A Champion for Tinker Creek, page 24
“Why?”
“Why?” I shouted, glaring at him.
“What would you rather have?” he said in a low voice. “A little political story about what might be a long-dead scandal, or a prime seat on one of the biggest business and political stories of the year?”
“Both. I want both.”
“Well, you probably wouldn’t have gotten both if you’d stood in that office protesting and stamping your feet like a little kid. You might not have gotten anything at all.”
I resumed pacing. “What do you know about it?”
“Manny, put down your pride for just a second and listen, okay?” he pleaded. “Tinker Creek is getting close to winning this thing. Really winning. Every day that goes by gets us a little closer, and the other side knows that. That’s why they’re pulling out all the stops and digging into the bag of tricks to stop us. What would you have gotten by demanding to sit on that call? Nothing. They either wouldn’t have called at all, or they would have done it when you weren’t here, which still shuts you out. But they might also have concluded that you’re a hothead and kept you out of the real story too.”
“Dad would never have shut out the paper,” I countered.
“Maybe not, but he could choose another reporter. Nothing says the paper’s reporter has to be you.”
I stopped pacing. I didn’t want to admit it, but that had a ring of truth. My father would not let blood ties keep him from making a decision for the good of the paper.
“Besides, your dad said it was nothing illegal, and I take him at his word. Don’t you?”
“Of course,” I said. “But you had no right to speak for me like I can’t speak for myself. You aren’t even my boyfriend! You’re just a grease monkey hunk who knows how to use his dick, and that’s not that unusual a skill,” I said, stalking past him and out the door. Once in the hallway, I stepped into the waiting elevator and rode down to my office level. If Lyle James was cocksure of everything, he didn’t need my help.
* * *
Manny was supposed to meet me at Bonne Chance after work and then go with me and Eva to get together at the Empire Cinema, but when he didn’t show or answer his phone, I went on my own.
I spotted her car about a block away on Washington and pulled in behind her. Then I got out and went to join her in her car. The sun had begun to dip under the horizon, and the shadows lengthened.
“If I’m not supposed to be in the building, I didn’t think it was a good idea to park right in front,” she said.
I agreed, but I wasn’t thrilled about her walking back to her car each night. At least one of us would be with her most evenings.
“Where’s Manny?”
“I don’t know, and he’s not taking my calls, so I can’t find out,” I said.
“What happened?”
I told her about the other side’s full-court press to prevent us from bringing this case and how Manny had been winding himself up to make a scene in front of his father that he couldn’t possibly have won. “What do you think? What should I have done?”
“Maybe let him speak and then be ready to clean up the pieces,” she said. “But it sounds a little bit like there was more going on.” She looked at me. “Did you really frog-march him out of the room?”
I studied the car’s front dash. “Yeah, I did.”
“That was probably the single biggest mistake,” she said. “All of us normal and smaller-sized people know you’re a big, strong man, but we trust you to use your strength appropriately. Reminding him of how small he is might have freaked him out some. C’mon,” she said, opening the door. “Let’s go.”
In addition to the two large camera bags she carried, Eva had me bring two more big bags with sound equipment. When we got to the observation floor, she began setting up in the second from the last office.
I followed her in. “Why this one? I figured you’d choose the last one.”
“I would have if you were setting up a honey trap and wanted me to record the evidence,” she said. “But since I don’t think much of the convo and photos we want will be taking place in the bedrooms, I thought this would be a more prudent shooting platform. Besides, if for some reason things move into the bedrooms, at least this one on the near side, I can shift down the hall to follow it. If they move to the far bedroom, it’s likely gone, sorry.”
“We can only do what we can do,” I said, watching her unroll three long power strips and plug several chargers into them.
“These are the price of portability,” she said, pointing to the strips. “This one is for cameras. That one is for sound equipment. The last one is for mobile phones and essential equipment.”
“Which reminds me,” I said, “Activate your phone’s location ping and add me to the people who can see it,” I said.
She looked at me hard. “Really?”
“Think of it as the spare carabiner you clip into, never expecting to need it. Whoever they turn out to be, these folks have acted dangerously in the past and put at least two people in the hospital. Which reminds me, text me when you’re ready to leave. I can’t stay the whole time, and Manny appears to be flaking out. Text me when you’re ready to clear the joint,” I said. “And here’s a copy of the master key in case you need it. It will lock off the elevator after I go.”
“Go already,” she said, sitting down where she could see the parking lot and opening her tablet. “I’ll be fine.”
I headed out and down on the elevator, being careful to lock the front door.
* * *
Eva was glad when Lyle finally left. Now she could start setting up the observation post the way she wanted it. Despite playing down her assignments with U.S. intelligence to Lyle and Manny, she had actually done significant work for her adopted country over the years and had a good deal more training and equipment than she let on.
After she rearranged things, she settled in. This was a chance to catch up on her recreational reading, and she had brought her Kindle along, operating it on a lower light setting to make sure it couldn’t be seen from outside. She had finished her second chapter when she heard voices approaching from below. She quickly positioned the microphone and her headphones and got her cameras ready.
Two men walked across the parking area from the small alley that led to the street. Both wore jeans and T-shirts. Neither one had a hat, and they each carried something. The shorter, stockier one with the more extreme haircut hefted what appeared to be a case of beer in bottles. The taller and leaner one held a paper bag of groceries. They carried their burdens up the stairs onto the front deck and paused while the taller one hunted through a large key chain for the correct key.
“Damn! We forgot to buy a bulb for this porch light,” the taller one said as he hunted through his key chain.
Eva felt a thrill of satisfaction at how clearly the microphone picked up the conversation. Even the jingling keys came through distinctly.
“I still don’t know why you put that key on that big old chain of yours.”
“Because while it takes me a moment to find it,” the tall one said. “At least I know this is where it is. Aha!” He held up the key and fit it into the lock.
“’Bout time,” the smaller man growled as he picked up the box.
The tall man held the door for Buzzcut, as Eva decided to call him, while he carried the box in and then followed him in with the grocery bag.
Eva stepped to the second window and turned on that microphone. She waited patiently as the men moved around the room. She could get clear shots of their faces while they were in the well-lit space. She silently gave thanks the men’s carelessness about decor precluded their putting up curtains.
“Beer?” offered Buzzcut as he finished emptying the box into the refrigerator.
“Damn straight,” replied the one she’d named Stretch.
“What all you got in there?” Buzzcut asked as he handed Stretch the open bottle.
“Essentials. Peanut butter, bread, canned stuff, a can opener, grape jelly, canned tuna, Spam, and some bacon.”
“Spam and bacon? Did you find a frying pan in this place?”
“Nope, but I found an old cast-iron griddle that fits over two of the burners, so that should do the trick.”
“What do we have to feed the captain?”
“Captain said he’ll take pizza with us,” Stretch replied. “He wants a veggie with extra cheese. I reckon I’ll get a medium one for him and get us a large pepperoni or all meat.”
The two men began setting paper plates and plastic utensils at three of the table’s four seats. None of the places got a cup or glass.
“How much longer you think we got on this job?” Buzzcut asked.
“Not too much longer. I get the feeling things are wrapping up. Why?”
“I’ll be glad to get back to sleeping in a real bed again.”
“You’ve got a real bed with a bathroom right there if you weren’t too crazy to take it,” Stretch said.
“Like hell. I’d like to see you try to sleep back there with that god-awful fish smell and the humidity. That room might be the biggest, but it’s also the clammiest and nastiest.”
“Maybe so, but I reckon it’s still better than anywhere we slept up in Walker State.” Stretch gave a short laugh. “I’m getting showered. Stay out to let the captain in if he shows up.”
“Okay.” Buzzcut walked back into the living room, threw himself down on the couch, and turned on the television, changing channels until he found a football game.
“I’ve ordered the pizza,” Stretch shouted from the back bedroom in a voice so loud it made Eva jump when it roared through her headphones. A few moments later, she heard the shower start in the hall bathroom.
Eva lowered the sound on the main mic and left it facing the rooms inside while she turned on one of her smaller, more portable, microphones that she trained on the parking area. Whoever the captain might be, he sounded like the leader, and she resolved not to leave without recording this voice and image.
When nobody appeared after fifteen minutes, Eva went back to listen to the rooms again. As soon as she turned up the volume, she heard Buzzcut’s snore and Stretch’s irritated shout.
“Dude!”
“What?” Buzzcut shifted and almost fell off the couch.
“Pizza’s almost here. Go down to the gate and get it. It’s already paid for.”
“Okay.” He got up, left the house, and headed across the parking area, returning in about five minutes with two pizza boxes. He had put them on the dining room table when Eva began to barely make out a staccato phut-phut-phut from the microphone trained on the parking area.
Is the captain arriving by scooter, she thought, because it sounded like a moto was approaching. She picked up the night camera and waited. Suddenly the noise ceased, but nothing in the parking area moved. Still, she stood by.
Then she saw a figure stepping out from the piers under the house. He was a strongly built man wearing a well-cut suit and shirt, the top white enough to show up in her viewfinder. She started shooting photos as he climbed the steps and entered the house without knocking.
How the fuck did he get here? Eva wondered. Where did he park… Then in a flash of insight she remembered Lyle and Manny’s description of the property. By boat. She realized he arrived by vessel. The noise she’d heard wasn’t a scooter, it was a small outboard motor. She hadn’t seen the boat because it had approached from the part of the building she couldn’t see.
“Captain’s here,” Buzzcut shouted to Stretch when he saw him and came near to shake hands. Stretch appeared from the bathroom hallway wearing jeans and a long T-shirt, his hair still looked wet.
“Captain,” Stretch said.
The captain looked at the pizzas and nodded. “Good to see you both,” he said.
“We still think your choice of pizza is whack, but we got what you wanted,” Buzzcut said. “The medium pie is yours. We’re gonna stick with the carnivore one.”
The two of them sat down while Stretch went back to the kitchen and came out with three longneck beers he passed around before sitting down.
“Good to see you, Captain,” Stretch said.
“The admiral called me last night and filled me in. We’re gonna be closing this place up soon, so we need you two to be ready to clear out.”
“Oh yeah?” Stretch said. “Where to?”
“You’ll find out when it’s time, but we want to have this place clean as a whistle as far as trace, right? That means wipe down every surface, every object. Nothing left in the trash. Nothing with names and no technology.”
Eva stopped taking pictures momentarily to make sure the microphone picked up everything.
“What’s going on, are the cops coming?” Buzzcut asked.
“Not now, but they might in the future, and we don’t want to help them at all. And since you might only have a couple of hours before you need to go, I suggest you do most of the cleanup up work well in advance so it’s done.”
“We’ve already been doing a lot of that shit,” Stretch said. “Dumping the house trash in different garbage cans in the neighborhood and using that little shredder on any documents.”
“Good job,” the captain said. “Now keep on doing that, but take it to the next level.”
“Can’t you give us a better idea of when all this is coming down?” Stretch asked.
“I really can’t. It’s likely to be in the next week to ten days, but it might come down in as little as one day.”
The rest of the conversation dealt with movies, pop culture, and politics. Eva wasn’t surprised the captain backed the current Republican governor, and that neither Buzzcut nor Stretch appeared to have any partisan opinions.
After about an hour, the captain said he needed to leave and got up from the table. Buzzcut and Stretch did so too, walking him to the front porch before he descended the stairs and disappeared again among the piers.
After a few minutes, Eva’s mic picked up the clear sound of a lanyard being pulled and the rhythmic phut-phut-phut started again, gradually fading in the distance.
Eva packed up and left after the captain, adding the sound and image files to several flash drives and uploading them to her cloud account. Then she texted Lyle that she wouldn’t need his escort to her car. She could hear the traffic on Breaker and Washington and felt reassured about her safety. She wanted to get the files home to her studio where she could clean and process them. She locked the elevator behind her as well as the door, then set out for her car.
The traffic back to Savannah was light, and she arrived in plenty of time to run the scrubbing and processing programs on the files. She uploaded them to her cloud and then copied them to flash drives. She was going to bring them with her when she next saw Lyle, but her training in tradecraft refused to be silenced.
“All right then,” she finally blurted and pulled on her jacket. Kwanjo, her mixed bull terrier, whined and clearly wanted to come, but she refused.
“Only the drop box, Champ,” she told him. “You wouldn’t even have time to stick your head out the window.”
She dropped the flash drives in a padded envelope, scrawled Lyle’s address onto the form, and carefully sealed it. Then she headed out.
She swung the car up beside the drive-by drop box and carefully slid the envelope into the slot, feeling the familiar relief that the product was out of her hands and on its way. Then she dropped by Bangkok 54 and bought a take-out order of pad thai.
As soon as she stepped from her car in the driveway, she heard Kwanjo’s agitated barking from the house and felt a pang or remorse for leaving him alone the last few days. Tomorrow morning, she resolved, she would take him for a nice long run.
She tapped the fob to lock the car and grabbed her bag of take-out food from the car roof.
She opened the garden gate, carefully latched it again, and walked the short distance to her door.
She had just shifted the bag to her left hand so she could open the door with her right when, from her right, she sensed more than saw a dark shape hurtling toward her. Tackled violently from that side, she fell hard into her flower beds, knocking the breath out of her.
At first it seemed an even match. She fought back like a leopard and landed at least one blow that drew a moan and a muttered curse. But a second assailant grabbed her hair, pulled back her head, and pressed a vile-smelling cloth to her face. No! She kicked and clawed, trying to hold her breath, but he hit her hard in the belly, so she gasped and fell deeply unconscious.
Chapter Twenty
White Russians
After Lyle’s fourth call, I blocked his number on my phone. Let him get used to what it felt like not to control the agenda. I’m not usually a drinker, but right now I needed one, and I didn’t know any bars downtown. I called Tommy. He picked up on the second ring.
“Culture desk.” He sounded cheery.
“Hey, man, if you just wanted to grab a drink in the middle of the day, where would you go?”
“I never drink during the day.”
“If. I said if you wanted to grab a drink.”
“Uh-oh. What’s happened?”
“Nothing. Except for finally seeing that Lyle James is really a huge, number one, prime asshole.”
“Wow,” he said. “What part of town are you in?”
“Right around the Record.”
“Okay, about two blocks away on Standard Street you should find the Crowing Hen. It’s a lesbian bar. They serve lunch, so I bet their bar would be open as well.”
“Thanks, man,” I said and hung up before he added anything else.
The Crowing Hen’s whimsical sign portraying a chicken dressed in male drag and blowing a bugle was totally opposite the thoroughly establishment vibe. All the decor was dark woods and deep reds, from the bar with barstools in that color to booths and leather armchairs and library tables. Overall, it looked like an exclusive men’s club, with the exception of the stage at one end with a piano.
