Who knew, I might even get "lucky." It had been a long time since I'd felt a woman's touch, and even longer since I'd had a one-night stand – I'd been a fresh-scrubbed newly minted twenty year old Marine. I sucked at non-emotional relationships, as bad as that was for my MGTOW macho image. On second thought, maybe that had something to do with why I was MGTOW.
"See any college girls you want to waste another year on, buddy?" Jim asked Don with a somewhat drunken smirk.
"Screw you." But Don was smiling. "At least most of the farm animals stayed home."
"The best looking woman here is the bartender," said Josh. "And she's gotta be pushing forty."
"I could definitely handle some cougar action," said Don. "At least I wouldn't have to listen to her whine about her parents being cheapskates."
They laughed and raised their beers in toast. I managed a tepid smile. These guys were ripe for my standard speech about the feminization of America and how being a man placed a target in the shape of a dollar sign on your back. But I couldn't work up much passion for it tonight. I wasn't sure I'd ever even see them again. The longer I hung around, the more likely one of them would ask a question about me while working inside Wal-Mart and draw a blank look.
"Whoa!"
Jim's cry almost made me spill my drink. We all swiveled to follow his urgent nod to the bar, where a long, leggy blond in tight-fitting jean shorts was approaching the bar. As I zoned in on her, I almost dropped my drink.
No. No way. No fucking way.
"She's not just out of our league, buddy," said Don. "She's not even in the same universe as our league."
"She's out of the league of everyone here," said Josh. "Except maybe Mr. Marine here. Girls like tough guys and ex-military."
"I'm not a tough guy," I said reflexively. And while it was true that some women were turned on by my warrior pedigree, that kind of woman didn't appear to be my type. I was cursed with an attraction to leftwing peaceniks like Melinda. At least I had been. I wasn't sure who turned on the new, enlightened me.
Which I knew was a lie as I stared at the blond bombshell cozying up to the bar as the throng of men parted like the Red Sea before her. I couldn't believe Lilith was here. I kept expecting to blink and see she really was someone who merely resembled Lilith. So I blinked – but she remained.
"Hey, buddy," Josh laughed, slapping my shoulder. "Snap out of it. No woman likes a guy who drools."
The guys laughed a lot more than that joke deserved. I guessed I was falling behind our drinking curve. And now I had no desire to catch up. I had the sudden feeling I needed to stay sober.
Lilith's gaze curved a lazy, casual arc through the mass of preening males until landing on me. A tiny wrinkle of surprise over one eye disturbed her glacial expression. She gave a faint nod toward the restrooms.
"Be right back," I said. As I rose I felt a slight unsteadiness that told me I'd had more drink than I thought.
I jostled my way through the crowd to the restrooms, which were knee-deep in men. Fortunately, I didn't have to go. I caught Lilith's eye and nodded to the door. She gave no response, but strode in the indicated direction as men scrambled out of her way. It was as if someone had laid out an invisible red carpet for her royal pathway.
Outside, the line had vanished. A large dude sitting under a spotlight on a collapsible chair reading a magazine was all that remained - I assumed to alert people that the place was packed to the legal limit.
"Just getting some fresh air," I said to him. "Then I'm going back in."
"No problem." He barely glanced up from his magazine.
I walked a few steps from the entrance until I was standing in the shadows of a tree. As Lilith passed through the front doors, the seated sentry sprang to his feet as though the Queen herself had emerged. She dismissed his "Have a good evening" with "I'll be back," and strode over to me.
"What the hell?" I said.
"Is that any way to greet your comrade in arms?"
"What are you doing here, Lilith?"
"The same thing you're doing. Only better."
"What I'm doing is having a drink with some friends."
"Do your friends happen to work at Wal-Mart?"
I hesitated. She smiled.
"How's that going?" she asked.
"They think I work there. They say they're installing facial recognition and RFID chip reader security systems in the main entrances."
Lilith nodded as though that were no great surprise. "That's it?"
"I was hoping to get something more from them, but they don't seem to know much. The workers are pretty well isolated from each other."
"We need someone a lot higher up to learn anything."
Conflicting emotions twisted in my gut. Part of me was glad she was here. It could be good to have some backup, or at least another head to bounce ideas off. The other part was annoyed. But then I found her chronically annoying.
"So was this your dad's idea?" I asked.
"Mine. I told him he kept sending boys to do a woman's job."
I couldn't stop myself from smiling. But it was a sort of pissed off smile. She cracked a smile of her own.
"What's your plan?" I asked.
"Find the biggest muck-a-muck I can and sweet-talk him into telling me all."
"You think you can find him in this bar?"
"I think some of the Wal-Mart contractors are here. After all, this is the only happening place in this one-horse town. When I meet one, I'll get his name."
"I'm sure I can get that from the dudes I'm hanging in with. At least the name of the guy who hired them. Just been waiting for the right moment."
"I guess we'll see how it goes." Lilith removed her cell from her clutch purse. "Give me your number. Where are you staying, by the way?"
"The Hampton Inn."
"Fairfield Inn and Suites. I believe you're right across from me."
"Yeah."
"Anything happening with the Sioux Falls Mall?"
"I drove to the site and took some photos. I checked out the main honcho's house. Then I drove up here."
"You've had a busy first day."
The greeter/bouncer glanced across at us. I guessed he was wondering why Lilith would be talking to someone like me.
"I better get back inside," I said. "My new friends will think I drowned in the toilet or something."
"Let me know if you get that name."
"I will."
I walked to the door, leaving Lilith standing in the shadows, probably waiting for a discreet time before returning.
Inside, the rock band was belting out Blink 182's "What's My Age Again?" I weaved and dodged through the crowded dance floor back to my table.
"Long line at the bathroom?" Josh asked.
"You could say that."
I spotted Lilith amidst the tangle of bodies. She was dancing with an older dude who was grinning so wide you would've thought he'd won the lottery.
"Looks like someone stole your girlfriend," said Don.
"She's not my type."
"Are you serious?" Don's forehead wrinkled enough that I thought I could see him as a middle-aged man. "How can that not be your type?"
"Because my type isn't a stuck-up, self-entitled bitch." Those words came out more harshly than I'd intended.
"Whoa, dude," said Josh. "You don't know she's a stuck up bitch."
"Though she probably is," Don grumbled.
"You're right, Josh," I said. "I don't know."
"Had issues with a hot girlfriend?" Josh was looking at me in a pitying way. I really wanted to do something to wipe that look off his face. I forced a shrug.
"It's more about having issues with people who think they're privileged because men want to screw them and because they're supposedly the weaker sex. So if you have kids or get married or if some problem comes up, the assumption is that you – the stronger sex – are supposed to take care of them or solve their problems."
"Well, that's kinda the point," said Josh. "Guys are su
pposed to solve stuff and protect women. If we couldn't, why would they want us?" He smiled. "Don't think it's just because of our native charm."
"Maybe. My problem is with women who try to make us feel guilty for that nature while demanding that we owe them protection and solutions. At the same time, saying they're just as strong and don't need us. It's that double-standard I'm against."
"I don't know." Josh shook his head. "I'm not like a feminist or anything, but women have had it pretty damn rough over the centuries. No offense, man, but that kind of sounds like whining and sour grapes to me."
I started to reply, but then fatigue – maybe jet lag and all the conspiracy stuff – rolled over me and my mind went sort of numb. It would take a long discussion to get my points across, and this wasn't the time and place for that. I drank some more and tried to mellow out. It was hard to do that while watching Lilith ply her charms on the poor unsuspecting middle-aged clown she'd fastened her claws into. I ought to be happy, since the guy might be a Wal-Mart subcontractor, but the whole thing seemed sleazy. Including me sitting here lying to these guys.
The server came by and I told my friends I had this round.
"Nope," said Josh. "This one's on me."
I ordered a beer, not ready to double down on my Long Island tea. When she returned with our drinks, I decided it was time to ask the one question that remained.
"Did Jack Anderson hire you guys?" I asked. "Just wondering, because he struck me as a classic douche bag."
"Nah," said Jim. "Burt Maxwell. Some dude pretty high up in the Wal-Mart food chain, from what I can tell."
"Huh. Never heard of him."
I smiled to myself. Two things had surprised me about this private investigator gig. First, was how easy it was to get people to tell you things. Second, how easy it was to get places that were supposed to be secure. The security at DIA had been a complete fucking joke. I had no skills and still waltzed through the place. I could've placed bombs all throughout the airport.
The TSA director had said they didn't want to waste money on unnecessary screening of employees. But that was only a "waste" if you weren't concerned about security. Which hammered home my long-time suspicion that the TSA was merely a symbol of security. It was a make-work job where people pretended they were stopping terrorists as they groped young kids and dusted down elderly women for "bomb residue." If they couldn't stop someone like me they had zero chance of stopping a real terrorist.
My cell beeped a text message. I slid it out and viewed it under the table.
Do you have the name yet?
I typed in: Burt Maxwell.
What I thought. He's the guy I'm with. Says he's overseeing operations at Wally World.
How did you latch onto him?
Only older guy here and he was putting out big business vibe.
Okay. Good luck.
I ended the connection thinking that was by far the friendliest conversation we'd ever had, and it had been texting. Had to be a moral in there.
I slid my cell back in my pants pocket. Josh, Jim, and Don were surveying the crowd with woozy eyes. A woman sitting with female friends a few tables from us met my gaze and smiled. I smiled back. She glanced away, sipped from her drink, and smiled at me again. I judged her and her friends to be in their early thirties – actual women instead of girls. She was pretty. Short red hair, slim body, clean, upturned features. I sighed.
"I think I'll call it a night," I said to the guys. "I got a long day tomorrow."
"You're kidding!" Josh protested with a slight slur. "The night's just beginning."
"And soon the morning will be just beginning. I'll catch up with you guys later." I wasn't sure that would happen, but you never knew.
My friends offered boozy farewells, and I made my way to the doors. I glimpsed Lilith in rapt conversation with Burt Maxwell. Her blue eyes flicked to me for an instant. Soon, I imagined, the horny old dude would suggest they go somewhere quieter. I wondered how far Lilith would take her little game. I couldn't see her letting him get his pudgy paws on her. But who could say?
I WAS deep into a dream about being chased through an airport by angry TSA agents when my cell rang. I fumbled blindly in the dark, knocking my phone off the night table. By the time I'd fished it off the carpet, it had gone to voicemail. It was Lilith. I swallowed a few times to clear my throat, and called her back.
"I suppose I woke you," she said.
"Safe guess." I cleared my throat again, this time with irritation. "What happened with the Wal-Mart guy?"
"I got him to talk freely. He gave me a good idea of what Wal-Mart is up to."
"Which is?"
"The main purpose is surveillance in partnership with the DHS. That's what it's being retrofitted for. In his words, 'The store's like a watering hole. Everyone eventually ends up there. DHS saw that as a huge, untapped resource.'"
I sat up, rubbing the sleep out of my face. "I guess that makes sense."
"The doors also have the capability of being remotely locked."
The air conditioning came on, and I felt a chill run across my bare back.
"Another thing is that they've constructed a basement under the store. In the basement are storage cells that could – this was his speculation – be used as holding cells."
"Fuck," I said. "It's as if they're redesigning it to serve as a makeshift prison."
"I wouldn't say 'as if.'"
"The moment they actually tried to seal the building, their public relations would drop off a cliff. And someone would smash a shopping cart through those glass doors."
"Since the glass is bulletproof, I don't think that would work. Besides, they're installing a gate near the entrance that's made of steel bars. It's recessed into the walls and covered up, so you can't see it."
Ballistic glass? Steel gates? I shook my head.
"How did you get him to tell you this?"
"I got him really drunk. When he told me about his job, I mentioned the conspiracy theories. He wanted to be the big man, and brag about his special knowledge. All I had to do was listen."
"Was he okay with all that? With Wal-Mart converting their stores into possible prisons?"
"He just laughs about it. He said that if anyone ends up in there, they probably deserve it."
I blew out a disgusted breath. "A good example of why this country is going the way it is."
"Stupidity?"
"More a lack of independent thinking."
"Same thing."
I leaned back against the wall, my heart pounding from the abrupt awakening and Lilith's revelation. I'd always believed that if we dug into the Wal-Mart story I'd find a mundane explanation. This explanation was not mundane. It introduced a hard knot in the pit of my stomach.
"Did you happen to record any of what he said?"
"Better. I video-recorded him. And I'll do the same with the guy running the mall construction in Sioux Falls."
The funny – and chilling – thing was that I didn't doubt that for a minute. Most men had no clue how to deal with someone like Lilith. She was like the zenith of a million years of female evolution dressed up in tight shorts.
Ethan Ellenberg didn't stand a chance.
Chapter 6
LITLITH FOLLOWED ME DOWN to Sioux Falls late the next afternoon in her rental Chevy Volt. We met in a Safeway parking lot, and at her request she joined me in my van and we drove out to the Sioux Falls Mall.
I was still digesting what she'd told me yesterday, and so was her father. Or maybe, judging from the repressed anger in his voice when we talked on our burner phones last night, Markus's indigestion was more about his daughter running away from home. But I heard that annoyance turn to stoic resignation by the end of our conversation. I had a feeling this wasn't the first time they'd butted heads and he'd come away with a concussion.
"The photos online don't show it this clearly," said Lilith, viewing the Sioux Falls Malls through her binoculars. "If I didn't know this was supposed to be a shopping mall,
I'd say they were building a prison."
"Yeah, I had the same reaction."
"How much do you want to bet that when I get Ethan Ellenberg to talk that his Property Group will have a relationship with DHS, too."
"Don't think I'll take that bet."
We headed over to Ellenberg's posh neighborhood, and parked within sight of his house. It was just before six on a Saturday evening.
"I could just go up and ring the doorbell, and if he's home say my car broke down," said Lilith. "Once I'm in, he'll be mine."
"Assuming he'd let you in."
"Come on. Do you really see that not happening?"
"He might not be alone."
"I've read the report. He's not married, and there's nothing about him having a significant other. But even if he has company or a girlfriend, I'll find a way to make it work."
"You talk as if you're a veteran intelligence agent."
"I am an agent of intelligence, true."
I gave her a grudging smile. As unhappy as I was to admit it, Lilith could do things – make friends and influence people – in ways that my five o'clock shadowed mug couldn't. And she removed some of the pressure off me to make everything happen.
A rising double garage door drew our attention to the house. A sleek burgundy-red Mercedes SUV backed out. I recognized Ellenberg from his photos. He was alone.
I started the van and eased in behind the burgundy Mercedes a discreet distance back. I doubted I'd have much trouble keeping it in sight.
"He's probably going to a restaurant," I said. "I'm guessing somewhere expensive."
We followed him onto the nearby highway, which headed west and then curled north. Ellenberg left the highway and turned into a restaurant a few blocks later. The Carnival Brazilian Grill. Sounded lively.
We watched Ellenberg - a small, balding, portly individual in his fifties - stroll inside.
"You had any dinner?" I asked Lilith.
"I could eat."
"Why don't we grab some fast food and eat in the parking lot. When he comes out, we'll follow him – hopefully to a bar or somewhere you can work your magic."
Lilith wrinkled her nose. "I'm not a fast food person. I'll hold out for later. But don't let me stop you."
Operation Indigo Sky Page 7