Quagmire was a typical, piss ant, desert town. The only things that looked new were the McDonalds and the slot machines. I could see why Jill would end up here. She had flown into LAX, then probably picked a direction and drove until she ran out of gas. This should have been a great place to disappear.
You would think.
Nightcrawler had given me directions to his hotel. Dawn would be here soon and the street was mostly deserted. Heck of a time for an ambush. If Nightcrawler had set me up, I was walking right into it. Strangely enough, I found that I believed him. I still didn’t trust him, but I did believe his story.
I parked next to a nondescript Taurus and got out. I could feel the weight of the STI on my belt. It was comforting, but if this was a professional set up, it wouldn’t do me a bit of good. I spotted the room number, knocked, and waited. If I was the hitter in this situation this is when I would shoot them through the door.
There was a noise as the door was unlocked, then it creaked open.
Nightcrawler.
He was a pretty big dude. Dark hair, baby face, glasses, didn’t look like much, but I had already gotten my face smashed in once by this guy, so I knew that looks could be deceiving. He had a long scar on his face from where I had cut him.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” He leaned his head out of the doorway, and looked around the parking lot. I don’t know what he was expecting to see. It wasn’t like I would need to bring friends if I was going to waste him. Nightcrawler regarded me warily, like most people would look at an unfamiliar dog. Finally he turned into the room, nodding his head for me to follow.
The inside of the room was artificially cool from the blasting air conditioner. It was an awkward moment. Neither one of us offered to shake hands. I stepped inside and he gestured towards a chair.
“No thanks. I’ll stand.” It was slower to draw from a hip holster while seated and I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.
“Suit yourself.” He closed the door.
“Anything new on Jill?”
“Nothing. There ain't much to Quagmire, so she's probably not here. I don't know where they've taken her.”
“Did you even look?” I snapped.
Nightcrawler glared at me, his right eye twitching slightly. He was kind of scary looking when he was angry.
“Listen *******. Apparently you saved my life overseas. Been a lotta times where I wished you hadn't, but you did. I saved your little friend's life. The way I see it we're square. So I'm doing you a favor. You want to go, go. You want to fight again, we're both packin', so it'll be over quick. You want my help, let's do this. Those are your options. Don’t like 'em? Bite me.”
“Sorry, I’ve been driving all night.” I relented and sat in the chair. After a moment of fuming he pulled up the other chair and sat down too. “I’ve been under a lot of stress.”
“No ****. Anyway, she's a nice girl. Didn't shoot me in the head. And this is partially my fault anyway.” He looked older now that in Qatar. Tired and run down. When I had seen him at Johnny Rockets with his girlfriend, he had seemed so young and happy, so alive. Now he looked... broken. “And yes, I did look. Like I said, there ain't much to Quagmire. Money says she's long gone by now.” Nightcrawler adjusted his glasses. "Sorry. That's all I got.”
“I’ve called in some help. My associates will be here soon.” It sounded more important to say associates, rather than lone techno-geek. “They are good at shaking the trees and seeing what falls out.”
My phone rang. “Excuse me a second.” I was hoping that it would be Bob with good news about how he had arranged to get the family to safety. I did not recognize the number.
“Mr. Lorenzo.” The voice was electronically distorted.
“Yeah.” My frown must have indicated to Nightcrawler that something was up. He stood, looking nervous, and peaked through the blinds.
“We have your friend, Jill DelToro. If you ever want to see her alive again, you will do exactly what I say.”
“I’m listening,” I replied calmly. Inside I was raging, wanting to kill, to murder, to put my thumbs through somebody’s eye sockets and wrench their skull off their neck. “What do you want?”
“You have two videos of Americans in Qatar. One video of two American’s executing a man. A second video of a gun battle between Americans and the Qatari army. You will deliver those to us. You will do so in person. If you do not Miss DelToro will die.”
Videos? I hadn’t even thought of those since Qatar. As far as I was aware, Reaper had those on his laptop. Jill must have told Gordon’s men about them while being interrogated.
“Let me speak to Jill so that I can know she’s okay.”
The line was silent for a few seconds. Then Jill’s voice, desperate, “Lorenzo! It’s a tra—“ then she was gone.
Of course it was a trap. Why else would they want me in person? I could have made copies. They wanted the witnesses dead.
Back to the distorted voice, the speaker sounded vaguely demonic. “Where are you now?”
“Maine.” My cell phone was untraceable. It might buy me some time.
“You have twenty-four hours to get to Nevada. Go to the state line at Interstate 15. We will contact you then.”
“I want to see her in person or you don’t get the videos.”
“Of course.” The line went dead. I resisted the urge to chuck the phone across the room.
Nightcrawler scowled at me. I told him what the voice had said. “It’s Gordon. He’s gonna try to kill you.”
I nodded. “They won’t expect you though. You handy with a rifle?”
"I do okay," he said. I suspected it was more smug understatement than modesty. “Can you shoot?”
“I run a rifle like it’s the hammer of Thor,” I answered truthfully.
“So that’s the plan then? Show up and kill everybody?"
“Except for Jill, but that’s the general idea.”
Nightcrawler smiled for the first time. “**** it. Let's do this. I need to break in my rifle anyway.” Nightcrawler either didn’t care about living, or the idea of getting into a gunfight with Gordon’s men just sounded like a good time. He held out one hand.
I didn’t trust him. I didn’t like him. But I knew he could fight, and he was the best option Jill or I had right now.
We shook on it.
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To be continued...
