63

THE WORLD SEEMED SURREAL TO CONNOR AS HE WALKED OUT OF THE Slanted Door. A casual observer might see a man walking out of a restaurant, but in reality he had just walked out of his life. Behind him lay the past seven years—no, more than that. It wasn’t just the time; it was the career as a big firm lawyer, the mold he had chosen to pour himself into when he decided against politics. All that was gone, swept away by a few words spoken over Vietnamese food.

In front of him lay—what? He looked around at the uncertain night, full of bright, disjointed lights and domed by foreboding black. Streams of people and cars swept past, moving in unison, but not traveling together. They were autumn leaves, carried by a common wind and drifting together, but always separate and alone.

Where would he go now? What would he do? The future is always hidden in the hand of God, but sometimes that hand is more visible than others. Tonight it was utterly invisible to him.

He shook himself. His task for the immediate future was clear enough: find a payphone. Amazing how those had virtually vanished from city streets—especially when you needed one.

After hunting for about ten minutes, he finally found one in a convenience store that had signs in the window advertising Coca-Cola in Chinese and green tea in English. He swiped his credit card and dialed Allie’s cell phone. She didn’t pick up. He tried again—still nothing.

He hung up and tried Julian’s cell phone.

“Hello?”

“Julian, it’s Connor. Have you heard from Allie?”

“No, but I haven’t been in the office since about 4:00, and she doesn’t have this number. What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure. She texted me and said she was trapped at Deep Seven’s dock and needed help. She said they’d tried the police, but they just talked to the guards at the gate and left. She also, ah, said there were North Koreans with nukes there.”

“Wow. That’s… quite a story. Did she give you any details?”

“No. Just a couple quick texts. I tried calling her just now, but she didn’t pick up.”

“Sounds like something’s going on. I’ll drive down to the docks and check it out.”

“Be careful.”

“Always am. That tracker is staying on a shelf in the garage so they’ll think I’m home the whole time. Should I call you back at this number?”

“No. I’m at a payphone right now. One of my partners—” No time for the whole story right now. “My cell phone fell in the water. I’m going to get a new one now, and I’ll call you when I’ve got it.”

Half an hour later, Connor walked out of the Verizon store on Pine Street, holding a new phone. He dialed Julian’s number as he made for the parking garage.

“Hello?”

“It’s me. You at the docks?”

“I’m watching through a telephoto lens from about half a mile away. That place is lit up like a Christmas tree. Lots of big guys with crew cuts and guns. Can’t say whether they’re North Korean, but most of them are Asian.”

“What are they doing? Can you see Allie?”

“I haven’t— Hold on a sec, they’re doing something down there. Okay, now I see something. Six armed men are taking a woman and two guys from one building to another. Looks like Allie, but I can’t be sure. Now they’re inside again.”

Connor’s pace quickened and sweat began to bead on his forehead despite the cool evening sea breeze. “Was it her? Was she okay?”

“Couldn’t say for sure. I didn’t get a good look, and they were a long way off.”

“Any ideas on what to do next? Try the cops maybe?”

“Didn’t you say Allie already tried them? Besides, what would we say—that we saw a woman who might be Allie and some guys with guns? No violence, no force, no indication that she was bound. Just a woman and some armed men who could be her security guards for all the police know. Sorry, but that’s not going to get them in there.”

“Well, what would?”

“Good question. I think we’re on our own tonight.”

Connor reached his Bentley and got in. “Okay, so what are we going to do?”

Julian sighed. “Wish I knew, man. Even if the Port cops did want to get involved, I’m not sure they could get into that place. It’s got a better fence around it than most prisons I’ve seen, and I’ll bet they’ve got more firepower in there than just a bunch of M-16s. You’d need a company of Marines. With air support.”

An idea sparked in Connor’s mind. He ignored it. It burst into flame and he tried to stamp it out. It was crazy, risky, self-destructive—everything he wasn’t. But it would probably work. And if Allie was telling the truth about the North Koreans with nukes—

“Connor? You there?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m here. Can you stay where you are for a while?”

“Sure, as long as you want. Are you coming?”

“I think so.” He leaned over to the passenger side of his car, found the tracking device under the seat, and tossed it out the window. “But I’ve got a couple things to do first, and a… a decision to make. Just keep your phone on and let me know if anything happens.”

“Okay.”

“And pray for me, would you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks. I’ll call you from the road.”

He put the car in gear and pulled out of the garage, driving as fast as the traffic would allow. He navigated the narrow, clogged streets of San Francisco, the perpetually backed up Bay Bridge, and then I-580 heading east. Finally, the open highway stretched before him and he zoomed along.

Connor still wasn’t certain what he would do when he reached his destination. However, his uncertainty was melting away fast, much as he wished it wouldn’t. He turned the idea over in his mind, looking for flaws or alternatives. He found neither. There were huge risks—especially for him—but no flaws. It would work, and he couldn’t think of anything else that would.

Every muscle in his body tensed as the idea bore down on him, becoming relentlessly real in his mind. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. His stomach tied itself in knots. He sweated. He prayed—silently at first, then aloud. “I’ll do it if you want me to, Lord. I will. It’s just that… well, there’s a good chance I’ll be dead or in prison when this is over. It’s not just me, either. What about my family? What will happen to them when this hits the papers tomorrow?”

He felt like a soldier with a desk job in headquarters who has just been sent to the front line and told to run across a minefield and take out a machine gun nest on the other side single-handed. It was impossible, unreasonable. “God, is this what you want me to do? Really? Really? ”

Silence rang in his ears and in his heart.

He sighed and gave up. The night flowed over him and he felt the Bentley’s understated power purring through the car. His body began to relax. The tension drained out of him and he became philosophical, almost detached.

For the hundredth time, he remembered his meeting with Allie in the Bahamas. He told her she always had choices, but maybe that wasn’t quite true. Maybe by the time we reach a critical decision, we’ve already made it. Maybe all the little decisions in life are like bricks, and those bricks pile together into walls over time. And when some crisis comes, those walls force us along whatever path we’ve already chosen. Even if that path leads over a cliff.

That’s how he felt now. He had no choices, just this thing that needed to be done and the knowledge that he needed to do it. The path before him was hard, narrow, and all too clear.