As the Jeep’s taillights retreated up the hill, he used the trees lining the street as cover and turned to follow. With his heart pounding in his chest, he glanced at the navigation display to try to predict where she was headed. He saw the Jeep pull into a parking space at the bottom of the hill, and he quickly turned right and pulled into a parking lot in front of a white stucco building and coasted to a stop. He kept his foot off the brake pedal to avoid illuminating his taillights, then shifted into park and turned off the engine.
He adjusted his rearview mirror to observe the area around where
He quickly climbed out of the car and crossed the street to the sidewalk alongside Cuesta Avenue. In the distance, he saw the back of
“Shit!”
Fearing what might happen if he lost her, he started jogging down the hill while musing over his decision to wear the brightly colored Hawaiian shirt. While it might have helped him blend in at the yacht club, he stood out like a sore thumb on the deserted campus.
When he pulled even with the blue Wrangler, he removed a small magnetic tracking device from his pocket and slipped it inside the Jeep’s grill without breaking stride. He ignored the heat radiating from the hood in the cool morning air and removed his phone to check that the tracking device was working. But before he could, his phone vibrated, and he saw a notification banner that the NSA had intercepted another message.
Rick stopped and hurried to access the secure portal, where he downloaded the pending message. He felt time and his target slipping away from him but needed to know what the message said.
TEXT FROM INTERCEPTED TRANSMISSION FOLLOWS.
FROM: TANDY
TO: KMART
1. PROVIDE DETAILED INFORMATION ON NAVY PILOT.
2. BE ALERT FOR OPPORTUNITY TO ELIMINATE.
His heart rate quickened, knowing that the woman who had sent that message to a sailor aboard the
“Uncle Rick.” She sounded breathless. “What time is it?”
“Early.” He heard rustling in the background and assumed she was still in bed.
“Oh, shit! I’m late!”
“Late for what?”
She didn’t answer. “Where are you?”
“I’m following
The rustling continued, and Punky’s voice sounded strained. “San Luis… wait. Did you say
“Yeah.” Rick darted between the buildings where he had last seen
“Ministry of State Security,” she muttered.
Rick ignored the interruption and continued relaying his information as he slowed his jog and neared the corner of the building. “Early thirties. Five foot two or five foot three. One hundred and ten to one hundred and twenty pounds. Shoulder-length black hair. Narrow face with almond-shaped eyes.”
“Are you on foot?”
Rick heard the unmistakable angry growl of a cold Corvette Stingray starting, and he ignored her question. “What are you late for? Where are you going?”
“Don’t get burned. We can’t lose her.”
He knew he had been on the phone too long already, distracted from the task at hand, but he couldn’t help but worry that she was rushing into danger. In the background, he heard the Corvette’s engine rev. “I placed a tracker on her car,” he said. “She won’t get away.”
“Hang back,” Punky warned. “If she sees you, it’s over.”
Rick stepped out from behind the corner of the building and saw her.
She was walking across a wide lawn with her back turned to him, and he edged away from the walkway toward a sycamore tree and shrubs at the west end of the open space. Suddenly, she stopped and knelt to tie her shoe, and he froze. He knew she was checking for a tail, which meant something was about to happen.
“I’ve gotta go,” he whispered. “Don’t do anything without me.”
“I’m not a kid anymore, Uncle Rick.”