The Love You Crave

41.

4:15 a.m., Pacific Daylight Time. Donovan Creed.

I don’t require a nice bed or fancy sheets. While at PhySpa, I grab a pillow from the lobby couch, toss it on one of the office floors, and lay my head wherever it lands. No sheets, no bed, no problem. I put my cell phone charger wherever there’s a nearby outlet, and find something made of wood or plastic to set it on so the vibration will make a rattling sound when someone calls.

Like it’s doing right now.

As I reach for it, I play a three-second game of trying to decide who’s calling at 7:15 a.m., Eastern Time. My guess is Miranda. She probably just got in from a “date” and found the message light on. I can picture her exhausted, trying to force a happy voice for my benefit.

I’m wrong. It’s Doc Howard.

“Five-forty this afternoon,” he says, “Central time. It’s the best I can do.”

“How on earth?”

“I won’t begin to tell you how much trouble I went through to make this happen. Let’s just say you owe me.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“Get there thirty minutes early, to check in.”

“You got an address?”

“No!”

He hangs up.

Thanks to Doc Howard, I’ve got an appointment. But I’m still left with the problem of finding someone to safeguard the device while I’m in the imaging room. While I generally trust Doc Howard, he might feel compelled to tell Darwin my plans, since they involve the unauthorized killing of terrorists. He also might tell in order to cover his ass. Doc Howard planted the chip under Darwin’s orders, so it makes sense he’d tell Darwin I asked him to set an appointment to have the chip erased.

I think a minute. Would he tell Darwin before or after making the appointment?

Before.

Not saying he told Darwin anything, but if he did, he would’ve told him I know about the chip, and that I’m planning to have it erased. If Darwin told him to set the appointment, he might have decided this is his last, best chance to kill me, since he knows exactly where I’ll be at five-forty. Worse, I’ll be vulnerable for at least twenty minutes while I’m being scanned in the imaging room. From five-forty to six p.m. I’ll be unarmed, completely immobilized, on my back, with my head in the machine.

I’ll be as helpless as Curly, after Moe and Larry stick his head in a vice.

I press the button to call Jeff Tuck.

“You asleep?”

“I was dreaming of tea and crumpets with the Queen.”

“Is Joe with you?”

“He’s on the desk.” Meaning he’s watching the bank of TV monitors to ensure nobody’s sneaking up on us.

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Do I have time to piss?”

“You do.”

Moments later, the three of us are in the security room.

“I need you guys to come with me to Chicago.”

“When?” Joe says.

“Now.”

“What about George?”

“How long’s he been in the freezer?”

“Not even close.”

I sigh. The plan is to freeze him solid, lift the freezer lid, and cut him into chunks right where he is, to keep the blood contained. Then we’ll put the chunks in plastic bags, place the plastic bags in laundry bags, and carry them to our cars, and scatter the pieces in various parts of the desert.

“We can’t leave George unguarded,” Jeff says.

“I agree. Joe, you stay. Jeff will go with me.”

“How much should I pack?” Jeff says.

“We’ll be back tonight.”

“Give me two minutes.”

I tell Joe to keep an eye on things.

He nods.

I call Lou. When he answers, I say, “You’ll be pleased to know I’ve got a job for you.”

“What’s that?”

“I need a jet.”

“Where and when?”

“I need to land in Chicago at four, local time.”

“Today?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll need to leave by ten.”

“That’ll work.”

I hang up and immediately call my friends at Koltech Aviation in Las Vegas. Bob Koltech answers.

“I’ll pay you sixty grand to fly me to Chicago and back.”

“When do you want to leave?”

“Right now.”

“Are you here at the gate?”

“No, but I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Which jet do you want?”

I notice another call coming in. I say, “The fastest one you’ve got.”

“I’ll have her warmed up and ready to roll when you get here.”

“Good man.”

I click him off and click the next caller through.

Miranda.

“I’m so glad to hear from you!” she says. “Seems like a million years!”

“Me too,” I say.

“What’s up?”

“I planned to fly you to Chicago to meet me around noon, Central Time, but my plans have changed. I’m heading there now. I appreciate you calling, but it’s not going to work at this point.”

“Whoa, cowboy. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’d love to meet you! Please? I’ll put a huge smile on your face!”

“I could use a huge smile.”

“I can be there by eleven. Maybe we can have lunch, spend the day together. And the night, if you’d like.”

“I’d love it, but-”

“Then it’s set. I know you’re busy, so I’ll book my own flight. Where are we staying?”

“I don’t have a room. I was planning to head back to Vegas later today.”

“No problem. I’ll text you my itinerary, and call when I get there. If we don’t connect, I’ll shop till I hear from you.”

She makes a great case for staying in Chicago.

“Sounds great. Thanks, Miranda.”

“No,” she says. “Thank you!”

After hanging up I head to the kitchen, look in the closet where Phyllis kept the party supplies from when she had birthday parties for her employees. Amid the gift paper, bags, tissue, and such, I pick a small box, place the ceramic device in it, gift wrap it, and stuff it in my pocket. Then I go to my safe and remove a suitcase that holds one hundred twenty thousand dollars in hundreds, and five thousand in twenties. Then Jeff and I head to the private airfield where Bob Koltech has our jet waiting.

Normally I trust Lou to book my flights. But on the chance Darwin knows what I’m up to, he’ll get my itinerary from Lou. If Lou thinks I’m leaving Vegas at ten, Darwin will think so, too.

I do lead a complicated life.