Loose ends

16.

“Okay, what we need is a good distraction," Max declared. "Then, after Morton and the science guy have been lured away, I'll slip into their room to check out that briefcase."With the exception of Alex, who had volunteered to monitor Morton's hangout from the Jeep, the gang had crowded into a single motel room to work out the details of Max's plan. Liz sat at the foot of one of the unmade beds, determined to take part in the proceedings, despite the monster-size butterflies in her stomach and the panicky feeling that came over her every time Morton's name was mentioned. I can't let the others solve this problem for me, she resolved, not if I want to stop feeling like a helpless victim.

"The question is," Max continued, "what kind of distraction?" He sat next to Liz on the bed, his arm around her shoulders. An air conditioner hummed steadily in the background, beneath the curtained windows that kept out the late morning sun while also hiding their conference from prying eyes.

Slouching against the wall, her arms crossed atop her chest, Isabel sighed dramatically. "Just leave that to me," she suggested with a definite air of noblesse oblige, her weary tone implying that this was just one more burdensome task that only she was fully equipped to handle.

Maria snorted and rolled her eyes. "Let me guess, you're planning to bat your eyelashes and flirt them into a state of total submission." Seated on the other bed, next to Michael, she gave Isabel a trenchant look. "Is that, like, your only plan-ever?"Max's sister was unfazed by Maria's sarcasm. "It's never failed yet," she said with a smirk.

Liz saw a pithy retort forming on Maria's lips, but Max interrupted the two women's verbal sparring before it could escalate further. "No offense, Isabel," he stated diplomatically, "but I think we need something more ambitious, that's certain to keep Morton and his accomplice occupied long enough for me to make a thorough search of their motel room."Why you?" Michael objected. He exchanged a meaningful look with Max, which left Liz wondering what exactly she had missed. "Remember that little talk we had earlier this morning, Max? Under the circumstances, I'm not so sure that you're the one who should be taking point on this operation."To Liz's slight surprise, Max didn't seem to mind having his strategy questioned by Michael. "I see where you're coming from," he replied reasonably, "and I appreciate your concerns, but I really think this is something I ought to do." His tone was firm, but conciliatory. "Besides, in theory, I won't be the one dealing with Morton; that will be the rest of you, which is probably just as well."Why wouldn't Max want to meet up with Morton? Liz thought, puzzled. Yesterday he had been almost too anxious to confront die hated gunman. Once again, she had the distinct impression that she was missing something, maybe that "little talk" Michael had alluded to. Maybe 1 should ask Max about that later, when we haw a little more privacy.

"Okay," Michael agreed, nodding unenthusiastically. "But somebody should go with you, as backup," he insisted, clearly intending that he be that person.

A reasonable assumption, Liz conceded, except that she had other ideas. "I'll go with Max," she blurted quickly, before she had a chance to chicken out.

Her terse announcement caught everyone in die room off guard. No surprise, considering that she'd barely been able to string a coherent sentence together for the last day or so. "What?" Max exclaimed, shocked and appalled by the mere idea. He held onto her tightly, searching her face with dark, troubled eyes. "You can't be serious, Liz," he said softly.

"Max is right," Maria added forcefully. "You really don't have to do this, honey. We can take care of this on our own, I promise."Liz was tempted to give in, especially if it meant not leaving the relative safety of the rented motel room, but knew that she had to resist that impulse if she ever wanted to feel like herself again. "No, you don't understand," she spoke out, trying, with mixed results, to keep her voice from quavering. "I haw to do this, myself. It might be the only way I can put this whole, awful nightmare behind me." A thin cotton blouse concealed the glowing handprint on her belly, but Liz could still feel it tingling against her skin, a tangible reminder of her inability to escape her traumatic memories. "I need to face my fears directly, just like Alex said."Are you sure, Liz?" Max asked gently. She sensed that, somehow, he understood what she was going through, and why it was so important that she take an active part in this investigation. "It could be dangerous," he reminded her.

Liz nodded slowly. "I know."Okay, then," Max said decisively, sounding very much like the deposed ruler of an alien planet. "Liz and I will search Mortons room, while the rest of you create a surefire distraction." He took Liz's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get through this together," he promised her.

Michael looked uncomfortable with this arrangement, but must have realized that Max's mind was set. Instead of arguing, he just shrugged his shoulders and muttered, Tine. Sure. But we still haven't figured out what kind of distraction."A sneaky smile came over Max's handsome face as an idea occurred to him. "I think I know just what will do the trick." He leaned toward the others as he whispered con- spiratorially. "Listen "Yes, can I have room #19, please?" Michael said into the cell phone. He waited with sweaty palms for the Motel 6 operator to connect him with Morton's room. Isabel sat next to him in the back of the Jeep, chewing nervously on her lower lip as she looked with obvious trepidation. They were on their own now, the rest of the gang having already moved into position, per Max's plan. Michael felt uncomfortable making this call out in the open, in the Days Inn parking lot, but they had finally been forced to check out of their twin rooms, which, with any luck, they wouldn't need anymore after Max and Liz discovered what Morton was hiding in that black attache case. This had better be worth it, he thought.

"Hello?" Morton answered crossly. Michael recognized the gunman's raspy voice at die other end of the line. "Who is this?"My name doesn't matter, Mr. Morton," Michael stated in a hushed, conspiratorial tone. "The peint is what I can do for you."Wait a second," Morton barked, sounding increasingly agitated. "How do you know my name? Where did you get diis number from?"The temperature in the parking lot was unbelievably hot, but Michael kept his voice cool. "I believe we have a mutual acquaintance, Mr. Morton. A Lieutenant David Ramirez?"Ramirez!" Michael could easily imagine Morton's shocked expression. "That's impossible. I never gave Ramirez this number!"Oops, Michael diought. Still, the mention of the compromised test pilot's name had definitely caught Morton's attention. "Perhaps you've underestimated Lieutenant Ramirez's resources," Michael hinted ominously.

The alien teen thought he heard anodaer voice babbling worriedly in the background. No doubt the unnamed lab technician, wondering what was going on. "Shut up!" Morton snapped at his roommate before speaking over the phone again. "What's this all about?" he demanded savagely.

"I understand you're interested in certain 'merchandise,' related to a certain 'aviation accident' that occurred fifty- some years ago." Michael hoped his vague allusion to the Roswell Crash would pique the gunman's curiosity. Two can play the cryptic references game, he thought vindictively; such seeming discretion helped him to pretend that he knew more about Morton's mysterious business than he actually did. "Isn't that so, Mr. Morton?"Michael deliberately mentioned the killer's name at every opportunity, the better to unnerve Morton. Anything to keep him from hanging up, he resolved.

"Maybe," Morton said suspiciously. "But we shouldn't say anything about that, not now. This isn't a secure line." His gruff voice grew even more menacing. "Don't call this number again, you got that?"Sure," Michael said, "whatever." He refused to be intimidated. "Meet me at the Denny's across the street, ASAP. I'll be waiting." Morton started to protest, angrily refusing to be dictated to by an anonymous voice, but Michael silenced him by dropping yet another incriminating name. "Bring that science guy with you, the one from Las Cruces."Michael heard Morton gulp nervously. "Hey, how do you know about that?" he practically shouted. All of Michael's inside information was clearly getting to the paranoid gunman. "Who the hell are you?"Morton's flustered tone brought a smirk to Michael's lips. Figuring he'd baited the trap sufficiently, the youthful alien issued his invitation one more time. "Both of you. Denny's. Right now," he insisted. "Don't keep me waiting."He hung up the phone before Morton could argue any further. The minute the line went dead, a rush of relief washed over him; he hadn't realized how tense he'd been until the high-pressure call was over. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins, leaving him hyper and on edge. "Whew!" he exclaimed. Although he'd never admit it, he found himself wishing he could borrow one of Maria's silly aromatherapy bottles. Talk about performing without a net! Isabel watched him with wide, worried eyes. "Was that him?" she whispered hoarsely. "Is he coming?"Oh, yeah," Michael said with complete certainty. Morton couldn't pass up a meeting with a stranger who seemed to know so much about his illicit arrangement with Lieutenant Ramirez. "He's coming, all right."Okay, Max, he thought, taking a deep breath to come down from his adrenaline high. I've done my part. Now it's your turn.