Can't take the chance, Cavanaugh thought. Need to be invisible.

Then who in God's name am I going to ask?

No matter how he calculated it, he always came back to the same answer: the one person in the world he didn't want to contact and the only one he could.

PART THREE. Threat Identification

1

"Warwick Hotel." The male receptionist's voice sounded sleepy.

"Room five oh four, please." In the darkness, Cavanaugh used his cell phone, keeping his voice low. He was hunkered behind rocks and trees a quarter mile past the lights of the town he'd spent the previous four hours working toward and then passing. He'd waited to get this far before calling, because there was always the risk that the area around the fire was being monitored by a cell-phone scanner (a military version could operate from miles away) in an effort to learn if there'd been any survivors. But near a town, someone using a cell phone, even at this hour, wouldn't seem unusual. Moreover, by now, emergency personnel would be making numerous cell-phone calls, which meant that a scanner could isolate a particular conversation only if it was calibrated to identify key words, such as dead, attack, Global Protective Services, or Cavanaugh's name. He intended to be as vague as possible.

"You'll have to speak louder, sir. I can barely hear you."

"Room five oh four."

"It's awfully late. Are you absolutely certain you wish to disturb-"

"My wife's expecting my call."

The receptionist exhaled wearily. "I'll put you through."

Pressing the phone against his right ear, Cavanaugh listened to the repeated buzz on the other end.

"Uh… hello?" Jamie's voice was thick with sleep.

"It's me." Cavanaugh sank lower among the trees. The phone felt cold in his hand.

"Hello? I can't-"

"It's me." The phrase was their signal that Jamie could trust what he said, that no one was forcing him to make the call. He'd taught her never to use names over the phone. He hoped that she remembered.

"Same here." That completed the signal. "Why are you?… What time is it?"

That she'd absorbed what he'd taught her made him relax a little. "Late."

"My God, it's almost four."

He imagined Jamie brushing back her dark hair and squinting toward the numbers on the digital bedside clock. He wanted to tell her immediately what he needed, but the conversation had to sound normal in case someone was eavesdropping. "Yeah, I know, but you've got an early flight, and I wanted to make sure I reached you before you checked out and left for the airport. I couldn't sleep until we patched up the argument we had."

"Argument?"

Cavanaugh imagined her frowning. "Saturday afternoon at the hotel's bar. I'm sorry you got pissed when I decided to go back to work. You're right. We should spend more time together." He imagined her frowning even harder. "Remember you said you had more money than I did and you wanted to take care of me? How'd you like to spend some of that money and take care of me now?"

Jamie paused a moment, evidently trying to figure out where the conversation was going. "Love to."

"Good. This morning, check out of the hotel the same as you'd planned. But instead of flying home alone, why don't you go by car? With me. We'll see some country and enjoy ourselves."

"Sounds perfect." Jamie continued to hide her confusion. "Where am I going to get the car? Rent it?"

"Go over to the West Side and buy it. We're due for a new one anyhow. I never liked the way the old one handled."

"Me, neither. It's about time we replaced it. What kind should we get?"

"A Ford Taurus is nice. Nothing too flashy. How do you feel about dark blue or dark green?"

"My favorite colors." Jamie still sounded husky from having been wakened. It made him wish that he could hold her now.

"Get the high-end model." That one had a two-hundred-horsepower engine, Cavanaugh knew, fifty more than in the standard models. The extra horses wouldn't win any Grand Prix speed records, unlike the serious racing engines that Global Protective Services put in its Tauruses. But they definitely added pep, and anyway, given the millions of Tauruses on the road, anonymity was now more important to him than massive strength.

"Since we're going to be traveling for a while, I could use more clothes," he continued. His suitcase had been in the trunk of the Taurus that had exploded at the warehouse. "Slacks, a sport coat, shoes. Jeans, a pullover, a pair of Rockports. You remember my sizes?"

"How could I forget?"

"Nothing gaudy."

"God forbid. Anything else?"

"Underwear."

"I love it when you talk sexy."

"Socks. Toothbrush. Razor. A first-aid kit. You never know what might happen on the road."

"Can't be too careful."

"You have no idea," Cavanaugh said. "Bring some sandwiches. And water. Plenty of bottled water."

The phone was silent for a moment while Jamie tried to understand the significance of that. "It'll take a while."

"I figured. That's why you'll need an early start."

"Where should I meet you?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'll call you at noon."

"Can't wait to see you."

"Same here. Sorry I woke you."

"Hey, you can wake me anytime. It's better if you're next to me, though."

2

Cavanaugh pressed the button that broke the connection. He switched off the phone to conserve its battery as well as to prevent it from ringing and attracting attention. Then he returned the phone to his windbreaker and glanced warily behind him, listening for the sounds of emergency vehicles at the town he'd passed. The fire was close enough that the state police had begun evacuating the inhabitants. He had barely been able to sneak across the road and into the continuation of the forest without being noticed in the frequent coming and going of headlights. He'd seen trucks arriving, dropping off men with shovels and chain saws, a team that looked ready to use the road as a perimeter from which to try to establish a firebreak. Other, bigger trucks had brought bulldozers.

He instinctively crouched when he heard a propeller-driven airplane drone overhead. No doubt the plane was with the firefighters. Spotters in it would direct the effort to contain the blaze, he assumed. And yet he couldn't stop irrationally worrying that the plane might somehow have a thermal sensor and be another part of the effort to hunt him. Sometimes you've got to have faith, he thought.

Using the sounds of the vehicles to guide him, he moved lower through the forest. Five minutes later, he heard an approaching helicopter and again crouched before assuring himself that the assault team would never be foolish enough to return to the attack area. This helicopter has to be part of the fire-fighting effort also, he told himself. Perhaps it's going to drop water or fire-retardant chemicals. But even though he was convinced of his logic, he felt naked as he continued through the trees.

A half-moon provided enough light for him to make his way past murky stumps and evergreen boughs. His goal was the next town along the road, about five miles farther to the east, where a north-south road intersected with one that came west from the New York State Thruway. The latter road continued west to the town he'd just left. It was the route the emergency personnel were using to get to the fire. He was certain the state police would establish a blockade at the town he was approaching. They'd want to prevent civilian traffic from heading into the fire zone. Thus, Jamie wouldn't be able to pick him up unless he found a rendezvous site beyond the blockade.

Soon, the gray light of dawn allowed him to increase speed. The sun, hazed by smoke, had been up for a couple of hours when he glimpsed a gray clapboard house through the trees. Immediately, he sank to the ground and peered through the bushes. He saw a freshly cultivated vegetable garden, a shed, a small garage painted the same gray as the house. What mostly attracted his attention was a hose on a faucet at the back. If I can just crawl over there and get a drink…