Beginning to end, a total of four hours, maybe. But when did those four hours start? I had no idea. That was clear. Obviously somewhere between four hours ago and, say, thirty minutes ago. So either I had enough time or no time at all.
I came out of the bathroom fast and checked the window. The rain had stopped. It was night outside. The lights along the wall were on. They were haloed with mist. Beyond them was absolute darkness. No headlights in the distance. I headed downstairs. Found Beck in the hallway. He was still prodding at his Nokia, trying to get it to work.
"I'm going out," I said. "Up the road a little."
"Why?"
"I don't like this thing with the phones. Could be nothing, could be something."
"Something like what?"
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe somebody's coming. You just got through telling me how many people you got on your back."
"We've got a wall and a gate."
"You got a boat?"
"No," he said. "Why?"
"If they get as far as the gate, you're going to need a boat. They could sit there and starve you out."
He said nothing.
"I'll take the Saab," I said.
"Why?"
Because it's lighter than the Cadillac.
"Because I want to leave the Cadillac for you," I said. "It's bigger."
"What are you going to do?"
"Whatever I need to," I said. "I'm your head of security now. Maybe nothing's happening, but if it is, then I'm going to try to take care of it for you."
"What do I do?"
"You keep a window open and listen," I said. "At night with all this water around, you'll hear me from a couple miles away if I'm shooting. If you do, put everybody in the Cadillac and get the hell out. Drive fast. Don't stop. I'll hold them off long enough for you to get past. Have you got someplace else to go?"
He nodded. Didn't tell me where.
"So go there," I said. "If I make it, I'll get to the office. I'll wait there, in the car. You can check there later."
"OK," he said.
"Now call Paulie on the internal phone and tell him to stand by to let me through the gate."
"OK," he said again.
I left him there in the hallway. Walked out into the night. I detoured around the courtyard wall and retrieved my bundle from its hole. Carried it back to the Saab and put it on the rear seat. Then I slid into the front and fired up the engine and backed out. Drove slow around the carriage circle and accelerated down the drive. The lights on the wall were bright in the distance. I could see Paulie at the gate. I slowed a little and timed it so I didn't have to stop. I went straight through. Drove west, staring through the windshield, looking for headlight beams coming toward me.
I drove four miles, and then I saw a government Taurus. It was parked on the shoulder. Facing toward me. No lights. The old guy was sitting behind the wheel. I killed my lights and slowed and stopped window to window with him. Wound down my glass. He did the same. Aimed a flashlight and a gun at my face until he saw who I was. Then he put them both away.
"The bodyguards are out," he said.
I nodded. "I figured. When?"
"Close to four hours ago."
I glanced ahead, involuntarily. No time.
"We got two men down," he said.
"Killed?"
He nodded. Said nothing.
"Did Duffy report it?"
"She can't," he said. "Not yet. We're off the books. This whole situation isn't even happening."
"She'll have to report it," I said. "It's two guys."
"She will," he said. "Later. After you deliver. Because the objectives are right back in place again. She needs Beck for justification, now more than ever."
"How did it go down?"
He shrugged. "They bided their time. Two of them, four of us. Should have been easy. But our boys got sloppy, I guess. It's tough, locking people down in a motel."
"Which two got it?"
"The kids who were in the Toyota."
I said nothing. It had lasted roughly eighty-four hours. Three and a half days. Actually a little better than I had expected, at the start.
"Where is Duffy now?" I asked.
"We're all fanned out," he said. "She's up in Portland with Eliot."
"She did good with the phones."
He nodded. "Real good. She cares about you."
"How long are they off?"
"Four hours. That's all she could get. So they'll be back on soon."
"I think they'll come straight here."
"Me too," he said. "That's why I came straight here."
"Close to four hours, they'll be off the highway by now. So I guess the phones don't matter anymore."
"That's how I figure it."
"Got a plan?" I said.
"I was waiting for you. We figured you'd make the connection."
"Did they get guns?"
"Two Glocks," he said. "Full mags."
Then he paused a beat. Looked away.
"Less four shots fired at the scene," he said. "That's how it was described to us. Four shots, two guys. They were all head shots."
"Won't be easy."
"It never is," he said.
"We need to find a place."
I told him to leave his car where it was and get in with me. He came around and slid into the passenger seat. He was wearing the same raincoat Duffy had been wearing in the coffee shop. He had reclaimed it. We drove another mile, and then I started looking for a place. I found one where the road narrowed sharply and went into a long gentle curve. The blacktop was built up a little, like a shallow causeway. The shoulders were less than a foot wide and fell away fast into rocky ground. I stopped the car and then turned it sharply and backed it up and pulled forward again until it was square across the road. We got out and checked. It was a good roadblock. There was no room to get around it. But it was a very obvious roadblock, like I knew it would be. The two guys would come tearing around the curve and jam on the brakes and then start backing up and shooting.
"We need to roll it over," I said. "Like a bad accident."
I took my bundle out of the back seat. Put it down on the shoulder, just in case. Then I made the old guy put his coat down on the road. I emptied my pockets and put mine beyond his. I wanted to roll the Saab onto the coats. I needed to bring it back relatively undamaged. Then we stood shoulder to shoulder with our backs to the car and started rocking it. It's easy enough to turn a car over. I've seen it done all over the world. You let the tires and the suspension help you. You rock it, and then you bounce it, and then you keep it going until it's coming right up in the air, and then you time it just right and flip it all the way over. The old guy was strong. He did his part. We got it bouncing through about forty-five degrees and then we spun around together and hooked our hands under the sill and heaved it all the way onto its side. Then we kept the momentum going and tipped it right onto its roof.
The coats meant it slid around easily enough without scratching, so we positioned it just right. Then I opened the upside-down driver's door and told the old guy to get in and play dead for the second time in three days. He threaded his way inside and lay down on his front, half-in and half-out, with his arms thrown up above his head. In the dark, he looked pretty convincing. In the harsh shadows of bright headlights he would look no worse. The coats weren't visible, unless you really looked for them. I moved away and retrieved my bundle and climbed down the rocks beyond the shoulder and crouched low.