He perches on a barstool and looks back through the bottles at his image. Better, he thinks.
"Afternoon, what can I get you?" Snorri knows the face at once. Alcott hesitates. Snorri's cool, he'll wait. Can't be a regular drinker or he'd know what he likes.
"An Elijah Craig with ice and lots of water," Alcott says.
"Coming right up," Snorri says with aplomb. Elijah Craig and a lot of water? He tries to remember the last time someone asked for Elijah Craig. Maybe in two thousand and eight when Obama was inaugurated. Where the devil is it? Oh, there, behind the reserve bottle of Jack.
Alcott watches as he pours. "Thanks, that's a more than generous drink."
"Don't mention it. Glad to have company this early." It's clear that Alcott/Curly/Sammy Assad/Sammy A./Sean Abernathy/Samuel Anderson has not recognized Snorri from his surveillance at FDU. "You new in town? Don't remember seeing you before," Snorri says.
"No, just new to the bar. I'm mostly at the university."
"You teach or maybe you're a graduate student?"
Alcott is getting a little nervous, but he can't very well not answer. "Yeah, I'm a teaching assistant, working on a master's."
Snorri busies his nose in the g lass he is wiping. He doesn't want to appear too interested. "In what? If I may ask."
Alcott decides to take a different tact from the one he took earlier with the trooper. No more nanotechnology, you can never tell, he thinks, who wanders into this bar to schmooze. He says the only thing that he can think of that isn't engineering-related. "I'm interested in Sino-Russian relations in the Far East."
"Good for you. That's something," Snorri's offhand tone says, Okay, fellow, how boring can that be? "Not to change the subject, but you have any guess about how the playoffs are going to go? Not that Snorri has any interest in football. It's just bonhomie bull crap. He has what he wants: he has Sammy in his sights, and Sammy must have come by car, and sooner or later he will be headed home.
Alcott works hard at the drink, figures he's already too visible here. He'll just leave. Then a regular comes in, and he and Snorri chat at the other end of the bar. Soon others filter in, and the bar area is mostly full. Travis, the other bartender, arrives. He gets Alcott his second drink. Dinner guests arrive. The restaurant is filling up. The energy in the room grows. Travis takes his dinner order and gets him another. And later a fourth. All the while Snorri is watching out of the corner of his eye. As it gets later, more people migrate toward the tables and the wine list, and the bar thins out.
When Alcott pays the bill and gets up to leave, Snorri looks at Travis. "Cover for me, I need to take care of something." He heads out the back door and watches Alcott work his way over to the self-parking. He's half stewed, going hand over hand to steady himself on the parked cars. Employee parking is close enough so that Snorri can make his way to his car while he keeps Alcott in view. Alcott turns the Taurus over and heads out almost as slowly as he staggered to the car. It's no problem for Snorri to follow him as he makes his way to the white house with the green shutters on Nardath Road. He can hardly wait to share his info with one of his best customers. He's disappointed when he calls Lenny and gets no answer.
23.
While Sammy A. is drinking at Ferndale's, Lenny gets a call from the ER at Mid-Texas Regional Hospital near San Marcos. Portia Piverotto has been brought in by EMR with no identification and has asked them to call him. "How is she? Can I speak with her?" The nurse avoids his questions. She's fine and alert, but tired and dehydrated. Nothing's broken. If he drives up, by the time he gets there, they can release her to him. He is to bring some documents showing that he knows her and clean clothes. The nurse wants to prepare him: she's fine but she won't look one hundred percent.
M2 and Barry are relieved when he shares what he's learned: she's at Mid-Texas Regional in the ER. She is going to be fine. He'll leave now, way less than three hours to get there—two-and-a-half tops, even though he's tired. Besides her purse and clothes, he brings a blanket and some juice. It will be all right, he tells himself, over and over. It's almost like an incantation to ensure his hope. He drives west and north. The car is quiet. He can't find anything of interest on the radio. The miles go slowly.
Barry sits in his bedroom at his computer catching up on emails and the alerts from various news sites he monitors. He is going through the motions. His real worry is security. He replays what the constable has told them. The burglars are not smash-and-grab types: nothing has been smashed and nothing grabbed. Nothing's out of place. His computer doesn't look breached, but with a first class hacker, it would not be easy to tell. He is certain, though, that three guys dressed in black have been through everything and then scrammed in a black SUV.
He has already called UVL for surveillance and assistance tonight. It's a poor decision, he decides. It's not enough, but it will have to do for tonight. Lenny's gone, Barry doesn't know what kind of shape Portia is in or when they will return. M2's beat. When was the last time she stood watch with a loaded gun? The day has taken its toll. Change of plan, he decides. They need to get out. And sooner rather than later. There is no other conclusion: they have been surveilled out the wazoo by an invisible team of professionals. Barry suspects they know a lot about the three of them. In fact, he's sure they knew a lot about them even before they showed up at Lenny's this morning.
He calls his boss at UVL on a secure line and goes through the break in again. Barry tells him their deal could go up in smoke. At UVL headquarters their best guess is that someone interested in Amputation wants something, maybe Barry's dead body. Who: the Chinese? Their supplier in the U.S.? The ultimate recipient of the supplies? Cyber-thieves who want to siphon revenue? He and his boss agree that that could be almost anybody.
ASAP the four of them need to disappear until the deal is done. Practically speaking, this means a fortified safe house. He and his boss amend the plan. It can't wait till morning. The boss will call him back. He needs to make a few arrangements. Meanwhile, Barry calls the hospital on a burner and explains he's Lenny's son and asks that when Lenny arrives, he wait at the hospital until he can call him. Barry asks for a number. The clerk seems confused and begins to ask why they can't use their cell phones, but finally she acquiesces.
It has been a whirlwind few hours for Lenny. He had arrived at the hospital in a state, worried that Portia would be a heap of pain and despair, unwilling to communicate. The clerk gives him the message from his son. Wonder what's eating him that he needs to talk to me now at the hospital?
A young doctor takes him aside before he draws back the curtain of her alcove. He should be prepared for mood swings. She's showing signs of withdrawal from whatever her assailant had drugged her with. In fact, when Lenny walks in, his mood immediately brightens. Portia is propped up in bed in a white hospital gown. Her face begins as a slight smile and fades. The smile is back and fades again.
She's a fighter, Lenny thinks. "How are you, love? My God, I can't imagine what you've been through."
"Lenny, I'm so glad you're here. Thank you for coming. You're a sweet man. Much to tell, but in a sentence he grabbed me and drugged me at my last sales stop, and most of the rest is a blur. He took me somewhere…I'm not sure I know a lot more."
Now her face is pale, her mouth turned down at the corners, a contrast with her bright voice.
"Your upbeat attitude will help," he offers. Her left cheek is a ruddy purple, where Sammy slapped her. A bloody scab covers her lower lip where his blow drove her teeth into it. A dressing covers the match burn.
She catches him assessing her. "I'll be okay, he didn't, you know, he didn't. They checked with a rape kit." He stroked her good arm with his fingers. "I just need a little time, some peace and quiet. And a shower and a bed. I don't know what that was about."
"We're going to get you out of here as soon as we can. I'll drive you home tonight."
A clerk comes by and says that there is a call for him on the phone at the nurses' station. It's well after midn
ight. He's eager to know why Barry has called. He asks briefly about Portia. Once he hears she's okay, only a little bruised and tired, he stops his father. "I'm very glad, but now's not the time for details." He explains they are moving houses. Again he interrupts his dad when he wants to know details. "Just listen, I'll explain when I see you. Turn off your cell and Portia's. Don't use the car's GPS. In fact, just for good measure, leave the radio off." He gives him the name of a mall near Katy on the way back to Houston and parking directions. Drive there, park and wait. "You'll know them, but just in case they'll verify their identity by asking you the mathematical value of Pi. And you won't have to know the answer." Both laugh. He tells Lenny that he will take care of the rest. Lenny worries about details. It's his nature, but he complies.
He finds Portia again. "Who was that?"
"It was Barry wanting to know how you are."
"What did you tell him?"
"The truth—that you looked tired but were in good spirits, and that you would be back to your old self in a few days."
"You know, I didn't even get a good look until the end and by that time I was pretty heavily sedated. This is crazy. To me he looked almost like the barista, like Sammy A. Does that make any sense?"
He said it did, and in fact Barry, M2 and he were certain he was the guy. "We're looking for him. Portia, I've got to step out and deal with some paperwork. Then we'll be on the road."
They were headed south toward Seguin to pick up the interstate east before he came to business. "Can you concentrate, love? I've got to go through something with you."
She could as long it was not too involved, but he might have to repeat it tomorrow. There has been a change in plan. He told her about the break in at their place and Barry's concerns. They were headed to a safe house for a few days. Did she understand? Yes, it was fine. Her voice trailed off. He wasn't sure the change had registered. Soon she was asleep next to him. Better this way, he thought.
Barry had arranged the evacuation. Three black SUVs would be at Lenny's in an hour. He and M2 gather up their laptops and Lenny's, briefcases, and little more. They take four sets of toiletries and a change of clothing apiece. M2 brings her big clunky purse, and although she's not much of a novel reader, she makes a quick sweep through the house for a few books. Barry piles their arsenal of small arms and Lenny's bullwhip by the front door. Oh, what the hell, why not? he thinks, and for good measure, he pulls his father's bullwhip off its mounting above the bed he and Portia share. Barry hopes there is nothing else of value they will need. And the safe? If they guys came back, cracking the combination might be tough, but drilling out the lock would be a cinch. Sundries—everything from shoes to ballpoints—they can buy. "This may take a week, maybe more," he tells M2. He doesn't explain what this is. "We'll have to talk about whether you need to take a leave or can work remotely."
Four men in black running suits—dead ringers for those that Ari and his team had worn—provide cover and help them out with their stuff.
Barry trusts his boss and UVL to plan, but just in case…. He can't prevent all surveillance and their being tracked, but often simple deterrents are the most useful. Everything isn't high tech. He has an addition to his boss's plan: Constable Larkin.
His father has to move some sensitive material and has asked him to call, he told the constable. Could he come by and park near the house tonight? Three cars were for coming for his dad's stuff. When they pull out, could he move his patrol car to the center of the street so that they were not followed? The constable would be glad to. His dad had asked him to leave an envelope for him under the doormat.
The SUVs drove this way and that for almost an hour. No sense taking chances. Eventually they settled in front of a largish brick structure that from the outside looked like every other cookie cutter house in the Wentfalter Trace neighborhood. But the windows were bulletproof glass, and bullet-stopping metal sheets protected the doors and walls. On the chimneystack they had mounted tiny security cameras, and a periscopic one in the draft. A skylight hatch allowed for drone launch,. and hatches front and back on the second floor provided for the launch of handheld rockets. Barry admired the design. Well, why not, he thought, we're not exactly a boutique Goldman Sachs. This would be home until Operation Amputation was over.
Sandwiched among all the gear and security equipment were living quarters: a kitchen, a dining room-living room, a few offices, and bedrooms. The master bedroom with its own bath is assigned to Lenny and Portia, while Barry and M2 have bedrooms down the hall with a shared bath between.
Lenny's car is now parked at a Katy shopping mall. Lenny and Portia have been met by UVL men curious to know the value of Pi. The two arrive at Wentfalter Trace to meet the others.
Barry takes one look at Portia. "Jesus, we need to take this guy out. What a rotten son of a bitch. I've got Edie's death, and now look what he's done to Portia. He's garbage. Screw the cops."
M2 brings up the obvious. "First, you don't know where he is. And second we need a plan with a little more finesse than 'we need to take this guy out.' You guys want to club him to death? Is that the plan?"
Snorri knows where Sammy is, but he can't find Lenny to tell him. He doesn't answer his cell or his landline, and when he drives by the next morning, no one answers the door. He's parked in the drive trying to figure his next move. Constable Larkin cruises by on a routine sweep of the neighborhood, his attention to Lenny's affairs peaked by the intrigue of last night's mysterious escapade and the envelope Barry has left him. He feels like he part of a team on some clandestine mission. He's not sure what, but he knows it's important.
He sees the battered Toyota Corolla parked there and wonders who the barely presentable guy in a T-shirt and jeans is. He parks, blocking the Corolla's exit. He doesn't wait for an explanation. "You're on private property. I suggest you get off it now."
Snorri's feeling testy. He has urgent news for Lenny and fatso is hassling him. "Can't very well do that with your patrol car in the way."
"Okay, buddy, license and registration…please." Larkin looks up and pushes the peak of his cap back. "Snorri? What the hell kind of a first name is that?"
"Icelandic."
Larkin isn't buying it. "Bullshit, only Eskimos and natives live there."
"That's Greenland. What's your problem, officer?"
"My problem is that you're on private property with the sorriest excuse for a fake ID I've ever seen. Let's start again. Tell me what you're doing here or we're taking a ride."
"The guy who lives here, Lenny D., is a friend. I've tried calling both his cell and his house phone and I get no answer. I was worried, so I came by."
Larkin scratches his head. Might be, might not. Is this guy after something that Lenny couldn't get out last night? "Just a second," he retreats to the patrol car and picks up a handheld device to check his plates. He's buying time while he thinks this through. Finally, he decides that this guy parked in the drive in broad daylight can't be much of a thief. Not like the black cat burglars early yesterday morning. And, Larkin reasons, Lenny got out whatever he had to last night. He goes up to Snorri's window. "Okay, I'm going to let you go, but I don't want to see you around here again."
"I'm leaving, but I need to talk to Lenny. It's important. If he comes back or you see him, tell him Snorri from Ferndale's came by and to call him. I've got something he needs to know." He hands the officer the restaurant's card with Snorri Samuelsson, bartender printed on it.
Snorri remembers there are payphones in the park by the public restrooms. He knows Barry works at UVL. He calls and asks for Barry Weeks. Mr. Weeks is working out of the office today. He leaves a message for Barry to have his father Lenny call him at Ferndale's. The note is passed to Barry's boss. What am I? he thinks, the messenger boy? For a second he wonders if it's some kind of code or a trap. Naw, something important: maybe the guy forgot his raincoat at the restaurant. Besides Operation Amputation and Barry, the boss's plate is more than full. His cup runnenth over. He sets t
he note aside. He'll get to it when he gets to it.
24.
Biggie already knows that their reconnaissance mission has been detected. Ari and his team have been exposed thanks to the unfortunate bad timing of the constable's arrival. Sometimes shit happens, he says to Ari. "Okay, you're the point person, Ari, tell me about the place and then what you know from the computers."
"Looks like the three of them live there, the old guy, his live-in girlfriend, and Barry, who is the guy's son. The detail is in my report." He hands Biggie some typed sheets. "The father is retired, as we already knew. Other than his accidental interest in Sammy, he seems like a harmless nebbish. Just one thing, he and the girl have a kinky thing going. She's got sets of lacy panties and bras in her dresser, and he's got a whip in the bedroom.
"Of course, the big thing is Barry. Hard to read from his artifacts. Nothing of interest: clothes, toiletries, golf shoes with an unmounted diamond in one of them, no clubs or mountain bikes. Not even a picture of the woman and their child. We found his personal laptop, but that's all. I guess his UVL stuff is at the office. It was easy to get into his laptop, maybe fifteen minutes tops. The thing's set up in the most screwball way. We've got pictures of him and his girlfriend out the wazoo. The crazy part for the hotshot guy he's supposed to be is that he's left stuff like his airline frequent flyer number unprotected in a file. His social may be somewhere in there…."
"So, cut to the chase. Did you guys learn anything?"
"Just a sec, let me finish. I've got spyware and malware that will definitely work if he tries to execute from that computer."
"Not likely he'll do that," Biggie says.
The Nano-Thief: A Lenny D. Novel (Lenny. D. Novels Book 1) Page 13