Peak Oil (16 page)

Fitch smiled and pulled his jacket straight.

“Where is Latorre?” Neil asked.

Fitch put his hat on. “Dead,” he said and stood up. “Both of them.”

Neil eyeballed Fitch. The older man walked toward the door, swinging his walking stick. “Not both.”

Fitch turned around and raised an eyebrow.

“We found Voelkner.”

Fitch pondered the fact for a moment and then shrugged. “Makes no difference. You still have nothing on me.” He pulled the door open.

“Okay, I agree, we have a deal,” Neil shouted at his back. Fitch stopped in his tracks and turned around.
 

“
Pavee
to
Pavee
?”
 

Neil nodded.
 

Fitch grinned and took out his phone. “Pete? Andy here. All hits are off. Pull back now.” He disconnected the call and smiled at Neil. “Good doing business with you, Mr. Allen. Feel free to let yourself out.” He winked at Neil and briskly walked out of the room, swinging his cane.

Alexa heard the door to their room open and slam closed.
 

“Alexa,” Neil called urgently. “Come here, please.”

She sauntered into their bedroom where Neil was ripping their clothes from the cupboard, tossing them on the bed.
 

“What is it?”
 

Neil grabbed their belongings and stuffed them into the duffle bags. “We need to get out of here, now,” he said urgently, holding the duffle bag strap with a white-knuckled grip. “Come on, hurry up and get dressed.”

“Why?” she asked with an uncertain grin.

Neil rushed to her and held her shoulders. “Trust me on this, Alexa. We need to get out, now.” He kneeled and fished a shoe from under the bed.

Alexa walked to him, tugged on the collar of his shirt. “What’s wrong, Neil?”
 

He stood up. Alexa looked up at him, holding the back of his neck. “Calm down and tell me what the heck is going on.”

He nodded, scanning the room furtively. He took a deep breath. “Okay, I met up with Fitch.”

Alexa jerked her head back. “What, without me?”
 

He pursed his lips but didn’t say anything.

Alexa put her other hand on his chest. “Okay, what else?” she probed gently.

He sighed, bowed his head. “He had photos of us.” Neil put both his hands on Alexa's hips, glancing at the door. “Last night.”

“But how did—?” she asked, stopping midsentence. She narrowed her eyes. “What time?”

Neil shrugged. “At about ten. I’ve gone through this in my head. No one was on watch. Voelkner only came this morning. I started duty at twelve.”

“But the doors were locked. Someone had to be here, physically.” She scanned the room. “Have you checked for cameras?”

Neil nodded. “It’s the first thing I did.” He scanned the room. “I did the last sweep last night, as usual.”

“What else?” Alexa asked.

Neil locked his eyes on hers. He brushed his short hair with his hand. The crow’s-feet around his eyes compressed together as he narrowed them. “He threatened to kill you.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “So what?” she said, cupping his chin. “I’ve been threatened before, and this sure as hell won’t be the last time.”

Neil shook his head. “Don’t you see, Alexa? This is one of the most powerful men—”

Alexa's green eyes flared. “Bullshit,” she spat. “Running away from our problems won’t solve anything.”

Neil cupped her chin. “Alexa, what if . . .?” He stared down at her, imploring her to understand.
 

She pursed her lips. “
What if
nothing. We came here to do a job. We finish the damn job!”

He stared at her for a long time. “Okay, you’re right.” He bowed his head, resting his forehead against hers. “What do we do now?”

Alexa threw both her arms around his neck. “We eat. I’m starving.”

Chris Fitch poured another cup of coffee as Kushi Mogat rewound the video footage. The diner was empty, and the street outside was devoid of all movement.
 

Kushi had locked up and sent the cook and waitresses home. Chris examined the ceiling of the diner. “Where are they?”
 

The old man looked up, fine lines appearing beside his eyes as he squinted. “They’re state-of-the-art.” He pointed to a speck on the ceiling. “There’s one,” he said and pointed two more times. “And there, and there.”

Chris shook his head. “You can barely see them,” he said as he glanced between the tiny cameras in the ceiling and the footage on the laptop, “and the video quality is excellent.”

Kushi nodded. ”Your dad spares no expenses when it comes to surveillance equipment.” He glanced down at the computer screen. “What do you think they’re talking about?”
 

Chris shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask my dad.” He pushed the play button and listened for a while. “What is this ‘peak oil’ they’re on about?” he asked, glancing up at Kushi.

Kushi cleared his throat, his eyes still narrow slits as he concentrated on the laptop. “It’s when the available oil reserves start dwindling.” His fingers danced over the keyboard. “I’ve e-mailed your dad the footage.”

Chris Fitch nodded. “Thanks.”

Kushi looked intently at Chris. “Look, Mr. Fitch, your dad has always been good to my family.” He waved his hand around the diner. “Without him, I wouldn't have had any of this.”

Chris Fitch nodded.

“But I don't want to get involved in anything illegal.”

Chris smiled broadly. “Mo, you know my dad. You worked up at the refinery. What is it you think he's doing?”

Mogat shrugged, his narrow eyes studying Chris suspiciously. “I think he’s stockpiling the stuff for a rainy day.” He shrugged and then stood up and slipped a white apron over his neck. “Where the hell he's keeping all of it is another matter altogether,” he said, tying the apron belt around his stomach.

Chris slid out of the booth, popped on his Stetson, and shook Kushi’s hand. “Thanks again, Mo. Our family appreciates everything you’ve done for us.”

Mogat nodded curtly and waved his finger in front of Chris Fitch’s nose. “Nothing illegal, now. You hear?”

Chris Fitch smiled and waved good-bye. He sauntered out of the diner and waited for a truck to speed by before crossing the road.
 

What the hell is the old man up to?
 

Alexa grabbed Neil’s hand on the way to the dining room. He seemed moody and depressed. She gave it a squeeze. “Everything will be okay, you’ll see.”

He scowled at her. “But—”

“No buts.”

Neil pursed his lips and nodded.

Missy greeted them at the entrance to the dining room and led them to a table. They were the only people there. As a matter of fact, they were the only people in the entire inn.
 

Neil looked up and smiled as Mary-Lou shrieked his name. “Uncle Neil!” She bounded through the kitchen door and grabbed him around the neck, wriggling her way onto his lap.

He gave her a hug. “Are you okay, baby?” he asked, stroking her hair.
 

She nodded and sucked her thumb contentedly.

A gentle smile spread across Missy’s face. “Poor baby, she got a big fright.”
 

She took out a pencil and a notebook. “We have bacon, eggs, and hash browns. That okay by you folks?” She glanced at Neil and then at Alexa. They shrugged and nodded.
 

She took her time writing their breakfast down in the notebook and turned around to leave.
 

Voelkner’s head appeared inside the doorway, glancing around suspiciously. He noticed Missy, who scowled at him and grunted. Voelkner sighed and walked in, joining them at the table.
 

Mary-Lou wriggled off Neil’s lap, skipped around the table and stood in front of Voelkner. She tugged his shirt. Voelkner’s eyes darted between Missy and the young girl. He pulled his collar from his throat. “Um, yes?”

Mary-Lou beamed at him. “Thank you for saving me, sir. From the truck and all.”

Voelkner smiled and patted her head. “My pleasure, little girl.”

Missy stiffened. “You did what?”
 

His dropped his shoulders. “I pulled her from the path of the truck.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “It was heading straight at her.”

Missy pulled a chair closer and sagged into it. She grabbed Voelkner’s hand and held it to her chest. “Now why don’t you go and tell me this before I gave you a clobbering?”
 

Voelkner’s eyes flitted between Neil, Alexa, and Missy. “You didn’t ask,” he said and swallowed. “No big deal.”

Missy shook her head. “Breakfast’s on the house, mister.” She heaved herself up and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Sorry for clobbering you.”

She plodded to the kitchen. Mary-Lou followed behind, tugging at the hem of her dress. Voelkner looked at Alexa and let out a breath. “
Merde
, that woman is crazy.”

Alexa grinned. “Well, at least you’re back in her good books.”

Voelkner shook his head, confused.

“Did you see anyone suspicious hanging around our room last night at twenty-two hundred?” Neil asked Voelkner.

Voelkner scratched his chin. “No one suspicious, no. Why?”

Neil glanced at Alexa. She pursed her lips and nodded. “I met with Andy Fitch this morning.”

Voelkner looked up, interested.

“He had some photos of Alexa and me.” He glanced at Voelkner. “He threatened to kill Alexa.”

Voelkner cocked his head. “Kill the captain?” he asked, glancing at Alexa.

Neil nodded.
 

Voelkner jumped up. “We must leave here now,” he said urgently. “And we must notify the general about these threats.”

Missy walked in with a pot of coffee and plonked it on the table. “Sit your wiry ass down, mister.”
 

Voelkner picked up his chair and sat down apologetically.

Mary-Lou tugged at Voelkner’s shirt. “Wait here, mister. I’ll be right back.” Voelkner looked around, bewildered.
 

Mary-Lou spun around and ran out of the diner as Missy poured the coffee. A minute later, Mary-Lou came hurrying back in. She handed the passport to Voelkner. “Here is the book you wanted.”

Voelkner grinned and patted her on the head. He flipped it open and studied the passport photo. “Jackson does look a lot like Latorre,” he said as he paged through the passport and then handed it to Neil.

Neil nodded, inspecting the passport photo. He looked up at Voelkner. “Fitch happened to mention he had both you and Latorre killed. He must have mixed you two guys up.”

Alexa inhaled sharply. “Latorre is dead?”

Neil lifted his hands in the air and shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but Fitch reckons he is. But he mixed this one up.” Neil jerked his head at Voelkner.
 

Neil turned a page, and his eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

Missy frowned at him. “Watch your tongue in front of the little one,” she scowled.

“Sorry,” he said and handed the passport to Alexa.
 

She studied the drawing of her photo and then looked up at Mary-Lou. “Did you draw this, darling?” she asked.

Mary-Lou nodded proudly.

“It’s beautiful,” Alexa said. “Do you think she’s a savant?” she asked Neil.

He shrugged. “I guess. It’s perfect.”

Missy snorted. “She’s always drawing those silly pictures.”

Alexa paged through the rest of the passport. She cocked an eyebrow. “Look at this one,” she said and handed the passport to Neil.

He saw a drawing of a man loading a body into the trunk of an idling mortuary truck. The car was parked next to the bus stop; Neil recognized the sponsor’s insignia on the side of the stop.
 

Neil stared at Mary-Lou. “When did you see this, Mary-Lou?” he asked.

She popped her finger out of her mouth. “The other night, after I took the pretty lady’s picture from the sleeping man.”
 

Neil nodded slowly. “And where did you get this?” he asked, holding up the passport.

She looked at the ground, drawing circles on the floor with her toe. “It fell out of the sleeping man’s pocket when Uncle Mac picked him up.”

“Uncle Mac?” he asked, looking up at Missy.

Missy studied the picture over Neil’s shoulder. She shrugged. “Mac McAllister, the mortician.”
 

Neil nodded and handed the passport to Alexa. “Get hold of him,” he said to Voelkner. “And get me those damn DNA results.”

Voelkner nodded and gulped down his coffee. He jumped up and fished a cell phone from his pocket.

Alexa showed Neil the next drawing of a truck lying on its side. She flipped to the final page and inhaled sharply. Bis Latorre was standing with his hands on his hips, looking up at the drawer of the picture. He had a Stetson on his head and a grin on his face.