Night Of Knives

Chapter 19

"Turn around, turn around!" Jacob cries out.

Veronica can hardly breathe. Her lungs feel trapped in an icy cage.

"There is no room," Henry says.

He's right. This dirt path is only a single lane wide, the shacks here are too close together. The vehicle behind them is big, another SUV. Prester's Pajero stops twenty feet away. They have been boxed in.

"Call the police," Veronica says hoarsely.

Jacob picks up at his hiptop, then stares at it, disbelieving. "No service. How the fuck? We're in range, we've got to be."

They hear doors open on the vehicle behind them.

"The Lord Jesus will shelter and guide us," Henry's voice is low and strained. "Holy Jesus, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death."

"Run," Veronica says, "we have to run."

Jacob looks at her helplessly. "Where? How?"

Prester gets out of the Pajero and walks slowly back towards the Toyota. The gun in his left hand shines darkly in the headlights of the vehicle behind them. Veronica feels paralyzed. She can't even turn her head to look at Jacob.

Prester bangs on the car window beside her with his gun, so hard that he almost breaks the glass. "Out of the car. Now. There are two hard men with Kalashnikovs right behind you. If you don't do this my way, you will do it their way. Your call."

After a second Veronica forces herself to move, reaches out with a trembling hand, unlocks the door.

Prester yanks it open and orders, "Out."

Veronica obeys. She is trembling, wobbling on her legs, she feels like she hardly has the strength to stand. She half-expects to be pistolwhipped or killed on the spot - but Prester just gapes at her. Jacob follows her out and takes a step forward past her, half-interposing himself between Veronica and Prester.

A long moment passes. Prester stares at them like he's never seen white people before. Then he demands, "What the fuck?"

Veronica and Jacob don't know how to respond. Prester looks into the vehicle, sees Henry. "Who's this?"

"My driver," Jacob says weakly. "Henry. He doesn't know anything, he doesn't have anything to do with this."

"Anything to do with what? Why are you following me?"

Veronica realizes they should have come up with some kind of cover story, some explanation, however thin. Now she can't think of anything but the truth.

"Give me a fucking answer. Who put you up to this?"

"Nobody," Jacob says, startled into the truth. "It's just us."

Veronica gives him an alarmed look. Jacob just admitted that no one knows where they are or what they are doing, and that no help is on the way. His face falls as he realizes the same thing.

"Holy shit." Prester's expression brightens with understanding. "Holy shit, you thought it was me, didn't you?"

They don't dare answer.

"You think I set Derek up." He shakes his head wonderingly. "You fucking idiots. This is why I told you to go home. You stupid fucking amateur-hour morons." Prester starts to laugh. It's a relieved laugh, not a mocking one, and after a moment Veronica allows herself to smile with the hope that Prester is actually not a bad guy, she and Jacob are not actually about to die.

"I should have known," Prester says, and now he sounds amused and confident. "You drive right up to the club and think no one will notice a white couple just down the street with a camera big enough to choke a crocodile. Then you think I won't notice you following me. Turning your lights off in the middle of the road. Jesus. And I was actually worried. What a fucking joke."