The Serpent's Kiss

83

Jill and Derek raced north on I-75, ripping along the expressway in the left lane at 85 miles an hour, at least as much as possible. Traffic was moving pretty well, but as they sped past Crooks Road, traffic seemed to get thicker and more erratic. They found themselves alternating between sudden slow-downs to 25 miles per hour that freakishly cleared for a mile before jumping back to 70, 75, 80 miles per hour.

Jill’s phone rang. She flipped it out and punched it on. “Jill Church.”

“Mom? It’s Michael!”

“Oh, thank God. Are you at The Palace? If you are—”

”Mom, what’s going on? He’s here?”

“Yes, we think he’s going to do something big at 8:00. Now Michael, you and Ray have to leave. Immediately. We’re on our way.”

“But what about all the people here? They’re not evacuating or anything. What about all these people? It’s a sold-out show.”

“Michael, listen, if—”

”Haven’t you called this in? What’s going on?”

“Michael—”

”Tell him,” Derek said. “Now’s the time.”

Jill wanted to punch him. “Michael, just listen to me.” She didn’t like the edge of hysteria that was creeping into her voice. “Just listen to me, please. You and Ray, you have to leave.”

“Who is this guy?”

Jill clutched the phone. Suddenly the cars in front of her slammed to a halt, brake lights flashing one after another ahead of them. “Shit!” She dropped the phone and stomped on her brakes. The car bucked and her tires squealed on the pavement, but stopped in time.

“Where’s the phone?”

“You drive,” Derek said. “You’re going to get us killed. I’ll talk to him.”

Derek picked the phone off the floor and said, “Michael, it’s Derek Stillwater.”

“Dr. Stillwater! Is this for real?”

“Yes. It’s for real. Do what your mother says. Go get your friend and get out of there.”

“But what about—”

”Michael? Or is it Mike?”

“Either way. Look, Dr. Stillwater—”

”Derek.”

“Derek. Fine. I can’t just abandon all these people.”

Derek looked at the clock on the dashboard. They had less than thirty minutes. Traffic had thickened and was barely moving. Jill’s hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel at ten and two o’clock, her jaw set in a fierce expression of concentration.

“Mike,” Derek said. “Listen to me very closely and don’t interrupt for a second. Your mother and I are on the way. We’re… just a second. Where are we?”

“Between Adams Road and the Square Lake interchange,” Jill said through clenched teeth. “About ten miles away.”

Derek stared at her. That far? With a swallow, he turned his attention back to Michael. “Okay, Mike. Here’s the situation. Your mom and I are on I-75 between Adams Road and the Square Lake interchange. We’re on our way. We know what this guy looks like and—”

”There’s no fucking way you can make it here in time,” Michael said. “Once you get past Square Lake and M-59, it’s Palace traffic. There’s really only one exit and it’ll be backed up for a couple miles. If you make it before 8:00 it’ll be a miracle.”

Derek said to Jill, “He says we’ll never make it. Is that true?”

The look on Jill’s face said it all. “It’ll be close,” she said. “Hopefully Matt’s doing something.”

Derek closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay, Mike. You’re right. We might not be able to make it in time. So you and your friend need to get the hell out of there.”

“I can set a fire alarm off or call security. Get people out. I can’t just leave everybody to die.”

“No! No! Look, this guy, Kevin Matsumoto, The Serpent, if they start evacuating, he’ll set it off early. We’ve—”

”Kevin Matsumoto? Do you have a picture?”

“Michael, are you listening to me?”

“You listen to me,” Michael said. “Do you have his picture?”

Derek glanced over at Jill. She was listening. She cocked her head, then pulled her car onto the shoulder and started racing down the shoulder of the road. Derek swallowed. This was bad. They weren’t able to drive fast on the shoulder and there was a deep ditch dividing the north and southbound lanes. One bad patch of pavement or a swerving vehicle, and they wouldn’t get to The Palace at all.

“Yes,” Derek said. “I have his picture on my computer. It’s off his driver’s license.”

“You can e-mail it to me.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek stared at the clock. 7:33 P.M. The were just coming up on the Square Lake interchange and it looked like there was an accident on the left-hand side, multiple cars. He saw it the same time Jill did, who suddenly cursed and hit the brakes. For a moment the wheels on the left side slipped off the shoulder onto the soft road bank. The car fishtailed.

Derek swore and dropped the phone to hang on. Jill regained control of the car and signaled to merge back into the stream of traffic, which the driver wasn’t especially willing to let her do.

“Just butt in,” Derek said. “Where’s the fucking phone?”

With a sudden spurt of gas, Jill moved back into traffic to the squeal of brakes and honk of horns. Derek scrabbled around the seat until he found the phone. “Michael? You still there?”

“Yes. E-mail me the picture of this guy. I can look for him.”

Derek swallowed. “How am I going to do that?”

“I’ve got e-mail on my phone. You can e-mail it to my address and I can bring it up on my phone. I can look for him.”

Derek closed his eyes. Dear God. “It’s a bad idea,” he said. “You and Ray should—”

”You either send it to me or I’ll have him paged.”

“Don’t do that! Goddammit, Michael!”

Jill snatched the phone out of his hand. “Michael, you get out of—”

”Mom, it’s the only way. You can e-mail this guy’s picture to me and I can look for him. It’s a longshot anyway.”

“You will do no such thing, Michael! You get Ray and get out of there. Leave this up to us.”

“You’re stuck in traffic and you won’t even evacuate!”

“Michael—”

”Mom.” Michael’s voice was low and surprisingly steady. “Mom,” he said. “What would Dad have wanted me to do?”

Jill clenched the phone. “Michael, listen to me—”

”No, you listen to me. If I haven’t seen this guy by five minutes to eight, I’ll get out of the building. I promise. It’s our only hope.”

Jill scowled. She looked at Derek. He was watching her. He said, “It’s too much for me to ask.”

She swallowed hard. Took in a deep ragged breath. “Michael… Michael, be careful. Promise me, five minutes to eight and you and Ray are out of there.”

“I promise.”

“Be careful. I’m giving the phone back to… to Derek. Michael… Michael, I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

She handed the phone back to Derek, then clenched the steering wheel as if it were a life preserver.

“Mike? I need your e-mail address. Okay. Got it. Hang on.”

Jill slowly pushed the car through traffic, finally making their way onto the right shoulder. She floored it.

Derek had his tablet PC in his lap and had forwarded the photograph of Kevin Matsumoto to the e-mail address Michael Church had given him. “Confirm when you’ve got it. And Michael.”

“What?”

“Two things. He used to work at The Palace. He might be wearing a uniform of some kind. And two, if you identify this guy, don’t engage with him. You understand what I mean?”

“Don’t confront him.”

“Right. Don’t confront him. Don’t talk to him. Don’t do anything but keep an eye on him and let us know what’s going on. Hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Seven fifty-five, you and your friend are out of there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Call me back right back to confirm you got the photograph.”

He ended the call and held the phone stiffly in his hand. They were coming up on the interchange and traffic was starting to move a little easier, now that the accident was behind them. Jill edged back into traffic and floored it.