by Lee Winter
“Everything meat,” Snakepit grunted. “Oh and while you’re there, bring us back a shitload of peace and quiet. ’Kay?”
Duppy snorted and high fived him. Lauren glared at their backs as she trudged to the door. Josh padded up beside her in scarlet Marc Jacobs socks. Cashmere. New.
“Sorry about them,” he said quietly. “They’re barely house trained, let alone socially trained. I can only do so much, and they get really weird around the opposite sex. Tell you what, why don’t I call for the pizza and you two disappear for a bit? Let them get on with it.”
“Okay but what if—” Lauren began as her gaze darted to the laptop.
“I’ll call you if they figure out anything important, promise?”
“Okay,” Lauren said and caught Ayers’s eye to wave her over. She nodded and lifted a one-sec finger as she finished her call.
“Thanks, Josh.”
“No problem. Oh by the way,” he lowered his voice even further. “I can’t help but notice you’re on a first name basis with Lady Voldemort now.” His attention went to the woman in his kitchen scribbling down a note.
“Yeah well,” Lauren muttered as she stole another look at her, “Ayers is such a mouthful.”
“Uh huh,” Josh said. His expression turned serious just as Ayers finished her call and headed back to the main room.
“Look, hon, about Tad,” Josh whispered hurriedly, “Ayers is his aunt. That’s why he told me he just used her to be seen at parties and that she loved him. He thought I already knew. So it was a bit of crossed wires.”
“Yeah, I know. She told me this morning. Sorry I jumped to conclusions.”
“She told you?” Joshua watched her sharply as he opened his apartment door. “She who famously never explains herself and gives you static for breathing too loudly, told you?”
“Yes and stop looking at me like that.” She gently slapped his bicep. “It’s no big mystery. We’ve just reached an understanding. There’re only so many insults we could dream up to hurl at each other. So we’ve plateaued on a truce.”
“Hey! Shut the damn door! You’re letting in a draft.”
Duppy. Lauren resisted the urge to clip the ogling little creep around the ear—with her boot.
“We’re just leaving,” she said as pleasantly as she could muster. She moved aside to make room as Ayers joined them at the door.
“And I heard what Joshy said about calling you later if we find anything,” Duppy hollered again. “Get a clue, you two! Don’t use your cells to say anything. You don’t know who the fuck’s listening.”
Josh rolled his eyes. “Ooh! It’s like James Bond around here. Hey, before I forget.” He rummaged around his jacket pocket, then dropped a card into her hand. “For when you catch up with the cops for their report. Here’s who to call. And I secured your place from any opportunistic thieves. You’ll see. Bye, lovelies.”
He glanced at them both with a thoughtful expression then waggled his fingers and closed the door behind them.
They stared at each other and digested Duppy’s warning as the lock clunked into place.
“You know,” Lauren said, “I’d been wondering last night how that black SUV knew exactly where we were before it started chasing us…” She petered out. Maybe it was paranoia.
Ayers tilted her head. “The thought occurred to me as well. You told Joshua we were outside that club and gave its address. And suddenly someone appears minutes later?”
“They can track cells these days, right?” Lauren asked, biting her lip.
“Yes and no. There’s some basic, common detection technology that can track signals to the general area where cell towers are picking up a phone’s signals. I used to have drinks with an FBI agent who told me that the tech could get them within 165 feet.”
“An FBI agent? What’s his name? Anyone important?”
“Ashlee.”
Lauren felt an unexpected flare of jealousy.
“Just drinks,” Ayers said lightly, as if reading her mind. “She was a contact—or rather her husband was. He’s a senator’s aide. Anyway we’d been discussing the Patriot Act one night, and she explained there are also some complicated, invasive—and now terrifyingly legal—ways to be really accurate at tracking a cell phone. As in pinpoint accurate. But for those options an agency needs time, resources, and a high-value target. I doubt we’re exactly high value.”
“But you think we’re of value enough that someone worked out roughly where we were and had someone cruise around in the vicinity and wait for more information to find us?” Lauren asked, appalled.
“It makes sense. Because ten minutes after you said where we were, there they were.”
Lauren shivered. “Creepy.”
“It’s the tip of the iceberg on creepy,” Ayers said. “But that’s a Big Brother horror story for another day. As for last night, it proves that, whoever this is, they’re organized, there are clearly more than just the two men involved, and our cells can no longer be considered safe.”
“Yeah. Hate to admit it, but cyber-asshole had a point.”
Ayers adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “By the way, the editor just called. A press release was emailed to the Daily Sentinel, addressed to us from Governor Freeman’s office. Neil says the gist is that Freeman’s people are withdrawing the earlier press release as an administrative error.”
“The one about the missing hundred grand? Saying they were investigating it?”
“Yes. The one that confirms the theft took place,” Ayers said.
“Did they say why?”
“An intern supposedly sent it out in error.”
Lauren laughed. “We’re expected to fall for that?”
“I doubt they care if we do or don’t. But now we can no longer say there’s a confirmed theft of government funds, even if that’s what happened. We’ll have to prove it all ourselves.”
“So why now?” Lauren asked. “What’s changed?”
“That’s a good question. Maybe their internal investigators found something?” Ayers said and then frowned, staring just past Lauren’s shoulder. “Isn’t that your apartment?” She pointed.
Lauren turned and did a double take.
“Ah,” she said with a grin. A sign taped to the door with Josh’s loopy all caps penmanship.
Danger—Gas leak. Enter and you will die a most horrific death.
Lauren walked over and nudged open her busted door with her boot. She sucked in a bracing breath and glanced at Ayers. “I should check out the damage and call a locksmith.”
Ayers hesitated, as if unsure whether she was welcome to view the aftermath. Lauren widened the door in invitation and entered.
She looked around. Things had been tossed about, although, as Josh had noted, nothing obvious appeared to be missing. TV, stereo, books, and DVDs were all in the same place. So the thieves were either really picky or looking for something else. She caught Ayers contemplating the near-new LCD TV which hadn’t been touched, and knew she wasn’t alone in her suspicions.
She headed into her bedroom and stopped cold as she saw the drawers had been opened, and her undergarments flung about on the floor.
“Those bastards,” she said angrily and stalked past a startled Ayers only to return moments later with her laundry hamper. She crouched, balled up her bras and panties, and tossed them into the bag viciously. “Think they got off on it?” she growled. “Going through a woman’s private things?”
She stood, glaring at the mess that was her sanctuary. Ayers approached silently from behind; her familiar scent startled Lauren out of her fury.
“Hey,” she said gently. “They were professionals most likely. This was probably just a job for them. I doubt it was anything personal.”
“Doesn’t help.” Lauren inhaled uneasily. “But thanks for trying.”
Lauren stepped back and looked at her bed. The mattress had been flipped and sheets were half on the floor, half under it. She sighed and perched on the corner of her bed an
d stared morosely at the wall.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ayers lean against the doorframe as she scanned her room with her usual intensity, taking in the knickknacks, softball trophies, and a framed journalistic award she’d won back home about teaching conditions in rural schools.
Lauren examined a dust bunny with more interest than it deserved.
“I’d offer you something to drink,” she said, “but I ran out of coffee a week ago. I have water though.”
“That’s fine. I’m not thirsty.”
Ayers’s gaze eventually settled on the framed, signed poster that took pride of place on the far wall.
“Women’s soccer?” Ayers murmured after a beat. “A bit clichéd isn’t it?”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “You know it’s rude to invite yourself into a girl’s bedroom then critique how gay her stuff is. Especially if you’ve just kissed said girl in the gayest possible way.”
Ayers’s cheeks reddened. “Touché.”
The oppressive silence fell between them again. Lauren stared at the intriguing woman leaning against her door frame who was no longer meeting her gaze.
“Does Tad know?” she asked suddenly. “About you?”
Ayers sighed.
“Tad and I don’t have a huge amount of common ground or in-depth discussions about anything.”
“Well you have one thing in common.”
A warning glare was her only answer.
Lauren sighed. “Okay, you’re right, enough of the small talk. I’ll cut to the party-sized elephant in the room then. Why did you kiss me?”
“Lauren.” Ayers sighed.
“Don’t give me that world-weary, this-is-beneath-me crap. In case you forgot, you kissed me.”
“I’m well aware.”
More silence.
Lauren shook her head. “Okay, I’ll get you started. You were explaining. Your situation. Via lips and hips. That was very innovative, by the way. Interactive.”
Ayers regarded her coolly. “Are you done yet?”
“Not by a long shot.” Lauren leaned back on her elbows and watched her closely. “But I do like your explanations. In case you were wondering.”
“Well I’m very sure I’m done explaining,” she replied tersely. “Especially since everything’s just a joke to you.” She straightened as if about to leave.
“Um Catherine?” Lauren said, forestalling her. “Thanks for telling me. Or, ah, whatever you’d call our conversation this morning.”
Ayers affected a pained expression.
“Sorry,” Lauren said with a wince. “I’m not trying to be a smart-ass although I know you think I am. I mean it. Thanks for sharing. And taking a risk.”
Ayers’s wary, hooded gaze greeted her.
“It’s hard,” Lauren continued, willing her to see her sincerity, “in our industry. Men’s are the loudest voices. It can be difficult to cut through, get taken seriously. It’s much harder when you’re a member of two minorities. Of course I get that.
“So to be dealing with that and running a bureau in Washington as well? A place crawling with people who love to sniff out secrets and weak spots? That’s really hard. I know you’ve gotten used to not trusting anyone. So what I meant before was thanks—thanks for trusting me with your secret. Okay?”
Ayers had listened silently. She opened her mouth to reply when her cell lit up. Its ring pierced the room. She snapped her mouth closed, gave Lauren a small nod, and swept out to take the call.
Lauren watched her go, wondering if she’d overstepped some line. She didn’t regret her words. She’d meant them. Besides, a nod was good, right?
She sighed and grabbed her phone to browse for locksmiths.
* * *
Lauren examined the shiny new apartment key and slid it onto her key ring. Ayers dropped into step beside her as they headed for her Saab.
She’d been remarkably patient, watching the news on Lauren’s beat-up old sofa while they waited for Lock Both Ways to install a new triple locking deadbolt on the door. Ayers had amused herself—and Lauren—with a biting commentary, eviscerating various news channels for their journalistic failings, which involved her liberal use of the words regurgitated and uncritical.
Lauren, who had been trying to chat with the locksmith about drill bit selections, came away discovering cobalt tips were better than titanium, and that Ayers’s acerbic tongue was absolute comedy gold.
“Feel better?” Ayers’s gaze dropped to the new key.
“Yeah. It’s good to feel secure again,” Lauren replied. “Hope the landlord doesn’t mind springing for that triple lock.”
She shot Ayers a glance. She wondered when they’d become the sort of people who asked about each other’s well-being. But then again, a day ago they weren’t the sort of people to push each other against walls and press fevered kisses across lips and throats, either. So. There was that.
They headed up the road. Ayers concentrated on where she was driving, and Lauren studied the motorists behind them in the side mirror.
No tails. She relaxed marginally. Well, no obvious ones.
Okay, so she wasn’t paranoid much.
“I don’t think they know my car yet,” Ayers said when she caught what Lauren was doing. “They’re probably driving around in circles looking for your urban tank.”
Before Lauren could give her usual defence of classic machines having character in a mass-produced age, her phone rang. She heard excited shouting down the line before she could get her name out.
She listened in astonishment then covered the receiver. “It’s Maxine, the security guard at work,” she said and put the call on speaker.
“Can you say that last bit again, Max?” Lauren said.
“I caught a pair of suits going through two desks in editorial—yours and Ayers’s.”
“When was this?”
“This morning, before the online team’s early shift clocked on. I have no clue how they got past me or the barriers.” She sounded furious. “But, shit, when I do—”
“What happened next?”
“I cornered them at Taser point and asked them to state their damn business ’cause I’ve never seen these two meatheads in my entire life. They claimed to be from IT and had to fix something. And then, get this, all business-like, one of them asks where you keep your pink laptop. Apparently it needs an urgent fix.”
Lauren sucked in a breath. Well, that clinched exactly what the pair of gorillas was after.
“I know, right? Pink laptop? You!” Max chuckled. “So I called the cops. And you shoulda heard them squealing about that. They kept saying I didn’t know who I was dealing with. They threatened my job!
“In the middle of this, Mr. Harrington walks past, takes one look at what’s going on, and demands to see them in his office—alone. Five minutes later he tells me to cancel the police call, and I get told to escort them outta here.
“Smug when they left, too; one said a few choice things about my parentage that would have earned him a mouthful of broken teeth if my daddy had ’a heard. I’ve never been so tempted to Taser a smirk off a man’s face.”
“Oh crap. Sorry Max.”
“Not your fault. But what was it all about?”
“It’s to do with a story we’re chasing. Can’t say much else right now.”
“Ohhhh, gotcha, right. Okay, so you’re back in town? Ditched the witch? We good for karaoke Tuesday? It’s ABBA tribute night. Got some new flares. Extra sparkles. Almost melted my BeDazzler. It’s a riot.”
“Ah yeah,” Lauren said. Her cheeks flushed, and she tried to block out Ayer’s suddenly intense stare. “I’ll let you know later when I see how things go with my story.”
“Sure thing, Lauren. Catchya later.” The phone went dead.
“Karaoke?” Ayers drawled as though she was a cat that had just been gifted a brand new toy mouse. “ABBA?”
Lauren shot her a warning scowl. “Do not disrespect ABBA. I mean it. That’s a total no-go zone.�
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Ayers relented after a moment of looking sorely tempted. “All right. The Swedes are safe. For now.” She regarded her. “So…I’m a witch, am I?”
Lauren made a face. “Can we talk about Sands’s laptop? Like shouldn’t we warn the hackers that they could be next? Not to answer any loud thumping on doors or something like that?”
“All right.” Ayers sighed. “Let’s find a pay phone.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Lauren hung up the phone from out front of the Happy Beef Meat Company. Motto—We’re offally good.
“No answer,” she said darkly as she opened the car door. “I tried twice. I don’t like it.”
“What is that smell?” Ayers’s nose wrinkled.
“If you’re thinking of throwing me out so I don’t stink up your precious car, I’ll remind you my car made the ultimate sacrifice.”
“It’s merely scratched,” Ayers sniffed. “All right, get in. And before you ask, no, we can’t drive over and check on your hacker friends. For the same reason we shouldn’t be making work calls on our cells.”
“We should have warned them,” Lauren grumbled as she slapped on her seatbelt. “They could be sitting ducks. I don’t know why we didn’t connect the dots last night about the laptop. It’s so damned obvious. And now Josh and the nerds are just mysteriously gone?”
“They could have gone out for food.”
“Why? When Josh had ordered them pizza?”
Ayers reached into the back seat for her bag.
“Smart boys that they are, I have faith they’ll find a way to contact us when it’s safe. Right now, we can do something more productive than worrying about things we can’t change. Remember this?”
She lifted a page from her bag and gave it to Lauren. The bus driver’s itinerary. Ayers tapped one line.
20:45: 11820 W. Olympic Blvd, LA—Collect envelope.
“We wanted to know where Mr. Fels went that night after dropping off the women. And what was in the envelope?”