The Player, The Thief and The Broken Heart - Chapter Eighty-Two - A Wreck in the Desert

Frank was climbing out of the driver's seat as Rebecca staggered up to him. She fell limp into his arms. What an insane night. She barely knew Robbie and the second she peeled that tape off her thighs and handed him that envelope she'd felt sick. Then Eddie dropped her off at the 7-11, promising her Frank was parked just around the corner in the side lot. That fifty foot walk across the asphalt felt like the longest walk of her life.

But all of it was over now, along with the rest of her night. Only some debriefing remained and then home to a long hot bath.

"Babe, you okay?" Frank asked, propping her upright.

"Let's get out of here," she whispered, nuzzling her head into his chest. She was amazed she'd made it out of there. Whether they had anything to show for it or not didn't matter anymore. The main job was done. Her handlers been given so few details to her that she'd had to improvise nearly everything. Pretend to pull of a heist, they'd told her, by getting into that safe room. Yet someone had tipped Yushenko off anyway. Why else would he have already exchanged all that cash. She felt bad about lying to Jimmy and company but that's life. By now the Golden Dunes should be crawling with FBI agents. Frank helped her hobble into the passenger side and he returned to the driver's seat.

"Where are we going again?" Her mind was mush. If someone asked her her name she probably wouldn't be able to remember it right now.

Frank backed out of the parking spot and turned onto the side road that would lead to –

Crack!

Heart racing, Rebecca stared at the frosted hole in the windshield. Another shot missed, clipping the side of the SUV. Frank pushed her down, turned the wheel and they lurched sharply to the left. Rebecca curled on her side and shielded her head with her arms. A door behind her flew open. Two figures threw themselves inside, then the door slammed shut and a male voice said, "Floor it!"

Somehow Rebecca found the strength to peek between the two front seats into the back. The first thing she saw was a pair of greenish-blue eyes as scared as her own. That woman from the other day who'd checked in along with ... her brain next registered the guy with the English accent. He'd rolled down the window and was squinting along the barrel of some freaky-looking black pistol.

"Make sure she doesn't go anywhere," he said to Rebecca, firing a shot at something outside.

She turned to face Frank as the SUV lurched forward. He was checking the rear-view mirror as he drove full speed up the road. Frank blew through two amber lights in a row and then whizzed through a red light where the left hand turning lane signal had just flipped to yellow. They narrowly missed an SUV turning left across the oncoming path, horn blaring angrily.

Frank narrowed his eyes at his rear view mirror. "They're gone."

"Not for long. Pull over," the Englishman said.

"What's going on?" Frank asked.

"Pull over."

David Benson. No, Le Bon. That was the name he'd given her, though she was sure that, too, was fake. Her own higher-ups had of course divulged almost nothing apart from assuring her he was trustworthy. Good ole' need to know and chain of command. Only the man's gun was pointed at Frank now. "Now."

Her heart leapt into her chest. "Do what he says, Frank."

Frank pulled to the curb and raised his hands. Rebecca closed her eyes and prayed he wasn't about to pull anything stupid, and that they weren't about to be double-crossed. She hadn't been cleared to tell Frank a thing about Yushenko's various hotel guests, including him.

She heard doors open and shut and low voices arguing. "I'll drive," said one. "Only if I'm up front," said the other.

The door next to her opened and a fresh breeze blew in. "Come on, Becks." Frank took her hand, and helped her into the back seat. Next to her the other woman was belted in, her wrists cuffed together on her lap with a plastic tab. She stared sullenly ahead, mouthing curses, her lips curled up in a snarl.

"I apologise, but I need to borrow your car," Benson said, strapping himself in. Rebecca felt a tidal wave of relief wash over her at the sight of the man handing Frank a pistol. "I'll need for you to cover me."

Rebecca slumped down in the back seat of her SUV. It felt so strange not being in the driver's seat of her own vehicle.

"I think your friends are on their way," Frank said, peering out the passenger side window.

"They are. One more thing before we go." Benson pulled a slim black case from the breast pocket of his jacket. He snapped a device together that resembled a steel tarantula and pressed it to the hole in the windshield. "That should hold for now," he said and floored the gas pedal.

Tires squealed as the SUV shot forward, u-turned, and raced up the ramp for the Las Vegas Freeway. Rebecca leaned forward so she could see into the rear view mirror. A black Mercedes roughly a hundred yards behind them was weaving closer.

"Know where you're going?" Frank asked. Benson said nothing. His face was pinched in concentration as he sped up, dodging around cars and transport trucks. They flew past the exit for the Motor Speedway and cut through the desert.

By now the night had taken on a dreamlike quality. Rebecca no longer felt any fear; she no longer felt anything. Staring out into the black expanse was strangely calming, almost hypnotic. Her trance was interrupted briefly as the SUV veered off, descended, and did a sharp left turn onto Route 93. They continued straight into nothingness. She gazed out at the silhouettes of rolling hills in the starry distance. Behind them the other car still followed, but it was further back now. She thought she could glimpse headlights from a second car even farther in the distance but it was hard to tell.

"My name's Le Bon, by the way," Benson said to Frank, his voice exploding into the silence. "Since you've been so kind as to loan me your car, it's only right. You may call me Simon, if you wish."

Rebecca looked at the woman next to her, who hadn't made the slightest movement or change in her expression. "My colleague," Le Bon said. "A dose of a substance I like to keep handy keeps her in that state, though apart from being currently unable to talk I don't see much difference in her."

Something gurgled out of the woman's throat that sounded like a creature with lots of claws or legs scraping against a pipe under a sink drain. Frank rolled the window down and cold air gusted in. He poked his head out saying, "They're gaining on us." He readied the gun Le Bon had handed him.

It was then Rebecca noticed the fuel tank was less than a quarter full. The empty sign should be coming on soon. Le Bon turned onto a dirt road that led up into the hills and she prayed he knew where he was going. She didn't dare ask.

A chill spread into her as she spotted a dark, hulking figure next to the road up ahead. It shifted as she squinted at it. Something silvery flashed in the headlights and she clasped her hands to her mouth, muffling a scream. Whatever the hell that gun was, it was huge. For a split second, she'd seen down the barrel of it.

A shot fired, tires skidded, an explosion rumbled and she braced herself, clutching the sides of Frank's seat. It wasn't them tumbling off the road, just a shockwave that had sent them skidding as the vehicle pursing them erupted into a fireball erupted. She shifted around to stare through the tinted rear window. The upside down Mercedes was ablaze, roaring like a bonfire. "Holy shit."

Le Bon slowed. He did a u-turn, drove back and stopped, keeping a safe distance from the flames. He got out and Frank followed. Not sure what else to do, Rebecca staggered out after them. She couldn't keep her eyes away from the wreck and the roaring flames leaping up all around. She raised her arm in front of her face to block the heat.

"Who ... shot them?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer. A chill descended on her as she caught sight of a second car speeding towards them.