“Very funny.”
“Don’t worry. Bears aren’t in season in Oregon,” he said.
“How do you know that?”
“I’m a game warden.”
She rolled her eyes and apparently decided to end the exchange. That was fine with Joe. He grasped his case as it came by and turned toward the arrivals area.
* * *
—
As he limped down a long hallway covered with garish green-and-blue carpeting that hurt his eyes, Joe drew out his phone. He sent a quick text to Marybeth telling her he’d arrived in Portland, and another to Nate asking where to meet him.
After a beat, Nate replied: Outside.
Joe felt the cool humid air the second he pushed through the double doors. The air, he observed, was a salty mixture of pine, the Pacific, and engine exhaust. The pickup area was covered by a massive portico to keep visitors dry from the rain.
While he waited, Joe squatted down on the curb and unlocked the fasteners of the gun case. He felt like a backcountry hit man venturing for the first time into the big city. It was unnerving.
He looked up to see Nate’s Yarak van approaching and crossing over three empty lanes to pull up next to him. It was obvious that the vehicle had been through some adventures. Joe was well acquainted with bullet holes in cars, because every wreck in Twelve Sleep County was peppered with them.
He was suspicious when he didn’t recognize either the driver or the passenger. The man behind the wheel wasn’t Nate, but instead a big Black man with a mass of hair. The passenger was a pale, thin guy with ginger hair and a feral look.
The van stopped and the passenger window powered down.
“Joe Pickett?” the driver asked.
“Yup.”
“I’m Geronimo Jones. Your buddy Nate is in the back.”
He gestured toward Joe’s rifle case. “What did you bring with you?”
“My shotgun,” Joe said.
From the dark of the back of the van, Nate said, “That’s good. He can’t hit anything with his pistol, anyway.”
Joe rolled his eyes and the driver laughed. It was good to hear Nate’s voice.
“Excuse me,” the passenger said as he opened his door. “This is as far as I go.”
Joe stepped back so the ginger-haired man could exit the vehicle.
“Take care now, Randy,” the driver called out after him. “Go home. Get on the straight and narrow. Get a job. Maybe I’ll see you around in Denver.”
“Maybe,” Randy said. He passed by Joe with a furtive glance on his way into the terminal.
The driver patted the passenger seat, indicating for Joe to get in.
Joe did. He grimaced when he saw Nate sitting behind the seats with his back propped against the interior wall.
“How are you doing?” he asked him.
“Oh, just dandy. You?”
“Busy. We took down some Nazis.”
“Damn,” Geronimo said.
Nate grinned his cruel smile. “I wish I could have been there.”
“Ah, we didn’t need you,” Joe lied.
* * *
—
As they crossed the Columbia River into Portland on the six-lane Interstate Bridge, Joe looked out his window. There was more water in view than existed in the whole of Twelve Sleep County, and possibly in the state of Wyoming. The buildings of downtown Portland glistened across the river to his left.
Geronimo briefed him as they drove.
“。 . . So we’ve got to find him tonight and get those birds back. By tomorrow they’ll be in a jet on the way to the Middle East.”
“Are we sure he’s here?” Joe asked.
Geronimo brandished Tristan’s phone. “We think so. We hope so. We’re kind of running on fumes and wishes at this point.”
“He’s here,” Nate stated from the back. His tone held no doubt. Joe believed him. Nate had that ability. His friend knew when bears, wolves, or mountain lions were around. It was uncanny. Axel Soledad fit into that category of predatory beast.
“He’s got a guy with him,” Geronimo said. “Randy told us the guy is named the Blade and he served with Axel in Special Forces. Axel picked him up outside a prison and they loaded a bunch of guns into their van. I think I shot the motherfucker back in Seattle, but I don’t know how badly he’s hurt.”
Joe nodded. “Have you considered calling the police? Alerting them about Axel’s transit van?”
Geronimo chuckled. “What do you think?”
“You’re just like Nate,” Joe said.
“I take that as a compliment.”