Run into Trouble

CHAPTER 9

Today’s run goes through some of the richer areas of Orange County. It starts out on the beach at San Clemente State Beach. Stay on the beach past the private homes that are built on the sand. It will be low tide, and you should have no trouble getting by them. At San Juan Creek in Doheny State Beach get on Route 1 and follow it for the rest of the run. You will pass Dana Point, commemorating Richard Henry Dana who wrote “Two Years Before the Mast,” and Laguna Beach, the home of many artsy people and the annual “Pageant of the Masters.” After passing through Corona Del Mar you will enter Newport Beach. The run ends at MacArthur Boulevard (Route 73). Please observe all traffic laws when you’re running on Route 1.

“Maybe I should feel thankful to the person who wrote that note. Without it, I probably wouldn’t have stayed in the race.”

Drake and Melody were running through Laguna Beach on Route 1, past art galleries and other touristy buildings. A horde of shorts-clad tourists competed with them for sidewalk space, often slowing them down.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, but don’t push it. The note said we had to finish the race. My mum was rather shocked when I called her, by the way. She wanted to know how I found out where she was.”

“She always struck me as being very independent.”

“Too independent. I’m trying to talk her into coming to the U.S. and living close to me so I can keep an eye on her, but she won’t hear of it. She says she would miss her friends too much.”

Drake looked behind him. “I wonder how Aki and Mike are doing. I haven’t seen them since we got off the beach.”

“They’ll be okay. Aki said the doctor didn’t think the cut was too bad. He just told him to stay off his feet for a few days.”

“Which of course he isn’t going to do.”

“When did runners ever pay attention to what doctors say?”

“At least we’re not in last place today. There’s someone in worse shape than I am. I’ll be happy when we’re not in last place overall.”

“As I said, don’t rush it.” Melody put a hand on his shoulder. “I feel your competitive fire returning, which isn’t a bad thing. I’m glad to see the old Drake. However, you’ve got to last a few hundred more miles. There’ll be opportunities. In a race this long, things are bound to happen.”

“Like stepping on rocks. And getting rear-ended.”

“I keep seeing signs about the Festival of Arts and “Pageant of the Masters.” What’s that about?”

“The Festival of Arts is an art festival. Ouch.”

Drake recoiled as Melody punched him in the shoulder.

“Well, what did you want me to say? If you’re going to hit me, I won’t tell you about the ‘Pageant of the Masters.’”

“This sounds like something out of Queen Elizabeth’s time. The first Queen Elizabeth. Prithee, kind sir, tell me about the ‘Pageant of the Masters.’”

“I went once. The folks who live here dress up like the people in paintings and sculptures and assume the same poses. They build sets for the backgrounds, and when you add the people and light it properly, you get a tableau that looks like the real thing. The models become the people in the paintings. It’s amazing how they do it, and they’ve been doing it forever.”

“That’s brilliant. I’d love to see it.”

“Well, since it’s going on right now, maybe we can talk Freddy into taking us.”

“Or steal the car and go ourselves. We have tomorrow off, so we don’t have to worry about going to bed early.”

“If it isn’t sold out. It’s very popular.”

“Do they depict nude paintings like ‘The Naked Maja’?”

“Sometimes, although if there are any men in them, they wear loincloths.”

“That’s all right. I’ve seen enough naked men on the beach. What about the women?”

Drake’s smile told her all she needed to know.

“May I say how beautiful you look tonight?”

“Thank you.” Melody smiled at Fred.

“You know, it was my idea to invite you to participate in Running California. I’m certainly glad I did. You’ve been a breath of fresh air.”

Drake reflected that this was the first time Melody had worn a skirt since Running California had started and wondered whether that had prompted Fred’s attention to her. It was a short skirt-Mary Quant had introduced her minis into the States a couple of years back-but more of Melody’s legs had been visible below the shorts she had been wearing every day. Somehow the skirt made her look more appealing, more feminine. In addition, she was wearing her sandy hair down without the ponytail. He began to rue the agreement between Melody and himself that they would sit on either side of the round and rolly Fred.

Melody, who was expert at manipulating men, made it sound to Fred as if they were trying to get to know him better. Which was certainly true, as far as it went. Fred had surprised the runners by producing a ticket to the “Pageant of the Masters” for each of them. Peaches drove them back to Laguna Beach from Newport Beach on the bus.

The Irvine Bowl was an outdoor amphitheater with tiers of seats rising gracefully in an arc from in front of the stage. It reminded Drake of a Roman theater he had seen on the island of Cyprus. It also bore similarities to a Greek Odeon, such as those at the Acropolis of Athens. Like the ancient theaters, there wasn’t a bad seat in the place. Not everything of value had been invented in the last hundred years.

The show couldn’t start until dark-about 8:30. It gave them a chance to talk to Fred. Drake decided it was time to change the direction of the conversation from how good Melody looked.

“How long have you been with Giganticorp?”

“Fifteen years. I joined right out of college.”

Melody said, “The Company must have been small then. I’m trying to remember when I first heard of it.”

“It was started in the late forties by a group of retired military officers and scientists who wanted to make sure that the U.S. stayed on the leading age of weapons and war technology. In some ways we got caught flat-footed by World War Two.”

It had grown rapidly and become very large, all in twenty years.

Drake had a question. “Since it started small, as most companies do, how did it get its name?”

“That was a joke. You know how military men are with their big egos. They decided that if they were going to start a corporation, it was going to be a big one. In reality, it started in an old warehouse not much larger than a garage. It was just Casey and half a dozen scientists.”

“How did Casey get involved?”

“His father was a lieutenant general in the army and on the original board of directors of Giganticorp. He died a few years ago. Casey was a senior at Stanford, majoring in business. They were working on a shoestring and needed somebody they could get cheap to head it. They pulled Casey out of school and made him president. I suspect they were planning to bring somebody in over him if they were successful.”

Melody spoke above the murmur of the voices of hundreds of theater-goers, chatting as they drifted toward their seats. “It sounds like Casey was so successful they never replaced him.”

“That’s it in a nutshell. He proved to be good at getting military contracts-although, of course, the connections of the stockholders helped. The corporation grew faster than any of the founders had dreamed.”

“I take it you’ve grown with the corporation over the years.” Melody kept a straight face, not looking at Fred’s waistline. “What’s your position?”

“My official title is Vice President of Marketing Operations.” Fred pulled two business cards out of a pocket of his sport coat and handed one to each of them. “I get involved with a lot of special projects.”

“Like Running California.”

“Precisely. Although I have to admit that was Casey’s idea. He runs almost every day. I’m not a runner, but I admire people who can do that sort of thing.”

Fred was smiling at Melody as he said this.

“Are you going to help Casey with his Senate race?” Drake asked.

“He hasn’t asked me. I was as surprised as anybody when he made the announcement. He doesn’t have an organization yet.”

The sun had set, and the show would start soon. Drake still had a couple of additional questions. He watched Fred’s face closely. “Are you aware of anybody betting on the outcome of Running California?”

Fred looked genuinely shocked. “Betting? You mean betting on who will win?”

“Or who will finish and who will drop out?”

Fred shook his head so vigorously that the flab on his cheeks shook.

“No. This is a clean race. It’s strictly on the up and up. If you introduce betting, you have all sorts of possibilities-such as runners being tainted by the offer of money to do certain things. Why? Have you been approached?”

“No.” At least not in the sense Fred meant. “Just curious. Of course, the prize for the winning team is so much that it might be difficult to tempt anybody to throw the race who was in the running to win.”

Fred laughed. “That was Casey’s idea, too. There’s nothing like giving away a million dollars to get people’s attention.”

“But Giganticorp can afford it.”

“Yes, Giganticorp can afford it.”

The lights went out, and the audience hushed.

Melody spoke, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the sudden silence. “One more question. Are you married?”

“Yes. Since we have a day off tomorrow, I’m flying to San Jose to see my wife and three children. I have two girls and a boy.”

The orchestra started playing. Drake looked up at a million stars twinkling above them and hoped that the rest of the race would be as peaceful as it was here tonight.

While the players were depicting a painting that Melody was sure she had seen in the Louvre in Paris, Fred put his hand on her bare knee. A friendly gesture. From a man who had a wife and three children. Why did men like Fred think they were irresistible to women?

When the hand started to move up her thigh, Melody could almost hear his thought process: “Women are docile; she won’t make a scene in a stadium packed with people.”

She gave him a chance to reconsider his folly. When he started to go under her skirt, it was time for action. She laid her hand on top of his fat one. A friendly gesture on her part showing that she was enjoying his attention. She felt for his chubby little finger, giving him some sensory pleasure. She got a firm grip on it.

Slowly she started to bend his finger back. For the first few inches he might have seen it as an enjoyable form of sadomasochism. But she kept going. He tolerated it longer than she thought he would. Did she have to break his finger? Suddenly he snatched his hand away and rotated his body toward Drake. He didn’t look at her during the rest of the show.

Drake didn’t have his pants completely off when the telephone rang. He made the mistake of trying to hop to the phone with them around his ankles. A spasm in his back caused him to trip and fall forward. His nose hit the top of the nightstand, and he roared in pain. He sat on the floor with his back against the bed, trembling as he waited for the almost unbearable spears shooting through his nose and back to subside.

The phone continued to ring. He’d better answer it. Was he able to talk? He fumbled for the receiver and picked it up.

“Drake.”

“Are you all right?” Melody’s voice sounded frantic.

Drake cleared his throat and tried to speak above a mumble. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just had a little accident.”

“Is somebody there?”

“No.”

“Drake, somebody went through my things while we were at the show.”

He was now fully alert. “Did they take anything?”

“No, nothing’s missing.”

“Money? Jewelry?”

“I didn’t leave any money in the room. The jewelry I have with me is worthless. Nothing was nicked. What about your room?”

Now he understood what she was driving at.

“Just a minute.”

Drake set the telephone receiver on the nightstand and crawled across the threadbare rug on his hands and knees to his suitcase. His pants were still around his ankles, but he didn’t know whether he could stand yet, anyway. The suitcase was sitting on the floor against the wall of the motel room where he had left it. It took him a few seconds to open the latches because his hands were still shaking from the pain.

The differences were subtle, but he could tell that somebody had been in his suitcase. He arranged his clothes in a certain way from habit, left over from the days when he never knew who would be spying on him. Whoever had looked inside the suitcase had taken pains to cover his tracks, but he hadn’t done quite a good enough job.

Drake crawled back to the phone. “Somebody’s been in my things.”

“I’m coming over.”

“Wait…”

A click told him that Melody had hung up. She was only three doors away, so she would be here in a few seconds. Drake didn’t want her to see him like this. He struggled to a sitting position on the bed and pulled up his pants. He didn’t have his fly zipped or his belt buckled when there was a knock on the door.

“Just a minute.”

He made it to his feet, zipped his fly after fumbling a bit, and put the tongue of the buckle through the first hole in the belt. He tried to walk to the door without limping. He opened the door and saw Melody, clad in a green bathrobe and barefoot.

“You look terrible.”

Drake realized how contorted his face was and tried to smile. “That’s become your standard greeting.”

Melody pushed past him into the room. “It doesn’t look as if you had a spat with anyone. What happened?”

“My own stupidity. I fell and hurt my back and nose.”

“Are you all right?”

“I don’t think I exacerbated anything.”

“I’ll exacerbate you if you did. Did anything get taken from your room?”

“Not that I can tell. I have one more place to look.”

Drake tried to lift the only chair in the room, thought better of that plan, and ended up dragging the chair over to the wall by the window. He carefully stood on it, trying not to let Melody see how much it hurt him to lift his leg. Maybe he had reinjured his back. He pulled a dime out of his pocket and unscrewed the screws that secured the ceiling vent. After he removed the vent, he reached up and pulled down a brown paper bag.

He handed it to Melody and replaced the vent. “Don’t touch them, but are the envelope and letter there?”

Melody looked inside the bag. “Yes, still here. Do you think that’s what whoever it was was looking for?”

“Wouldn’t doubt it. Maybe they suddenly realized that we might be able to trace them.”

“We couldn’t get a typewriter match, so it must be fingerprints. Of course our prints are all over them.”

“We won’t add any more.”

“How can we get them checked for prints without raising all kinds of alarms?”

“I’ll call Blade. There must be a local agent who can help us.” Drake went over to the phone.

“Drake, it’s three in the morning in D.C. Blade isn’t going to be happy to hear from you.”

“So what else is new? At least he’ll probably be home. Unless he’s sleeping over at his girlfriend’s.”

Drake got a long distance operator and called collect so that nobody from the motel could determine what number he had called. Blade was even grouchier than his usual self, if that were possible, but he accepted the call and listened as Drake told him what he needed. He promised to have an agent contact them the next day. Drake hung up.

“Whoever did this was a pro. Or at least a semi-pro. No forced entry. Nothing messed up-at least not very much.”

“If we were normal people, we wouldn’t have known about it-unless the thief had gotten the letter.”

“I don’t think you should sleep alone. Whoever it was may come back.”

“Is this your sneaky way of getting me into bed with you?”

“Melody, I’m serious. I’m also in no condition to do anything. Maybe we can swap our two rooms for one with two beds.”

“No.” Melody thought for a moment. “I’m not afraid. I don’t think anybody is going to risk being identified. It’s interesting that they know our room numbers. It certainly looks like an inside job. Which means that they could have taken the letter when it was on the bus with our luggage.”

“That would prove it’s an inside job. We would go directly to Casey.”

“Maybe we should, anyway.”

“Not yet. We’d have to talk to him in person. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing him soon.”

“Give me one of your razor blades. If somebody comes into my room, I’ll give him something to remember me by.”

Drake went into the bathroom and came back with the requested blade.

“Be careful.”

“I will. I know how to use this.” Melody gave him a quick hug. “There’s another reason why I can’t stay in the same room with you. I might be the one who couldn’t resist; I might jump your bones.”

She opened the door just wide enough to slip through the crack and closed it behind her.