Chapter 7 #6
She sighed. “Not really. Neither of us sat down to ‘tell our story’ as you put it. It’s more things that slipped out.
I told you how this guy stopped by and asked about me.
When she told me, she saw how panicked I was, she put that card in my hand, said that if I needed help to turn to Sam Reston in San Diego.
” Her mouth tightened. “But then last week, like I said, I was coming back to my room after the evening shift. It was dark. I rented a room in a bad part of town and was used to being careful, being aware of my surroundings. But more because it’s an area of drunks and addicts than anything else.
I thought Gerald would never find me. But there he was—one of Gerald’s men, dressed as a bum. ”
“Must have freaked you out.”
Ellen gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah. You could say that. I keep a little running away kit in my purse at all times. Cash, a big floppy hat, sunglasses. I ran. They’d be watching airports and stations, I knew that.
The only thing I could think of was a bus.
I just hopped on the first bus south, went to Portland, spent the night in one of those seedy all-night cinemas that show classic movies.
At least it wasn’t showing porn, I don’t think I could have stood it. ”
“You watched the Thin Man movies.” Harry could see it—a terrified Ellen on the run, huddled in the dark in a movie theatre. Alone and scared. “Nora Charles.”
She huffed out her breath. “Yeah. I was so tired, so scared when I called, it was the first name I could think of.”
“Here. Eat that.” He pushed the plate back to her and put command into his voice.
He didn’t do that normally with women, but he made the exception with her.
She needed to eat. More than that, Harry needed her to eat food he’d provided for her.
“And after you’ve finished, you can tell me why you ran from us. ”
She slanted him an amused look, those brilliant, uptilted eyes narrowing. “Yes, sir!”
Damn straight, yessir.
She ate half of what was on her plate and pushed it away again. “Before you say anything, I’d love to finish everything on the plate, it’s all delicious, but I simply can’t. My stomach is cramping.”
A hot flush of shame shot through Harry.
In his zeal to see her eat, he’d completely forgotten how much Sam and Mike had had to coax him to eat when he’d first come back to San Diego a broken man.
His stomach had rebelled at nearly everything.
For a time there, he’d eaten with either Sam or Mike standing over him until he choked down every bite.
“Okay,” he said gently. “Now talk. Why’d you run from us?”
“It was your faces,” she said.
Harry’s brows lifted. Granted he and Sam weren’t beauties by any stretch, but still… “Our faces?”
“When I mentioned Gerald and Bearclaw. You knew him and you knew the company, I could tell. And you looked at each other. It was quick but I caught it. You run a security company, like Bearclaw. I thought I’d jumped straight into the frying pan.”
“Yeah, we know Montez,” Harry said grimly. “But trust me, RBK isn’t anything like Bearclaw. That fuckhead Montez—pardon my French—cost Sam four of his men incountry. Bearclaw and its men are a menace. We’d love to get back at them. That’s what you picked up on.”
She paled, a long, slender hand moving up to cover her mouth. Her voice was low, shaky. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I ran for nothing. I put myself and you in danger for nothing.”
Harry couldn’t stand to see her upset. He pulled her hand away from her mouth and brought it to his own.
“You couldn’t have known,” he said softly. “It’s not your fault. Being able to react fast has kept you alive so far. You couldn’t have known that we’re Bearclaw’s enemies, not friends. But the big question is—how did they track you down? How could they be waiting for you at your hotel?”
“I used my cellphone as an excuse, but then I realized I really had left my cellphone at the hotel. It’s still there.”
“Actually—” Harry reached back to the counter and threw a plastic object onto the table. “Your cell is here.”
Ellen reacted as if he’d thrown a snake onto the table. “Oh my God! He can track us! He can tell where I am!” She was fumbling for the controls when Harry put his hand over hers to still it.
“No, he can’t track us. It’s off, and Mike removed the battery and the SIM card in your room.
While I was taking a bullet out of your shoulder, Mike was removing all traces of you from the hotel room.
It was just your cell and a travel toothbrush, but they’re gone.
And he wiped down all surfaces with bleach.
He checked the phone very briefly while in your room—Montez would know you were there anyway if he sent men to snatch you—and he saw that you’d only called one number. ”
“My agent’s number. I bought a cheapie cell just to communicate with him.
He didn’t really understand why I wanted to remain anonymous, thought it was some kind of PR ploy, but he played along.
It’s a prepaid. No one should have been able to trace me through it unless…
” Ellen’s voice died as she lost what little color she’d had.
“Unless they got him,” Harry finished for her. He pulled out his own cell. “Let’s call him.”
“No!” She pushed his cell away, her voice rising in panic. “Oh my God, no! They’ll trace it back here. They’ll trace it to you! You’ll be in danger, too.”
Harry opened his cell. God, she was worried about him. She was on the run for her life, and she didn’t want to put him in danger. He didn’t usually explain himself, but this time he made an effort.
“Don’t worry,” he said gently. He held his cell up.
“It’s a special phone. Or rather a special software program.
The call is routed through a couple of servers and anyone tracing it will think the call originated from a cell about 50 miles from Calgary, Canada.
The cell is billed to a company we’ve set up that has two dead men as owners.
It’s better than being an anonymous prepaid because it fu—er…
messes with people’s heads. Anyone trying to trace it just wastes a lot of time. ”
She just watched him, pale and trembling and the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
He’d memorized the number, punched it out, listened to the rings at the other end. Tried again. “Home number?” he asked quietly.
Ellen gave him the number. Another minute, listening to the phone ring and ring.
“Where else can we try?”
She was trying to hide her agitation. “I’ve never known him not to pick up his cell. He lives on that damn phone. Where’s a computer?”
Harry led her into the living room, to his laptop. He switched it on, switching on the anonymizing program at the same time. No one was going to be able to trace anything back to this laptop, or the IP.
She was feverishly typing. “Oh no! He hasn’t updated his Facebook entries in a week, and he hasn’t Instagrammed in a week either.” She lifted troubled eyes to his. “This is so unlike him. He’s so proud of staying connected. What are we going to do?”
There wasn’t much choice. Harry had a friend in Seattle, or rather he was a friend of Mike’s—a former Marine turned SWAT member. “The only thing we can do,” he said. “Call Seattle PD.”