The Thirteenth Skull (Alfred Kropp 3)

“That’s right. I’d rather end it now than spend the rest of my life as a vegetable.”

“And you are gambling that your death would completely disrupt our plans for you.”

“I knew you’d get it.”

His dark eyes danced. “I get everything. What would you say, Alfred, if I told you that we have more than enough samples to render your continued existence irrelevant?”

“I would say you’re bluffing,” I answered.

His right eyebrow climbed toward his hairline. “Because?”

“Because if that were true you wouldn’t have ordered them to hold their fire. You still need me. I’m not sure why exactly, but you need me, and if I push this button you won’t have me. Bottom line: if you want me, Nueve, you’re going to have to let me go.”

“That much is true, yes,” he said with a nod. “But not the issue. The issue is . . . will you do it? Can you do it? I must believe the answer to that question is yes for this to work. You understand that.”

I turned to Ashley. “Get on the chopper.”

She looked at me. She looked at Nueve. She didn’t move. I said it again: “Get on the chopper.”

She took a step toward it and Nueve’s cane whipped in the air, the six-inch dagger protruding from its base. I raised the box over my head and yelled, “Do it and I hit the button, I swear to God I will, you Spanish bastard!” and the blade froze a centimeter from her throat.

Our eyes met . . . and Nueve blinked first. He slowly lowered the cane. His eyes met Ashley’s and he gave the slightest of nods.

“Go,” I said to Ashley.

Nobody said anything as she trotted to the chopper and disappeared into the hold.

I turned back to Nueve.

“Are you familiar, Alfred,” he said, “with the law of diminishing returns?”

I backed away, keeping my eye on Nueve. The guys with the guns didn’t matter. Only Nueve mattered. With a flick of his wrist, he could signal for them to open fire. But he wasn’t going to do that. Halfway to the chopper, I realized he really was going to do it: he was going to let us go.

“There is no escape, you know,” he called to me. “No place on earth where we cannot find you. You are merely delaying the inevitable, Alfred.”

“You do what you have to do and I’ll do what I have to do,” I said.

I climbed into the hold and fell into the seat beside Ashley. I tossed the box into her lap and told her to hold it because knowing my luck I’d hit the red button by accident.

The pilot was staring at us. I twirled my index finger and the engine roared to life. A minute later we were off the ground and climbing above the treetops. I looked out the window and saw a solitary figure below, and he wasn’t so far beneath me that I couldn’t see the ironic smile playing on his lips.

HELENA REGIONAL AIRPORT

HELENA, MONTANA

01:12:49:55

I dialed the eight hundred number from a pay phone outside Captain Jack’s Bistro & Bar, the airport’s sole restaurant, while Ashley waited at a table inside. I was interrupted a couple of times by travelers asking directions. In my black jumper, I must have looked like a maintenance worker.

A lady with a foreign accent answered. “Office Directory Services, how may I direct your call?”

“Abigail Smith,” I said.

There was a pause. “Dr. Smith is not available at the moment.”

“I need to get a message to her. A very important message.”

“I could direct you to her voice mail.”