Chapter 1

Zeus (Harvey)

I pointed the pickup down I-20. The Dallas to Shreveport leg of the trip was going to be about three and a half hours long if I didn't push it. I wasn't going to push it. I had a loaded .357 magnum under the driver's seat – which wasn't illegal in Texas, of course, but still, I didn't want a hassle with the cops. Not to mention the baggie of weed that was pushed up under the springs of the pickup's passenger seat. That WAS illegal, so I especially didn't want any problems with the police. I'm sure they had my plate number and were looking for me, anyway. I'd dodge them if I could, negotiate if I had to. I was a clean cut, white, Purple Heart veteran – I could usually walk away from encounters with my stalkers, as I'd come to think of them.

And of course I was going to take some money from the casinos. Not illegally, but kinda questionably. The Chief had given me the numbers to play, and they were going to win. Keno is probably the dumbest way to try and take money from the casinos: it's like a giant bingo card with 80 numbers and you pick anything from 1 to 20 numbers, and if they come in, you win. Simple huh? But they fiddle with the odds.

I had eleven numbers to play, tomorrow at noon. Now supposedly the odds on exactly eleven numbers on a Keno card are about eight million to one. The casino I'm supposed to play at only pays $1 million on a $11 bet. That sucks, but not if you know the eleven numbers. You can play any fancy combination of numbers, of course, but the Chief only gave me eleven. For tomorrow at noon. The thing that bothered me most was the size of the win. $1 million was sure to garner some attention. Maybe I'd have to split it up and get lower odds but less attention.

I cruised down the interstate and thumbed my phone. Another illegal thing, I know: phone use while driving. Actually, it's not illegal (yet!) to drive and use a phone ... just to text. What kind of idiot would try to send a text message while he was driving? You have to take your hands AND eyes off the road. Might as well aim for a tree and then send the text message. To top it off, the damn thing has a GPS in it and they can track your location from it. But there's no way you can stay in touch with things without it. So when I wasn't using it, I kept it in a holder on my belt – but it was a special holder with a Faraday cage built into it. I know; I made it myself. The copper mesh of the cage keeps electronic signals from getting through.

Although they could probably track me from the GPS they implanted in my head during the operation. I couldn't do anything about that and it drove me nuts when I thought about it. Wearing a Faraday cage for my hat would be too far 'round the bend, even for me.

I looked at the phone. No message from the girl who called herself Io. She knew I'd be driving so I didn't expect a message, but I was just checking, you know? I clicked it off and put it back in the cage.

My mind drifted as the miles passed under the wheels. I could still see that damned IED go off in slow motion.

I turned on the radio as the memory faded ... the miles skittered past toward Shreveport, LA., and classic rock filled the cab.

It was just after 6 p.m. when I pulled into the WalMart parking lot. There were two exits plus a separate entrance for trucks. That was good, but all the exits led to the same road. That was bad. I drove around to the Motel 6 that was on the other side of the vacant lot. That had only one exit. Very bad. The vacant lot between had a heavy brush cover, it looked to be mostly grasses. I checked in: cash of course, under the name of Jefferson Thomas. I was never any good with fake names. I handed over the fake driver's license – I wasn't any good with fake ID either, but I knew someone in Fort Worth who was. I had one more ID sewn into the stuffing of the passenger seat, in case I needed it.

I dropped my duffel in the room and looked out the window: a 15 ft. drop. Good. That meant nobody was coming in that way. Two standard exits in the hall, but there was a third – a service elevator. Good again. I wedged a match into the closed door and went out for dinner.