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“Thank you, Ix Chel. Thank you.”
A car horn beeped nearby.
“¡Oye! ¡Vámanos pues! ¡Es okay. ¡Es okay!”
Suki recognized the man’s voice. It was Jorge from Huellas de Pan, the orphanage that had offered them shelter when they were first on the run from Jacob Calakmul.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPARRAL INN
WASHINGTON, DC
January 9
The elevator beeped, and the doors opened. The smell of pancakes and sausage struck Roth first, then the noise of clinking silverware and the murmur of guests. He checked his phone screen again, looking for a follow-up text from Lund, who’d told him Jordan would be meeting them for breakfast—a surprise for the boys. It was time to switch hotels again, which meant they finally got to eat breakfast in the common room. Truthfully, Roth wasn’t comfortable eating in a common area right now when any sound made him jumpy. But he knew the boys missed being around other people.
Their stuff would be transferred to another location while they were gone for the day, and they’d transfer to their new hotel that night. The twins were excited to be away from their room for once. The novelty of playing video games and watching TV while they were supposed to be in school had faded fast.
“I’ll probably go for the waffles. They’re pretty good,” Lucas said. “Chocolate chips, syrup—yum-oh.”
“I’m so tired of the food being cold,” Brillante said. “Reheating it in the microwave just sucks.”
It was a short walk to the dining area, which was already crowded. This particular hotel was directly across the street from NASA headquarters, which they could see from the window of their room on the fourth floor.
Roth was tired of moving from place to place like a fugitive. Tired of feeling hunted and on the run. They hadn’t brought much with them, having left Bozeman in such a hurry.
When they reached the crowded, open room, the boys were about to hurry to the buffet line, but Roth grabbed their shoulders. “Look who’s over there saving us a table.”
It was Jordan, his arm in a sling. He lifted a glass of apple juice and nodded to them.
“Jordan!” Lucas bellowed. The twins hurried to the table, Roth trailing behind as he maneuvered through the other patrons.
“When’d you get here?” Brillante asked.
“How’s the bullet wound? Can we see it?” Lucas cut in.
“Dudes, it’s pretty sick,” Jordan said. He grinned at Roth. “No way was I going to stay in that hospital any longer. I was so bored!”
Jordan had a crew cut, not too short, and dishwater-blond hair. He was in his twenties, having left the army for private security. Even with a shoulder injury, he’d managed to take out one of the jaguar priests with his marksmanship skill. He’d saved their lives.
“Have you been to the Spy Museum yet?” Jordan asked. “It’s the best!”
“Dad says we can go when this is all over,” Lucas replied with a flash of annoyance.
“Go get breakfast,” Roth said to the twins. “Grab me one of the packaged muffins.” He sank down into an open seat across from Jordan as the boys headed off, positioning himself so he could see them.
“They’re good kids,” Jordan said. “Any word about Suki?”
Roth shook his head. “Nada.”
“That sucks. Lund told me about the ransomware attack.” He took a sip from his apple juice. “We’re going back to FBI headquarters after breakfast. I’ll drive you.”
“You can drive with one arm?”
Jordan gave a half shrug. “The sling is just for show and sympathy. I’m not saying I want to arm wrestle Dwayne Johnson today, but it’s not that bad. I can even take showers again. Impressive, huh?”
“Why do we need to go back?”