The Cure (17 page)

Erin launched into the story of how she happened to know of Steve Fuller, beginning with his call, when he posed as someone trying to recruit her to his company, Advanced Science Applications. When Erin described the events in the church parking lot, and how she had escaped and made it to Tucson, Hansen listened with an expression of awe, and was unabashedly complimentary of her courage and resourcefulness.

When she had finished she said, “The timing of Fuller’s call is just as unlikely as everything else. I assumed the
Wall Street Journal
article had been the trigger, but the trigger for what? And why?”

“What
Wall Street Journal
article?”

She told Hansen how the paper had republished her thoughts on a device to remotely identify psychopaths, the interview that had originally drawn Drake to her.

“For some reason,” continued Erin, “I had just assumed you—meaning you and Drake—had seen it. But, anyway, I guess this wasn’t the reason for the call, after all. Fuller must have already known about the cure. Although I have no idea how.”

Hansen rubbed his chin absently in thought. It was now almost three o’clock, but neither had any awareness of the passage of time, or of the many groups of students and faculty that had come and gone, scurrying around them unnoticed like a large and noisy group of ants. They had maintained their position at the table while hundreds of others zoomed in and out and around, as though they had been filmed using time-lapse photography.

“Not necessarily,” said Hansen finally. “The
Wall Street Journal
article would have been enough.”

“Enough for what?”

“Enough to get Fuller interested in recruiting you. Think if you really could perfect the psychopath detector you described in the article. That would be quite a valuable tool.”

Erin shook her head. “I thought so too when I proposed it. But it turns out there are far too many ethical issues for it to ever be used.”

“Maybe so,” said Hansen, “but that wouldn’t trouble a psychopathic arms dealer. And this device would be far more valuable to him, even, than to the normal person. Many of the people he deals with on a daily basis—terrorists, dictators, and even their intermediaries—are psychopathic. But some are not. It would be useful for him and his people to be able to identify those who have a conscience from those who don’t. In his dealings with potential customers and when recruiting subordinates.”

“Okay, I can see that. He reads the article, decides this would be a useful tool, and tries to get me to perfect it away from a university. Having no idea that I abandoned this project before it began years ago.”

“So you agree to meet with him. Then what?” Hansen threw out his hands, as if unable to find his way forward. “How do we go from that to where we are now?”

Erin’s eyes widened. “They were monitoring me prior to my meeting with them,” she said in alarm. “That’s how they found me in the church lot. So it isn’t a stretch to believe they were monitoring me the entire time I was in San Diego. Even before they contacted me. Why not? Gathering intel, getting a sense for my personality. Deciding the best levers to push to get me to come aboard their fictitious company, either by using a carrot or showing me the stick.”

“So when you called Drake from San Diego, they were listening in?”

Erin nodded. “I can’t be certain, but I’d sure bet on it.”

“Do you remember what you said?”

“Not exactly. But I was furious about his Hugh Raborn deception.” She frowned deeply. “And I’m
positive
I told him I had come to San Diego because we had succeeded. Because we had the cure.”

Hansen blew out a breath. “That would do it,” he said. “Fuller’s people monitored you because he wanted you to build a remote diagnostic test. But when they learned that you and Drake had developed a cure instead, that must have thrown Fuller, proud psychopath that he is, into a panic. You went from a possible asset to a threat.”

“And if they traced my call to Drake, this would explain how they found him. And why they attacked.” It was all beginning to make a sort of twisted sense. “But why wait?” asked Erin. She knew this could still be an elaborate hoax concocted by Drake and Hansen. But she had no other choice for the moment but to assume it wasn’t.

“They were able to schedule an innocent meeting with you. They probably decided to get as much information from you as they could before they attacked. They just didn’t count on you being so suspicious. Or so elusive.”

“That makes sense. But after they lost me, why didn’t they hit Drake then?”

Hansen thought about this, but couldn’t come up with a good answer.

Erin, on the other hand, arrived at an answer to her own question, and a chill went up her spine. She leaned closer to Hansen. “The reason they timed this the way they did just hit me, Kyle.” An anxious look appeared in her eyes. “It’s because they’re
here,
” she said, making a small circle with her head, a gesture meant to encompass the entire food court. “Right now. Patiently waiting until we aren’t in a crowd to take us out.”

17

ERIN GLANCED AROUND
furtively, focusing especially on fit men who were older than the typical student. Fuller would have someone surveilling them, keeping track of them in the sprawling food court, following them when they left and making sure to alert others outside to their position when they did.

“I’m not sure I understand,” said Hansen. “Are you saying they waited to strike at Drake because they hoped you’d keep this meeting?”

“Exactly. So they could, um … reacquire me. They expected Drake to be meeting with me, so they could take us both out at the same time. Without any warnings being exchanged between us. When they discovered you had made the trip to Tucson instead of him, they must have decided to do this in stages.”

Erin realized as she said this that they had probably recovered her phone from the pickup truck into which she had launched it. In this case, Fuller would have known that Kyle Hansen was coming to meet her rather than Drake. But this wouldn’t have mattered. They just had to delay their strike on Drake until she and Hansen were in sight. If their attack was 100 percent effective, Drake wouldn’t be able to alert Hansen that anything was amiss. The two of them would be blissfully ignorant and easy pickings. But even if Drake did inform Hansen of the attack in Yuma, which he
had,
they would either fail to ferret out that the danger extended to their own location, or be unable to extricate themselves, even if they realized they were surrounded.

Hansen didn’t look entirely convinced. “Why would they ever believe you’d still keep this meeting after what happened? Or have the balls … courage,” he amended, “to try to get past them to keep your appointment? Even if you wanted to? Wouldn’t they think you were still hiding out in LA? Laying low?”

“From my conversation with Drake, they probably realized how important this meeting was to me. I might be wrong, but we have to assume I’m not. We have to assume they’re here. Right now. I can’t imagine they’ll make a move as long as we’re in this crowd. And they can afford to be patient.”

Hansen gazed at her with open admiration. She sensed that he was attracted to her, but not in the usual way. She was used to men falling for her physically. But he had never once given her the sense this was about physical attraction, even when he had complimented her looks.

“Drake told me that you were very impressive,” said Hansen. “For a human,” he added wryly. “But I think he undersold you. What you did to get to LA and then Tucson was remarkable. And you think like a master detective, or a master spy. Like you’ve been engaged in cloak-and-dagger your entire life. I’ve seen your background. I know you have some pretty impressive fighting skills, but nothing suggests you’ve had any kind of actual experience with this sort of thing.”

Erin frowned. “Yeah, well, don’t congratulate me just yet. I’ve just identified the woods. I haven’t come close to getting us out of them. My secret weapon is that I read a lot of thrillers. I know this sounds crazy, but I really think it’s helped.”

Erin knew her appearance was deceiving, so maybe his was as well. He was cute, but in a down-to-earth, friendly, not particularly hardened or athletic-looking sort of way, and she had the distinct impression he was
not
the hired muscle. He was too smart, and seemed too thoughtful—not that physical and intellectual skills were mutually incompatible.

“What about you?” she said. “Are you a bodyguard in Drake’s organization?”

Hansen looked amused at the thought. “No. I’m afraid not.”

“Any experience with these types of situations at all? Any fighting skills? I don’t suppose you’re ex–Special Forces?”

Hansen laughed. “No. But I’ll take that as a huge compliment. I’m afraid I wasn’t even a Boy Scout. Worse, I read nothing but science fiction, so you’re ahead of me there too. I don’t know how to operate a gun, don’t know how to use a knife, and I’m pretty sure a ninety-year-old woman in a wheelchair could take me in hand-to-hand combat.”

“Okay,” said Erin with a twinkle in her eye. “I admire your …
pathetic
 … honesty.”

“So any ideas about what we do now?” asked Hansen.

Erin turned her head away from him, wanting to pause any conversation so she could have some quality time for thought. She reexamined her logic to this point, and still found it sound. Except for one point. Would they really go to all this trouble: attack Drake, send a team to surveil them here, and everything else, just because of a few words spoken over a phone? Maybe she
was
letting her imagination run away with her. Fuller wouldn’t commit these kinds of resources, and take this kind of risk—openly attacking a compound in Yuma, committing a military assault on U.S. soil—unless he was certain she hadn’t just hallucinated the cure.

If her assumptions and logic were correct, they drove straight to a prediction. One that would be simple enough to test. And if it panned out, she could be nearly certain the attack on Drake wasn’t a hoax, there really were men watching them, and she wasn’t getting herself and Hansen worked up over bogeymen that didn’t actually exist.

Erin decided to continue to operate under the assumption that they did exist while she checked out her hypothesis.

She turned back to Kyle Hansen, who continued to gaze at her with a steady confidence, sure after her daring escape from San Diego she would find some way to pull a rabbit out of the hat. She found herself not wanting to disappoint him, and for reasons beyond just their personal safety.

“I need to make a phone call,” she said. “While I do, I need you to walk back to the bookstore. But take a circuitous route. Like you’re trying to decide if you should get something else to eat first. Try to spot whoever is watching us in here. My guess is he’ll be fit, won’t be a student, and will look totally occupied. As though he couldn’t possibly be watching us. Act natural and don’t be obvious.”

Hansen nodded. “I’ll try,” he said.

“My guess is that the watcher in here will alert the team outside when you leave, and they’ll be watching the entrance to the bookstore. So when you do cross between here and there, make sure you’re with a crowd so they don’t decide to try anything. When you’re inside the store get a U of A duffel bag and fill it with two large Wildcat T-shirts and two hats.”

The large shirts could be easily slipped over their current ones while adding bulk to both of them, enhancing the disguise.

“We want to be chameleons,” continued Erin. “Blend in with the students. Try not to let anyone see what you’re doing—especially not that you’re acquiring clothing.”

Hansen listened in rapt attention.

Erin paused to gather her thoughts. “The checkout is near the exit,” she continued, “so don’t check out. The watchers will see the items you’re getting if you do. Just shoplift the whole duffel and get back here as fast as you can.”

Hansen blew out a breath. “You know you’re not cut out to be Jason Bourne when the thought of shoplifting fifty dollars’ worth of clothing makes you want to vomit.”

Erin couldn’t help but smile, but she quickly became serious once again. “You know what?” she said. “Maybe don’t do the duffel bag thing. It would be too obvious a shoplift. Get a standard backpack and remove all the tags. Put the shirts and hats in there. Half the bookstore’s customers wear backpacks on a perpetual basis. And be sure to get the cheapest clothing you can find, so they don’t bother imbedding any of those shoplifting deterrent devices. You know, the super-clearance stuff they half
hope
someone will shoplift just so they can be rid of it. Try to wrinkle it up a bit too.”

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Not even a candy bar. But don’t worry, Kyle. If we get out of this we can reimburse the poor university.”

Kyle Hansen pulled out his chair and rose. “If we get out of this,” he said, “I’ll throw the university a party.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll be back in five or ten minutes.”

As he was walking away, under his breath, he couldn’t help but add, “I hope.”

18

THE MOMENT HANSEN
left, Erin dialed Alejandro’s personal cell phone number at the prison, using her prepaid phone. She was more relieved than she had expected to be when he answered.

“Alejandro,” she said excitedly. “It’s Erin Palmer. I’m so glad I caught you. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure. Glad I answered. For some reason my phone didn’t recognize you. How’s the vacation going? Having fun?”

Erin almost laughed out loud.
Yeah, I’m having the time of my life,
she thought sarcastically.

“I’m having a great time,” she said, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “I’m glad you convinced me to do this. Except I dropped my phone in a pool,” she added. “Not too smart. Anyway, I’ll tell you all about it later. I don’t have a lot of time right now. So here’s the reason for my call: were there any unusual visitors to the prison in the past few days?”