Run into Trouble

CHAPTER 2

As Peaches, or whatever his name was, drove Drake and Fred to the Hotel del Coronado where the runners were going to spend the night, Drake reflected that he looked like a classic hood instead of a businessman. His conservative suit didn’t hide his bulging shoulders, and Drake was certain he had a gun concealed beneath his jacket. His only expression was a perpetual scowl. Drake decided that he needed to be as wary of Peaches as Fred, but for a different reason.

The most impressive thing about the Hotel del Coronado wasn’t the gleaming white expanse of the building located on the beach, or the contrasting red roofs, but that it had been in business since the nineteenth century and had played host to “presidents and princes,” as the brochure Drake read stated. If this was typical of how the runners were going to live during the race, he wouldn’t fight it.

His room didn’t have an ocean view. That was a concession to economy. It cost more to see the sea. The room was in the Victorian Building, the oldest part of the hotel, and was labeled quaint, meaning that it wasn’t large and the furniture was old. It had the odor of quaint.

Drake still wasn’t convinced he wanted to be in the race, especially if it were going to get him killed. He hadn’t figured out why anybody wanted to kill him for running the California coast, but somebody must not like him.

He had an out. The person who had recruited him by phone, whose name he had forgotten, had told him that his teammate had already been picked. The recruiter couldn’t tell him who his teammate was, for reasons Drake didn’t understand. Both members of a team had to cross the finish line before both members of each of the other teams, in order to claim the million dollar first prize. He had reserved the right not to participate if he didn’t like his teammate.

Fred wouldn’t tell him who it was on the way to the hotel. “You’ll find out when you get there.”

Why the mystery? Well, he was at the hotel, and he still didn’t know. He was being given a few minutes alone to “freshen up.” He didn’t have any luggage-that had been burned in the taxi-so freshening up consisted of washing his hands to get rid of the hospital smell. And noticing in the bathroom mirror how ugly he looked with two black eyes and the tape that covered his nose and much of his face.

He did have a new shirt and pants. Peaches had purchased them for him while he was at the hospital, because the clothes he had been wearing were covered with blood. Fred had promised that underwear and more clothes, and even a toothbrush and razor, would show up at the hotel. He had yet to see them.

He did one other thing. He opened the bottle of morphine tablets that the doctor had given him, swallowed one, and flushed the rest down the toilet. He knew from his training that morphine was one of the most addictive drugs in existence, and he wasn’t having any part of it, even if it cost him a lot of pain. He wouldn’t be controlled by anything or anybody.

There was a knock on the door. Drake opened it and saw a pleasant-looking man wearing a colorful sport shirt, glasses, and a concerned expression on his face. Youngish, but with a touch of gray in his otherwise dark hair that was neatly in place and cut with precision.

He extended his hand. “Casey Messinger. I’m very sorry to hear about your accident. Terrible thing. I’m looking into it.”

“Nice to meet you.” Drake was surprised at the strength of his grip. His name sounded familiar. “Are you by any chance the CEO of Giganticorp, Mr. Messinger?”

“Call me Casey. And yes, Oliver, I am.”

“Call me Drake.”

They both laughed. Drake immediately liked him. Not just his manner, but he was the first Giganticorp employee Drake had met who might actually be a runner.

“I understand you postponed the start of the race just for me.”

“Yes, but it’s not a problem. We’ll start tomorrow morning at Border Field State Park and still be here in time to cross the Coronado Bridge in conjunction with its grand opening tomorrow afternoon.”

“I take it there’ll be publicity.”

“Lots of press and brouhaha. Yup.”

Drake had to phrase this carefully. “I have a concern. The accident…may not have been an accident.”

“I get your drift. You’re under my protection. As long as you’re part of Running California, you have nothing to fear.”

Big words. Confident words, but, somehow, Drake almost believed them.

“I’m not really going to be in shape to run tomorrow.”

“That’s all right. The first day is ceremonial. Everybody will run together in a group and be given the same time. It doesn’t matter how fast you go.”

Drake hadn’t gathered that from the information about the race. He guessed that the Golden Rule came into play here-he who owns the gold makes the rules.

“May I ask you one more question?”

“Anything.”

“Why are you doing this? Not just the race, itself, but the million dollar prize. I’m sure you could have offered much less-”

“We think big at Giganticorp. This will be great publicity for the company and for the state of California. And for the runners. I know that in the past you’ve avoided the spotlight, but you might get to like it.”

Drake wondered. “I almost forgot. Who’s my partner?”

“Wait here.”

Casey gave Drake an enigmatic smile and left the room.

“You look terrible.”

Drake stumbled backward from the doorway. His headache suddenly doubled in intensity. He would recognize that face and musical English accent anywhere, even though the words were far from musical. It was Melody. Or her ghost.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Come…come in.”

She was approximately the last person in the world he had expected to see, this apparition that walked lightly into the room, almost without leaving footprints, and closed the door behind her.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m glad you weren’t killed today.”

She still looked the same, her slim body hidden inside a warm-up suit, belying not only her curves but the strength within, both physical and mental. The sandy hair caught in a ponytail, ready for a run; the pert nose framed by a sprinkling of freckles on the small face.

“Do I have to carry this conversation all by myself?”

“Sorry.” Drake sat down hard on the bed. His legs would no longer support him. “I…I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Don’t feel like the Lone Ranger, as you yanks would say. They didn’t tell me about you, either, until they were forced to by the accident. All the other runners had partners, except me. When they finally divulged the secret, I almost walked out, just the way you did six years ago. For some reason that I can’t attribute, I waited around to see whether you were alive or dead. I must say, you look more dead than alive.”

“I’ll recover.” At least from the collision. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

“You owe me a lifetime of apologies. Let’s see. You leave me with no message and no explanation. I’m frantic, thinking that you’re dead, or at the very least a prisoner in a Soviet Gulag camp. Finally, after months of searching and talking to everybody I can think of, a sympathetic bloke at your embassy does some checking and lets me know that you’re all right but doesn’t know where you are. I wait for word-and wait. For six years I’ve waited. In vain.”

“I had no choice.” Drake felt miserable. “I was ordered to secrecy.”

“Yeah, I remember bloody government secrets. Your government and mine. Don’t let the right hand know what the left hand is doing. But I take it you’ve been out for several years. Why did you quit?”

“It got to the point where I had a hard time telling the good guys from the bad guys.”

“I know the feeling. Would it have hurt you to drop me a line?”

“I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me. And I didn’t know where you were.”

“Poor excuses for excuses. You could have written my mum in Rotherfield.”

“How long have you been in the U.S.?”

Melody sat on the edge of the bed beside Drake and appeared to deflate, like a balloon.

“Two years. Our little island became too small for me. I knew where too many bodies were buried, literally and figuratively. So I came to the land of the free and the home of the brave. I may even become a citizen someday.”

“Where are you living?”

“Denver. Running at high altitude is great conditioning for running at sea level. I’m working at a Jack LaLanne health club as a fitness instructor and running the occasional marathon, when I can find one that accepts women. What about you? Tell me your recent history in two sentences or less.”

Nonstop physical activity. That sounded like the Melody he knew. If anybody were in shape for this race, she was.

“I resigned four years ago. I’ve been living with my sister and brother-in-law in Idyllwild, which is about a hundred miles from here. It’s also in the mountains, a mile high, same as Denver. I’ve been selling real estate and working out. I ran Boston last spring.”

“Fancy that. We’re both running marathons. I’m planning to run Boston next year. We might have run into each other, sometime, if you’ll excuse the little joke. Except for your face, you look fit. Well, I guess the first thing we have to decide is whether we’re going to quit while we’re behind or have a go at this.”

“What did they tell you about the collision?”

“That it was an accident. Your taxi was rear-ended, I believe.”

“It was no accident. The truck driver hit us deliberately.”

Melody caught her breath. “What else do you have to tell me?”

“Actually, that’s it. I haven’t had any contact with the agency for four years. I don’t know why anybody would want to eliminate me. I doubt that any of our Russian friends care about me any longer. I don’t want to expose you to any more danger. The one thing I was happy about when I left you was that you would be safe. You were, weren’t you?”

“I didn’t suffer any physical repercussions, if that’s what you mean. Only emotional. I was reassigned. But we were in it together, Drake. We were both professionals. I knew what I was doing.”

“Okay, but this is different. You’re a civilian now.”

Melody turned and looked into his bloodshot eyes with her green ones. When she did that, Drake was sure she could penetrate his brain and his very soul. Slowly her expression changed, and a smile lit up her face.

“To tell you the truth, life has been a bit boring since you left. The year I spent with you was a lot of things, but it was never dull. I don’t know what chance we have of winning the million, but it might be a lovely adventure.”

“Then the first thing we have to do is get me in shape to run.”

Melody’s manner became brisk. “Tell me about your injuries. I assume your nose won’t be a problem, except that it may spoil your pretty-boy looks if it ends up misshapen. That may be a good thing. I won’t be tempted to shag you.”

“I have a few minor cuts, as you can see. Other than that, I have a bruise on my chest…”

Melody began unbuttoning his shirt. When Drake protested, she said, “I’m a certified fitness instructor. Hold still. I’m not going to rape you.”

She pronounced his chest satisfactory. He told her about his back.

“Take off your belt and lie on the bed on your stomach.”

That was easier said than done because the act of lying down was painful to Drake. When he finally got comfortable, she pulled his shirt up and examined his back. She also pulled his pants down a little. His back hurt when she touched it.

“I prescribe an ice pack. You can put ice cubes in a towel. I’ll get you some. Have you got any aspirin?”

“The doctor gave me morphine, but I flushed it down the toilet.”

“That sounds like you. I’ll get you some aspirin. That won’t kill you.”

“There’s something bothering me.” Drake laboriously rolled over onto his back. “You and I being matched for this race is far too great a coincidence.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Giganticorp knows a lot more about us than is good. What we did together was top secret. Especially what we did when we were off duty.”

Drake smiled at the thought. “We need to keep our eyes open.”

“And our mouths zipped. Loose lips sink ships.”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously. Of course you’re right. You were always right.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t mind sarcasm coming from her. “I know we’re supposed to meet for an introductory dinner, but I can’t make it.”

“Quite right. I’m the doctor, and I’m prescribing bed rest. Alone. Fortunately, you and I have the only single rooms. The other nine teams are all lads, and teammates have to room together. I’m the lone girl in the race.”

“I’d rather have you for a teammate than any male runner I can think of.”

“Flattery is nice, but it won’t get me into bed with you. I’ve learned my lesson on that score. I’ll be back with ice and aspirin. And I’ll have dinner sent up to you.”