Chapter 8 #2
Mac had a contemplative look on his face. “I think it might be time for me to head back to New York and see what I can find out there. I haven’t managed to do anything significant here except disappear, which hasn’t really given us an edge at all.”
“Do you think that’s wise? Folks were after you back there. That’s why you came here, isn’t it?” Dorothy asked, looking worried.
“New York is a very big town, and if I don’t arrive looking like myself, no one will know,” Mac said. “I have been thinking about it, and I believe that I could pull it off.”
Lucy smiled. “You’re a very interesting man. I’d love to pick your brain sometime.”
“Ooh, that sounds like it could be quite something,” Mac said jovially.
After a short silence, Dorothy said, “We could go with you, Warren and me.”
“No, too conspicuous,” Mac said kindly, patting her hand. “You tend to stand out.”
Dorothy looked disappointed.
They got more drinks from the bar as the room became even louder and fuller. It seemed that all of San Antonio was trying to squeeze into the Lucky Bull’s restaurant.
Mr. Sparks was in his element, telling jokes loudly over the noise. Thomas was amazed that his voice could carry like that.
Hours went by. They had bouts of conversation about the predicament, but as no one had anything new to say, it went nowhere. They spoke about other things too, and Clary regaled them with stories of things that happened while working on her father’s stagecoaches.
Vaguely, Thomas considered telling the group about the note from his locker. It had been preying on his mind. But was it a good idea to worry everyone if there was nothing to worry about? Surely that would be unwise.
The idea of telling them, only to have them find out that it was some terrible prank that Trevor had orchestrated or something along those lines, would be mortifying. No, he should wait until he knew for certain. Hadn’t he decided that already?
If only Luke’s reply would come. Then Thomas would know what he should do. If it really was El Aguila, then he would have to tell them everything. But what would they think of him then? Would they consider him as a possible candidate for the spy?
That thought scared Thomas. He didn’t want them to suspect him, but he had to admit that it looked suspicious. What would they say if he couldn’t convince them that he had never done anything to compromise Unity? Would they even give him a chance to explain?
He was stuck between El Aguila and his friends, and it was a terrible place to be. How could he get out of this without losing Luke, Tilda, and the children? Or his life?
Clary seemed to be the only one who noticed Thomas’s distress and kept looking at him with concern in her eyes.
She was very astute. It was one of the many things that he really liked about her.
He just wished she hadn’t turned her sharp senses on him just yet.
He couldn’t tell her about this just yet.
“Thomas, I’m sure that Luke will respond soon,” she said.
“I hope so,” he replied.
Lowering his gaze to his hands, his fingers intertwined with Clary’s, Thomas decided to say a silent prayer that his brother was all right. More than anything, the lack of knowing was killing him.
The afternoon was wearing on, and they were beginning to discuss getting rooms for the night when Mrs. Sparks came over to their table.
“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a message for you, Thomas,” she said, handing him a telegram.
Thomas’s heart leaped into his temples and began to thud there in a determined rhythm.
Somehow he managed to smile and thanked her.
“It’s from my brother,” he said, taking it.
“I’ll only be a moment.” He stood and walked to the window, where the light was better, and opened the telegram.
This was it; now he would know, one way or another.
His blood instantly ran ice-cold.
“The note is real. Stop delaying. Talk has consequences. I’m watching.”
Thomas swallowed as his mind spun out of control.
He couldn’t believe it. El Aguila had his brother and his family.
Thomas’s throat felt as though it was closing, and he couldn’t breathe.
Worry slid like an anvil into his gut, where it lodged unhappily.
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. He just stood there like a statue, holding the note in his hand, staring at it blankly.
Luke and his family were in danger all because of Thomas.
But why? Thomas hadn’t done anything to the bandit.
Okay, no, that wasn’t entirely correct. He had shot some bandits, but it wasn’t as though El Aguila put great stock in their lives.
That madman offered them up as fodder. That couldn’t be the reason why Thomas was in his crosshairs.
And what did he mean that he was watching? Was that only in Unity, or was it for everywhere?
With rising fear that they were indeed being observed, Thomas looked around the room. Was anyone paying him or the group undue attention?
Suddenly, it seemed that everyone was looking at him.
Everyone was listening to the conversation his friends were having.
Was that old man leaning a little too close to Mac?
Was that woman taking notes in her notebook for El Aguila?
What about that couple in the corner? They were staring off into the crowd.
Were they watching him and his friends too?
Or were El Aguila’s spies so good at going unnoticed that they didn’t even stand out?
He should warn the others. That would be the right thing to do.
It was stupid to talk about their situation anywhere that unfriendly ears could hear anything.
He had to stop the others from talking, but if El Aguila was watching, then what?
He didn’t know what to do. At the very least they had to stop talking about their plans.
Thomas lurched forward, his top half seeming to respond to the need to move before his legs got the message. He was off balance, tipping forward when a man with unkempt sandy hair stepped forward and grabbed his arm, steadying him.
“Thanks,” Thomas mumbled, meaning to push past him and reach the table, but the man held him in place. He smiled, and something hard pressed against Thomas’s ribs. It didn’t take long to realize it was the business end of a pistol held surreptitiously in the man’s free hand.
“Maybe you want to stop here a moment,” the man said, keeping his back to the table with Thomas’s friends. Clary wasn’t watching him just then; she was looking over at Mac. If Thomas could get her attention, he could warn them.
“Listen carefully,” the man continued.
Thomas opened his mouth to call out for help but stopped before he could utter a sound.
“You don’t want to do that,” the man said in a low voice. “I know you want to tell them everything, but that would be a big mistake. Bigger than you can imagine.”
Thomas stared at him, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. He couldn’t seem to draw a breath. What was happening?
“See, I’m not alone, and me and my friends, we can move very quietly when we want to,” the man said, smiling as he spoke as though this was a wonderful conversation between friends. “So, go back to your seat and then get yourself back to Unity. You have a job to do and not much time to do it in.”
“But I don’t know how to do what he wants,” Thomas stammered.
“You’re a smart guy; figure it out,” the man said. “Tick-tock, Thomas. Tick-tock.”
Thomas stared at the man. He couldn’t believe that this was happening.
There was a crash as someone knocked a couple of glasses off the bar. They shattered on the floor with a tinkling sound, to loud hoots and cheers from tipsy onlookers.
Thomas’s attention shot to the noise, and when he looked back, the man was gone. Looking around, he tried to spot him, but Thomas was unable to find him anywhere. It was as though the floor had opened and swallowed him up.
“Thomas?”
Clary was beside him.
Is everyone a magician now and able to pop up like mushrooms after rain?
He stared stupidly at her, too surprised and shaken by recent events to know what he was thinking or doing.