Free Code Name: Baby by Christina Skye Page A

you know that?”
    â€œI saw you walk in from the woods, that’s all. Kinda odd, I thought, but hey, it’s a free country. You ain’t one of those damned tree huggers, are you?”
    â€œWhat else did you see?”
    â€œYou looked around everywhere and you didn’t go near any cars, so I figure you walked from one of those parks up north. We get hikers in here now and again. They look thin, the same way you do.”
    He released her wrist. She’d made a lucky guess, nothing more.
    He put a five-dollar bill on the counter—one of hers—and smoothed it with his fingers. He had forgotten what it felt like to have money of his own.
    For too many years he’d let other people control him. He’d been an empty-headed killing machine pumped up with the certainty that he was some new, advanced kind of hero.
    Now he knew better.
    â€œKeep the change.” Cruz picked up the backpack that was never far from his reach, scanning the parking lot outside.
    â€œHell, honey, why not tell me to go suck exhaust and die? And where are you going at two in the morning anyway? If you ask me, you don’t look so good.”
    â€œI’m fine.”
    â€œMaybe you are, but the nearest town is fifty miles away, and that’s a damn long hike.”
    He could walk twice that distance. He could run it easily, in fact, despite his long confinement. Good genes, Cruz thought wryly.
    He studied the waitress’s face, sifting through the fairly boring mind beneath her straw-colored hair. “I’m catching a ride to El Paso. I’ve got friends waiting for me there,” he said calmly, pleased that all the old training was in place.
    Never tell the truth when a lie will do. Never trust anyone outside the team.
    She rubbed her wrist slowly as if it hurt. “You one of those G-Men working over at the New Mexico base?”
    Nothing changed on Cruz’s face. “What makes you ask?”
    â€œDon’t know. Your eyes, maybe. You don’t say much, but you don’t miss much either. And you sure don’t like the idea of anyone watching you.”
    So she wasn’t as stupid as he’d first thought. “I’m FBI,” he said quietly. “And I’ve never been here, understand? If I hear you told anyone different, I’ll be back and that won’t be good for you.” As he spoke, he shaped the warning, driving it like a knife into her brain until she nodded, looking disoriented.
    â€œFBI.” She rubbed her forehead as if it hurt. “Sure—never seen you,” she repeated.
    He sensed that she was afraid of him now. Pleased, he tightened his knapsack over one shoulder. After reinforcing his warning and wiping her memory of him, he headed out into the night, but it was hard to focus. His head ached and the coffee left him a little dizzy.
    He heard the rumble of distant tires and the blast of a truck horn. He needed to make contact with his brother as soon as possible.
    Maybe he’d chance taking the waitress’s car and driving to Albuquerque. He had her keys now, and he’d picked up the model and color of her car. Cruz hesitated, considering the idea. He’d made a deep wipe of her mind, but he wasn’t sure how long it would last. In recent weeks his skills had become unreliable. Sometimes he could pull the faintest thought from a crowded room. Other times he could barely remember his own name.
    And if the waitress reported the theft, the police would be watching for her car.
    The truck horn blasted again and he swung open the restaurant’s grimy front door, smiling up at the nonfunctioning surveillance camera as he left.
    The truck didn’t seem to be slowing down, and a second rig was straining up the hill maybe a hundred yards back. Cruz took in the Illinois plates and the muddy windshield. Long-haul trucker with no reason to stop at a crummy little diner three hours from anywhere.
    He flipped up the collar of