Hearts Racing (10 page)

Faith sat at the table in the dining area, in her usual place next to Buck’s, but figured if she was sitting around, she might as well help Miriam in the kitchen.

Miriam was reluctant at first, but after she saw Faith chop an onion with a modicum of skill she let her handle a few other tasks. After a few minutes, everyone was washed up and dinner was simmering. Miguel and LeMond were at the table. Miriam gestured with a head nod that she could handle dinner from here and Faith should sit with the rest. A few of Miguel’s guys were missing, probably still in the basement moving guns around and situating Barker.

Miguel stood then appeared to think better of it and sat back down. He smiled. “I was thinking I should stand up when addressing this many people, but then I remembered we are all friends. Almost like a family. So I will sit.”

A few nervous laughs went around the table.

He went on. “What I am about to tell you is made of many secrets. I know I can trust each and every one of you, so I do not have to ask for your discretion, but I will say it anyway as a reminder to myself as much as to you. As you know, political relations between Miami and the French have never been good. What you do not know is that the French will not occupy New France much longer.”

Faith thought Miguel might possibly be making another joke, but his face was deadly serious. She looked around the table; the Miami riders looked serious, but she didn’t see questions in their faces. They already knew. So did the security team, it seemed. Or henchmen, or whatever they were.

Miguel continued. “It does not make it into the French news, but the French forces overextended themselves when they attempted to take Mexico. They have bled themselves dry. Soon, their line will break, and the Mexicans will liberate this land from French oppression, starting with the southwest but eventually moving into the mainland. We,” he said, pausing for emphasis and sweeping his hand in a circle to include everyone, “are a significant part of that plan.”

Faith looked at Buck. He turned to look back at her. His face bore traces of the same questions floating around in her head.

“The French are a great people,” Miguel said. “But they are also vain. They think everything is wine and cheese and cycling. These things are important, of course. Perhaps even essential. But not everything. I have been tasked by the Mexicans to help create a diversion so the Mexican attack on the French oppressors will have a greater chance of success.”

“How are you going to do that?” Buck asked.

“By forming a Miami cycling team to win New France’s precious Nationals race,” Miguel said, spreading his hands to indicate that it was the reason they were all here.

LeMond was smiling. He’d known about this plan already. Had he known about it when he brought Buck and Faith to the café? He must have.

“I am sorry I had to keep my true intentions secret,” Miguel said. “I did so to protect you, and also because I know you are all professionals. You train and compete because you love it. You do not need any more reason than that. But trust me when I say you have a reason: the eventual liberation of the former United States from French occupation.”

“Okay, but why all the guns in the basement?” Faith asked.

Miguel inclined his head slightly, as if to indicate he’d thought about that too. “This facility is excellent for our purposes, but it is also a strategically sound location for the Mexican army. Before we came here, it was disused except as a storage depot. I asked that they please remove the weapons from the premises, and I was told it would be done, but the Mexicans are busy planning to drive the French back to France once and for all, so it has not happened yet. Governments, no?” He smiled. “But they have sent a few men to assist us and serve as security.”

“So you’re supporting me to race at Nationals,” Buck said.

LeMond cut in before he could continue. “—to
win
at Nationals.”

Buck went on. “Okay, but supporting me as a distraction? So that the French will be more likely to lose to the Mexican liberators?”

“Si,” Miguel said. “It is not the only plan, but that is our mission, yes.”

Buck appeared to think about it. He looked at Faith, and she shrugged. She certainly had no love for the French.

“As long as I get to race bikes, I guess,” Buck said.

Miguel nodded. “Oh yes. You will race. I am told you are now as strong as you have ever been, if not stronger. I believe we stand a chance of seeing a good result.”

“I certainly think so,” LeMond said.

“I think so, too,” Faith said. She smiled at Buck. He smiled back.

“We will race!” Jose said, looking around the table at his fellow riders.

“Race!” they called in agreement.

Miguel beamed. “Yes, race! It will be a sight to see.”

“How will the attack start?” Faith asked. She didn’t like to break the we-will-race momentum, but she had so many questions.

“I do not know everything,” Miguel said, his brow knitting. “But I have heard speculation it will start by cutting off the New France supply of oil, which comes through the port of New Orleans. The oil-producing nations in the Middle East have no love of France and are backing the Mexicans. Soon, the French will not be able to move men or supplies and will have to surrender. This may already have begun without our knowledge. The French are careful about the information they release to the media, and we have all been busy.”

“Will the lack of oil affect us?” Buck asked.

“Perhaps,” Miguel said. “We will fly to Nationals a week from tomorrow. Then we will pick up vans in Denver and drive them back here when the race is over. We are predicting difficulty in air travel by that time.”

“Difficulty?” Faith asked. “Like, the sky will be full of war planes difficulty?”

Miguel shook his head. “I do not think so, no. Merely a lack of fuel. Higher prices. No fuel, no planes, no cars.”

“There’s another problem,” Buck said. “Faith’s brother. He’s in New Lyon. The man you are detaining downstairs is the only thing keeping him alive.”

Faith felt a surge of emotion. Buck was thinking about her and her concerns, not just about his race.

Miguel’s face darkened. He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a cell phone, which Faith recognized as being the one the security guys had taken off Barker. “This is Señor Barker’s phone. I have downloaded its contents and sent the data to my superiors in case anything important could be learned.” Miguel paused, either considering how to phrase his next sentence or just dreading saying it. Perhaps both. “It would seem Señor Barker has worked with the New Lyon government on your brother’s case. But he has not put off the execution. He has scheduled it as soon as possible. In one month’s time.”

Chapter 16

Buck knew Faith was fast. She wasn’t an endurance athlete, but a lot of her workouts focused on explosive movements: box jumps and the like. When it came to short distances, she was lightning quick. He wasn’t as surprised as everyone else when she leapt from her seat, grabbed the phone off the table, and headed out of the dining room. He knew where she was going, too. Down into the basement to confront Barker. He had no love for the man, but he couldn’t let Faith do anything she’d regret later. After all, Barker was surrounded by automatic rifles. Even if Faith didn’t shoot him, she could club Barker senseless with one of them in no time. Was she that angry? He didn’t know. Maybe. Anger can be a terrible intoxicant.

He was no more than a meter behind her as she pounded down the stairs and out the door, taking a right to head around the building. The basement doors were still open, and one of the Miami security guys was walking along with an armload of rifles. He turned to watch Faith rush past but made no move to stop her.

“Faith!” he called. “Stop. Just a second. Hey. Wait!”

She was hearing none of it, and was just out of reach when she rounded the corner and headed into the basement. She stopped abruptly just inside the door, and Buck bumped into her.

“Why, you bastard?” she demanded, her voice thick with emotion.

Barker was in a corner now. The security guys had found a cot and set it up in the back of the room so he could lie down if he wished. The last of the rifles had been removed, but the racks where they’d been stored were still there.

“Why what?” Barker asked. His face was blank, but his gaze was thick and malevolent.

“Michael!” Faith yelled. She took a step toward Barker, and the man shrank like a rat into a corner.

Buck was prepared to tackle her if he had to, but then, could he really stop her? She was awfully strong.

Barker gave a little laugh. “I thought you and your traitor friends might read my emails,” he said. “Figures. But don’t worry. That will be added to your list of crimes. Someone will come looking for me soon enough and you’ll all find out what it means to—”

He was cut off mid-sentence by the cell phone rebounding off the wall inches from his head. Amazingly, it didn’t break. It took a chip of cement out of the wall, and Barker blinked to clear his eyes of a piece of dust. Then he was glaring again.

“I said ‘why,’ you son of a bitch,” Faith said, her voice low now. “Why Michael?”

Barker lifted his chin to peer down his nose. “For the same reason I closed your stupid gym. To teach you a lesson about who your betters are.”

Faith breathed in, filling her lungs before nodding. Buck waited for her to grab Barker and throttle him, but she didn’t move. Her calm worried him almost as much as when she was yelling or throwing things. Maybe more.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” she said. “I think you just couldn’t handle that first rejection. When you asked me out after class that first time. You’re so petty, so small, and so cruel that you did all this to get back at me.”

Barker scoffed. “Hah, don’t flatter yourself. Your brother’s a thief and he deserves what he gets. Now you’re a traitor, and you do too. You’re both traitors, and I’ll see you hang for it. Oh, and another thing—I cheated on you. How do you like that, you dishrag whore?”

“No you didn’t,” came a voice from the doorway. Buck turned to see Miguel entering the basement once again. “You tried to, but you didn’t actually do it.”

“Oh yes I did. It was amazing. I’m getting hot just thinking about it.”

“Then why did you send an email to a ‘Marguerite’ apologizing for ‘last night’ and saying you were ‘just tired from working?’ Sounds to me like your little jalapeño isn’t too spicy.”

“I sent no such thing,” Barker said. He tried to cross his arms defensively, forgetting that one hand was tied to a metal shelf.

“But you did,” Miguel said, plucking the cell phone off the floor. “I can find the messages in here. I will just search the emails . . .”

“It doesn’t matter,” Barker said. “Technically our bodies touched, and that is sex. I can get any woman I—”

“If you look back through your messages . . .” Miguel said, cutting him off. He was thumbing through the cell phone now, after dusting it off with a hand. “It appears you met her through an escort service, yes?”

“Hah! Hardly. She might be an exotic dancer—very talented, by the way—but she is no—”

“Ah, yes here it is.
Exotic Nights
. Sounds like an escort service to me. Maybe less than that. I’ll just go to their web page and see what
services
they offer.”

“Stop, Miguel,” Faith said. “It doesn’t matter. You were right before. He’s a small man.” With that, she turned and left.

Buck was glad nothing terrible had happened, but he realized as he went after her once again that something terrible had. She’d found out that her brother would die.

He followed her, not knowing what to say. She was walking like a zombie, shuffling without much direction, not saying a word, and not seeming to care whether he followed her or not. Back at her room, she lay on the bed and turned her face to the wall.

He stood in the doorway, looking at her and searching for something to say as her labored breathing covered a likely urge to openly cry. Of course, there was nothing
to
say. It couldn’t be made better. Not by talking.

In the end he just sat on the bed, so she’d know he was there. She was sobbing now, wiping her face with her hands periodically. He thought of something useful he could do, and went downstairs for a glass of water. He grabbed a couple ibuprofen and some tissues as well. He couldn’t fix her problems, but maybe he could help her be more comfortable.

She was still facing the wall when he returned, so he sat on the bed again after placing the glass of water, pills, and tissue on the night stand. She didn’t say a word.

Buck woke up lying awkwardly with his head aga
inst the wall. He’d fallen asleep sitting on the foot of Faith’s bed. She was looking at him, still curled up, half-lying on and half-hugging a pillow.

“Thanks for the water and stuff,” she said, her eyes red and puffy.

“You’re welcome.” It felt good to do something nice for her. And to be there for her too. He hoped she didn’t feel he was overstepping his bounds.

A knock at the door. They’d left it open. Miguel. “How are you this morning?” he asked, remaining just outside the room.

“I’m okay,” Faith said. “I just have to get back to New Lyon. Maybe there’s someone I can talk to. Something I can do.”

Miguel sighed. “I was thinking you might say that. And I would like to ask you to reconsider.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I do not think there is anything you can do in New Lyon. As detestable as our guest is, the New Lyon gendarmes are by now beginning to wonder where he is. If you start asking around, you will certainly be implicated.”

“But I’ve got to do something.” A tear formed at the corner of her eye. She wiped it away with the back of a hand.

“We
will
do something,” Miguel said. He stepped into the room. “If everything goes to plan, New France, and therefore New Lyon, will have surrendered to Mexican control before anything happens to your brother. But for that plan to work, we need you here. Buck needs you here.”

The tears were coming again. Too fast to wipe away with just one hand.

“I’ll think about it,” she said. Buck sensed she wanted to do that thinking alone, so he stood and joined Miguel by the door.

He felt awkward leaving the room without saying anything. But what can you say to someone at a time like this? Get well soon? Forget about your brother and help me win a bike race? Hell, he should forget about the race altogether and help her get back to New Lyon, but he agreed with Miguel’s logic about what would happen if she started asking around. The government officials would remember that she’d been engaged to Barker.

Buck said, “Miguel, is there anyone that your team or the Mexicans could send to New Lyon? Just to check on Michael? See what they can do?”

“Hmm, it is a possibility. I will make some phone calls. We will see.”

Buck nodded. He Looked at Faith again and gave her a shrug. It was something.

She nodded.

Miguel smiled then left the room.

Buck turned to go, too. “Let me know if you need any more water,” he said. She nodded, and he shut the door. Let me know if you need any more water? he thought. That’s your parting comment of caring? He shook his head to clear it. Too much had happened. He could use some time to think. And the best thinking time he knew of was time on the bike.

He found LeMond in the dining area. “Hey, old man,” he said. “Let’s spin our legs out. How about it?”

“Are you kidding?” LeMond asked. “I don’t think I’ve even looked at a bike in a couple of days.”

“You’re supposed to be some kind of expert. Come on, let’s go. I’ll pull you the whole way.”

LeMond took a last slurp of the coffee he’d been drinking and nodded. “All right, fine. You have to take it easy on me, but I’ll go. It’ll be an honor to ride with the future champion.”

“Hah, shut up.” Buck swatted at him. The idea of actually competing in the race he’d been training all this time for seemed so remote now. So much more was happening. So much more was involved. More people. More emotions. He hoped Faith wouldn’t hate him for it; he still wanted the championship for himself. There had to be a way to have both. There had to be a way for them to both be happy.