Greg Cox - Loose ends

Without stopping, Morton passed through the tiny tourist trap of Whites City, heading northeast on National Parks Highway, better known as El Paso Road, toward Carlsbad itself, about half an hour away. Sun-baked desert plains, spotted with occasional stands of mesquite or yucca plants, stretched out monotonously on both sides of the park highway. Pushing the speed limit, the Jeep's forward motion generated a cooling breeze that helped to make the sweltering heat slightly bearable.

Michael cautiously kept a couple of vehicles between the Jeep and the Chevy, much to die frustration of Max, who kept urging him to close the gap. "You're too far away," he complained, restlessly drumming his fingers upon the dashboard. "We're going to lose him."No, we're not," Michael assured him for what felt like the fifteenth time. Talk about your role reversals, he thought. I'm supposed to be the reckless, impulsive one. "Do you want him to figure out we're tailing him?" he asked Max in exasperation. "This snaz2yjeep of yours is pretty conspicuous."Max did not respond, instead falling silent as he continued to stare darkly at the speeding Chevy. His icy expression and smoldering eyes spooked Michael, who tried to figure out just where his friend's head was at. I haven't seen Max so angry, he thought, since that final confrontation with Agent Pierce. "So what's the master plan?" he asked worriedly. "What exactly are you planning to do once we find out what this creep is up to?"Whatever I have to," Max said, looking straight ahead, his seething gaze glued to Morton's convertible.

"What the hell does that mean, Max?" Michael didn't like the tone of his friend's voice. His hands gripped the wheel tightly as he let Max know exactly what he thought. 'Are we talking murder here, Max? Is that the plan? Are you planning to kill Morton yourself, to avenge Liz Parker's sacred honor?" Squeezing the wheel so hard his knuckles whitened, he cast an accusatory look at the obsessed alien teenager sitting next to him. "Just how far are you planning to go, Max?"I don't know," Max answered, after too long a pause. His expression darkened as he considered his options where Joe Morton was concerned. His jaw twitched and an angry vein pulsed along his brow. "Far enough, I guess."Oh yeah?" Michael challenged him, dividing his attention between the road, the Chevy, and Max Evans. "Let me clue you in on something, glorious leader. Killing another person, human or otherwise, isn't like skipping class or lying to the cops. Itfe something you have to live with, every day for the rest of your life."He spoke from painful experience. It had taken him months to come to terms with having killed Agent Pierce, and that had been in self-defense. Sometimes he still had nightmares about it, vivid flashbacks that woke him up in the middle of the night. He could just imagine the torments Max's anguished conscience would put his best friend through if Max actually killed Morton in cold blood. "You don't want to do that, man."Max looked unconvinced, but at least he appeared to be considering what Michael had said. His fingers stopped drumming violently on the dashboard and his stormy gaze turned inward for a time. Let's hope I got through to him, Michael prayed, before he does something we all regret.

They drove in heavy silence for maybe fifteen, twenty minutes or so, before Michael saw the Chevy's right turn signal flash on. A stretch of cheap motels lined both sides of the highway, and Michael watched intently as Morton turned his car into the parking lot of a Motel 6. He exchanged a wordless look with Max, acknowledging that they'd both noted the detour the Chevy had just taken, Guess we're not driving to Texas after all, Michael concluded somberly. Which makes sense, I suppose, if Morton really is planning to meet the lieutenant at Slaughter Canyon tonight He wouldn't want to get too jar from the Park for the time being To avoid tipping off Morton, Michael drove past the Motel 6. Max squirmed impatiently as he did so, but recognized the necessity of maintaining their cover. He waited stiffly, tapping his foot against the floor of the Jeep, as the army-surplus vehicle circled back, eventually coming to rest in front of the Days Inn directly across the street from Motel 6. The minute Michael hit the brakes, Max hopped out of the Jeep and ran to the edge of the road, peering across the highway at the motel parking lot where they had last seen Morton's convertible. Michael didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that the blue Chevy was still parked prominently in front of Motel 6.

"Let's go," Max said as soon as Michael joined him at the roadside. Apparently, locating Morton's temporary lodgings was not good enough for Max; he was determined to take this foolhardy expedition another step further.

"Wait," Michael cautioned him. "We ought to do something else first." Max grudgingly let Michael drag him back into the parking lot, where they hid from sight between two oversize sports utility vehicles. Michael looked up and down the narrow space between the two humongous gas guzzlers, making sure no one was watching them. "Isabel had the right idea," he explained, "just so Morton doesn't recognize us from the elevator."Concentrating, the way Nasedo had taught him, Michael ran his hand through his hair. A mop of disorderly brown hair lightened dramatically, all the way to bleached white. "Let's find out if blonds really do have more fun," he cracked. With a few more passes of his hand, he changed the cut and color of his clothing, replacing his black T-shirt and jeans with a bright blue football jersey and khaki slacks. A pair of dark sunglasses added a final layer of anonymity. "Your turn," he told Max when he was finished.

Nodding, Max disguised himself as well. Perhaps in solidarity with Liz, he gave himself sandy red hair, then changed his flannel shirt and jeans into a white tank top and a pair of cutoffs. "Good job," Michael commented, barely recognizing Max with his new look. "The sweat stains are a nice touch."Those are authentic," Max said dryly, glancing up at the sun. He put on his own shades and stepped out from between the parked SUVs, into the full heat of afternoon. "C'mon, we haven't got all day."Actually, we have until midnight, Michael recalled, but didn't bother to correct Max. He wanted to get this over with, too, and return to Maria and the others. Wonder how they're doing back at the caverns? He hoped Maria was doing a better job of calming down Liz than he was doing with Max. Which one of us got the tougher assignment, I wonder.

Crossing the busy highway was not easy. They had to hike about a half mile up the road, breathing in lungfuls of gritty dust and exhaust, before finding a lighted crosswalk, Heat waves rippled over the hot asphalt, giving their time-consuming trek a feverish, hallucinatory quality. More than once, Max had been tempted to make a dash for it, but Michael successfully convinced him that turning themselves both into road pizza was not going to do Liz any good-or put Joe Morton safely behind bars.

Once across the highway, they had to backtrack the same half mile to reach Motel 6 at last. The whole time, Max had worried that Morton would pull up stakes and move on before they got back to the blue Chevy, which they ultimately found parked right outside room #19, facing the highway. Treading softly upon the cement walkway running past the wing of cheap motel rooms, Max placed his ear up against the door of #19. A few feet away, standing guard in case anyone came along, Michael thought he could hear voices coming from the other side of the door, "Is it him?" he whispered to Max.

Max held up a finger to silence Michael and listened some more at the door, his face screwed up in concentration. "1 think so," he said finally, stepping back from the door. "But there's somebody else in there with him. Another man."Michael scowled, not liking what he was hearing. Another stranger, besides Morton and the lieutenant? This whole thing was getting too damn complicated. How many people were in this stupid conspiracy anyway, assuming that there was, in fact, some kind of criminal conspiracy going on? "What now, fearless leader?" he asked Max sarcastically. He certainly hoped Max wasn't seriously thinking about barging into Morton's room right this very minute. They had their special powers to fight with, of course, but Morton and his unknown associate almost certainly had guns, and the willingness to use them. C'mon, Max, he urged silently. His mouth was dry and he would have killed, figuratively speaking, for another spicy sip of Tabasco sauce. Let's not get crazy here.