The Trinity Game

pressure bang-on. It would get them to New Orleans and beyond. And an old pickup on these roads was like a yellow cab on the streets of Manhattan or a Vespa in Rome. It would help them disappear into the background noise of the place.
    A couple miles down the road, Trinity said, “Way you talked to that boy…” He let out a whistle.
    “We needed the truck.”
    “Gotta call bullshit on that, Danny. That was about way more than a truck. I mean, how badly you itchin’ to die, exactly?”
    Daniel looked squarely at his uncle. “Don’t think I’m itching to die, not really. But I do like to keep death within spitting distance. Helps me stay sharp.”
    “Probably not healthy.”
    “Coming from you,” Daniel smiled, “that should probably worry the hell out of me.”

    They stopped in Calhoun, and Daniel ducked into the Piggly Wiggly for supplies. On the way out, he stopped at a payphone by the front doors and fed all his coins in.
    She answered on the first ring.
    Daniel said, “Julia, it’s me, I—”
    “
Jesus Christ!
Where the hell have you been, why didn’t you call
me?”
    There was no mistaking the tremor in her voice.
    “I
am
calling you. Sorry it took a while.”
    “For the last twenty-two-and-a-half
hours
, I thought you were fucking dead, Danny. Long time to find a payphone.”
    “Look, I’m glad the idea of my death upsets you, but I’m sorry you had to be upset for so long. That’s the best I can offer. We had to lay low.”
    “Hold on.” The phone clunked in Daniel’s ear as she put it down. A few seconds of silence, and she came back with her composure intact. “Trinity’s alive?”
    “Not for the record.”
    “I see.”
    “We need to put some miles behind us. I promise when it’s time to resurrect him, you get an exclusive.”
    “OK. I’ll sit on it for now, but I need to be able to reach you. Area code 706…where are you, Columbus?”
    “No, and we’re not staying put. I’ll get a pre-paid cell, call you with the number. And I need a favor. We give ourselves away if we use any plastic, so I need you to wire us some cash.”
    “Um, wow…” There was a pause on the line. “Yeah, OK, fine.” A longer pause. “You realize I’m breaching my professional ethics with this. We’re supposed to
cover
the story, not
be
the story.”
    “I’ll never tell.” Daniel smiled to himself. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
    “It’s not a joke, Danny. It’ll come out eventually, and my journalistic credibility will go down the toilet.”
    “Yeah, that would really suck for you. Meanwhile, we’re running for our lives.”
    “Don’t be a jerk. I said I’d send it. I just want you to know what it’s going to cost me.”
    “OK, but what do you want me to do about that, other than feel guilty?”
    “I want you to stay alive.”

Atlanta, Georgia…
    J ust four blocks from the Governor’s Mansion on West Paces Ferry, a sober stone mansion stands on a corner lot, surrounded by an eight-foot-high, spiked iron fence. Any casual observer would note the electronic gates across the driveway, the intercom and CCTV camera mounted on a steel post outside the gates, and the expansive lawn, green as the skin of a lime and trimmed golf course short. A closer inspection would reveal cameras mounted under the front porch overhang, high-density xenon security floodlights bracketed under the eaves, and razor-sharp holly bushes planted beneath the ground-floor windows. But unless you knew they were there, you’d never notice the bulletproof glass behind the double-hungs or the gun-port flaps beside each window.
    A white stretch limousine pulled to the gate and the driver’s window came down. The driver pressed the intercom call button. A man’s voice said, “Confirmation code,” and the driver punched it in on the keypad. The gates hissed open, and the limousine pulled to the top of the long, circular drive. The driver cut the engine, got out and opened the back door, and led Father Nick inside Southeast Regional Headquarters of the Department of World Outreach.

    “Nick, good to see you.” Conrad Winter stood in the marble vestibule with his hand out and a smug grin on his face.
    “Didn’t know you were stateside.” Nick gave a curt handshake, thinking:
This day is getting better by the goddamned minute.
    “Our resources are at your disposal,” Conrad raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture, “but it’s your show. I’m simply here to observe and consult and offer