Part 24 (2/2)
He slowed for the light at Sixteenth and signaled left.
”I'm unarmed and in no position to take the fight to Kanan. We talk to the police and get you home safe,” he said.
The sun was tipping toward the west. Lengthening shadows etched the road. She heard anger in his voice. He didn't want her to think he was running from a confrontation.
As if. She touched his face. The light changed and he turned onto Sixteenth. Ahead, outside Ti Couz, an SFPD black-and-white was stopped, lights flas.h.i.+ng. Gabe drove toward it.
Hearing a gla.s.s note in her own voice, she said, ”What did you find out about Kanan?”
Another sidelong glance. Gabe didn't speak, just put a hand on her arm, half to rea.s.sure her, half to see if she was clammy and about to hyperventilate. P.J.s. What could you do?
”He wasn't a security contractor?” she said.
”It's worse.”
* 20 *
Seth Kanan was scared. He was tired and felt alone, because n.o.body would tell him anything. But mostly he was scared.
Everybody wanted to keep him in the dark, it seemed-in such absolute night that he couldn't tell whether his eyes worked anymore. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't talk to his parents. Even though he was all by himself, he felt absolutely controlled. He couldn't do anything except worry.
He kept waiting for his dad to walk through the front door, but he hadn't. It had been another night without him. And the men were out there.
Seth pressed the Scotch tape around the bridge of his gla.s.ses to hold them together. He'd seen the men today. He tried to keep them distant in his mind, to put them in a corner of his memory like c.o.c.kroaches, but they just swelled back up and took over his thoughts. Sneering, making wet sounds, jeering, threatening him. He had a feeling that something had happened today. Vance, the rapper wannabe, had followed him around. Vance had been edgy, like he had bees swarming around him.
”You're safe,” Vance had said. ”You want to stay that way, you play nice. You say please and thank you, sir.”
Safe. What did that mean? Safe as in protected? Safe as in everything else was dangerous? Seth had the feeling that bad things had happened in Vance's world today. And the way the guy looked at him, it was like Vance thought his dad was the one behind it all, putting Seth in danger. That made no sense. That made his stomach burn.
And Murdock had stood behind Vance, staring over his shoulder at Seth like burning holes with his eyes would make Ian Kanan appear on the spot.
”Play nice,” Vance had said. ”Keep quiet so Mommy doesn't hear any complaints from you. Otherwise her and your dog could find theirselves getting the torture treatment at baby Gitmo.” Then he made pathetic barking, whimpering sounds.
Seth had turned his back on him.
Yeah, something had gone wrong for Vance and Murdock. They were all of a sudden in a big hurry. And he was a p.a.w.n they would be only too happy to sacrifice to get whatever it was they wanted.
He needed a weapon.
Something sly, something unexpected. He turned to the bed. He scooted the mattress back from the edge of the frame. He began working on the spring, bending it back and forth, back and forth.
He didn't know how long it would take. But he did know that not all metal was the same. He knew that from shop cla.s.s and chem cla.s.s. And from his dad and Uncle Alec telling him about sword-making, metallurgy, scimitars and daggers. And about Damascus steel.
He kept working, back and forth. This spring wasn't Damascus steel. But it was galvanized, and when it broke, it would be brittle and sharp.
Jo locked her front door behind her and followed Gabe down the hallway to the living room. He walked like Mr. Kicked Back, a guy without a worry in the world. But his gaze swept the living room, the hall, the stairs, the kitchen, and the view of the back yard. She turned on a table lamp, crossed to the bay window, and closed the shutters.
They had talked to the police at the scene outside Ti Couz. But Kanan had disappeared, and so had Alec Shepard. His Mercedes remained outside the restaurant and he wasn't returning her messages.
And Gabe had held his counsel while he drove her home. She turned and faced him.
”Tell me, or forget about it and kiss me, but open your mouth, Quintana.”
His gaze finished its slow sweep of the house. He looked at her, fierce and quiet, as cool and centered as a stone in the middle of a flowing stream.
”Ian Kanan served ten years on active duty in the army. I don't have official confirmation, but my air force contact told me some things that jibe with my own impression. Kanan was Special Forces.”
” 'Impression'? Does that mean rumor or hard facts?” she said.
”Off-the-record verification. Plus your description of Kanan. Lean and whippy, that's how the Special Forces like 'em.”
If Kanan had been in special ops, his service record would be buried in a hole. ”Honorable discharge?”
”Far as I know. Contact military records-maybe Amy Tang can shove through the request. You might get some information in a couple of weeks.”
She put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. ”And after he left the army?”
”He went to work for a private security contractor.”
”Blackwater?”
”Another outfit, similar deal. Cobra.”
”Because Daisy Hill Security wouldn't instill esprit de corps.”
”Or fear,” Gabe said. ”Kanan spent four years with them. Baghdad, Ramadi, and two tours in Afghanistan.”
”So he's a soldier of fortune.”
”Contractors earn their keep, and the military loves them for it. They handle security and logistics, they take the heat, and they take the pressure off the army.”
”They're mercenaries who double as chauffeurs and event planners.”
”And bodyguards, marshals, private Secret Service. They even handle security at the Iraqi parliament.”
”So they're the bigwigs behind the scenes,” she said.
”And until recently, they've had immunity from prosecution. There's been absolutely no way to hold them accountable for things they do wrong.”
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