Part 25 (2/2)

He continued to stare, thinking carefully.

Behind the closed bathroom door, the toilet flushed. Burt heard the sound of running water. He slid the phone back into Archer's jacket pocket and took another bite of pizza, chewing slowing, still thinking.

What had Archer told her?

The son of a b.i.t.c.h had called her her. He had called the FBI, for chrissake. What the h.e.l.l kind of moron had he gotten mixed up with?

Archer had called the f.u.c.king FBI.

The bathroom door opened, and a white-faced Archer stepped in the room, then all but fell upon his bed. An attack of conscience, or anxiety because he was waiting for something to happen? Had he told her where they were?

Archer lay quietly on the bed, his head on the pillow. Burt watched him until the soft rise and fall of his chest a.s.sured him that Archer slept. Burt dug into the pocket for the cell phone and pulled up the last call. The call had been connected for less than thirty seconds. Long enough to leave a very short message. Or not.

Maybe that's all that had happened. Maybe there was just a brief message.

Yeah, real brief, like we're in the Park Motel on Route 1 outside of New Brunswick.

Burt tossed the phone from one open palm to the other, then tossed it onto the room's other bed. He piled the pillows up against the headboard and sat back against them, watching the news coverage of the murder of Joshua Landry and considering his next move.

If Archer had told Cahill where they were holed up, the FBI would have been there already, wouldn't they? So Burt felt he could reasonably a.s.sume that no one knew where they were. At least, not now. Who knew how many ways they might have to trace a call from a cell phone. Burt didn't know of any, but then again, he wasn't with the FB-f.u.c.king-I, and you never knew what the feds could do.

So even if he a.s.sumed that while the FBI didn't know where he and Archer were now, now, it didn't mean that Cahill couldn't find them it didn't mean that Cahill couldn't find them soon. soon.

Which meant it was time to leave and go someplace else.

But where? Burt bit his nails and thought it through.

He could go anyplace. No one even knew he was involved in this mess. Archer, however, wasn't going anywhere. Not anymore. He was a liability with a capital L. L. The sooner Burt got rid of him, the better things would be. The sooner Burt got rid of him, the better things would be.

Burt closed his eyes and considered several scenarios. Once he'd made up his mind, he got off the bed and poked at Archer.

”Come on, man, it's time to go. Wake up, Archie.”

”Go where?” Archer mumbled.

”Someplace else. We gotta get rid of the gun.” Burt began to gather his things. They wouldn't be coming back tonight, or any night.

”Get your s.h.i.+t together, man. I want to leave now. I'm getting restless. I spent enough time working this all out for you. I'm done, and I'm moving on. We'll get rid of the gun, then I'm going my way, you're going yours.”

”But what about the last one? The lady FBI agent?” Archer, sleepy-eyed, sat up.

”What about her?” Burt kept his voice steady even though, for two cents, he'd have beaten Archer's head in. Stupid f.u.c.k.

”I'm supposed to, you know . . .” Archer was awake now. ”You said you'd help me.”

”Yeah, well, that was then. Before I knew how much trouble this whole thing was going to be.” Burt stuffed his belongings into a black-and-gray gym bag.

”You're not gonna help me no more?”

”No, I'm not gonna help you no more.” Burt mimicked Archer's whine. ”You're on your own. So get up, get your s.h.i.+t together, and we're outta here.”

Archer began to do as he was told, whining the entire time.

”Why aren't you gonna help me? If you throw the gun away, I won't have anything to . . . to do that lady agent with.”

”You should have thought of that before you called her.” Burt spun around, his index finger pointed at Archer.

”Wh-what?” Archer went white. ”Called who? I didn't talk to no one-”

”Don't make it worse by lying about it, a.s.shole. You called her. The number is right there on the phone I gave you to call me with.” Burt got right into Archer's face. He towered over him by more than half a foot.

Archer's eyes went wild with fright.

”I didn't talk to her, I didn't talk to no one, I swear-”

”Only because she didn't pick up, right? If she'd a picked up, what would you have said?” Burt grabbed Archer by the throat. ”What were you going to say, huh? What were you going to tell her?”

”I . . . I . . .” Archer began to tremble all over.

”Were you going to tell her what you did, or what you were going to do? Is that it? You were going to call her and taunt her, hey, you're next, FBI lady?”

”N-n-no. I mean yes. Yes. I mean, no . . .”

”Bulls.h.i.+t.” Burt threw Archer nearly across the room. ”Get your stuff, and get it now. We are outta here. Now.”

Hands shaking, his head pounding with terror, Archer picked up his belongings and threw them into the brown paper bag he'd brought them in. Burt opened the door, and Archer went through it, headed toward the truck.

”You get in, and you don't say a word, understand?” Burt growled.

”Yes. Yes. I understand.” Archer climbed into the pa.s.senger side of the pickup and watched Burt walk around the front toward the driver's door. For a minute, Archer was tempted to lock the doors and lean on the horn until someone from one of the other rooms came out to see what the problem was. But he didn't think of it fast enough, and before he could blink, Burt was in the cab, tossing his gym bag into the s.p.a.ce behind the seats and jamming the key in the ignition.

”Where . . . where are we going?” Archer asked.

No response from the driver.

”I didn't mean no harm. I wasn't gonna tell her anything. Honest. I don't know why I called her. I don't know why. . . .”

No response.

”But I wasn't gonna tell her about . . . about none of this. I swear, I wouldn't have told her. . . .”

They drove in silence for another fifteen minutes.

”This is the road that goes to Landry's,” Archer said, confused. ”Why are we going there?”

No response.

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