Never Go Home (6 page)

“I think
there’s a misunderstanding. The car was supposed to be left for me. Me. Not you
and
me. Just me. All alone. I don’t work any other way.”

“No, sir.
That’s not how this works. Now pick a seat, front or back, and let’s get you on
your way.”

“I don’t think
you’re hearing me right.”

He closed the
door, took a step forward. “Look, man. We get off base, you do what you want.
OK? But for right now, we both need to be in this car to get out of here. Those
guys guarding this place with M16s ain’t gonna take kindly to either of us
walking around on the streets. Especially after dark. You got no idea what I
had to go through just to get in here. So if you want to get out of here, get
in the car.”

I wasn’t
familiar with the layout of the base. I couldn’t tell anyone how to get to the
PX, or the Commissary. I didn’t know whether the place had a movie theater or
bowling alley. Getting out wouldn’t be a problem. If I had the car. Wandering
around looking like I did was sure to draw some attention, though.

“All right,
man,” I said.

He smiled wide.
His teeth stood out against his dark lips and the black goatee that surrounded
them.

I walked around
the back of the vehicle. The jet had already taxied away. I double-checked the
trunk. It remained latched. I shifted my pistol from the back to the front of
my pants. No reason other than being cautious. The man didn’t strike me as
anything other than a glorified cab driver.

He waited in
front of his seat. I got in, then he did. We were both sweaty. We both exhaled
loudly when we sat down. He reached for the air conditioning control and turned
it to max. Cold air shot out of the vents. I adjusted the two in front of me so
the streams met at the middle of my face. The air smelled like used cigarette
butts, but it felt good.

“So where we
headed?” he asked as he shifted into drive.

“Off base,” I
said.

“Then where?”

“Wherever you
want to get out, man.”

He took his
foot off the gas. The car slowed to a crawl. He let the car glide to the right.
The wheels scraped the curb.

“This is my
car,” he said. “You aren’t getting it. If you want to go somewhere in this car,
I’ll be driving.”

I looked at him
and smiled.

We passed
through with no issues. The MP positioned there glanced over his shoulder at
us. That was it. The man drove west, away from Atlanta, toward the outskirts of
Marietta.

I waited five
minutes before asking where we were going.

“You didn’t
say anything,” he said. “So I’m going home. There’s a motel nearby. You can
stay there.”

At that
moment I knew this guy wasn’t affiliated with anybody or anything. He was just
a driver. Sasha must’ve used the internet when she arranged for a car to meet
me. All that trouble to sneak me into the country unannounced, only to put me
in a vehicle with a random stranger. Didn’t make sense. Of course, what did
these days?

So I faced a
dilemma. Let the guy drop me off somewhere, or flash my gun and steal his
vehicle. With Sean on his way up, I didn’t have to go far, so I didn’t have a
need for the man’s Lincoln. Still, I had to make it look real. I spotted a
rental car lot up ahead and knew that was the best option.

“Drop me off
there,” I said.

“OK,” the guy
said.

He pulled
into the parking lot and stopped beside the front door. The thick air enveloped
me before I placed one foot on the ground. The sedan pulled away after I got
out. I turned and watched and waited until it disappeared from sight. Then I
waited a few minutes more. Finally, I entered the air-conditioned building.

“Help you?”
the guy behind the counter said.

I shook my
head without looking back at him. I had no intention of renting a car that
night. I pulled out my cell and called Sean.

“Where you
at?” I said.

“Macon,” he
said. “What about you?”

“Somewhere in
Marietta, I think.” I looked over my shoulder at the guy behind the counter.

He nodded.

“Yeah,
Marietta.”

“That’s about
two hours away still,” Sean said.

I held the
phone to my chest. “Anywhere to eat around here?”

“Down the
road a block or two,” he said.

I put the
phone to my ear. “I’m gonna grab a bite to eat. I’ll let you know the address
of the place after I get settled in.”

“OK. Load up
on coffee. I’m going to need you to drive home.”

“Past your
bedtime?”

He laughed.
“I wish. Work’s busy. I’m going to need to do a bit on the laptop on the way
back.”

We said
goodbye and hung up. I glanced back at the man behind the counter. He’d taken a
seat and his gaze was fixed on his computer monitor.

I had a walk
of at least two blocks ahead of me. I hesitated to leave. By the time I got
anywhere, my shirt would be clinging to my body. I couldn’t wait inside the
building for two hours, though. What if the driver had been instructed to
double back and check up on me after he checked in?

The door
dinged as I stepped back out into the humid air. I crossed the parking lot,
slipped between two Ford Focuses and found a sidewalk. Sweat dripped. I hadn’t
felt humidity like this in a while.

To the west I
saw a couple apartment buildings, a hotel, and the entrance to a neighborhood.
Maybe that’s where the driver headed off to. I glanced east. There I spotted a
couple options for dining. Vehicles packed Applebee’s parking lot. Sitting at
the bar of a crowded restaurant held little appeal. Just as well, though.
Across the street was a twenty-four hour Waffle House.

I stepped to
the curb. Headlights came at me from both directions. I jogged across the
street at the first break in traffic. An old lady and two teenage guys sat on a
green bench waiting for the MARTA bus. The guys were too engrossed with their
nude magazine to notice me. The old woman placed a second hand on her purse and
pulled it into her torso. She glanced up at me. I shrugged and kept going.

The Waffle
House’s parking lot was deserted. It appeared that they enjoyed no overflow
from Applebee’s tonight. It didn’t take long to figure out why. I took a seat
at the counter. The middle-aged rail-thin man beside the grill didn’t budge. He
held a spatula in one hand, and a cell phone in the other. He stared at his
phone’s screen. His thumb worked overtime. He smiled a couple times. Laughed
once. He glanced at me, exhaled, and went back to his message or his Tweet or
his Facebook or whatever.

“Billy,” a
woman said. “We got a customer.”

I glanced to
my left. A woman three times the size and about the same age as Billy walked
toward me. The door to the ladies room closed behind her. She had to pass me to
get behind the counter. A trail of potpourri scent lingered for a few seconds
after she did.

By the time
she stood in front of me on the other side of the counter, she’d run out of
breath. The potpourri scent had faded. Now she smelled like Johnny Walker and a
pack of Camels. Her nametag said her name was Joan.

“What can I
get for you?”

“Got pancakes
tonight, Joan?”

She didn’t
smile at my attempt at humor. “This is the Waffle House, sir. You can get
waffles, eggs, sausage—“

I threw up my
hands in surrender. “Four eggs, over easy, and six pieces of sausage.”

“Drink?”

“Coffee,” I
said. “Endless cup, please.” I smiled.

She rolled
her eyes. Must’ve been a long day. As she turned away, she said, “Billy, he
wants—“

“I got it,”
Billy said. “I got it.” He turned his back to both of us and squirted a fake
butter substance on the flat top.

I spun around
on my stool, leaned back against the counter, and pulled out my phone to check
for messages. I didn’t have any. The address of the place was stenciled on the
outside of the front window. I deciphered it and texted it to Sean. Then I
pulled up a web browser, checked the news and the weather.

Tomorrow’s
forecast called for hot and humid and thunderstorms to roll in during the
afternoon. Typical for Florida in the summer.

By
eight-thirty, I’d finished my meal and retreated to a booth in the corner with
a fresh cup of coffee. The restaurant had filled up, and I figured Billy and
Joan could use a couple fresh customers at the counter.

An hour and
two mugs later, a new Mercedes pulled into the parking lot. It was black and
had halogen headlights that looked blue. The car pulled into the parking spot
on the other side of the window. The driver’s door opened. The dome light cut
on. I saw my brother for the first time in six years.

Sean nodded
at me. I nodded back. He pointed at himself, then at me, then shrugged. I rose,
dropped a twenty on the table and placed my half-filled mug on top of it. Sean
met me outside, by the front door. It was awkward. We didn’t know whether to
shake or to hug. So we stuck our hands in our pockets and did neither.

“You look
good,” he said.

“Not as good
as you, though,” I said.

“That’s a
given.”

“I take that
back. You look old.”

Sean laughed.
“Take a look in the mirror recently?”

“I try to
avoid it if at all possible. Some guy in his late thirties keeps showing up.”

“Wait till
you’re forty.” Sean took a step back and opened the driver’s door and ushered
me inside.

Sitting down
felt like plopping onto a cloud. I thought Sasha’s Audi was nice. It had
nothing on the Mercedes. It had to be the most comfortable seat I ever felt.
Then again, I might have been tired. The seat didn’t need a single adjustment.
It fit like a glove. Ever since the day I turned twelve, people always assumed
Sean and I were identical twins. We were the same height, width, weight, but we
didn’t look exactly alike. Good for one of us, bad for the other. We each had
our own opinion on the matter.

Sean opened
the passenger door, got in and leaned back.

“This is
nice,” I said.

He held out
his hands and shrugged. He didn’t need me to tell him that, but it felt like
the right thing to say.

“How do I get
onto the highway from here?” I said.

He fiddled
with the LCD screen built into the upper part of the dash. A female
computer-generated voice came over the speaker system and guided me toward
I-285 west.

“This’ll loop
us around the city to the south. We’ll hook up with 75 in about thirty
minutes.”

“Sounds
good.” I fiddled with the radio until I found something both of us would like.
“I’m glad to be heading home. I wish it were under different circumstances, but
it’s good to see you, Sean.”

He said
nothing.

I looked
over. Sean had fallen asleep. The press of a button on the steering wheel
changed the radio station again. Enough mashes against it returned a station
playing smooth jazz. I lowered the volume. Even with the music barely audible,
the Mercedes let almost zero road noise in the cabin. Impressive.

Leon Barber
sat behind the wheel of a beat up early nineties Tercel in an Applebee’s
parking lot. He’d been there for two hours, watching the man identified to him
as Jack Noble. During that time, his target had moved from a stool at the
counter to a booth in the corner. Leon noticed that Jack’s eyes moved
constantly, always scanning the crowd around him, the parking lot, and the
street.

Leon didn’t
know who Jack was, but he could tell the man was dangerous.

After he’d
dropped Noble off at the rental car place, Leon turned the corner and exchanged
the Lincoln for the piece of crap he sat in now. He was stuck in the car, too.
He had parked across the street and watched. When Jack stepped out and started
walking, Leon did a double take. He had been prepared to follow the guy in a
car, not on foot.

Fortunately
for Leon, Jack didn’t go far. Once the man settled, Leon cut across the street
and settled into his current position.

He’d been in
contact with his boss, Vera Ferrell, throughout the night. All she told him was
to stay put and proceed with caution. She gave him no information on Noble,
what he was doing in Marietta, Georgia, or what he was capable of. He didn’t
even know what to do if he encountered the man. Sit tight and wait, she had
said. And so Leon did. For two long hours.

And now, it
appeared that his wait was over.

A Mercedes
pulled up and parked opposite Jack’s booth. Noble got up, left the restaurant.
A man stepped out of the sedan. When the two met on the sidewalk, they looked
like mirror images of one another.

Leon placed
another call to Vera.

“He’s getting
in a car with a guy that looks just like him.”

Vera said, “I
want you to stay with them. Hang back, though. You don’t want to be spotted.”

“Is the other
guy his brother?”

Vera didn’t
answer.

“Vera?”

“Stay close
and call me with updates.”

She hung up.
Leon placed his phone in the center console and fired up the whiny
four-cylinder engine. He almost lost sight of the Mercedes. The man that drove
had a heavy foot. He caught site of them taking the on-ramp for I-75.

Leon caught
up and kept at least one car between himself and Noble.

The boring
drive led his thoughts to wander. Who was this guy? What was so important about
Jack Noble that Leon had to leave a card game in Charlotte to pick the man up
at Dobbins AFB?

It wasn’t
unusual for Leon to be told nothing. In many ways, it made it easier.
Act
the part of the good soldier
, he told himself. When the time was right,
he’d be given the necessary information.

And then it
would be time to pull the trigger.