see what you were going to do with it. When you made your intentions clear, so did I.” She paused. “The question is why. You are Ed Priest with the accounting practice and family and Disney World vacations and all that. You’re not some government assassin or mafia hit man.”

“So you checked on me?”