Wild Card

22

Bob drove his rental car around Sherry’s block a couple of times and saw nothing amiss. He parked the car, and they went up to her apartment. Bob cleared every room before he let her inside, then he whispered in her ear, “Don’t say anything while we’re here. The place is probably bugged, and I don’t have time to sweep it.”

She nodded, then went into her bedroom, got a large suitcase from her closet, and began filling it with her things. While she was doing that, Bob had a look around the place but couldn’t find any cameras. A half hour later they let themselves out and went back to Bob’s car.

They drove downtown to Bob’s place, and he performed the same security check he had at Sherry’s. As they pulled into the garage, he said to her, “Same deal here as at your house. Say nothing.”

She nodded and followed him past the double locks into his workshop. She smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. Nice, she mouthed.

Bob filled a toolbox with electronics gear and a suitcase with extra clothes, then they locked up and went back to the car. Before opening the garage door, Bob had a look at the street through a peephole. A gray van was parked across the street that hadn’t been there when they arrived. He went back to the car. “We’ve got company outside,” he said. “A van. I’m going to have to check it out, so you stay here.”

“My gun is in my bag,” she said.

“For God’s sake, don’t shoot anybody. There’ll be hell to pay, no matter how right we are.”

“I’ll try not to,” she said.

“Don’t even consider firing unless someone who’s not me opens the car door.” He let himself back into his workshop and opened a vault the size of a bathroom. There were all sorts of weapons — legal and illegal — on the walls, and he picked up a rifle with a nightscope that fired darts. He loaded the magazine, then let himself out a basement door at the rear of the house, locking it behind him.

He moved around the house, staying between the shrubbery and the outer wall, until he had a clear view of the van. He switched on the nightscope and peered through it at the vehicle. As he did a bright light flared in the front seat, and he squinted as the man behind the wheel lit a cigarette. Two men sat there; the one in the passenger seat had nodded off.

Bob lowered his aim to target a front tire and pumped a dart into the chamber. He squeezed off a round and saw the dart strike the tire, then he quickly aimed at a rear tire and fired at it. Neither shot had made much noise, but he thought the men inside might’ve heard the darts strike the rubber.

He watched them through the scope; the driver was starting to nod off, too. Nothing had startled them. He retraced his steps and let himself into the house, double-locking the door behind him. He returned the rifle to the vault, spun the wheel to lock it, and went back to the garage.

“Now,” he said, “I want you to lie down and put your head in my lap.”

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Can’t you wait until we get home?”

“Just put your head there and don’t move until I tell you to.”

“Oh, all right.” She made herself comfortable.

Bob started the car, then clicked the remote control. The garage door slid silently up; he put the car in reverse, and it rolled backward and onto the street without revving the engine. He closed the garage door and drove down the street, past the van, with his lights off. As he passed the vehicle, the driver looked up and saw his car, then started the van.

Bob drove slowly down the street and didn’t turn on his lights until he reached the corner and turned uptown. He looked back and saw the van stopped in the street, as the two men checked out the tires. “They won’t be giving chase,” he said.

“Listen,” Sherry said, “as long as I’m in your lap...”

Bob had expected that the two men would have made a call for help, but he appeared to be clean when they arrived at Turtle Bay. “They weren’t ready for that,” he said.

Sherry sat up and looked around. “Are we home?”

“We are.”

“Then let’s go to bed.”

“First, the luggage,” he replied.

They passed Stone’s study and found their three companions having a nightcap.

“Have you been out?” Stone asked.

“We picked up some things at Sherry’s apartment and my house.”

“Was the trip uneventful?”

“Not entirely,” Bob replied, then told him about his encounter with the van.

“We had something like that rifle at the Agency,” Rawls said. “This guy named Teddy Fay worked in operations, and he invented things like that.”

“I didn’t invent this one,” Bob said, “but I modified it a little, and I make my own darts — some that will penetrate a tire and some that are small and light enough to penetrate a neck to deliver a dose of a drug. As it was, we left them in the street with two flat tires, and we got back here before they could raise the alarm.”

“No one saw you enter the garage?” Stone asked.

“No one.”

“Would they have seen the license plate?”

“I disabled the plate light as soon as I rented the car. We’re clean.”

“That’s good,” Stone said, “but it bothers me that they’re still looking for us.”

“Not us, me,” Bob replied. “They blame me for the bomb and for, ah, changing Rance Damien’s appearance.”

“He’s suing the rest of us,” Stone said, “and until you get a subpoena, assume that they still have other plans for you.”

“At some point,” Bob said, “I’m going to have to...” He stopped, deciding that it was better not to go on.

Stone nodded but said nothing.

“Well,” Rawls said, “I don’t think anybody is looking for me. Is there anything I can do for anybody in the outside world?”

“I think you’re okay on the street, Ed,” Stone said, “but don’t assume they don’t know you. They’ve had a look at you a couple of times.”

“I guess you’re right about that,” Rawls replied. “I’ll just assume I’m being tailed and take pleasure in losing them.”