Wherever I Am

Chapter 1

"Oh, man. Can you say boring?" Ellie was going on about her Statistics class while we drove back to Uncle John's Covali compound.

To me, boring was forty miles-per down a two-lane winding country road in a 911 Carrera because a big step-van was creeping down the road. Should be cruising...enjoying the curves, not creeping like this.

"I think English is his third language," she continued. "No one could butcher it that badly if it were only his second?"

"And how's your Korean, little sister?" I chided. She knew a little, just as I did, but not enough to do much more than order food. We'd spent a month there, but that was years ago.

"Me-anhamnidah, Auggie!" she snapped back in Korean. "Excuse the hell outa me! You just think he's some wizard in Sadistics."

I chuckled. I'd had him the year before, but between dual credits in high school and testing out of classes, she got him for Statistics her first semester. The brainiac had placed out of enough that she started college as a sophomore.

"Give him a couple of weeks. You'll be able to understand him better then."

"Mom said she'd be late. She and Dad are having dinner with some visiting professor."

"You had lunch with her?"

"Yeah," Ellie said. "Wanted to check that I was doing okay with my classes."

"Like you wouldn't be. Is this dinner for the think-tank or Sociology Department?"

"Think tank, so Mom's the designated spousal unit this time."

I chuckled. Dad's Director of R&D at a think tank, and Mom a professor of Sociology at U. T. "I wonder if Uncle John will be back, or it'll just be us."

"I'll be out by the pool if he isn't home."

Ellie liked that overall tan. At least she warned me this time.

We were all living with Uncle John now on his thousand-acre estate outside of Austin. At least the a/c was working. I was driving his Porsche, which made at least parts of the move a good thing. So did the pool, gym, rifle range, and the fact he traveled more than he was home. Plus, there were his different cars. I might drive the Range Rover tomorrow.

"I start that Executive Driving course on Saturday," she said, nervousness sounding in her voice.

"It's lots of fun," I replied.

"But why do we need it?"

I glanced at her and shrugged.

As I did, the step-van ahead of me slid sideways along the road. I slammed the brakes, stopping behind the van, which had halted on a bridge, perpendicular to the road. It completely blocked the road.

The driver was already climbing out of the cab, dressed more for the corner office than delivery, something pipe-like and dully metallic in his hand. It didn't look like a pistol, but he held it like a weapon.

"Shit!" I muttered, shifting the Porsche into reverse.

"This isn't good," Ellie said, grabbing for her backpack as I started bootlegging the Carrera. "Call 911?"

"Screw 911," I yelled. "Call Uncle John!"

I straightened the car out, fish-tailing more than I would if I'd stayed in better practice, but I was in control and pointed in the proper direction to un-ass the place. Except a few hundred yards down the road was another box truck, turned cattywampus with two guys getting out of that cab. One unlimbered something long, fatly-tubular, and weapon-like. A bazooka? It didn't look right for that. I cut the wheel, slammed on the brakes, and slid to a stop again, spotting a metal-and-wood ranch gate with a rutted dirt road past that.