Next to Juba on the seat was a hoodie wrapped tight to obscure fourteen inches or so of semi-automatic shotgun stoked to the gills on 12-gauge double-aughts. But the man carried it with such insouciant naturalism, it would never have occurred to anyone that such a package could conceal such a weapon. Juba was completely calm, at peace. He had prayed in the car, something Jared could not get himself to do even now, explaining to himself his attraction to the cause was more identity politics than faith.

They had made the drive down 127 to Greenville without trouble, skipped the Sears mall, found the Walmart mall with equal ease, and realized there was no time frame set up. Jared found a space, close to one entrance.

“Want me to get another phone?” he said. “Maybe they’re here already. Do you know where they were coming from?”

“Detroit, same as us. It’s where they were to pick me up. But then things went wrong.”

“Who are these guys, may I ask?”

“No. Suppose I get away and you get caught. You will give up all your secrets. So, the less you know, the better.”

“Okay, just asking . . . Do we wait in the car? That’s kind of suspicious.”

“I agree. Go inside, one at time, meet at . . . Where will we meet?”

“Hungry?”

“Yes.”

“I see by the sign, the golden arches, there’s a McDonald’s inside. Meet me there? Easy to find.”

“Fine.”

They left the car, each going a different way, eyes hunting the presence of the tan van, neither seeing it. The mall swallowed each and, in time, reunited them at the McDonald’s.

After the meal, Jared said, “So, now get new throwaway?”

“Yes, little boy.”

Juba sat, drinking coffee, appearing uninterested, as Jared went to run his errand. He was a good boy, it turned out, and his cheer and wit, something long missing from Juba’s life, paid off as a small pleasure. He trusted Jared enough at this point that he felt no anxiety as the boy disappeared—and no relief when he reappeared twenty minutes later.

“You get it?”

“Yes.”

“Powered up?”

“Yes. You want to make a call?”

“Not now. We go to the car, wait there. They drive by and we hop in. Who would notice?”

“Nobody.”

So they ambled out, headed down the mall amid strangers who paid them no attention at all, came to the entrance that yielded the car and headed out.

It was all fine—and then it wasn’t.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” said Jared, pulling the larger man back just inside the doors.

Juba wheeled on Jared, caught off guard by the physical contact.

“See out there,” Jared said quickly, “a mile out? That helicopter?”

He pointed. Above the trees, a speck moved horizontally through the air, its faintest of buzzes only barely reaching their ears.

“Yes . . .”