The Backup Asset

…70

Several Dodge Chargers were parked on the adjacent streets leading to Bob McLeod’s street. Two surveillance teams had kept eyes and ears on McLeod constantly since Saturday night, waiting for him to make a move. Finally, he made the anticipated move. He placed a call to FastLite Messenger Service.

A bike messenger, probably eighteen years old, scrawny and crazy fast on his two wheels, appeared from around a corner. He wore a T-shirt and a cap, both inscribed with the FastLite logo. Jeremy waved his badge at him and stopped him before turning on McLeod’s street.

“Weber, FBI. I’m gonna need your T-shirt and your cap. And your bike too.”

The kid gave Weber a doubtful, amused look. Agent Weber was twice his size.

He read his mind and said, “It’s gonna fit, son, don’t worry. It has to.”

He put on the kid’s shirt with difficulty. It would be a miracle if the T did not end up ripped along the seams; it had to be at least three sizes too small.

“Hey,” the boy called. “You’ll need this too.” He handed him the receipt pad and a pencil.

“Thanks.”

Weber took the kid’s bike and rode it to McLeod’s door, then rang the bell.

McLeod opened the door and checked Weber out, frowning a little.

“You’re… a little mature for this job, if you don’t mind me saying,” he commented.

“Yeah… Well, just making an extra buck at night, man, what can I do? Car’s broken, can’t do pizza delivery no more.” He scratched his forehead, then played indifferently with his phone a little, going through his music, giving McLeod the time to make up his mind.

McLeod sighed and handed him a gift-wrapped package.

“It’s for my son’s birthday. He lives in Smithfield with his mom. Do you think you can take this there tonight?”

“You bet.”

McLeod handed him forty dollars and asked him to keep the change. Weber almost forgot to write the shipping receipt.

He turned the corner and stopped, then took the T-shirt off, as soon as he was out of McLeod’s line of sight, and handed it back to its rightful owner. Then he opened the package. Wrapped neatly inside a Disney DVD case, several documents marked TOP SECRET were folded in half, all of them unregistered, unauthorized copies of original classified documents. The first page was titled, “Capabilities Assessment for Zumwalt-Class Destroyers.” The package was addressed to Smolin’s residence.

“Let’s bust the fucking bastard,” Weber spoke into his radio.