"You're good," said Calin emerging from beneath the blanket. "I believed you and I knew you were lying." He made no mention of her last minute loss of nerve.

"I've never been so terrified." She steered back into the traffic flow.

"Being subjected to terror is not always a bad thing, and you just proved it," said Calin as he climbed onto the front passenger's seat beside her. "I've a vague recollection of someone once telling me; 'Fear is one of life's greatest motivators, it's created more heroes than any comic book. You just have to learn how to harness that fear.'" That memory prompted another, one that cost more than three thousand innocent lives. "One only has to think back to the firemen at the Twin Towers to understand the accuracy of that statement. They charged into a burning building knowing their chances of survival were limited at best but they overcame their fear."

"Don't suppose you remember where you heard that?" she asked. "Sounds to me like something that might be taught in the military."

The suggestion had merit and was reinforced by the memory of his pursuers at the farm, Homeland Security. What had he done to warrant such animosity? Not knowing worsened his frustration. What had triggered the memory loss? Was it psychological, perhaps a mental breakdown, a head injury, or medically induced? He needed time to think, and rest.

"Jess, it's time we talked and faced reality."

"Reality." Her tone suggested she was ready to fight. "Or your version of reality?"

"Jess, do you have any idea how close you just came to twenty years in jail for murder or ten years for harbouring a fugitive? Had that police officer searched the vehicle, you'd now be in a police cell."

"Save your breathe Calin. I'll decide when it's my time to leave."

"Sometimes Jess, you only get one chance."

"And sometimes you don't get any chance. And that's precisely where I was back there. I was as good as dead until you came along." Emotion was back. She choked back her tears.

"Now's not the time to resolve this argument," said Calin on sensing her distress, her nerves were frayed. "In fact I'm not really in any fit state to discuss anything, I'm totally whacked. What I most need is a good night's sleep."

"Are you planning on doing a runner during the night?"

"I'll give you my word, it'll not be tonight."

"Can I trust you?"

"What about that place over there?" Calin pointed to a rundown twin-storied motel. Jess steered towards office reception.

"You sure have good taste," she responded. "Or is it the price, forty bucks a night."

"Can't resist a bargain," said Calin on pulling one of the hundred dollar notes he'd stolen from the home where the two women had been killed. "And with the money we save I'll buy you dinner."

"Is it safe to be seen walking around town?"

"No."

"Then why do it?"

"It's been a long time since I've taken a pretty girl to dinner."



They strolled along the street hand-in-hand. Then wined and dined in a setting that intimated more romance than fear. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Calin's every thought centred on survival, a task he considered beyond his skill. He opened his mind to a past he couldn't recall and to a future he feared he'd never see. He had to become more aware.

Jess observed but saw nothing, Calin saw but said nothing. His brain registered every detail while comparing variations in the journeys to and from motel to restaurant. The differences were subtle and insignificant, but recognisable to the trained eye. There were fewer cars parked on the street, no pedestrians and no kids congregating around someone's open garage. It appeared to be a lock-down situation, residents ordered to stay indoors. The normality of evening street sounds had been silenced, artificially. He knew instantly. They were being watched. He felt their presence.

What mistake had he made?


The young motel receptionist was a compulsive reader, books, newspapers, magazines and internet news bulletins. Two days ago she'd read of the hundred dollars notes allegedly stolen by the man named as Calin Roberts. She had recorded the missing notes' serial numbers.

On receiving the hundred dollar note from Jess, the young girl compared it to the list. A moment later she called the FBI.



"Jess, we're in trouble," he said as they walked towards the motel. "They know we're here." He recognised panic on the face of his companion. "You've got two choices, hit me with your best punch and then run like hell. Or stick with me and hope I can find a way out of this mess."

"Do you have a plan?"

"No." Fifteen seconds later Calin changed his mind, he had located their method of escape. He outlined the idea to Jess.

"You can't be serious." She shook her head in disbelief. "The car belongs to the FBI."

"That's what makes it safe. It won't be searched."

"What if someone opens the trunk?"

"It won't open, I'll disable the lock

"Will we both fit?"

"It will be cramped, but I rate survival way above comfort."

*

Fifteen hours later, the FBI team leader conceded defeat. Calin Roberts had done a Houdini; he had achieved the impossible escape. They had watched him leave the restaurant, seen him on the street then he vanished. It defied all logic yet it had happened.

How?

And how did one explain failure to their superiors? His inability to apprehend would see his performance rated accordingly, he'd be considered incompetent and be removed from the investigation. Yet, he'd done everything by the book. He'd followed procedure.

In two hours, the time span between the motel receptionist's phone call and the time of the vanishing, he had arranged his team, co-ordinated a comprehensive surveillance, ordered searches of every house and established road blocks on all outgoing roads. He'd left nothing to chance. Yet it had failed. And he alone would wear the blame.


Discomfort had extended a way beyond pain. Jess wanted to scream, every muscle in her body cramped in agony. And she needed the bathroom. How much longer could she control the urge to pee? The self-imposed silence along with the darkness and lack of movement furthered her fears. Surely arrest was preferable. She questioned the wisdom of Calin's decision.

What made it worse was watching him. His breathing was relaxed, his eyes closed, almost as if in a meditative trance. He was in control, a man accustomed to not only encountering impossible situations but to overcoming them.

"Won't be much longer," he whispered. He placed his hand on her shoulder. Neither his words nor the action comforted. She wanted physical relief, not emotional support. Jessica couldn't control a surge in anger. Nonetheless she held silent, now wasn't the time to voice her thoughts.

Less than three minutes later her anger gave way to sheer terror. She heard voices approaching, then the sound of a key inserted into the trunk. Would Calin's claim of disabling the locking mechanism hold true? She held her breath.

A crashing impact echoed throughout the trunk. In her mind Jess pictured a punch landing on the flimsy metal of the trunk's outer skin. The deafening blow triggered vastly different responses. Jess couldn't contain her shock, a plaintive cry escaped from her throat while Calin grabbed the only weapon available; the tyre lever in the inadequate tool kit. He'd not surrender without a fight.

"What fucking else can go wrong?' screamed the FBI team leader as he vented his frustration on the unresponsive lock. The trunk occupants couldn't decipher his words; they heard only the heart-stopping pounding on metal.

Around ten seconds later, to Jess and Calin it seemed much longer, they heard car doors open. A minute later they were moving, and accelerating at a frantic pace. The driver was angry; his aggression transitioned into his driving. God help anyone who stands in his path.

"Try to get some sleep," Calin's message worsened her irritation. It was all right for him. She sensed he was no stranger to fear, wasn't afraid of death. "I get the feeling this could be a rough ride."

"I need to pee."

"Well do it, Jess, let go. Pride has no place when you're dicing with death. I know, Jess, I'd rather have a pulse in my veins and pee on my pants than dry diapers and no breath." A moment later Jess surrendered her pride she then drifted into a restless sleep.