Allen looked out his own window. As he watched the sun-drenched town unfold in all its disarming beauty, he felt a pang of envy for those who lived peaceful lives here or visited with nothing more pressing on their minds than finding the nearest gas station or restaurant or bathroom. Maryville, nestled in the shadows of the Great Smoky Mountains and liberally studded with century-old buildings and trees in full bloom, made him ache for his own hometown, the near-perfect life he'd carved there for himself. His face flushed with anger at the faceless people who'd taken it from him.
Julia's voice distracted him.
"Pull in here."
Allen followed her finger to a Motel 6 sign just ahead. The driver whipped into the parking lot without slowing and jerked to a stop in front of the office at one end of the L-shaped structure. Bright blue and orange doors alternated like opposing sentinels before the rooms at ground level and behind the wrought iron railing of a second-story balcony.
Julia and Stephen clambered out as Allen paid double the fare. He climbed out on the driver's side and watched Julia over the roof as she pulled a newspaper from a machine, folded it, and slipped it into an open side pocket of the gym bag.
"Take care, buddy," the driver said, and Allen believed he meant it. Their melancholy silence had conveyed the true depth of their plight more than he'd realized.
"Just remember our deal."
"Oak Ridge."
Allen slapped the roof in acknowledgment, and the taxi pulled away.
forty-six
In the shade of the balcony, Stephen stood solid as
a totem pole, stone-faced and still a bit dazed by his injuries, which had to be cleaned and dressed.
Allen wanted a few hours of shut-eye for himself. He reached for the office door, but Julia stopped him.
"Not here," she said. Through the glass door, they could see that the office was unoccupied. Behind the brochure-crowded counter, a shadow moved on the open door to a back room. Julia hitched her head to the side, urging the men to follow her. They moved quickly into a breezeway at the elbow of the building where an ice machine and a soda dispenser hummed quietly.
"We're not going to take any more chances," she said. "The people after us are too determined and too resourceful. There's another motel about a mile back the way we came."
"Think the cabbie will rat us out?" Allen asked.
She smiled.
Allen nodded. "Yeah, it's a small town about the same distance from Knoxville as Maryville, but in the opposite direction. I figured the cabbie's odometer would support the story."
"Let's not count on it working. Sooner or later, our enemies will figure they've been duped. You figure that killer could pressure the truth out of the cabbie?"
"Without breaking a sweat," Stephen said. If the strong resonance of his words was any indication, he was feeling better.
"How are you doing?" Julia asked.
"Flesh wound."
"So what was that kung fu stuff back there?" Allen asked.
"Tang soo do, actually," Stephen said. "Like tae kwon do, but its emphasis is on respecting the humanity of your opponent. The object is to use only the moves and the force necessary to stop an attack, escalating the severity of your blows only as the threat becomes greater."
"How much greater could that warrior's threat have been?"
"Shoulda brought a rocket launcher."
"You should have brought some brains," Julia snapped. "That was a stupid move, taking him on."
Stephen looked hurt. Allen realized that Julia's bold actions had impressed his brother as well.
Stephen said, "I knew if we just ran, he'd overtake us, shoot us or something. I thought the only chance we had was for me to confront him. Turned out that was like a gazelle picking a fight with a tiger."
"I thought you did well," said Allen. "And you're right, we'd probably all be dead if you hadn't fought him."
"And that's how we'll all end up if we don't get moving." Julia shifted the gym bag to her right shoulder. "Let's take a back street to the motel."
The thought of a cool, dark motel room made Allen drowsy. He'd risen early yesterday after a restless night, only to put in a typically hectic day, followed by a decidedly untypical night of escaping from gun-toting killers. Three hours of fitful sleep in the cramped front seat of Stephen's Vega just didn't cut it. He heard himself say, "Four hours of undisturbed slumber sounds like nirvana to me."
"No sleep, Allen. We don't have time. I have some calls to make, and you have some errands to run."
