“I talked to Chopper,” I said. “It’s all been arranged.”
“Chopper?” Nina took a step backward and then spoke the name again as if she wanted to make sure she got it right. “Chopper?”
“Yeah.”
“Something’s going to happen.”
“Yeah.”
“What? Don’t tell me. You’re going after them, aren’t you—the men who put the bomb in the motel room?”
“The doctor said I should get mild exercise followed by rest.”
“Dammit, McKenzie. You have a broken collarbone, you have a concussion—I saw the way you rubbed your temples when we were driving home. You were feeling dizzy, weren’t you? Because of the concussion. McKenzie, c’mon. You’re in no condition—what if they try to kill you again?”
“That’s the thing, Nina. They didn’t try to kill me. They called me on the phone. They warned me to get out of the room before the bomb went off.”
“You said—I thought you couldn’t remember.”
“Nina my love, my beating heart—you of all people should know what a terrible liar I am.”
Nina stared at me for a few beats and then looked around the room. It would have been more dramatic if there had been a chair or sofa to take possession of, but since there wasn’t, Nina sat on top of her suitcase, folded her arms across her chest, and announced, “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”
So I did …
Ten seconds is a long time. You can win a gold medal in the Olympics in ten seconds. You can go from first to third on a bloop single in ten seconds. You can tie both shoes in ten seconds. If you don’t believe me, set a timer and close your eyes while it counts down. Ten seconds can seem like an eternity.
“There is a bomb in the room. It will go off in ten seconds. Good luck.”
The moment the caller finished speaking, I heard a soft mmm that reminded me of the sound a TV makes when you first switch it on with a remote control. Knowing what I know now, it couldn’t have been the bomb. The bomb was stuck to the ceiling directly below me. Yet I heard the sound just the same. Perhaps it was an internal clock counting down the seconds I had to live.
The phone was sitting on a nightstand on the far side of the bed, which meant the bed was between the door and me. I did not hang up the phone. Instead, I simply dropped the receiver and dove across the bed, dragging the two pillows that had been propped against the headboard with me. It’s funny how the mind works. I remembered instantly what India Cooper had told me about jade—that it was one tough sonuvabitch—so I wasn’t gentle at all when I slid the heavy artifact off the table and dropped it on top of one of the pillows. I covered it with the second pillow—a jade sandwich—lifted it off the bed, and pressed it against my left side with one arm. I unlocked the door and pulled it open with my free hand, crossed the landing, grabbed the top of the railing, and leaped over it.
The landing was ten feet above the parking lot surface, which doesn’t seem like much unless you try to jump it. Still, I probably would have been fine except that while I was in midair, the bomb went off—in hindsight, I think the artnappers actually gave me an extra second or two. In any case, the force of the blast pushed me sideways, not to mention the glass and other debris that raked my face and torso. Instead of landing on both feet, I hit the ground with the outside of my left foot. My ankle rolled under me. I probably still would have been fine; however, my instincts told me to protect the Lily, so I wrapped my right arm around the pillows as well as my left and twisted my body so that I smacked against the asphalt, shoulder first. I knew my collarbone was broken, knew it even before I felt the pain. I had fractured it once before while playing basketball. It’s a feeling you don’t forget. I didn’t actually feel the pain until I rolled to my knees, still clutching the jade sandwich to my body. Stuff was raining against my back—I have no idea what stuff. I only knew that it was hot and sharp and it hurt despite the Kevlar. I pushed myself up with my right hand. That’s how I sliced open my palm. (I held it up for Nina to see.) I must have cut it on broken glass.
I walked to the car; my body hunched over like Igor in the old Frankenstein movies. My Audi was parked in front of the room directly beneath the room that had exploded. I had managed to leap clear of it, although bomb fragments and whatnot had showered it like hail. There were plenty of dents and dings, and I was pretty sure my rear window had been cracked. I dug my key chain out of my jacket pocket and used the remote to pop the trunk. I stuffed the Lily and the pillows and my keys inside and slammed the lid shut.
