No Way to Die (32 page)

“But if they did,” Doc said, “that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

“Nope,” I said. “It wouldn’t be bad at all.”

* * * *

I had brought my guitar, so I worked on my song while those two played Mass Effect 3 on Kenny’s Xbox. Or maybe it was on his PlayStation3, or maybe his cosmic PC with the giant video screen—I’m not certain. The sight of two grown men wearing sidearms and playing video games was mildly amusing. They seemed to have a hell of time doing it. I guess they find their escape that way—they let off steam by playing games.

This doesn’t work too well for me. Video games actually get me a little tensed up. I like music better for relaxing. I can blow through an hour or two with my guitar in what seems to be a few minutes, lost in the melodies or the chord changes or even just the rhythm. The music speaks to me. I played until bedtime.

At eleven, just before lights out, I made my scheduled call to Toni using the prepaid cell. “You guys settled in?” I asked.

Her voice was already sleepy. “Oh yeah,” she said. “It’s peachy.” Toni’s pretty good at sarcasm.

“Is your room nice?”

“Sweet,” she said. “It’s green. Two shades. Actually, it is pretty cool, aside from the color. It’s a two-bedroom suite, and it looks out over the lake, which of course we can’t see on account of the dark. Nice furniture, though. Big flat-screen TV in every room. Tomorrow the view should be nice.”

“Two-bedroom suite? How much is that costing us?” I asked.

“Not too much,” she said. “A little under five hundred. You didn’t expect me to share a bed with her, did you?”

“That’d be up to you,” I said.

“Shut up.”

“Speaking of Holly, what’s she like?”

“It’s hard to tell,” Toni said. “She doesn’t say much. She acts kinda like she’s scared. We got here, and she went into her room, and she’s pretty much stayed there all night.”

“You told her not to tell anyone where you are, right?”

“No, Danny,” she said. “I told her to invite all her friends.”

“Sorry.”

“Give me a little credit, will ya?”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Okay." She paused. "You’re forgiven. Anyway, like I said, she hasn’t said enough for me to be able to tell what she’s like. She’s nervous—but she seems to be all business. Maybe she’ll loosen up tomorrow. We have a spa appointment at ten.”

“Really? What are you going to have done?”

“I’m getting a massage, dude,” she said. “I’ve earned it.”

I smiled. “I agree,” I said. “Enjoy it.”

“Oh, I will,” she said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Order room service on me in the morning,” I said.

She giggled. “I already did tonight.”

I smiled. “Good. Call me if anything comes up tonight.”

“Goodnight, Danny.”

“’Night.”

* * * *

The next day was nice and sunny. A storm had blown through to the south Wednesday night and another was heading in early Friday morning, but at 6:00 in the morning on Thursday when I started my run, it was beautiful. My head was feeling better, so I decided to stick to the schedule. Thursday is interval day for training. The hilly terrain surrounding Kenny’s condo was perfect for intervals. Two-mile warm-up, then charge up a quarter-mile hill with a 13 percent grade at near full speed, followed by recovery by jogging slowly around the block and back down the hill to the start. Then do it again. Seven more times. Then, another two miles easy—this time to cool down. All in all, a pretty intense workout that kicked my butt—about ten miles, several of which were top speed up a damn steep hill. Very few racecourses feature hills this steep, so the training is actually harder than the race—at least with regard to terrain. This is good. My head felt fine the whole time.

I got back to Kenny’s, showered, and packed up by 7:45. I was in the office by eight, when Doc and Kenny both arrived.

I spent a nervous day making phone calls. I checked on Katherine. I checked on Dad. I checked on Richard. No problems anywhere—everybody was fine. I’d been told specifically not to let Inez know what was happening, so I couldn’t check with her. Apparently, the FBI didn’t want large numbers of local cops milling about and ruining the surprise. With good trusting attitudeds like that, it's no wonder they get along so poorly. No problem with me, though; it wasn’t my call anyway.

I’d called just before noon to check on Toni and Holly. Toni said that they were just back from the spa—it was great. She’d had something called a hot stone massage where they put hot rocks on your back, or some such. I told her I could do the same thing for her for a lot less money but I don't think she's going to be a taker. She said that they were about to check out of the hotel and meet up with Kenny and Doc. I promised her I’d be careful and call her the moment we got done.

* * * *

At two thirty, I packed the bomb in my duffle bag and took off. The USB key was tucked safely into my pocket.I crossed the Fremont Bridge and hung a right on Northlake. I passed Gas Works Park on my right, and then went under I-5 where Northlake turns into Pacific. A little farther, and a left turn at the U-Dub medical center, and I was at Husky Stadium. The tennis courts are on the north side. I rolled into the parking lot at a little before three o’clock—just me and my duffle bag which happened to contain a box of high explosives.

Jennifer saw me drive up and waved for me to park in a space next to her.

“Hey you,” she said as I got out of the Jeep. She was still acting very formally around me, even though the rest of her crew was some twenty yards away and out of earshot. Clearly, she did not want to risk anyone discovering the two of us.

“Good afternoon Special Agent Thompson,” I answered, trying to act coy myself and pretend like she was just an acquaintance.

“Are you ready?”

“You bet. Say,” I said, “before we join the others, there’s something I need to talk to you about. Privately.”

She nodded. “I know,” she said.

This was a surprise. I looked at her. “You do?” How could she know?

“Yeah, I saw the way the two of you looked at each other.”

What? “What are you talking about?”

“You and Toni. I hadn’t noticed it before, but yesterday I could tell. You guys are getting together. You want to cool things off between me and you.”

I was shocked. Before I could say anything, she continued. “I could tell right away by the way you looked at her,” she said again. “And I can definitely see the attraction. She’s sweet and, obviously, she’s gorgeous.” She raised up her hands in surrender. “I’m totally cool with it, Danny, really.”

I looked at her, surprised. “Jen, what the hell are you talking about?” I asked. “That’s got nothing to do with what I wanted to say to you.”

She looked at me, confused. “It doesn’t?”

“Hell no,” I said. “Not at all. Nothing like that.”

“Oh,” she said. This slowed her down for a second, but she recovered quickly. “Okay. What did you want to say, then?”

I held up my hand and shook my head. “Jesus, Jen,” I said. “Wait a second.”

I allowed my mind to catch up to itself, and then I said, “Remember I told you that Katherine Rasmussen gave us the key and a Starfire box?”

“Yes,” she said. She paused a second, and then added, “You’ve still got them, right?”

“Yeah. And you remember that we were broken into Monday morning, but it didn’t seem like anything was taken?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it turns out something was taken. Taken and replaced.”

She looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Marlowe’s guys broke into our safe. They took the Starfire box. They replaced it with another box that looks exactly the same. Except it’s not.”

“What’s different?”

I unzipped my duffle bag and pointed to the box. “This one doesn’t decode passkeys,” I said. “This one blows up instead. It's full of C-4 with a cell phone trigger.”

She stared at me. The expression on her face remained exactly the same.

“It’s live?” she asked, glancing toward the duffle bag.

I shook my head. “No. We disarmed it.”

“So it can’t be detonated? You’re certain?”

“It’s totally safe,” I said. I thought about this for a second, then added. “Well, at least as safe as a box of C-4 can be. After we figured out what it was, I had my guys make a modification. We added this little switch here.” I pulled the box out and flipped it over and showed her a tiny, unobtrusive slide switch. “If the switch is in this position, the bomb is deactivated. If you slide it to the other position, it’s active. A tiny little LED will light up on the bottom of the case when it’s active.”

“Jesus,” she said. “This has been in your safe for a couple of days?”

“Yep.”

“Wow.”

“No shit.”

“What about the key?”

“It was never in the office in the first place,” I said. “It’s still safe.”

“Good." She thought for a second, then she said, "Jesus, this guy’s playing for keeps, isn’t he?”

“He sure is. Think about it, Jen,” I said. “Marlowe’s using it for insurance. He tells us to bring the key and the box. This thing has a cell phone trigger. He can track the cell phone, so he knows if we’re complying with his instructions. If we do, he makes the swap and he gets the key. If not, he detonates the bomb.”

“And only your people know this?”

“Exactly. You said no police. There’s no police.”

She nodded. She thought about this for a few seconds, and then she reached a decision and nodded her head.

“We proceed,” she said. “Let’s just keep this little development quiet for a while.”

I nodded.

She pointed to the bag. “If I were you, I’d make damn sure that switch stays turned off, though.”

“You got that right,” I said. “And, Jen—about that other thing?”

She looked up at me. “Let’s talk about that after this is over,” she said.

I nodded.
That’s good
,I thought. I could solve problems with techno-smugglers and suitcase bombs all day, but I needed more time to figure out how to deal with the women in my life.

* * * *

At precisely 3:45, I walked out of the Starbucks. I had a trenta-sized unsweetened green tea in hand—my new Starbucks drink of choice. The temperature was in the mid-fifties, and the sun was out—unseasonably warm weather for Seattle in the late winter. As a result, the sidewalk seating was crowded. Fortunately, two ladies got up and left just as I walked out. The fact that they were FBI agents and that our plan had them saving that particular table for me was lost on everyone else there. I grabbed the table and had a seat. I poured a couple of Equals into my tea and stirred. I started reading a copy of the
Seattle Times
the women had left. Don’t mind me—I’m just another normal Starbucks patron enjoying a sunny afternoon. With a bomb in my duffle bag.

I tried not to look around too much, but I still recognized at least six FBI agents from Jennifer's crew at nearby tables. I knew that there were also another half dozen inside the luggage store across the street, carefully monitoring the scene.

I took what I hoped were random glances at the people sitting around me to see if I could identify any potential Marlowe plants. If any of the people seated around me were his, they were damn good. Nobody seemed to be paying much attention to anyone else.

Four o’clock came and went. I started to grow concerned. It seemed out of character for Marlowe to be late. At four fifteen, everyone started to get fidgety. The agents started to get up and leave. They were replaced by other agents who’d arrived, gone inside and gotten their drinks, and then came outside for seating.

This went on for another fifteen minutes, at which time the agent seated directly across from me stood up. He caught my attention and gave a quick little nod of his head, saying it was time to leave. I waited four minutes, as I was told to do, and then folded the paper and walked to the Jeep. Toni was right. Marlowe’d stiffed us.

* * * *

I drove back to the parking lot behind the tennis courts at U-Dub. A group of agents were huddled around Jen. I parked and hopped out.

“We must have been made,” she said when I joined the group.

“Or maybe he never had any intention of showing up in the first place,” I said.

She shrugged. “Could be,” she answered. “This guy is pretty crafty, we’re seeing that. I’d like to schedule a meeting tomorrow morning at our office at nine. We’re going to need to figure out where to go from here.”

Ron Jennings was there. He looked at me. “Mr. Logan,” he said, “it would not surprise me if you are contacted by Marlowe sometime between now and the time of our meeting tomorrow. I’d advise extra caution on your part until we figure out what’s going on.”

I nodded. “Got it,” I said. “Hopefully, he’ll want to set something else up.”

“Let’s hope,” he said. “Meanwhile, I presume both the key and the box are safe?” he asked.

“They are,” I said, glancing over to Jen. Her face gave nothing away.