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“By ‘us,' ” King said to MJ, half turning so he could look directly into the backseat, “you mean you let Blake help you a little.”

Blake grinned and said nothing. Blake's computer and programming skills were undisputed.

“I ordered pizza when he was hungry,” MJ said. “Important job. And offered emotional support.”

“That,” Blake said, “plus he's older than I am. My parents weren't going to let me work with Evans unless I had company. And since you had stomach issues, MJ had to be the one.”

Stomach issues.
Right
, King thought.
How about panic-attack issues?

“I assured your parents this was a simple job,” Evans said. “Except for my boss, I was the only one who knew about the hotel room, the computer work, and the drone. At least, I thought I was.”

“Safe conclusion then that Mundie works for the rogue faction?” King asked. “How did they find out what was happening off the books?”

King saw Evans tighten his jaw.

“That's one thing I need to find out,” Evans said. “But my bigger priority is that I have to get you guys clear and back to your parents as soon as possible with no collateral damage.”

“Right,” King said, wondering why Evans hadn't called their parents yet. Or offered to take them to McNeil Island.

CHAPTER 14

“Our lucky day,” Evans said, glancing ahead to the side of the freeway. He pointed. “Look at that.”

Two panhandlers were standing beside a sign marking an off-ramp. Both wore army-surplus clothing and had heavy beards. One held up a sign handwritten on cardboard. “Time machine ran out of gas. Need money to go back in time and stop Justin Bieber.”

The other man's sign was also handwritten. “No bills larger than $50 after 8 p.m.”

Evans pulled onto the shoulder and put the Taurus in park. He hit the electric window on King's side, and both men wandered over.

King wished the breeze was blowing in the opposite direction. It came into the car, bringing with it the smell of men who hadn't showered in days or maybe even weeks.

“Men,” Evans said to them. “These boys with me are too young to drive. Either of you have a driver's license? I need help picking up a vehicle, and I have two hundred dollars for you if you can help out.”

The first guy burped and patted his back pocket. “Sure, I got a driver's license. Just forgot to bring it with me.”

“Good enough,” Evans said. “I'll give you a hundred bucks now to
get in the car. We'll go pick up the other car, and then you can follow me in this one. When we get the second car to my house, I'll bring you back here.”

“How long is it gonna take?” the second one said. “I got things to do, places to go. Two hundred bucks doesn't get you that much of my time.”

“Half hour,” Evans said. “That work for you?”

The first guy winced. “Work. Don't say that word.”

The second guy shook his “No bills larger than $50 after 8 p.m.” sign and said, “I'm good with it. Don't matter how you pay us. Not even close to eight p.m. yet.”

Evans handed a smartphone to King and spoke in a low voice. “Google me another car-rental agency. Then call ahead and rent a car under the name Lucas Thompson. Try to find something as close by as possible. It's going to be crowded when those two get in the car.”

And smelly
, King thought. It gave him a whole new level of sympathy for Mundie and the unwashed sock King had shoved into the man's mouth.

CHAPTER 15

Three hours earlier, King had been in his mother's workshop, at peace and safe from the world. All that had changed with bewildering speed, but King still wasn't in a position to ask questions about what was going on. Not stuck in the middle of the front seat, pressed against Evans on one side and panhandler number one on the other.

In the backseat, Blake was stuck in the middle with MJ to his left and panhandler number two on the other.

King breathed through his mouth, keeping his teeth together so he wouldn't be obvious. He realized he should be grateful. What was happening was a distraction from any sense of panic. On the other hand, the body odor filling the car was so intense, even a panic attack would have been more comfortable.

Mercifully, they reached the second car-rental agency in less than two minutes.

Evans pulled into the parking lot. He opened Mundie's wallet and pulled out five twenties.

“Here,” he said, reaching across King to give it to the guy on the other side. “Hundred up front.”

The guy grabbed it and then counted. “Yup. Hundred.”

“I'm going to write down an address,” Evans said. “Instead of following me there, leave now and drop off the car sometime tomorrow at that address. I'll throw in an extra forty for cab fare, and you can take a taxi from there to wherever you need to go.”

“Forty ain't enough,” the guy in the backseat said. “Tomorrow, we're supposed to be at my sister's house.”

“Where does she live?” Evans asked.

“Spokane,” the first guy said.

“Portland,” the second guy said at the same time.

“Hey,” Evans said, “you sure I should believe you about this sister? How do I know you're not just trying to scam some extra money from me?”

“He's got one sister lives in Spokane,” the first guy said. “I didn't know the sister he was supposed to visit was the other one who lives in…”

“Portland,” the second guy said. “That's the one we need to visit. Gonna cost at least another hundred to get there.”

Evans peeled off more twenties. “As long as you promise to bring the car to the address I give you before you go visit her. Not after. I'll be checking the odometer when I get this car back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the first guy said. “You can depend on us.”

“And you have a valid driver's license?” Evans asked.

“Of course,” the first guy said.

“Then we should be good,” Evans said. “The car is yours. Make sure you drive careful and leave it in the same shape it's in now.”

“Except for gas,” the second guy said. “Don't expect us to put in gas to fill it up again.”

CHAPTER 16

King turned down the volume on the radio. The announcers were at the top of the hour, on a third set of the cycled news. Not much in the headlines they had not heard yet.

They'd been driving over an hour, now headed east on Interstate 90, nearly through the mountains.

MJ broke the silence. “Evans, I've been giving this a lot of thought. I know you did your best, but I'm pretty sure those two panhandlers scammed you about the rental car. New car, full tank of gas, a bunch of money…I can't see anything good happening. My dad says a lot of panhandlers don't spend their money that wisely. That's why he gives to local charities instead. He keeps copies of the receipts and gives them to panhandlers instead of money. That way they know he really does want to help people like them. And that thing about a sister. I didn't believe it for a second. I think they were just trying to get more money out of you.”

King did another mental face-palm at MJ's remark. King had been at the counter of the second rental-car agency when Evans had tossed down a driver's license with his photo and the name Lucas Thompson on it and a credit card to match. Fake identification was probably
a breeze for someone in the CIA. Evans clearly wanted to make sure nobody could track them. Renting a car with Mundie's credit card was a sure way to get pursuers looking for the Ford Taurus instead of their new set of wheels—a gray Dodge Charger. Letting a couple of panhandlers take the Taurus on a joyride that might last for days was a perfect way to keep Mundie looking in the wrong places.

With a smile that suggested he enjoyed MJ's innocence and lack of street smarts, Evans said, “MJ, sometimes you have to believe the best about people and give them a chance.”

“Sir,” MJ said, “you also have to be realistic. I would think someone like you who has to chase down bad guys would know that. My dad says—”

“MJ,” Evans said. “Now that you mention it, you're probably right. Maybe those guys were lying about their sister. Maybe they won't deliver the car tomorrow like they promised.”

“Knew it,” MJ said. “Absolutely knew it.”

That told King that Evans also knew that MJ would argue something for hours and that it was easier to just agree.

Time to rescue Evans with a subject change.

“Evans,” King said, “I have a quick question, only because I'm nervous. Have you noticed a black Escalade behind us? It's been there almost since we crossed the pass at Snoqualmie.”

“Yes,” Evans said from behind the steering wheel, looking as fresh and as alert as when they'd left the second rental-car agency in the Charger. “I've been watching it.”

“Looks like some kind of official vehicle. You know, like the ones in presidential motorcades. Or an unmarked state patrol vehicle.”

“I've been watching it. There's nothing to worry about. Trust me.”

King surveyed his side-view mirror again. The Escalade had been behind them for about a half hour. That raised his stress level despite Evans' assurance. He also kept expecting to see a convoy of state troopers in patrols cars, lights flashing, whipping toward them.

Then he glanced ahead, expecting to see a road stop with cars funneling into a single lane so state troopers could check vehicles for passengers.

King had been fighting this anticipatory dread since getting into the Charger. The Snoqualmie Pass had taken them to the summit of the Cascade Mountains, and descending at just over the speed limit on I-90, they were now reaching a sign that said Ellensburg was ten miles down the road. Evans had had little more to report, so there had been lots of silence—except when Evans had explained to them what a rain shadow was, and that was just to keep MJ from breaking the silences with new knock-knock jokes.

That's how King had learned that a rain shadow was the dry area on the side of a mountain away from the wind. On the other side, prevailing winds forced moist air up the mountain, and as the air rose and cooled, the moisture condensed and turned into rain or snow. Then as the wind dropped down the rain-shadow side of the mountain, it was clear of moisture.

King was able to see the effects on the descent. Vegetation had changed from thick, green, and dense to lighter, sporadic, and browner as they moved into the rain shadow of the mountains. Barely sixty miles behind them was McNeil Island, wet and fog shrouded. Ahead was the semiarid stretch that would reach all the way to Spokane. All that Evans had said was that they needed to get to the mobile home, isolated somewhere in the desert between here and the next range of mountains.

“Knock, knock,” MJ said.

“Please,” Evans responded, “this time, no one answer the door.”

“Knock, knock,” MJ said.

Silence.

“Last one,” MJ said. “I'll keep knocking until someone answers.”

Silence.

“Knock, knock,” MJ said.

Silence.

“Knock, knock,” MJ said.

Silence.

“Knock, knock,” MJ said.

“Urrgh,” Evans said. Irritating as MJ could be, King did find it funny. But if he laughed, MJ would spend another five hours coming
up with knock-knock jokes. It was also funny because King had seen Evans in a few tense life-or-death situations already, and he assumed those hadn't been the only ones for Evans. During those situations, Evans had shown nothing but patience and calm. MJ, however, had been able to get through Evans' protective shell. But then, that was MJ.

“Knock, knock,” MJ said.

“Who's there?” Evans said, not hiding his exasperation.

“Dwayne,” MJ said.

Evans sighed. “Dwayne who?”

“Dwayne the bathtub,” MJ said. “It's overflowing!”

MJ cackled in triumph as Evans groaned. King bit his lip to keep from smiling. Better to listen to knock-knocks jokes than to worry about when another panic attack might hit. Or worry about an unmarked state patrol vehicle following a couple hundred yards behind.

“Knock, knock,” Blake said.

“Blake!” Evans said. “Not you too! Not my socially awkward computer genius model of perfect politeness!”

“Knock, knock,” Blake said.

“Who's there?” Evan said, now smiling.

“Noah,” Blake answered.

“Noah who?” Evans said.

“Noah good place we can get something to eat?”

When Evans laughed, King joined in. Not MJ.

“How fair is that?” MJ said. “Thirty of my best knock-knock jokes, and all I get are the sound of crickets out of an audience that might not even be alive. Blake tells one and brings down the house.”