Wired - Douglas E. Richards [66]
Desh knew that he should have done so immediately, but he had been too busy admiring her performance. “How did you know I was watching?” he asked.
“I heard Smith threaten your friends and give you three minutes to return and surrender. I knew you wouldn’t let them die,” she whispered approvingly. “And I knew if you heard my voice you’d stay hidden to see what was going on.”
Desh nodded but didn’t respond. In addition to being scientifically brilliant, she could think on her feet as well as anyone he had ever known—and this was saying quite a lot.
Before long they entered a large clearing with a sign that read, “Campground 3B”. Eight small wood cabins were arranged in a semicircle within the clearing, and cars were parked beside several of them. A gravel road led away from the campground on the opposite side.
Kira had parked the SUV at the edge of the campground, and soon they were all inside, with Kira driving, Desh in the passenger seat, and Connelly and Griffin in the back.
As Kira started the engine, Desh turned to her and said, “I assume you came here from the road that parallels the one we took. Can you get us back there?”
“Absolutely.” She pulled onto the gravel road and slowly moved forward. Connelly winced as the SUV vibrated on the unpaved surface and jostled his injury.
“Where to once we hit the main artery?” she asked.
Desh pursed his lips in concentration. “That depends. Any guess as to when they’ll link this car to us?”
“Hard to say,” she replied. “It depends on when they discover their raid back there failed, and how many cars are on the road. It shouldn’t be immediate, though.”
Desh’s eyes narrowed as he sorted through various possibilities. “There’s a large shopping center between Petersburg and Richmond called the Manor Hill Mall—it’s all-enclosed, making it inaccessible to satellite surveillance. We could lose ourselves in the crowds and then leave. They may be able to track us to there, but they’ll have a hell of a time tracking us from there.”
Kira looked impressed. “I like it,” she said.
“Colonel?” said Desh.
“Me to,” said Connelly. “I recommend we split up once we’re there.”
“Agreed,” said Desh. He turned to Kira. “If you can get us on I-95 north, the mall is just off a main exit.”
She nodded. “Will do.”
The wide gravel road soon ended in a skinny paved one that wound its way through the heart of the woods for a half mile before hitting an arrow-straight main artery. Kira pulled onto the main road and accelerated as rapidly as the rental would allow.
Desh turned in his seat to face Connelly. “Colonel, how are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” said Connelly stoically, but blood was still slowly seeping through his bandages and he looked pale.
“Matt?” said Desh. “How about you? Are you okay?”
“Not really,” he said. “But it’s hard to complain when I’m sitting next to someone with a bullet wound who isn’t,” he said dryly.
Desh was encouraged that Griffin had recovered his sense of humor. “When we get to the mall, we’ll split up into two groups,” said Desh. “I’ll go with Kira. Matt, can I count on you to look after the colonel?”
“Look after him?”
Desh nodded. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s not doing as well as he’s pretending.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his thick stack of hundreds; passing about forty of them to Griffin in the back seat. “A little spending money,” he said. “I need you to see to it that he gets to a doctor.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Griffin solemnly.
“Colonel, any good military doctors you trust with your life?” asked Desh.
Connelly considered. “Yes. Don Menken. He’s retired but still lives near Bragg. I can trust him to patch me up and not ask any questions.”
Kira opened the SUV’s center console and pulled out a cell phone. She passed it back to Griffin. “Use this phone to reach us,” she instructed. “I have its mate. Hit Autodial 1 and it will speed-dial my number. The phone is completely secure.”
“No cell phone is secure,” said Connelly wearily, the vitality of his voice beginning to wane as his blood loss began