Out of Nowhere (The Immortal Vagabond Healer Book 1) (27 page)

‘Head south,’ I replied. ‘We’ll stop at the first hotel and figure out our next move.’

I pulled out the phone I’d stolen from the man I’d shot. I managed to access the recent calls, and scrolled through until I found something that stuck out: most of the calls came from area codes in Massachusetts, but there were a few odd ones, including a 202 number, which was Washington DC.

My stomach dropped. I had a hunch but I really didn’t want to be right.

I pulled out Uncle Bob’s address book, and thumbed through it, looking for DC numbers. Unfortunately, I found a match.

‘What are you looking at?’ asked Sarah.

‘One of our friends’ phones,’ I replied. ‘Trying to see who he’s been talking to.’

‘You’re staring and chewing your lip,’ she said. ‘The red button usually turns it on.’

‘Har, har.’

‘Then I guess the look of concentration means you found something.’

‘Maybe,’ I replied. The entry in Bob’s book next to the same number just had a first name: Dan. No address, no last name, nothing. But, given that it was a Washington number, and who Bob had known in his days with the government, I really wasn’t happy to see this Dan in contact with Doors and his crew.

‘What is it? Does it have anything to do with how they tracked us to Uncle Bob’s?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Well?’

I sighed. ‘I think Bob may have tipped them off himself. By accident,’ I added quickly. ‘I think he reached out to a guy he knew, maybe an old army buddy or a guy in the intelligence community, and they passed it on to Doors.’

‘What?’

‘I think there may be a connection between Doors and a secret government intelligence program.’

‘And Uncle Bob?’ she said. ‘That’s insane.’

‘Well, Bob did do some work with the Special Forces. You’ve heard rumors of secret government programs? Mind control, psychic warfare, intelligence gathering?’

‘But those are just...’ she trailed off.

‘Crazy rumors,’ I finished. ‘I know. Like the aliens at Roswell or the black helicopters. Or guys who can teleport or immortal healers.’

‘Just like that, yeah.’

‘You said he used to do dowsing. Finding water or something like that?’

She nodded. ‘He always said he could do it. A few people did pay him to tell them where to dig wells. I never paid much attention. I saw him do a few tricks, but I thought they were just... well, tricks.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like he’d find people’s lost keys, or he’d have somebody hide something and he’d find it. I never thought anything of it. I was a kid. It was like card tricks. I mean, everyone has an uncle who does card tricks or pulls coins out of your ear, right?’

I nodded. ‘I wouldn’t have thought anything of it either. Anyway, if Bob had this talent, maybe he did some work on one of these projects. Maybe the CIA wants some guys who can teleport and one of Doors’ clan gets recruited. Anyway, I think Bob reached out to an old contact, to see what he could learn about Doors, or to help us, or maybe even check on me and see if I was good enough for his niece, and this guy passed the info on. I’m sure Bob didn’t try to sell us out, he just misjudged an old friend.’

‘You think they might have grabbed Uncle Bob?’

I cursed. Yeah, that made sense. I was thinking they just knew his address. But he might be paranoid enough not to let even his old special ops cronies know that. If they grabbed him, it would explain why he didn’t come home last night. I didn’t think he’d sell Sarah out. Me maybe, but not Sarah. He didn’t strike me as a guy who’d do that even to me, but I hadn’t known him long. If he was the kind of guy who’d sell out his army buddy’s daughter, I had seriously misjudged him.

‘If they did, they might be holding him,’ I said. ‘Keeping him secure until they see how the info panned out. We have some hotel keys with room numbers.’

‘You think we can do anything about that?’ she asked. ‘You’re hurt, and I’m a professor, not a Navy SEAL.’

‘You’re smart, I’m sneaky and underhanded. Plus, if they do have him, we can’t just leave him.’

We could. We really could, and it would be the smart thing, but it wouldn’t be the right thing. He meant a lot to Sarah, and he’d extended hospitality to me when I was in danger. I owed him.

‘You have an idea?’

I thought for a moment. ‘Maybe,’ I did a quick search on the hotel using the stolen cellphone. ‘The hotel is in Berlin. It’s a good hour away. Just stay on route 16. I’ll come up with something.’

The stolen cell phone rang. I looked at the display.

‘Let it go to voice mail,’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s easier to listen to his message than it is to impersonate the guy you shot.’

‘Good point.’

The ringing stopped and soon afterwards the message alert beeped.

‘That guy’s ringtone was the Skorpions,’ I said.

‘So?’

‘Makes me want to go back and shoot him again.’

‘Give me the phone,’ she said. ‘I’ll check his voice mail.’

She took the phone, punched a few buttons and listened.

‘I think he says he’s not getting any cell reception at the hotel. Says to call the room phone when they get back.’

‘He left a message in English?’ I asked.

‘No, but the words
phone
and
hotel
are pretty much the same in every European language. It sounds like a German dialect, but with a different accent. Like he grew up speaking Hungarian and learned Austrian German.’

‘Wow.’

‘PhD in languages,’ she reminded me. ‘This is the first time I’ve heard it conversationally. Not orders barked at guys who were shooting at you.’

Chapter 29

WE WALKED INTO THE DESERTED HOTEL LOBBY, arms around one another, her head on my shoulder, looking for all the world like a honeymoon couple. The desk clerk barely looked up, didn’t challenge us as we made our way to the elevator.

We reached the third floor and followed it along until we found room 367, the last door on a long corridor. They probably had Bob in there, with 366 as a buffer for any sounds from the interrogation. I didn’t like to think about that, and I didn’t mention it to Sarah. She probably had an idea, having been through it herself.

We stopped in front of 366. No light trickled out under the door, there was no sound of television or voices. A faint sound of the TV came through the door of 367.

I took out my pistol and nodded to Sarah, who swept the key card into the lock of room 366. Then I pushed down on the handle and, ignoring the twinge in my ankle, I moved through quickly, putting my back to the wall and sweeping my weapon across the room.

The room was vacant, but some bags sat on the floor and one of the beds was unmade. The bathroom door stood open. Nobody in there.

I waved Sarah into the room, pointed to the phone. ‘Just like we talked about.’

She took a deep breath, blew it out and nodded, then picked up the receiver and dialed room number 367. While she did that, I took out a pair of athletic socks, folded them over the barrel of Bob’s .22 and taped them in place.

‘Hello, sir,’ she said into the phone. ‘This is Carol at reception. Your friends are back. They say they ran into an old school friend and need a hand getting him out of the car. I guess he’s had a little too much to drink... Not at all... Thank you, sir.’ She hung up.

‘Damn, you’re good at that,’ I said with a smile.

I moved to the door, the pistol ready, and waited until I heard the next door open and close and footsteps pass by. I eased the door open just enough to see a tall, lean man walking briskly toward the elevator. Like all the others I’d seen, he wore a black turtleneck, tailored jeans and black jump boots. His blond hair was cut high and tight.

I raised the pistol and shot him in the back of the head. He jerked and fell on his face, twitching for a few seconds.

It was quiet for a gunshot, being only a .22 and with a hillbilly silencer on it, but it was still a gunshot. I hoped the rest of the guests were heavy sleepers.

After a quick look to make sure he didn’t have any friends coming out of 367, I tucked the pistol in my waistband and hobbled out.

Sarah stood in the doorway, a look of shock on her face.

‘Help me with this,’ I said, grabbing one of the man’s ankles. ‘He’s heavy and I only have one good hand.’

She shook herself, then took his other leg and we dragged the body into the room. Luckily, being only a .22, the bullet had gone in the back of his skull, but not out the front, so he didn’t leave a trail of blood and brains.

‘Did you have to kill him?’ she asked.

‘Yep.’ I said. ‘Wasn’t gonna step out and say “freeze” then have him teleport behind me and put a knife in my kidney.’

She absorbed that in silence.

‘I’m injured,’ I continued. ‘Our bluff would only have held until he got to the lobby. Maybe he’s not one of the guys who can teleport, but I’m not betting your life or mine on that. These guys play hardball.’

‘I guess,’ she said.

‘OK, he was probably alone,’ I said, ‘but let’s go in next door assuming he wasn’t.’

I was actually very happy about this so far. If Bob wasn’t in the room, why would they have left a man behind? And why leave two behind to babysit a prisoner and weaken your assault team if they only planned to be gone a few hours? Still, no reason to stop being cautious now.

I put the .22 away and took out my trusty .45. The .22 is a fine gun for shooting unsuspecting people in the back of the head, and it’s nice and quiet, but if Bob had another guard, and he was up and moving and shooting back, I didn’t trust a .22 to put him down quickly.

I stood to one side of the door of 367 while Sarah slid the card key into the lock. I went through quick and low, wishing my ankle hurt less.

The lights were on, the TV flickering pay-per-view porn. The room was free of gunmen. Bob sat, his wrists and ankles secured to a chair with plastic zip ties, his...

‘Stay out there,’ I told Sarah.

‘What is it?’

‘Everything will be OK, I promise, but please, stay out there and give me a minute.’

I crossed the room. ‘Bob? It’s Sean.’

He raised his head and turned toward me.

‘Just relax. It’s OK. The guard’s gone. Sarah is fine. I’m gonna take care of this.’

He was gagged, which was a mercy. They’d worked him over pretty badly. He must have been tough to crack, if they ever did. Maybe he never told them anything and they just checked his address from his license. His eyes were ruined, crusted blood trails down his cheeks, and his hands were a mess, fingers twisted at terrible angles.

I put a hand on his forehead. He flinched at the touch.

‘Shhhhh,’ I soothed. ‘It’s OK. I’m gonna do a little something for the pain.’

I let the energy seep in, calming the nerves. First ease the pain, then fix the damage. I grimaced as I explored his injuries. Nothing was life-threatening, and most of it was superficial, calculated to hurt, but to deny the prisoner the refuge of death. I’m sure if they hadn’t found us at his place they’d have come back and asked more questions.

I did the eyes first. There was a lot of damage to the right, but everything was still there, so I was able to get it back. The left was... mostly missing. I could only stop the pain, quiet the nerves, and close the wounds to keep out infection. Then the fingers. I rotated each joint back into place and urged the bones to knit, the torn tendons and ligaments to come together, the broken skin to heal over.

Sarah came in as I finished. I sighed and sagged down by the chair. ‘Cut him loose, could you?’ I asked, handing her my pocketknife. ‘I’m out of steam.’

She quickly cut the plastic ties and hugged Bob tightly. He held her for a moment, then looked at his fingers, turning his hands over as he examined the repaired flesh. He touched the scar tissue over his left eye.

After a long pause, he turned to me. ‘OK, what the fuck just happened?’

I shrugged. ‘It’s a long story. I can heal people. Only other people, though, which is why I had to limp to the rescue. I can’t fix your left eye, but your right should be fine.’

‘Who are these guys?’ he asked, looking again at his hands. ‘They’re not CIA. Not special forces or anything.’

I shrugged again. ‘I don’t know. The boss wants me dead for something personal a long time ago. The organization is just running drugs, as far as I know.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘That makes sense.’

‘It does?’ I sat up. ‘You know something I don’t?’

He was quiet for a long time.

‘I did some checking on you,’ he said. ‘First off, I couldn’t find any Sean Danet who served in the 7th Marines.’

‘That’s because my name wasn’t Sean Danet when I was in the Seventh,’ I said. ‘But go on.’

‘Like I said, I went into the Special Forces. Around that time, the CIA was doing a lot of experiments in paranormal abilities. Remote viewing. Translocation. I used to mess around with dowsing, back a long time ago. I talked about it to one of the officers, he recommended me to somebody, and I worked in the remote viewing project for a while. They were intelligence gathering. Experimenting with a lot of psychic warrior stuff. My ability was finding water. I located some interesting mineral veins, too. But they wanted a guy who could find rebel hideouts. I wasn’t there long. Saw some odd stuff, though.’