Nowhere to Hide

Nowhere to Hide by Sigmund Brouwer

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Authors: Sigmund Brouwer
and Blake and MJ. He sighed. “No, we flat-out lied.”
    King and MJ and Blake sat in the mobile home, away from the heat and inside the air-conditioned space. The blinds were closed, which blocked enough light for King to pretend that the interior wasn’t as ratty as the exterior.
    Unfortunately, the near darkness didn’t disguise the smell of stale cigarettes and body odor. How could anyone have endured living in this trailer?
    They sat on kitchen chairs they had pulled into the living room area. King’s mercifully brief first view of the interior—from the sunlight through the door as they entered—had shown a brown couch splotched with stains that gave it a giraffe-skin appearance. The carpet was littered with broken potato chips. Everything was old and grimy except for a magnificent flat-screen television, and even that showed dozens of greasy fingerprints.
    â€œWe had no choice but to hide,” Evans said. “We can debate the morality of when to tell the truth and when to lie, but time is ticking on the seventy-two-hour deadline to save Moore’s granddaughter.”
    â€œGranddaughter?” MJ asked. “Granddaughter?”
    â€œI’m her paps,” Moore said. “Her own father didn’t return from the war in Afghanistan. I’m almost like her father. Delamarre knew I would do what it takes to get her back. She disappeared, and he got a message to me. Clear him of false terrorism charges, or she never returns.”
    Evans jumped in. “We did have to do this off the books. Delamarre made it clear that if Moore brought anyone into this on an official level, he’d never see Amanda again.”
    Moore nodded. “Only one person that I’d trust with my life in the organization. Evans. He lied about the governor’s security detail, but he did tell the truth about our time together on a Navy SEAL team. I knew Evans would keep the operation entirely secret and whisper proof. He suggested bringing in you three to help us track Jack Murphy. Nobody would ever connect you to the CIA, and he said you could get the job done. Jack’s the one we think is or was holding her.”
    Moore straightened in his chair. “And you guys are good. How did you figure out this wasn’t what it appeared? What tipped you to try to run just now?”
    King pointed at Blake, who was holding the laptop and all the cell phones.
    Blake pointed at King, who wanted to hold his nose. The smell in the mobile home was like roadkill that had been in the sun for days.
    Blake said, “King thought a few things were odd about your stories and asked me to do some quick searching. I wouldn’t have been suspicious otherwise.”
    King said, “Blake hacked into Evans’ department emails and—”
    Moore’s jaw went slack with surprise. “You hacked the CIA server?”
    â€œJust Evans’ account,” Blake said. “His password wasn’t that strong.”
    â€œTold you they were good,” Evans said to Moore.
    â€œWe learned Don Mundie is a deputy inspector general. We found emails that you were both supposed to meet with him. And that when you didn’t meet, he suspended Evans without pay and would file criminal charges.”
    â€œWhat I don’t understand,” Evans said, “is how he knew about you three. I thought I had covered all traces.”
    â€œMaybe the slush fund,” Moore said. “Maybe the drone.”
    Evans rubbed his face and looked at King. “You didn’t run me down in the middle of the road. Why not, after reading those emails?”
    â€œYou didn’t bring up a weapon to stop me. I went on a hunch. If Mundie was right about you, first thing you would have done, I suppose, is pull out your pistol. The windows are bulletproof, but you couldn’t know we knew that. From your point of view, a pistol should have been enough to make me slam on the brakes.”
    â€œIt is

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