Run into Trouble Page 2

  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.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Border Field State Park marks the United States side of the border with Mexico. The route for Running California starts here and wends its way north along the beach past the Oneonta Slough. Some wading may be necessary. The route continues along Imperial Beach and then across the narrow isthmus that separates the Pacific Ocean from San Diego Bay. It may be easier to run on Silver Strand Boulevard (Route 75) than the sand here. Stay on Route 75 and continue to the entrance to the San Diego-Coronado Bridge.

  ***

  The official Giganticorp bus was bright green with “Giganticorp” written on the side in large orange script. Below the company name the words “Running California” were painted on it in purple. The whole scene would have been impossible for Drake to miss, even if Melody hadn’t been standing beside the bus waving frantically at him. He limped over to her.

  She looked at him, not trying to hide her dismay. “Where were you? I rang your room, but you didn’t answer.”

  “Good morning to you, too. My first problem is going to be getting up these steps.”

  The initial step, especially. He’d had enough trouble negotiating a few much lower steps. Drake tried to lift one foot, but the pain in his back stopped him well before it reached the level of the step. If the bus had been able to pull up to the curb in front of the hotel, he might have had more success. The extra nine or ten inches of height from street level was a killer. He did no better with the other foot. His run of the California coast might end right now.

  “Could we have a boost here?” Melody called to Peaches who was sitting in the driver’s seat.

  Peaches got up and stomped down the steps. Without saying a word, he positioned himself behind Drake, grabbed his elbows, and lifted him up to the first step with about the same effort that it would take most people to lift half a dozen hardcover books from a table. It hurt to be lifted, but Drake squelched a groan. The other steps were lower, and Drake managed to escape further humiliation; he pulled himself up by grabbing the handrails and putting most of his weight on his arms.

  Ignoring the stares of the other runners, he stumbled along the aisle and fell into an empty seat.

  “Move over—if you can.”

  He laboriously moved over to the window seat as Melody sat down beside him. In contrast to his elephantine moves, she was so graceful that it almost looked as if she sat on air just above the seat. Peaches shifted into gear, and the bus started rolling.

  Melody looked at him. “I didn’t think you were going to show up. Maybe it would be better if you hadn’t. You’re fit for nothing but lying in a bed of pain.”

  “You always did have a way with words. But to answer your earlier question, I was on the floor stretching, and I couldn’t get to the phone when it rang. The pain woke me at four, and I spent the next three hours alternately icing my back and trying to stretch without killing myself.”

  “Did you eat?”

  “I had room service bring me breakfast. I figured if Casey could afford a million dollar prize, he could afford that. Tell me about the dinner last night.”

  “I met the runners I didn’t meet yesterday afternoon. Naturally, they’re completely discounting us.”

  Drake shrugged. “They’re not used to seeing women runners. That would work to our advantage, but because of the shape I’m in, they’re quite correct to discount us.”

  “There’s another thing.” Melody lowered her voice. “I’m the only one not from California.”

  Drake pondered that. “I think we have some questions to ask Casey. Did he make a speech?”

  “Actually, he did. He’s quite the orator. He talked about the glorious adventure we were embarking on and how much good it was going to do for the great state of California.”

  “Did he mention the million dollars?”

  “He managed to toss that in. And he emphasized the tax free part. Although I’m not sure how he’s going to manage that. One thing I’ve learned since I’ve been in the States is that taxes are inevitable, just like they are in jolly old England, and just like it says in the saying.”

  “I suspect he’s going to pay additional money to the winners to cover the taxes. Although, if he does that, the additional payment becomes taxable, and he’ll have to give more money to pay those taxes. And then—”

  “I get your point. It goes on forever. Well, I’ll let you be the calculator for our team. You always were more calculating than I was.”

  ***

  “We missed you at dinner last night.”

  The man avoided looking at Drake’s bandaged face.

  “I heard it was a lot of fun.”

  He shook hands with the eighth or ninth runner he had just met. He thought this one called himself Glen. The names and faces blurred together, although he realized that their body types were similar—thin and not too tall. Not one was over six feet, and the shortest had only an inch on Melody who stood about five and one-half feet. In contrast, Drake cleared six feet by a couple of inches and had a stockier build.

  One of the runners had a name that sounded familiar: Tom something-or-other. Drake mentioned this to Melody who was standing beside him, also trying to learn the names.

  “Tom Batson. He’s the only Californian ever to win the Boston Marathon.”

  “I should know that.”

  “After what you’ve been through, it’s a wonder you remember your own name. These are serious runners. Even if you were healthy, we wouldn’t stand much of a chance.”

  Peaches had brought them to Border Field State Park. Drake didn’t know it until he swung himself off the bus using mostly his arms, but Casey had ridden on the bus with them. He was wearing runner’s clothes, and he was going to run with them today. Fred had driven separately. There were no reporters here at the boundary between the United States and Mexico.

  Fred herded the runners over to the Mexican Border Monument, a marble obelisk proclaiming the friendship of t
he United States and Mexico, and took pictures of Casey and the runners. The ugly metal and wire border fence extended on either side of the monument and into the ocean. Drake could see a section of Tijuana through the fence, complete with a bullring, which contrasted to the barrenness on the U.S. side.

  Casey addressed the group. “I realize that this is an inauspicious start to a grand enterprise, but you’ll receive a proper sendoff this afternoon at the Coronado Bridge. So let’s get going. We’re going to run up the beach for awhile before we hit the road. There may be some swampy places, but we’re runners, and we don’t mind getting our feet wet, right?”

  Everybody echoed, “Right.”

  “Okay, follow me.”

  Casey set off along the sand at a moderate pace. The runners, all wearing shorts and singlets with Running California printed on them, easily kept up with him. Drake’s clothes had been delivered to his room by the taciturn Peaches. Only his running shoes were his own. Fortunately, he had been wearing them yesterday. If by some miracle he was able to continue, he would have to buy at least one more pair of shoes and break them in as they went.

  Drake and Melody started behind the others. At first, Drake could hardly walk, let alone run, but after a while he loosened up a little and accelerated to a slow trot. Melody floated effortlessly beside him.

  She watched him closely. “You’re looking a little better. How do you feel?”

  “Like somebody is sticking pins into my voodoo doll.”

  The cloudless sky proclaimed that it was a California August—summer at its peak. How could anybody feel bad on such a beautiful day?

  Surprisingly, within a few minutes Drake felt better. The movement helped. Running elevated his spirits, as it often did. Producing endorphins, or something. They sped up to a jog. He and Melody chatted about inconsequential things. His problems seemed to melt away. He almost forgot that someone might be trying to kill him.

  They splashed through shallow water as Oneonta Slough lazily joined the ocean, but wet feet were par for the course for marathoners. Running on sand didn’t jolt his back as much as running on a hard surface, but the tradeoff was that it required more effort because the sand gave beneath his feet. That slowed them down, but speed was the least of his worries.