The Operator

by Craig Martelle

  I pulled out and followed, leaving one car between us. She took a hard right and headed down the main drag, a four-lane road. I followed from the right lane as well as I could, but she wasn’t bothered by speed limits. I couldn’t lose her.

  A stoplight saved me. I maneuvered into the fast lane, taking a position behind an impatient man in a Ram HD with oversized tires. The Porsche bolted at the green light, slipping past a car turning in front of her on the red. I could hear the engine rev as she launched the land rocket in front of the truck before me.

  He took it as a personal challenge. The big beast growled and lunged forward. Once past the slow-lane traffic, I moved back to the right so I could see. She darted between two cars to her side and jammed on the brakes in an erratic move to get into a gas station.

  I tapped my brakes, signaled, and took the second entrance into the station. I parked and put my phone to my head, being responsible by not talking and driving.

  The Wonderbeast finished filling her tank and strutted toward the convenience store.

  I hopped out and walked behind my car. “But honey, I love your chili!”

  Tricia Tripplethorn hesitated and looked at me. I had my head down and my hand and phone over my face to avoid the cameras.

  “Let me get some privacy!” I said into the phone and stormed away from the Wonderbeast. She harrumphed and headed inside. I continued talking and walked straight to her car. Once beyond it, I walked back and forth while carrying on a robust conversation with myself. I stumbled and ducked. I tucked the GPS tracker inside the front wheel well and stood back up, brushing myself off. I continued talking while strolling casually to the side.

  Wonderbeast ignored me on her way back to Barchetta. “I love you too, honey,” I finished when she was within earshot. I hurried back to my car. Once inside, I accessed the app and brought up the device.

  Barchetta bolted into traffic. Half a block up, she accelerated like a gunshot onto the on-ramp.

  I set my phone where I could see it and followed at a more leisurely pace. Took the access and merged easily into traffic. It was lighter than at rush hour but still moved briskly. I had to concentrate on the Indy 500 maneuvers too many Seattle drivers felt they needed to implement on their daily drive.

  A glance at the tracker showed Barchetta hitting ninety miles per hour as she increased the distance between us. I moved into the middle lane and sped up with the flow.

  After five minutes, Barchetta was no longer moving. The dot blinked on the highway. I continued and looked for it as I approached, thinking she had gotten into an accident. Flashing lights up ahead did not allay my fears, until the truth was revealed.

  The highway patrol had bagged themselves a red Porsche. I drove past, moved into the right lane, and slowed down. I pulled to the side a mile down the road and put on my blinkers. I counted on only one police vehicle patrolling this stretch of road. Once Barchetta started moving again, so would I.

  And maybe she’d learn her lesson and take it easy on me. She needed to have more consideration for the one who was contemplating killing her. I chuckled at my morbid humor.

  Eight minutes later, Barchetta dodged into traffic. I saw a gap and jumped off the shoulder and back onto the highway. I watched Barchetta take the off-ramp behind me.

  “Crap.” I hit the next off-ramp a mile away and doubled back. Ten minutes later, I was looking through the area from where the tracker had last broadcast.

  No signal.

  The app had a feature of last broadcast location, but it only sent a signal every thirty seconds. At the Wonderbeast’s pace, that drew a circle a quarter to a half-mile wide. I drove around the streets, using an expanding square pattern to look for where the car might have gone.

  We were in an upscale suburban city with mid-rise corporate buildings, high-end shopping, and immaculately maintained greenery and flowers on the island between the separated road lanes. I parked where I could see the road Barchetta would have to take to leave the area if the Wonderbeast was going back to the highway.

  More waiting. I turned off the car. I was fine on gas. We had not gone that far. Noon was ten minutes away. Even getting stopped by the police, she was early.

  Who or what commanded her attention like that?

  Had the tracker slipped off the car?

  I had no other course of action.

  So I waited. One in the afternoon. Then two. The clock was crawling toward three when a blip appeared on the screen. “Thank you,” I told my phone.

  She was headed this way. Her reappearance was not far from where she’d disappeared, but I waited for Barchetta to pass before driving back to the area. A parking garage between three corporate buildings. Each of the big buildings had their own garages, too. Which one had she gone into? I took pictures of the four buildings before accessing my tracker app.

  Ninety miles per hour. The Wonderbeast didn’t care. I expected that she had not gotten a ticket earlier, waving the Jimmy Tripplethorn get out of jail free card in the officer’s face.

  I considered her a menace when it came to road etiquette. I thought I’d be comfortable ending her for that alone. Maybe not.

  She was stretching my boundaries, though. How could someone be so eminently unlikeable?

  But was she bad?

  I killed bad people for money. I had to remind myself. She had two children. A husband who liked her in some odd way.

  A father who doted on his grandchildren, his daughter’s progeny.

  I checked the app. Wonderbeast was headed home. She’d get there before the kids returned from school.

  “What did you do for three hours?” I asked no one. I wondered about a follow-up email to finalize any details of what that secret meeting was all about. I looked at the map on my phone, deciding to take back roads to get to the campaign’s district headquarters. I could get gas and something to eat on the way.

  And call Jenny to check in.

  She had an in-service day, but she’d have to go back to work tomorrow.

  I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring for me, but I knew what I had to do that night.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “At the moment of truth, there are either reasons or results.” Chuck Yeager

  Lunch consisted of a power bar and a cup of coffee from the gas station where I filled up my car. I drove to the campaign headquarters, parking two blocks away.

  I forced myself to stroll, not looking obvious. Just another guy going from one place to another. In the strip mall with the campaign headquarters, the businesses were open with their usual customers keeping them engaged. A small group of volunteers and staff busied themselves with setting up for the meeting.

  Chairs in place, tables cleared for the inevitable pizza delivery.

  Jimmy. Taking care of his people.

  I waited at a café table at the end of the strip, where I bought a better meal—a chicken Caesar wrap. I kept my phone on the table and glanced at it while eating. I brought up the app to confirm Barchetta remained at home.

  I kept my eyes peeled for Antoinette Bickness’ car. It was how Jimmy had arrived last time. Anything could go. It would be best if I intercepted him before he entered the offices. I finished my wrap, cleaned up my trash, including wiping the table to remove any fingerprints, and walked toward the campaign office, stopping near the dry cleaners to lean against the wall and play with my phone.

  I glanced up each time a car pulled in. It was taking too long. All the volunteers and staff were in place, but still no Jimmy Tripplethorn.

  At a quarter past six, the campaign managers arrived. I put my phone away. Antoinette dropped off Jimmy and Ken, just like last time. I intercepted them.

  “Jimmy, I know you’re late, but you need to hear the information I have.” It was the best I could do without sounding like a nut or conspiracy theorist.

  “Mr. Tripplethorn has a campaign meeting. Please contact the campaign office to schedule an appointment.”

  “This can’t wait, Ken,�
� I replied, using his name to show I wasn’t a casual interloper.

  Jimmy, always accommodating, waved to the staff inside the campaign office. “Randy, right?” he said, demonstrating a politician’s mind for remembering names, making each person feel special. “Randy Bagger.”

  “Yes, Mr. Tripplethorn. A few moments of your time, please.”

  He put his hand on his campaign manager’s arm and nodded. “I’ll be right in, Ken. Start the meeting with what we already discussed.”

  Jimmy looked at me, leaning slightly forward with his hands in his pockets, the body language of someone willing to listen.

  “I work for an organization that removes problems from society. For some reason, they have designated you as one of them. I was hired to kill Jimmy Tripplethorn, candidate for mayor.”

  Jimmy took a long breath, his face contorted with a variety of emotions.

  “Who would do such a thing?”

  “Once I realized the contract was an abomination, I started looking. Can you tell me where your wife was from noon to three today?”

  “At home,” he said slowly, making it sound more like a question than an answer. He winced with the realization that he didn’t know. I shook my head. Jimmy changed his position. “Not at home, but I don’t know where. She’s a professional in her own right.”

  “She is, sitting on a couple different boards of directors as well as her ancillary engagement with Barrows Holdings. Today, she went to Kirkland and disappeared into a parking garage for three hours. I lost her, but the car was there. I have no idea what she did.

  “I am not going to kill you, Jimmy, but if I walk away from this job, leaving it unresolved, they will send someone else. I’m trying to get the contract canceled, but that means I need to know who hired me. Has your wife transferred a large sum of money recently?”

  Jimmy shrugged and made a face. He gestured for Antoinette to go inside instead of joining him on the sidewalk. The staff and volunteers cast furtive glances our way. I put my back to them.

  “How large?”

  “At least a million dollars.”

  “She has that kind of money squirreled away, but we don’t need it. We have everything we want.” Jimmy looked down, momentarily lost in his thoughts. I waited for him to internalize the curveball I’d thrown into his life.

  “Do you know anyone else who has that kind of money to spend who wants you out of the way?”

  Jimmy shrugged anew. “I’m a politician. I can’t please everyone, but don’t think I’ve angered anyone that badly. The current mayor doesn’t even want the job. He’s going through the motions. There are no other challengers. There is no value in killing me.”

  “Money is not the problem. There is something else driving this. I don’t know what because I’m not on the inside. I don’t need to know how the clock works, only how to tell the time.”

  Jimmy shuffled his feet and remained quiet. He made no move to go inside.

  “The challenge is that you can’t tell anyone about me. That won’t help you. The only thing that will is to find who paid for the contract. After that, I’ll take care of it.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Leverage them to pull the contract. I can’t just kill them because I doubt the organization I work for will care if they’re dead. The organization has already been paid, and they have a one hundred percent success rate, as far as I know. Getting me killed or thrown in jail won’t protect you.”

  Jimmy straightened his back and held his head high. “You’re telling me the only person who can help me is the one hired to kill me?” He jammed his fists on his hips in defiance.

  “Sounds hokey, but yes. And no, this isn’t extortion. I don’t need money or any favors. I only want to get myself out of this, and doing that means I need your help. Does the name DN74XTW1 mean anything to you? Does your wife have a piece of paper or a book she won’t let you look at? It would contain a list of words with a second list of other words. It’s a codebook. She’s communicating with someone in code.”

  “This is the twenty-first century. I can’t believe we have codebooks and hitmen. I’m sorry, but this sounds like something out of a movie. There are cameras watching us. You can’t go anywhere that someone doesn’t know it, let alone kill people.”

  “And law enforcement using facial recognition software has been made illegal. No one is watching anything because the video surveillance archives are vast. There isn’t enough time for humanity to watch it all. I’m not the one with a codebook. That would be your wife.”

  “Carrying a weapon is illegal, too,” Jimmy countered weakly.

  I held my jacket open. “No weapon.”

  “Then how were you going to kill me?”

  “What do you say we don’t talk about that? Your understanding of how I do my job will make you want to hide in your basement for the rest of your life. Jimmy, help me find the person who paid to have you killed. We need to fix this so both of us can get our lives back.”

  “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Go to your meeting. Think about it. Give me your personal number, and I’ll call you in two days’ time.”

  Jimmy uttered a series of numbers. I typed them into my phone and pressed send. Jimmy’s pocket started to vibrate. I tapped end.

  “I’ll be in touch. I believe you might be the last honest politician, and that gives me hope.”

  I spun on my heel and headed in the opposite direction from where I parked. I had started our chess match by moving my knight into the center of the board, hoping that Jimmy took it seriously without melting down. If anyone could handle this without showing their next move, it would be a professional politician.

  ***

  I didn’t call Jenny on the way back to the hotel, and I didn’t pick up dinner, either. I replayed my conversation with Jimmy over and over. He had listened, which was all I could ask. He gave me the time I needed.

  Had I convinced him?

  I opened my door and walked in to find the TV on and Jenny propped up on pillows. The menu was gone off the top of the screen and sitting on the low dresser. I picked it up and put it back over the camera.

  “That blocks the view,” Jenny said.

  “It also blocks the camera,” I replied. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get any dinner. I didn’t realize you’d be here waiting. I didn’t call.”

  “You seem put out. I can go.” Jenny got off the bed. I took her into my arms and held her close.

  “I need to talk, but not here. We’ll go for a short drive.”

  “Whatever you need, Ian.” Jenny took my face in her hands while leaning her forehead against mine. “Anything you want.”

  It was hard not to smile. I pulled her against me. “I have everything I could ever want right now, in this brief moment of time. I want more because I want it to last. But I need to count on others for this one. They need to come through for us to win.”

  “I look forward to learning what that means.” I let go of her hips. She dropped her hands from my face, yet we stayed nose to nose. Neither wanted to be the first to move.

  “Maybe we can just go to your place? I’m going to avoid all things work tomorrow.”

  “Let the honeymoon continue,” she whispered before kissing me and grabbing her purse. I had to get the computer and thumb drive.

  Jenny watched me remove the switch plate in the bathroom. I held my finger to my lips and showed her the thumb drive before carefully putting the plate back on.

  She raised an eyebrow at me with the revelation.

  Naïve.

  As everyone should be who’s not in the game. But now, she was a player. She needed to learn the rules and get up to speed. Her life depended on it.

  I packed my stuff into a bag and motioned for Jenny to lead the way. She headed for the elevator. I paused.

  She stopped when she realized I wasn’t following. I pointed at the stairs. Jenny turned around without hesitation. I held the door for her. She kissed me before heading
down. “I could get used to a gentleman holding the door for me.”

  We continued to the parking lot, opting for her car over mine. She jumped into the driver’s seat. I threw my stuff in the back before climbing into the passenger seat.

  “Bad day?” she asked while starting the engine.

  “I don’t think so, but it was hard.” I recounted trailing the Wonderbeast and ended with my conversation with Jimmy.

  She listened quietly. “That’s a lot to process.”

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t believe me. True Lies and Bill Paxton ruined it for us honest guys.”

  “I love that movie.” The corners of Jenny’s mouth twitched upward. “You have nothing to gain by playing me. You had already closed the deal and then some.”

  “I like your logic.” Darkness settled over the area with the coming night. “The last thing I told Jimmy was I wanted both of us to get our lives back. Ten minutes prior, he hadn’t known his life was in jeopardy. He took it surprisingly well.”

  “What do you think he’s going to do?”

  “I think he’s going to ask his wife where she was today. That will be followed by a massive throwdown. Then Jimmy will call me back, angry that I put such an idea in his head. After that, I’ll have to confront the Wonderbeast myself.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “She is a royal bitch.” I wanted to think in other terms but couldn’t. “Tricia Tripplethorn has a knack for bringing out the worst in people. The worst in everyone except Jimmy, and he thrives in spite of her.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “From a woman’s perspective, why do you think that is?”

  “Nice turnabout. I could see him as a possible narcissist, tormenting her every minute they’re alone. He turns it off when he leaves the house. She can’t and takes out her pain on everyone else.”

  “I saw him at home with his wife. She was the one shaking her finger and yelling. He looked like a whipped puppy.” I looked at the radio. “Mind if I put on some music?”