“So, what are all of these hobbies you’ll discover when you hit 65?”
He stopped with his beer halfway to his lips. “65? Who said anything about 65? I’m retiring when I’m 55, maybe even 50.”
I noticed he had changed the subject, but before I could point that out, he leaned toward me and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone you heard it from me, but I think Huntington Taylor is planning a major expansion. Like more than double.”
I wasn’t sure why Huntington Taylor taking on new clients, or taking more of the savings of the ones he had, would be confidential, but perhaps it was. More likely, Al wanted to make it sound important. “So, what makes you think Taylor & Associates is expanding?”
“Well, first, there’s this massive remodeling effort. He said the improvements were to congratulate everyone on such outstanding performance. You know, better digs because the company’s doing so well.”
“That well, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. Big time. That was the first clue. And then there’s the whole security upgrade,” said Al.
“Security?” I chuckled. “You mean you’re going to get someone at the reception desk who doesn’t do her nails all the time?”
Al was about to answer when Sandy came back with his food. He gave me one of those ‘lock my lips’ gestures as he nodded his head in her direction. I almost laughed aloud.
When she left, he said. “Yeah, we’re not sealed up like you guys, but that’s about to change. Before they kicked us loose on this break, a bunch of painters were in, trying some samples on the dining room walls. It’s gotta be paint that forms some type of electronic shield, because there was no way these ugly shades of off-white could be considered an improvement.”
From some of the government work that Ruger-Phillips did, I knew that computer facilities were sometimes shielded, so that emissions from the electronics couldn’t be intercepted outside the building. But barriers that were painted on? I wasn’t certain about that.
“I thought all your computers were in the basement,” I said. “What’re you protecting in the dining hall – the secret sauce on the hamburgers?”
“Yeah, that stumped us too, for a while. But about the only place Taylor goes other than the basement computer complex is the dining area. If he takes any type of device with him when he eats – a phone, a tablet – and it’s linked to the systems downstairs, the signal might be intercepted.”
I had noticed Al said that the paint choice had stumped “us,” and I pictured two or three bored analysts sitting around, generating plots worthy of a James Bond movie. Of course, as someone recently accused of sending the police on a ‘wild goose chase’ by my management, I was no one to criticize anyone’s overactive imagination.
“Might be running the numbers on his phone,” I admitted, but I was thinking it had been a while since Al had updated me on what was happening at Nicole’s table.
“Could be,” said Al. “Or just generating the numbers in his head and using the phone to send them downstairs. Guy’s a math whiz…which is a good thing.” Al grinned and shook his head. “Cause he can’t remember people worth a lick.”
“What’s Atwood doing?” I asked.
Al glanced over to their table. “Eating.”
I laughed at myself, wondering if I really expected an answer like, ‘He’s dragging her out by the hair. How did I miss that?’
So, I turned the conversation to sports, and by ‘sports,’ I mean baseball. At this time of year, anyone in St. Louis would. Excitement was building, as the Cardinals were only three back in the wild card race with 31 games to go. And with a game at 8:30 tonight, that fact seemed to be weighing on Al’s mind. He kept checking his watch.
“Hon,” he said. When Sue looked up from her phone, he leaned across the table. “Would it be OK if I go home and watch the game?”
Seeing the exasperation growing on her face, I said, “I’d be glad to give you a ride home. Al’s not going to be interested in what Nicole has to say anyway.”
Sue sighed. “OK, but why don’t you leave the same time as Nicole and follow her in your car? If no one is tailing her, you can go home when she turns back.”
“Sure, hon.” He sat up straighter, looking down the aisle. “Perfect timing. Looks like they’re leaving. And Doc, don’t forget what I said earlier. Huntington Taylor’s your guy.”
I nodded, then ducked my head as two pairs of legs passed by our booth. Al and I stood and headed for the door.
When we exited, I saw Atwood and Nicole walking down the sidewalk to our left, about 20 yards away. “There they are.”
Al had been looking the opposite direction, but swung around at my words, a groan escaping his lips. “That’s great. I’m parked the other way.”
I should have asked where everyone was parked. Strike one.
“No worries,” I said. “I’ll follow them while you go get your car. When Nicole pulls out, I’ll call you and you can drop in behind.”
“OK,” Al replied. “What’s she drive?”
Strike two.
“A silver, two-door. Maybe a Toyota or Honda? But I have no clue about the license plate.”
“OK,” he said again, as he headed out at a trot.
I turned back to the left and spotted Atwood and Nicole. They were crossing the street, nearly 30 yards away. I dialed Al as I started out at a jog.
“Hey, Doc,” he said when he picked up. He sounded a bit winded.
“I think Nicole’s headed to that lot on the south side of the street. You know which one I mean?”
“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “I’m almost to my car. I’ll be coming back down the street, heading west. She’ll turn that way, right? I mean, I can’t very well do a U-turn.”
Damn.
Was that strike three? It was likely that she would head west – it was the quickest way out of this commercial area, but we hadn’t discussed that detail.
“Probably. I’ll let you know.”
I left my answer at that, because the rest of my thoughts involved him using a traffic circle and me jogging down the street as Nicole made her way through the string of traffic lights to the east. That option wasn’t complete folly, but close.
I trotted across the intersection against the light, two cars honking at me in the process. I had closed the gap to about 20 yards again, but they were about to take a side street to the lot. I’d lose sight of them, if only for a few moments. I sped up.
When I rounded the edge of the building, Nicole was standing beside her car in the dim light of dusk, a few other cars circling the lot behind her. The street lights were just coming on and I noticed she had parked under one. Smart. I stumbled to a stop, nearly tripping over something in the twilight. I looked around, but didn’t see Atwood. I stepped back into the shadows.
I dialed Al again. “She’s getting into her car,” I said before he answered but after I heard the panting on the other end.
“Me too,” he managed to say.
Al must have put his phone on speaker, as the sound of jingling keys and a slamming door reached my ears. A moment later, his car started.
“She’s pulling onto the side street and up to the intersection,” I said. “Light’s red. Her turn signal’s on and good news. She’ll be heading west.”
I was hoping the light would be long; they usually were. But for once, it wasn’t.
“She’s turning onto the street.” There was no response. “Al, did you hear me? She’s headed west.”
“Yeah, I see her. Several cars up.”
It sounded like he was shouting, but I understood the reaction. My heart was also pounding, partly with the exertion, but mostly with concern that Al would miss her. But then, this was only a precaution we had added at the last minute and I told myself to relax. No one had followed them to the lot. I just wished I knew where Atwood had gone.
“OK, I’m hanging up and heading back to the restaurant. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”
“No problem,” I heard as I bro
ke the connection.
I turned around and started walking slowly back to the restaurant. It would be awhile before Nicole would return.
✽ ✽ ✽
When I saw Sue sitting in the booth at the restaurant, all the nagging concerns that had stubbornly refused to leave my thoughts during the walk back came rushing to the fore. Her face was ashen. She was blinking rapidly. She had her phone pressed to an ear, her other hand trembling slightly as it covered her mouth.
“What is it?” I asked.
Sue dropped the phone from her cheek and squeezed her eyes closed for a moment. “Nicole. She didn’t turn around.” The words caught in her throat. “She kept going west, then turned north on I-170.” Then into the phone, she said, “Doc just came in.”
It felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach, all breath leaving my body in a rush. I fell into the booth. I looked down, studying the dirty plates and half-eaten food, afraid of the condemnation I would see in Sue’s eyes. I should have stopped them and I hadn’t. I forced my head up. “I’m calling Detective Ahern.”
“Can he do anything? Even if he’s there at this hour?”
“He damn well better,” I said too loudly for the small area. A few diners turned our way.
“Sorry,” I said to Sue. I had mastered the volume, but I could feel the blood rushing to my face, my heart racing in my chest. “Can you ask Al if he can pull alongside them, see who’s in the car with her?”
I’d get a reaction from the police if I knew it was an abduction. Otherwise, I had little to tell them except that Nicole had stood us up for an after-dinner chat.
Sue raised her phone and made the request. Then, I waited. It seemed like several minutes, but it was probably less than one when she blurted into the phone, “What?”
I held out both hands, my eyes pleading for an update.
Sue raised a finger in the just-a-moment sign, then said into the phone, “Go home.” My heart stopped. After another short pause, I heard, “No, just go home. We’re calling the police.” And she hung up.
My eyes narrowed as I studied her face, waiting for the worst.
“Al was almost even with her when she got off at Page. He couldn’t get over in time to follow. If he could have….”
Sue didn’t finish as her gaze dropped to the tabletop. After a moment, she looked up, her eyes moist. Then, without a word, she jumped up and ran passed me down the aisle. I wondered if she was seeking the sanctuary of the lady’s room, but when I turned, she was…hugging Nicole.
A moment later, the women came down the aisle talking excitedly. Sue sounded almost giddy when she said, “Al must have been following the wrong car.”
I rose from the seat, and although I wanted to hug Nicole too, I settled for taking one of her hands in mine. “It’s great to have you back from the land of the missing.”
As we sat back down, Sue said, “I’m gonna kill Al when I get home.”
“Don’t,” I said. “It’s my fault. I didn’t ask where Nicole parked. I didn’t know what kind of car she drives. Or the license plate number.”
“That’s crazy,” said Sue. “Where we parked wasn’t an issue until I asked Al to follow. I should have told him.”
Nicole looked sideways at Sue, then at me. “And you’re both missing the fact that it was probably a good thing Al didn’t follow me. I pulled onto a side street about four blocks from here and had my phone ready. If some car had pulled off and stopped nearby…well, we’d be explaining ourselves to the police about now. We just need to plan better next time.”
“Or not have a next time,” I said.
“I’ll second that,” said Sue. “I’ve texted Al to let him know everything’s all right, so now, can we get the scoop on Atwood? I want to get home, because all this drama has me exhausted. And half sick to my stomach.”
“Me too, so I’ll make this short,” said Nicole. But before she could continue, Sandy approached.
“Anything else?”
“No, I think we’re wrapping up,” I said. “Just the check, please.” She must have been expecting that response, or hoping for it, as she placed it on the table and left.
“Unless we have it all wrong,” said Nicole, “Atwood’s not A.T. He isn’t self-centered. In fact, he’s very nice. He kept apologizing for Dr. Worthington. And like everyone, he wonders if Worthington used the Blocker on himself, but he doesn’t have any proof. He’s not an art collector, but on the other hand, he’s not uneasy with it.”
Nicole paused a moment as if recalling something, then smirked. “And although I’m sure he’s good at math – someone in his line of work would almost have to be – he’s no whiz.”
“What does that mean?” asked Sue, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, it was a working meeting and our company’s policy says I should offer to pay. Dr. Atwood refused, but when it came time to split the check and figure the tip, he took forever. And then he got it wrong.”
Probably flustered. I know the feeling.
“Guess we have our answer about A.T. Wood,” declared Sue.
“Seems that way,” I agreed. “I’m done for the evening, if you ladies are?” Both concurred, then excused themselves to use the restroom before we left. I pulled some bills from my pocket to pay for our dinner. I was about to place them on the table when I saw our server headed my direction.
“Sandy.” She stopped and I handed her the check and the money. “Sorry about tying up your table…no, make that tables for so long.”
She smiled. It seemed genuine. “No worries. Nothing could bother me at the moment.”
“Win the lottery?” I asked, looking up and returning her grin.
“Not quite, but some guy dropped a fifty on the table for an appetizer.”
“Sounds like a nice guy,” I said. I stood to head for the front door where I was meeting Sue and Nicole.
“Maybe,” replied Sandy. “But actually, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.”
Same Day, Same Time
The Experimenter turned around on the barstool for what must have been the twentieth time since arriving and stared at the door to the dining room. Price and another man had entered about an hour ago and were still seated inside.
The evening had started with great promise when the Experimenter spotted Price leaving Ruger-Phillips and followed him to the restaurant. A few minutes later, the second man had appeared. He and Price had spoken briefly before going into the back room.
The second man had seemed familiar – enough that the Experimenter had kept his face turned away or hidden behind a menu. But he couldn’t place him. And when the Experimenter went to the restroom, so he could risk a peek into the dining area, he found the two men sitting in different booths. It must have been a chance meeting.
“Freshen that tea for you?” asked the bartender from behind the Experimenter.
But as he turned to answer, the Experimenter saw Veles enter the front door. His spirits soared. He’d finally decided to purchase a second Taser, settling his internal debate on how to catch both at once. If one got injured, so be it, but he couldn’t delay any more. And now, it looked like waiting would be unnecessary.
Deciding he’d be less conspicuous if he was eating, the Experimenter said, “I’m done.” He placed a ten-dollar bill on the bar. “Keep the change.” Even if he couldn’t find a booth close enough to see Price and Veles, he could at least watch the door and leave when they did. But as he turned, he saw Veles go into the waiting area. Odd. Didn’t she know Price was already inside?
The Experimenter stopped halfway between the bar and the entry to the dining room, not sure what to do. He rubbed his chin, his gaze shifting between the alternatives.
Jordan entered the front door. The Experimenter didn’t believe that any of the Ruger-Phillips people knew him, but as a precaution, he hid part of his face behind a hand that idly massaged his forehead. He expected a reunion between the women, but as he watched, Jordan walked past the waiting area, only glancing at her
friend.
“What the hell?” the Experimenter muttered under his breath, a frown growing on his face. What should he do? Finally, the weight of two prizes in the dining room vs. one in the waiting area tipped the scales. He headed to the back.
The Experimenter turned down the aisle where he had seen Price earlier. A furtive glance told him that Price was still there, but now Jordan was sitting next to him. He passed by, then turned slowly, shielding his face as he had before.
Two other people were approaching and he looked up to their faces. One was Veles. But when he recognized the second, he froze in shock and horror. Coming down the aisle toward him was the only living person who might be able to connect him to the Neural Activity Blocker research. It was Dr. Sebastian Atwood.
Almost a year ago now, during the early stages of the study, there had been a problem with the Blocker. Worthington had called in Atwood to consult, and while the two men worked, the Experimenter had watched them from behind the one-way mirror. He had never spoken to Atwood, had never been introduced. But when the men took a break or when Atwood returned to his lab, he and the Experimenter shared the space of Worthington’s office, if only for a few moments.
The Experimenter wouldn’t have known Atwood’s name or what he did, if he hadn’t asked. But later, when he needed a cover to approach a small, engineering company with some exotic metal and a very, exacting order, that knowledge had come in handy. Now he wondered if that ploy, which had seemed a masterstroke at the time, would be his downfall.
Seeing that the booth beside him was empty, the Experimenter hurriedly slid in. His eyes scanned the table, seeing only seasonings and relishes where he hoped to find a menu. He pulled his phone from his shoulder bag, careful not to expose the Tasers and restraints. Then, he looked down, studying the blank screen intently.
Veles and Atwood passed him, and after a moment of talk, they sat in the booth behind and across the aisle from him. The Experimenter bent down as if to tie his shoe, seeing the cuff of Atwood’s pants below their table. Atwood was facing in his direction.
Of Half a Mind Page 25