long hose. The next time the driver glanced at his mirror, he could see fifty feet of rubber tubing snaking behind him, flapping all over the road.
The truck screeched to a halt, and the driver set about restoring the hose, cursing colorfully. Melissa and Logan tensed for action. There would be a handful of seconds while the man walked back to his cab, climbed in, and restarted the engine. That was all the time they were going to get.
âNow!â Melissa whispered.
They were off like the wind, pounding for the rear of the van. As they approached, the cargo doors opened. Griffin and Savannah hauled them aboard and slammed the hatch shut. Just like that, they were moving again.
âYou know, this better be important,â Logan complained. âI was about to make Mary Catherine feed me grapes.â
âI have no idea what youâre talking about,â Savannah told him harshly. âBut poor Luthor is in danger, so, yes, this definitely counts as important.â
The Man With The Plan was grim as he took charge. âOperation Hideout is falling apart, you guys. Itâs my fault, really. If Swindle could find Ebony Lake and Ta-da!, I should have known he would look to our other two team members at the third camp.â
âBut how do we know where heâs holding Luthor?â Logan asked.
Melissa held up her phone. âIâm tracking the GPS locater on Benâs cell.â She frowned. âWeâre moving in the right direction, but the signalâs weaker than it was twenty minutes ago. That could mean the unit is running low on power.â
The van was built to carry equipment, not passengers, so the ride was rough, especially when they left pavement and began to jounce along dirt road. All eyes were on Melissaâs phone, which pinpointed Benâs location. It was unlikely that the Triple-S was headed exactly where they wanted to go. They had to be vigilant, then. When it seemed as if they were as close as they were likely to get, they had to make their move and bail out of the truck. The rest of the way they would travel on foot.
âHow far will that be?â asked Savannah worriedly. For her, every minute Luthor was in Swindleâs clutches was torture.
Griffin shrugged. âIt depends on the route of the Triple-S, and how far off the main road that cottage happens to be.â
Melissa sounded nervous behind her hair. âBenâs signal is down to ten percent. Donât people remember to charge their phones?â
âJust you,â Logan confirmed. âThe rest of us have careers to think about.â He stretched, and his flailing elbow flipped a metal switch. The roar of a motor filled the van, followed by a loud hiss of suction. A length of corrugated tubing lashed out, slapping Logan in the cheek. The air filled with dust, starting them all sneezing and choking. A powerful vacuum tugged at their clothes. Melissaâs curtain of long stringy hair was pulled away from her face and sucked into the nozzle.
Griffin lunged for the power vac and flicked the switch again. Blessed quiet returned. Melissaâs hair reassembled itself in front of her face.
Nobody spoke. Nobody even moved. Had the driver noticed the disturbance? If he caught them, it would mean the end of Operation Hideout.
The van continued to shudder along, shock absorbers protesting loudly.
âThat was close,â quavered Savannah.
âItâs time,â said Melissa in a small voice.
âTime for what?â asked Griffin absently. He was so relieved at having survived the mishap with the power vac that he couldnât focus on anything else.
Melissa held her phone in front of him. They had homed in on Benâs signal, and were now veering away slightly. They would never be closer than this.
Like a bus rider getting up to pull the cord for his stop, Griffin opened the rear door a crack, leaned out, and released the hose from its wheel. The four of them waited,
Learning to Kill: Stories