The Zero Game

70

“Trust me, I know how Harris thinks. We want him to talk, not panic.”

“But, sir…”

“Good-bye, William.”

Tucked back among the rows of cars and hidden by nothing more than a nearby parking spot, Janos watched the exchange from the front seat of his black sedan. The crinkle in Lowell ’s forehead… the desperation on his face… even the slant on his assistant’s shoulders. Lowell asked William to stay quiet, but he was still protesting. Janos narrowed his eyes, focusing intensely on William’s slouched shoulders. From this distance it was hard to get a read. The creases in his white, wrinkled button-down said he was still wearing his shirts twice to save cash. But his brand-new belt… Gucci… Mom and Dad bought that. The kid’s from cash — which means he’ll follow his boss’s directions.

“I told you Lowell wouldn’t sit still… he won’t focus on anyone but himself,” Barry said through the cell phone.

“Quiet,” Janos warned. He didn’t like talking to Barry — the paranoia was always too much, even if it was a perfect button to push. Still, he had to admit, Barry was right about Lowell.

In the distance, Lowell slammed the car door shut. His tires howled as he pulled out of his parking spot. For a few seconds, William lingered, craning his neck as he watched his boss disappear… then finally headed back toward the stairs.

With a twist of his wrist, Janos turned the key in the ignition. The sedan coughed awake, but Janos quickly looked down, putting his open hand on the dashboard. Typical, he thought. Bad idle. The cam needed more lift.

“You should’ve called me in earlier,” Barry said in his ear. “If you came to me before you went to Pasternak-”

“If it weren’t for Pasternak, Harris would’ve never been in the game.”

“That’s not true. He’s more jaded than you think he is. He just wants you to think-”

“Keep believing that,” Janos said, giving Lowell just enough of a lead. As the silver Audi turned the corner, Janos hit the gas and slowly pulled out after him.

“Any idea where he’s headed?” Barry asked.

“Not yet,” Janos said, leaving the parking lot and turning onto the street. Directly in front of him was a classic orange Beetle. Four cars ahead of that, Lowell ’s Audi wove in and out of traffic. And a mile or so beyond them all, at the end of Pennsylvania Avenue, the dome of the Capitol arched toward the sky.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said to Barry. “He’s not going very far.”