"Ooh, goody."
They put their dishes away and headed to the back of the house.
That evening Paul sat at the kitchen table, a cup of rotgut coffee in one hand and a powdered doughnut in the other, and stared at his father's incredulous face. It felt discordant looking at his dad with the façade of Renner in place, but this wasn't a job for the real him. Man up, he thought. A little cognitive dissonance never hurt anybody.
"You want me to do what?" Kevin Parsons asked.
"I need you to hide for a while," Paul said. "I have a cabin, fully stocked, isolated. Nobody knows it's mine. Nobody could trace you there. I need you to get in the car I've got outside, go there, and not tell anybody. Anybody. And don't use any credit cards along the way."
"But…. Why? For how long?"
"I don't know. Probably a few months, maybe longer. I can't tell you why, but it's very important."
Kevin frowned out the window, then at his son. "This is ridiculous. Are you in danger?"
Paul shook his head.
"Am I?"
Paul took a sip of coffee, stalling. He looked at the ceiling, then at Kevin. "Yes."
"From who?"
"I don't know, Dad," Paul said. "But they're going to kill you, and I need time to figure out who they are and how to stop them."
Kevin blinked several times, then pinched his own arm. "Am I dreaming?"
"No," Paul said. Kevin paced in front of the window.
"Steve, this is ridiculous. People are trying to kill me, but you don't know who they are, or how long I'll be hiding, or why they—" He stopped dead, then approached the table. A giant grin split his face as he leaned on the back of a chair. "And where is this cabin?"
Paul didn't like the look of that grin. "Near Lake Tahoe."
His dad flopped into the chair. "Jesus, Son, you really had me there. If you want to buy me a vacation, you don't need to scare me to death. The answer's still no, though. We've been through this, and it's not like I don't appreciate the thought." One look at his son's face and his smile faded.
Paul leaned across the table and grabbed his father's hand. He looked him in the eyes and willed him to understand. "Dad. I'm not kidding. This isn't a vacation. This is hiding, from very bad people."
Come on, Paul thought. Just believe it.
"You're serious," his dad said.
Paul squeezed Kevin's hand, then let go. "Yeah, I'm serious." He picked up the doughnut and took a bite.
"But…who on Earth would want me dead?"
"My thoughts exactly," Paul said, leaning back in his chair. "It doesn't make any sense."
His dad frowned. "And how do you know? How are you mixed up in all this, Steve?"
Paul looked into his cup. "You trust me, don't you, Dad?"
"Yeah, of course I do. But this. This is nuts."
"Yes, it is," Paul replied. "Will you do it?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Paul folded his hands over his head and looked at the ceiling. "Yeah, Dad, of course you have a choice. You can stay here until they get you, or you can run somewhere else while I sort this out. Or you could go to the cops, but they won't believe you." He looked at Kevin. "They'll just think you're crazy."
Kevin stared at him across the table. "Son, you have a lot of money, more than a mid-level programmer should have. I've known that for a long time. I raised you better than to be a crook, so I always figured you have to work for the government. CIA or something."
Paul kept his face blank.
"Anyway," Kevin continued, "I know you've been protecting your innocent old dad from it for a long time. Thank you. I've never asked before, but I need to know. Are you a criminal?"
"No," he lied. "I do what I'm paid to do. It's…complicated, and classified, but it's on the up-and-up." Paul kept his eyes locked on Kevin's. Finally, Kevin looked down.
"Okay, son. Okay. I believe you."
"But?" Paul asked.
"But can't you do something about this guy? Like, I stay here, and, when he comes to get me, you and your buddies get him instead?"
Paul sighed. "They'd just hire somebody else. Whoever 'they' are."
"So I go hide in a hole somewhere, and you find out."
"Yup," Paul said. "But it's a nice cabin, Dad. You'll like it. You can hunt and fish, and there's plenty of food, satellite TV and radio, a small library. It'll be nice. I'll give you a cell. I'll call every week, and, once I figure this thing out, I'll come get you."
"So be it. When do we leave?"
Paul picked up the keys. "Right now."
Chapter 8
September 19th, 8:19 PM EST; J. Edgar Hoover Building; Washington, D.C.