Page 58 of Acting on Instinct
To Kira’s relief, Christen answered on the second ring, sounding wide awake.
Kira kept it brief, saying only what she knew without saying how she knew it. And explaining why she thought that Christen might be in danger, too. Or maybe not. She didn’t know what the interrogators wanted to ask Kira about. “But,” she finished lamely, “I thought I should give you a heads up.”
“Where’s Ty?” Christen asked.
“On a mission.” Kira took another moment to explain getting turned away at Fort Bragg. “I’m out of ideas of where to go to be safe. I thought you could give me the next step.”
“You’re doing fine, Kira.” Over the phone, Kira heard the click of a light switch turning on. “Absolutely, I can tell you what to do next. Go to the airport. You’re at Fort Bragg?”
“Yes. Well, the donut shop near Fort Bragg.”
“Drive to Charlotte, that’s a hub, and it will have frequent direct flights into D.C. At the airport, buy the first ticket to Washington you can get. I don’t care if you have to sit in the latrine,” Christen said. “I want you on the very first flight out. Text me your flight number. Someone will meet you at the airport.”
“Someone?” Kira whispered.
“A good guy will meet you at the airport. Okay, Kira?”
“Yes,” she exhaled the word, and it was formed of air alone.
“Watch for tails. Kira, do what you need to do to keep someone from tapping your bumper on the highway. Break laws. Drive like a lunatic if necessary.”
“What?” Kira gasped. “Okay.”
“Go now. Drive now.” Christen’s words were a command.
She cleared her throat to try the word again, “Yes.” Kira flicked on her headlights. “Yes, I’ll let you know when I get to Charlotte. Thank you, Christen. Good night.”
After tapping the button to end the conversation, Kira pulled up directions to the airport, put her car into gear, and rolled forward.
One thing was for sure: Kira didn’t feel safe sitting still anymore.
Or driving her car.
“Or breathing,” she whispered to herself as her tires bumped over the curb and she headed back to the highway.
Chapter Eighteen
Ty
“I went shopping,” Lula said as she walked around the plane handing out sealed bags. “Because I sweat the details, none of your clothes are new. They may look bad, but I promise you I washed them many times. Many, many times. So you don’t need to be worried about cooties.”
Ty opened his bag and pulled out a pair of jeans that had definitely seen better days.
“You need to fit into this particular neighborhood. I will say that the farther north I go, the easier it is to find clothes—and shoes—that will fit men your size.” With her last bag handed out, White stood in front of them with her hands on her hips and a look of satisfaction on her face. “I think I did a good job. You should try them on and make sure, though. We may have to trade some things around.”
As the men took up a place in the aisle, they stripped down to their boxers, then tried on each of the two outfits White had packed, a basic non-descript blue uniform with a random name tag sewn over the breast pocket—apparently Ty was going as Louis—and what might be mistaken for the clothes of a minimally housed person, at least in his case. There were degrees of poverty represented amongst them.
Ty noticed that while his tennis shoes had stains, they had solid soles with good traction, and his pants had some elasticity. White wasn’t trading the visual aspect of their undercover wardrobe for functionality.
The team moved back to their seats as White opened her computer. Picking up her remote, she began moving through the stills and video that would help them understand the scope of this mission.
“The cell members have made themselves safer by keeping their distance from one another. Their apartments are on the upper floors, with winding stairs and no elevators.”
“Go back, please,” Havoc said. “You said that you got into all the apartments when you were checking for radon. The production apartment doesn’t have footage.”
“We tried and were refused,” White said.
“But you saw boxes inside?” T-Rex asked.
