The Awakening (7 page)

12

I
T WAS A THIRTY-MINUTE DRIVE TO THE
airport, during which Colin discovered that army trucks were no more comfortable than army helicopters.

As the truck stopped, Façade got to his feet. “We’re taking civilian transport, so we’re going to have to pass through a few public areas. Colin’s parents are going first.”

“What if we refuse?” Danny said.

One of the soldiers held up the pistol and turned it in the light for them to see. “This is a ten-millimeter Auto Glock 20C. It’s a little lighter than the standard Glock 20.” The soldier cradled the gun as though it was a newborn kitten. “In my opinion, this is
the
best handgun in the world.”

Danny looked to the man he’d always thought of as his protector, his dad.

Façade turned away.

“You’ll never get that thing through security,” Colin said to the soldier.

“Shows what
you
know, kid.”

Façade said, “If anyone asks, you two are my sons. If either of you tries anything…these men have been authorized to use whatever force is necessary.”

Colin, Danny and Façade walked through the packed airport, flanked by the two soldiers who were doing their best to be inconspicuous.

Ahead, there was a long line at the security gate.

“Damn,” Façade said. “This could take a while.”

Colin could see his parents, accompanied by four plainclothes soldiers, in the line ahead.

“Go and see what the delay is,” Façade said to one of the soldiers.

Colin glanced at Danny; they were now guarded only by Façade and the one remaining soldier. “Go!” Colin whispered. “Run! I’ll try to stop them!”

Danny shook his head. “Can’t. Too risky.”

Then Colin heard his mother whispering to him. “Colin…Can you hear me?”

Colin nodded once, hoping that Façade wouldn’t notice it.

“Good,” his mother said. “Look to your left.”

He looked. There was a gang of two dozen boys about his age being escorted by four stressed adults, probably their teachers. The boys were rushing about, talking, wrestling and generally causing chaos. As he watched, another two boys were deposited with the group by their parents, who looked relieved to have them off their hands.

Colin’s mother said, “School trip, I think. We’ve been watching them for a few minutes. Their teachers are letting them go to the bathroom in groups of three or four. You might have a chance. Follow them in and see if you can swap clothes with one of them.”

Colin nodded again and turned to Façade. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“You can go on the plane.”

Colin looked around. Already, the line had filled up behind them. He decided to take a chance. Loud enough for everyone around him to hear, he said, “I’m going to the bathroom, Dad. Keep my place for me.”

He stepped out of the line and walked in the direction of the group of boys.

He listened carefully…Façade swore under his breath, then muttered, “Go after him, Davison!”

Colin could hear the soldier’s distinctive footsteps behind him; the man was still wearing his army-issue boots.

He passed through the gang of boys and spotted one of their teachers, a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman. Taking a deep breath, he walked right up to her. “Can you help me? I can’t find my parents.” He did his best to look as though he was about to cry.

The woman gave him a friendly smile. “Do you know what flight they’re on?”

“No.”

“Well, where are you going?”

For a second, Colin’s mind went completely blank and he couldn’t think of the name of a single American city. “Um…New York.”

“JFK or La Guardia?”

Colin didn’t know what that meant, so he said, “JFK.”

And then a heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder.

“There you are, Colin! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

He turned to see the soldier—Davison—smiling at the woman.

“Thanks,” Davison said. “I thought we were going to have to leave without him!”

It’s time to take another chance,
Colin decided. To the woman, he said, “I don’t know this man!”

Davison squeezed Colin’s shoulder in a manner that probably looked friendly, but hurt like hell. “Oh, not this game again! It wasn’t funny the last time, Colin.”

The woman looked unsure.

“I’m sorry,” Davison said to the woman. “He has a very inappropriate sense of humor.”

One of the other teachers came over: a tall, well-built man in his thirties. Colin thought that he looked like a football coach. “Everything OK here, Mrs. Bergin?”

He looked Davison up and down.

Davison smiled even wider and pulled Colin closer to him. Colin could feel the cold metal of the gun pressing into his back.

“Everything’s fine,” Davison said. “My son here is just playing a little game.” He lowered his voice and added, “He’s a little slow.”

Colin swallowed. “He has a gun. Tucked into his belt.”

Davison beckoned the man closer. “Listen…The boy’s got a hyperactive imagination. I blame his mother. She lets him watch James Bond movies.”

By now, all of the boys and the other teachers had gathered around, wondering what was going on.

“I don’t know…,” the teacher said.

Davison sighed, leaned close to the teacher’s ear and whispered, “I’m Detective John Torres, Miami PD. The boy’s father is currently awaiting trial for drug trafficking. I’m taking him to a safe house.”

“Got any ID?”

Davison pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans, flipped it open and showed it to the teacher.

“Oh. I’m sorry, detective. It’s just that when you spend thirty hours a week teaching kids of this age, you learn to pick up the signs. I could see that the boy was troubled.”

“That’s understandable,” Davison said. He tucked his wallet back into his pocket. “Sorry about this.”

Then Colin saw his chance: the teacher held out his hand to Davison, who shook it.

Colin twisted, spun out of Davison’s grip, pushed his way through the group of boys and ran.

He didn’t know where he was going, so he did the only thing that seemed logical; he ran toward the check-in desks, where hundreds of people were waiting in line. It didn’t take long to lose Davison; Colin was a lot smaller and could easily slip through narrow gaps in the line where the soldier had to politely ask people to move aside.

Colin spotted a police officer and headed in his direction. As he approached the policeman, he glanced around and saw Davison slow down and pretend to be watching the display of flight departure times.

When he was sure that Davison wasn’t looking in his direction, Colin turned and ran.

13

N
OW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME TO DIS
COVER
I have flying powers,
Colin said to himself.

He’d spent the past hour hiding under a truck on the top level of the airport’s multistory parking lot. If Davison went to airport security and attempted to use the surveillance cameras to find him, it was unlikely that they’d spot him here.

His hearing—the only advantage he’d had over the soldiers—had returned to normal. The last thing he’d heard was Façade boarding the private jet with his parents and Danny, and telling them that Colin would be following on a later flight.

That gave him some hope; as long as Façade thought that Colin could be recaptured, the others were safe.

But Colin wasn’t so sure that
he
was safe. He was alone in a country he knew little about, with no money, no food, only the clothes he was wearing, and absolutely no idea how he was going to get to New York to find Max Dalton or Solomon Cord.

He didn’t even know how far away New York was.

I really should have paid more attention in geography.

Since Max Dalton almost never left his apartment in Manhattan, he was going to be easy enough to find, but almost impossible to get to. Colin decided that Solomon Cord would be a better bet.

He briefly toyed with the idea of coming out of hiding and finding Davison or the other soldier, on the grounds that there might be another, better chance to escape later.

Colin dismissed that idea almost immediately; if they caught him again, they’d watch him even more closely.

This is the only chance I’m going to get. I have to make the most of it.

He knew that the first thing he had to do was get away from Florida and to do that he needed money. If he could get enough to take a train or a bus to New York, he’d figure out what to do when he got there.

Then he realized that he couldn’t take the risk of going to a bus depot or train station; Façade’s men would almost certainly have people watching for him.

Colin wondered whether it might be possible to get out of the airport by tying himself under the truck, but a brief examination of the underside of the truck changed his mind; any vehicle with an undercarriage low enough that he couldn’t be seen would make going over speed bumps rather painful.

He rolled out from beneath the truck, got to his feet and looked around for a car with New York license plates. He found only one, a hatchback that was more rust than car. Being a hatchback, the rear of the car wouldn’t have concealed him even if he’d been able to figure out a way to open it. Besides, it seemed unlikely that the driver would actually be going to New York.

For about the hundredth time, Colin considered going to the police. It seemed to be the logical option, but his father had warned him that the organization that had kidnapped them would have spies everywhere.

He walked through the parking lot toward the elevators, where two groups of people were waiting. From the way they were clustered, Colin could see that they were not traveling together. He stood in the middle of the bunch, hoping that each group would assume he was with the other.

When the elevator finally appeared, Colin squeezed in and did his best to look as though he were supposed to be there.

He accompanied the families out of the elevator, along the walkway, toward the check-in desks, and found himself almost back where he had started.

There was no sign of Davison or any of the other soldiers, but he still didn’t feel safe.

Colin joined another group of people, mostly adults, who were heading toward the main entrance, and settled in the middle of the group. There was much laughing, back slapping and hand shaking going on, and a lot of the people—especially the older men—looked alike. This had to be some sort of family reunion.

This time, however, someone paid attention to him. A girl of about his own age fell in step next to him. She was wearing a pair of faded black jeans and a white T-shirt bearing the word “Scram.” “Hi,” she said. “You must be David. I’m Marie.”

“Hi,” Colin said, trying to keep his accent neutral.

“You’re Steve’s son, right? I thought he said you weren’t coming.”

“Change of plans,” Colin said, wondering how long he could get away with this.

“The last time I saw you, you were about five.” She looked at him closely. “You don’t look much like your photos.”

“Well, you don’t look much like yours,” he shot back.

She laughed. “God! Tell me about it! They always make me wear a dress and get my hair done for the pictures.”

Colin felt that some sort of response was expected. “So, how old are you now?”

“Thirteen. Hey, where’s your stuff?”

By now they were outside. The adults were gathered right in front of the entrance, joking and laughing, and completely oblivious to the other travelers who had to squeeze past them.

“My stuff?” Colin asked.

“Your bags and things.”

“Steve has them.” Colin thought,
I’m
not
going to get away with this.

Marie said, “No, he’s only got the one bag.”

“Oh, damn. I must have left them inside.” Colin ducked back into the airport.
Back to square one,
he thought.

Then the girl appeared next to him. “Hey!”

Colin turned to her. “Listen…I lied. I’m not David. I don’t even know who David is. Or Steve, or any of them.”

Marie stepped back, an amused look on her face. “Why would you do that?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. The short version is that I have to get as far away from here as quickly as possible.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“I’m in
every
kind of trouble.”

“You’re not American, are you? I can tell by your accent.”

“No.”

“Well, where are you trying to get to?”

“I need to find someone. An old friend of my father’s. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Well, he’s in Florida, right?”

“I don’t think so. Dad says that the last he heard, his friend was in New York.”

Marie shook her head. “You’ve got a long way to go, then.”

“I don’t even know exactly where we are now.”

“Jacksonville,” Marie said. Seeing the blank look on his face, she added, “Northeast Florida. How could you not know that?”

Colin took a deep breath. “Look, I hate to ask you this, but can you help me? I’ve got no money, no clothes. Nothing.”

“What happened to you?”

“Believe it or not, I was kidnapped. I got away from them, but they’re still here somewhere, looking for me.”

“Oddly enough, I
don’t
believe you.”

Colin had to smile. “I wouldn’t believe me either. But it’s true. Look.” He reached into his pockets and emptied them. “See? No American money. Here’s a receipt from my local shop. It has the address and everything. Look, we don’t even use the same money as you do.”

“So supposing it’s true…What are you going to do?”

“I don’t really know where to begin. Tell me this: if I knew someone’s name, how would I go about finding him?”

“Duh! Use the phone! Call the operator. Or you could go to the cops.”

“I’m not sure I want to do that.”

“You’re not saying that the cops are in on it too?”

“Probably not, but I can’t take the chance.”

Marie regarded him silently for a few seconds, then said, “OK…I’m going to trust you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “This is all I have. I hope it helps.”

“Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”

She smiled. “Really? How?”

Colin laughed. “You could give me your address and I’ll send you the money when this is all over.”

“I’m not
quite
dumb enough to give my address to someone I’ve just met.” Marie took a pen from her pocket, wrote a phone number on the back of Colin’s receipt and handed it to him. “Phone me.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate this.” He looked around. “I should get out of here.”

They went back outside, where Marie’s family were waiting for her.

“What’s your name?” Marie asked quietly.

“Colin Wagner.”

“Good luck, Colin. I hope it all works out.”

“So do I. Thanks again.”

He watched Marie and her family walk away, then walked in the opposite direction.

He had no idea what he was going to do next.