Trust Your Eyes

FIFTY-SIX

“We should take that with us,” Nicole said, pointing to the computer tower that was connected to Thomas’s monitors.

“Good idea,” Lewis said.

“No,” Thomas protested. “No, no!”

“Thomas,” I said, nudging him again with my shoulder. “There’s bigger stuff at stake here than the computer.”

“But it’s mine!” he said. He was horrified, watching Lewis start to unplug the wires that ran out of the back of it. “Stop it!”

Calmly, Nicole said to me, “Are you going to be able to control him?”

“Yes. Just let me talk to him a second.”

Nicole allowed us to move a couple of feet away. I faced Thomas, leaned my head in close enough that I was nearly touching his forehead.

“Listen. We’re in a tough spot here. I can always get you another computer. A way more powerful one. But the only way I’m going to have a chance to do that is if we cooperate with them. You hearing me?”

“It’s mine,” he said.

“I need you to hold it together, Thomas. Can you do that for me?”

He raised his head, looked into my eyes. “You’d have to get me one that’s just as fast.”

“I’ll get you one that’s even faster,” I said, making a promise I knew I was never going to be able to keep.

Lewis pulled the disconnected tower to the edge of the desk and asked me, “So what were you doing there?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“My brother asked me to check it out. He was on that site, he saw something funny in the window, and he asked me to check it out when I was in the city.”

“Oh,” Lewis said. “So, it was just a huge coinkydink.”

I smiled nervously. “Pretty much.”

“You’re telling me your brother’s just goofing around online, sees this thing, and you decide to go all the way into the city to check it out.”

“Yes.”

Lewis looked at Nicole. “That’s all it is. Just a bit of innocent Web surfing.”

“Great. I guess we can go home now.”

“Yeah,” Lewis said, and came over, putting his face to within an inch of mine. His breath was hot on my cheek. “When we get where we’re going, you’re going to need to come up with a better story than that. You’ll have lots of time to think of something on the way.”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

Nicole said, “Tape.”

Lewis reached into the backpack and brought out a roll of gray duct tape. He tossed it to Nicole. “Be my guest.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” I said. “It’s just like I said. We don’t know anything.”

Nicole tore off a six-inch strip and slapped it over my mouth.

“Don’t do that to me,” Thomas said as Nicole started tearing off another strip. “Don’t do that to me!”

He was in midscream as she applied the tape. His mouth was half open, and one side of the tape was caught on his lower teeth, allowing Thomas to keep moving his jaw.

“Shit,” she said, and tore off another strip to seal the bottom half of his mouth. “Okay, we’re good.”

Lewis zipped up the backpack, slipped the strap over one shoulder, then picked up the computer tower with two hands.

Just then, a very faint ringing.

“What’s that?” Nicole said. “That your cell?”

“No,” Lewis said. He was looking around the room and his eyes landed on the old landline phone on Thomas’s desk, still there from the days when he used dial-up for the Internet and had his own number.

It was flashing red with an incoming call. Thomas always kept the ring volume very low, and he hardly got any calls, anyway. I couldn’t think of anyone who might be calling him. It could only be one of two things. A wrong number, or a telemarketer.

But Nicole and Lewis wouldn’t know that.

“Answer it or not answer it?” Lewis asked Nicole.

She was thinking, watching the light flash. “If someone’s expecting him to be here, and he isn’t…”

Thomas’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head, looking at that flashing red light.

Lewis snatched up the receiver. The first thing he did was cough, then sniff. When he spoke, he adopted the tone of someone sick with a cold.

“Hello?”

After a short pause, he said, “It’s Thomas.” Another sniff. “I’m coming down with something. Who’s this?”

Half a beat went by. Then Lewis said, “Bill who?”

His eyebrows popped up momentarily, and then he smiled. “Yeah, well, I’d love to chat, Bill, but it’s my bowling night with Dubya.”

He hung up the phone. Nicole was looking at him, waiting for an explanation.

“Crank call,” he said. “Some asshole pretending to be Bill Clinton.”

I glanced at Thomas. I’m sure I looked more surprised than he did, because he didn’t look surprised at all. Annoyed, maybe, that he hadn’t been able to speak to the former president.