The Enigma (Unlawful Men)

“It’s not safe there, Beau,” he says, ignoring me. “With Nath, it’s not safe.”

“He’s FBI,” I argue.

“Where are you?”

“We’ve been pulled over.”

“Why?”

“Because . . .” I fade off, my eyes returning to the side mirror, my heart slowing, ice gliding through my veins.

“Because what, Beau?”

“He’s been pulled over by the police,” I whisper.

His inhale is loud and sharp. “Get the fuck out of there now!”

I sit frozen, my cell limp at my ear as James bellows his orders down the line, my stare rooted to the mirror.

“Beau!”

Nath lifts a hand in goodbye to the cops. Turns. Walks away, smiling, but I can still see the stress all over his face.

“Beau!” James roars. “For fuck’s sake, get the fuck out of there.”

I see the cop who’s on the hood reach for his belt. “No,” I murmur. “No, no, no.”

“Beau!”

“Nath,” I scream, startling at the sound of a gunshot. Nath drops like lead to the ground. “Oh my God.” My hand goes over my mouth, suppressing my wretched cry. Panicked and hardly able to see through my tears, I scramble to get the door handle, hearing James still yelling. I get out of the car. Both cops look my way. Both look surprised to see me. And both reach for their belts.

I dive back in and clamber across the car to the driver’s seat, starting the engine, looking at the mirror. They’re heading toward me. “God, no.”

I slam the car into reverse and hit the gas awkwardly, shooting back, one arm braced on the wheel. I crash into one of them and push his body a few feet back until it smashes into the cop car with an almighty bang. And when I look up to the mirror again, I see him trapped between the trunk of Nath’s car and the hood of the cop car. A trail of blood seeps from the corner of his mouth. “Oh my God,” I breathe, frozen. I’m woken up from my inert state when the other cop appears at the passenger side, and I push myself into the door, swinging my legs round and kicking aimlessly, catching him on the jaw, sending him flying back onto the sidewalk.

I can hear James yelling. Screaming. “Beau, talk to me!”

I frantically search for my cell and take it to my ear with a shaky hand, wedging it between my shoulder and my cheek. “I can’t leave Nath.”

“Drive, Beau. For the love of God, drive. Otto is coming up behind you.”

I look up at the mirror and see a car pull over, Otto getting out.

“Drive!”

The tears come on thick and fast. The heartache. The pain. The anger. I screech away, wiping at my face, sniffing back the tears. “No,” I sob, smacking the wheel repeatedly. “No, no, no.”

“Beau, listen carefully. I need you to head for Midtown. Tell me what street you’re on.”

I carefully glance around, furiously brushing at my eyes to clear my sight. “On Northwest Nineteenth Avenue passing Northwest Sixteenth Street,” I sob.

“Keep going until you get to Northwest North River Drive. Do a left and follow the road. There’s a right turn just past the marina. Pull in there. Goldie’s not far behind you,” he says, just as I see the nose of her car poke out in the traffic before overtaking a few cars, speeding past them and pulling in behind me.

“I see her.”

“Good girl. She’ll bring you to me.” He hangs up, and I grip the steering wheel harder, trying to drive sensibly, my vision foggy. When I reach the end of the road, I take a left as instructed, my eyes looking for the turning past the marina, my frayed nerves obliterated. I see it and peek at my mirror as I take it. Goldie is still close behind. I pull over and get out. My legs are wobbly, and I grab the top of the door to steady myself.

“You’re not going to pass out, are you?” Goldie asks, seizing me and steadying me.

“Where’s James?” I demand, hating having to depend on her to hold me up. “Tell me where the fuck he is.”

Her lips press together. She won’t tell me. She won’t disobey a direct order. “Get in,” she says, depositing me in her car. Then she goes to Nath’s BMW and drives it further down the deserted lane, pulling in past some overgrowth. She’s out of sight for all of ten seconds, and when she emerges, she walks toward me as cool as could be, fastening her jacket.

Then the sky lights up, a fire ball erupting behind her.

62

JAMES

I hear the explosion down the line and push my fist into the steering wheel. “Fuck,” I curse, thumping it repeatedly, so fucking furious with myself for missing so many fucking clues. The moment I parked, clarity struck. Small moments kept coming back to me. Little things. Things that probably would have gone amiss to many. Fuck, I missed them myself. But now?