Victoria asked, “Cameras?”
Marcus thought.
“Some.”
“Police access?”
“Eventually.”
Elias nodded.
“Better.”
Marcus drew the route by hand.
No digital transmission.
No shared routing system.
No advance notice outside the people standing on the shoulder.
Victoria watched them.
The absurdity struck her.
A board chair who controlled billions of dollars.
A professional security chief.
An elite protection team.
And the route keeping them alive was being traced in pen across a paper road map by a mechanic who had stopped because he saw hazard lights.
“Move,” Marcus ordered.
Victoria transferred to a different SUV.
Elias prepared to return to his truck.
She stopped him.
“No.”
He turned.
“What?”
“You're coming.”
“My truck—”
“One of my people drives it.”
“No.”
“Elias.”
“I don't let strangers drive my truck.”
Victoria looked genuinely confused.
Marcus laughed.
“That is your objection?”
“Yes.”
Marcus pointed at one of his agents.
“Davis has advanced tactical driving training.”
“I don't care.”
“He's probably a better driver than you.”
“Definitely not.”
Davis looked offended.
Marcus sighed.
“We'll leave it secured and recover it later.”
“No.”
Victoria stepped closer.
“We may need you.”
Elias looked at her.
“My daughter needs me.”
The answer stopped her.
Marcus intervened.
“We get you to the safe house. Then a driver takes you straight home.”
“How long?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“You cannot know that.”
“Approximately.”
Elias stared.
Marcus corrected himself.
“Forty-five.”
Victoria said, “If you leave alone and the people responsible saw you with us—”
Elias stopped.
That possibility had occurred to him.
He simply did not want to admit it.
Marcus continued.
“They may now know your truck.”
Victoria's voice softened.
“I don't want my problem following you to your daughter.”
That changed the decision.
Elias looked toward his pickup.
“Secure it.”
Marcus nodded.
“Done.”
“And nobody touches my tools.”
Davis muttered, “Wouldn't dream of it.”
Elias climbed into the front passenger seat of the replacement SUV.
Victoria sat behind him.
Marcus drove.
The convoy moved.
For the first mile, nobody spoke.
Rain softened to mist.
The highway narrowed.
Trees pressed closer to the road.
Elias watched every shoulder, driveway, culvert, parked vehicle, and reflection.
Not obsessively.
Methodically.
Marcus noticed.
“You still do it.”
“What?”
“Scan.”
Elias shrugged.
“Some habits don't leave.”
Victoria leaned forward.
“Does that bother you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight it's useful.”
Marcus kept speed moderate.
The first county road was empty.
Farmhouses appeared intermittently behind fields and black fences.
A church sign flashed past.
A closed service station.
A bridge.
Nothing moved behind them except the convoy.
Marcus relaxed one degree.
Then Elias said, “Slow down.”
His tone changed so little that Victoria almost missed it.
Marcus did not.
He reduced speed.
“What?”
Elias pointed ahead.
The pavement reflected strangely beneath the headlights.