Chapter Thirty-One
Vaulcron climbed into the back of the vehicle at Oz’s insistence, pulling the door closed with a quick jerk.
He turned to face the Cuban. “Do you trust these land walkers?”
Oz shrugged. “I don’t have to trust them. Tony does, and that’s good enough for me.
The driver of the car glanced up in the rearview mirror with wary eyes. His gaze touched on Vaulcron before coming to rest on Oz. “My orders are to take you where you need to go and make sure that you get that bag in the floor.”
“Is Melvin not coming with us?” Oz asked, snatching the bag up from the floor and dropping it onto the seat between him and Vaulcron.
“Melvin gives the orders. He doesn’t get personally involved.” The driver glanced nervously at Vaulcron once again.
Vaulcron could practically taste the man’s nervous energy, but he kept his feelings to himself. The only thing he cared about at the moment was reaching Mallory in time.
Oz unzipped the black bag he’d gotten from the floor and winked at Vaulcron. “It looks like we’ve hit the mother lode.”
“I do not understand.”
Reaching into the bag, Oz pulled out a small, round object that grew smaller near the top. “This is a military-grade grenade. The bag’s full of them.”
“That is a weapon?”
“Hell yeah.” Oz chuckled. “We could damn near take out a small country with what we have in here.”
Vaulcron nodded. “That may be what it takes before this is over with.”
Oz grew serious. “Let’s hope not.”
“Where am I taking you?” The driver inquired, pulling out onto a gravel road.
Vaulcron shifted his gaze to the mirror and rattled off the address Mallory had given him. “It is a small structure near the water’s edge.”
“It’s a fishing village,” the driver explained. “I can have you there in twenty minutes. But you will need to get in the trunk.”
Vaulcron’s brows lifted. “The trunk?”
“I have military clearance to cross the bridge. But if you’re spotted at a checkpoint, it’s game over.”
Oz slowed his rummaging in the bag. “Have you seen his size? He’ll never fit in the trunk.”
The driver shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the only way I can get him across the bridge.”
“He can swim across. We’ll pick him up on the other side,” Oz assured him.
The driver stepped on the gas as they reached the main road. “How long will it take him to reach the opposite shore?”
Oz grinned. “Minutes.”
The driver met Vaulcron’s gaze in the mirror once more. “Once you emerge from the water, there will be a tollbooth a hundred yards ahead. You will stay to the right of it. After you’ve crossed the two roads that veer to the right, you’ll come to an intersection. Go right. That’s Highway 20. We’ll be waiting on the side of the road.”
Vaulcron nodded his understanding.
“We can’t risk being noticed, so I suggest you put it in high gear and get to us as quickly as possible.”
Able to decipher most of what the driver said, Vaulcron turned his attention to Oz. “If I do not make it back to the vehicle, you will make certain that Mallory gets to Cuba, unharmed. She is to have all of my possessions.”
Oz stared at him for a moment before answering. “You have my word.”
* * * *
William Pratt climbed on board the jet and made his way to his seat. “Let’s get off the ground as soon as possible.”
The pilot gave him the thumbs-up before pulling the door to cockpit closed.
Fishing out his phone, William dialed his home number.
“Hello?” his wife answered, her voice a balm to his soul.
“Jackie? I need you to listen very carefully.”
“Bill? Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine, sweetheart. I’m going to tell you this once and once only. I need you to do this without question or argument.”
“Bill, you’re scaring me,” she whispered, anxiety permeating her tone.
“I’m sorry, Jackie. I’m not trying to scare you, but something is going on, and I need you and Lilian on a plane to Canada.”
“Canada?” she asked in a numb voice. “Bill, please tell me what’s going on.”
He briefed her on the story that Mallory had told him. “Things are about to get ugly here, Jackie. Howell will more than likely be impeached. If I become acting president of the United States, there’s a good chance I could be targeted.”
“Bill!” Jackie cried, tearing at his heart. “I can’t leave knowing you’re in danger.”
“I don’t know that I am. I’m just being cautious. You have to think about Lilian. Get her to safety, Jackie. Tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Have you watched the evening news? The story is all over the television.”
“No. I was making dinner for Lilian.”
“I’ll have the secret service arrange a jet for you. Tell no one where you’re going. Not even your mother. Once you arrive in Canada, stay in a hotel with high-level security where you’ll be safe until I can send for you.”
“I don’t want to go without you.”
“You have to,” he barked, regretting it instantly. He softened his tone. “I will send for you as soon as I can. I promise.”
“O-okay. I love you, Bill.”
“I love you too, Jackie. Kiss Lilian for me.” He ended the call before his emotions got the better of him.
* * * *
Pratt arrived home two hours later. The lingering scent of Jackie’s perfume still hung in the air as he followed the secret service into his foyer.
“Mrs. Pratt and your daughter have been put on a jet per your instructions, sir. Fletcher and Washington are with them, with orders to protect them until they return.”
“Thank you, Russell.” William strode off to the den and poured himself a drink.
From what Mallory had told him, and the media airing the Bracadyte’s interview, Pratt knew it was only a matter of time before an investigation would ensue, and Howell would be on trial for impeachment.
Though Pratt was well aware of Howell’s crooked dealings, he’d had no idea the president was capable of abducting and murdering innocent people.
Pratt tossed back his scotch and poured another, waiting on the phone call that would beckon him to the White House.
As acting president, Pratt would be under public scrutiny in the aftermath of Howell’s destruction.
He would have to tread carefully in order to unravel the mess Rueben had made. How the hell was he supposed to step in and right the wrongs that had been done?
The American people came first, Pratt silently swore, downing his drink. But the Bracadytes deserved compassion as well. And if what Miss Cahill had told him back at that cabin was true, the aliens held the key to saving the world.
Pouring himself another drink, Pratt dropped into a nearby chair and laid his head back against the cushion. His wife’s and daughter’s faces haunted his mind.
Pratt couldn’t imagine his precious daughter falling ill to the deadly virus sweeping across the land. And the longer the Bracadytes remained in hiding, the longer it would take to find a cure.