The Select (25 page)

Was something going on?

Nah.

He followed Quinn toward the
stairs.

*

Louis Verran stood at the door to room
252 and glanced at his watch. 9:16. Plenty of time left. He stepped
back into the suite and watched Elliot checking the SLI units in
the headboards. All the works were exposed and he was running his
check, his long fingers pulling, poking, and probing the tangled
wires and circuit boards.

"How's it look?" Verran
said.

"Perfect so far, chief. I'm about
halfway through and haven't found a thing. I got a feeling I'm not
going to."

"Never mind your feelings," Verran
said. "Just don't miss anything."

There
had
to be something wrong with the
unit, something mechanical, something electronic, something that
could be fixed. But if the problem wasn't with the unit; if the SLI
wasn't on the fritz, then it had to be Cleary. A malfunctioning
unit was one thing, but a malfunctioning student...?

They'd had one of those two years ago.
Please, God, never again.

He looked at his watch
again.

"Don't rush, Elliot. Just do it right.
Still plenty of time."

*

Tim sensed rather than saw Quinn lean
over his shoulder.

"I've got to get back to the dorm,"
she whispered.

"Now?"

The clock on the auditorium wall said
9:30. Still ten minutes to go in Dr. Hager's pathology lecture on
inflammation.

"I forgot my histo notes. I want to
have them for the review."

Staying low, she edged out of the row
of seats and started up the steps to the exit. Tim hesitated a
moment, then got up and trailed after her.

"Wait up," he said in the
hallway.

She turned, surprise in her eyes.
"Tim? Where are you going?"

"With you."

"You forget something too?"

"No. I just..." How did he say this?
He didn't want to tell her of his misgivings about Louis Verran. He
was sure they'd sound pretty lame if he said them out loud. But he
did not like the idea of her entering the empty dorm alone, even if
it was a bright fall morning. "I don't think you should go
alone."

She stopped and stared at
him. "
What?
You've got to be kidding."

"No, I'm not kidding. They've got a
bunch of outsiders wandering the halls."

"Campus security is there."

Tim was tempted to say that might be
the problem, but resisted.

"Yeah, but even The Ingraham's crack
SWAT team can't be everywhere. One of the bug men could be a nut
case. All the rooms are unlocked. He could catch you when you step
into yours and...well, who knows."

"My hero," she said. Then she touched
his arm. "Thanks for the thought, but I—"

"No arguments," he said.
"I'm going with you and we haven't got much time. Besides, I'm not
letting some creep who's been sniffing too much bug spray
ruin
my
weekend
in AC."

"Some hero!" she said and
laughed.

Tim loved the sound.

It took them less than five minutes to
make it back to Women's Country. As Quinn pushed through the
stairwell door ahead of him, she stopped and pointed down the
hall.

"See? Nothing to worry about. You
could have saved yourself the trip. There's the Chief of Security
himself standing in my doorway."

I knew it!

Tim squeezed past her into the hall.
He saw Verran, but the security man was no longer in the doorway to
Quinn's room. He had just pulled it closed and was bustling toward
them, his jowls jiggling, an anxious look straining his
features.

"What are you two doing here?" he
said. "You're supposed to be in class now."

"We're going right back," Quinn
said.

"Didn't you read the notice? Rooms are
to be vacated between eight and twelve."

"I'll only be a second," Quinn said,
starting toward her room. "I just have to pick up some—"

Verran stepped in front of her,
blocking her way.

"You can't go in there right now. He's
right in the middle of spraying."

"Bullshit," Tim said.

He stepped around Verran and headed
for Quinn's door. He'd had enough. Too many screwy coincidences
here: Fifty-two rooms on the floor and they just happen to be
spraying 252 when he and Quinn arrive unannounced, Verran obviously
upset at their surprise return, and the unsettling fact that Verran
didn't have to ask Quinn who she was and which room was
hers.

Something was going on.

"Hey! Come back here!"

Tim heard Verran hurrying after him
but didn't slow. He had a good lead. He'd be in Quinn's room well
ahead of him. But as he was reaching for the knob, the door
opened.

A tall, dark-haired man in
his early thirties stood there. He wore gray coveralls with an oval
patch on the left breast that said
A-Jacks
Exterminating
. He carried a toolbox in one
hand and a two-gallon spray canister in the other.

He smiled easily at Tim. "Hey. How's
it going?" then looked past him. "All set in here, Mr. Verran.
Where to next?"

Verran hauled up next to Tim, puffing.
"What? Oh, yeah. Good. We'll go to 251 next." He glared at Tim.
"What's the idea of taking off like that? You got a problem or
something?"

Tim saw Quinn come up behind Verran.
She was giving him a funny look. What could he say? Something
wasn't right but he hadn't the vaguest idea what.

He turned back to the exterminator and
saw that he, too, was staring at him. Not at him, exactly—at his
lapel.

"That's a neat-looking pin you got
there," the bug man said. "Where'd you get it?"

"Found it," Tim said.

Tim wasn't in the mood for small talk,
but the bug man seemed completely taken by the pin.

"Take a look at this, Mr. Verran," he
said, pointing to Tim's lapel. "You ever seen anything like
that?"

Verran came around and looked. Tim
thought he saw him stiffen, but couldn't be sure. What was so
fascinating about a little black hockey puck?

"No," Verran said slowly. "Never." His
voice sounded strained. "You want to sell that?"

"No."

Tim was irritated with the attention.
He didn't want to buy or sell anything. He just wanted Quinn to get
her notes and get out of here.

"You sure?" Verran said.

"Very sure. Is it okay if she gets her
notes now?"

The bug man seemed surprised by the
question. "Hmmm? Oh, uh, yeah. Sure."

Tim waved Quinn into the room,
followed her in, then closed the door behind them.

"How's the room look?" he
said.

Quinn glanced around.
"Fine."

"Just as you left it?"

"I think so. The bedspread looks a
little wrinkled, but otherwise—"

"Nothing missing?

"Not that I can see." She looked at
him closely. "Tim, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Why?"

"Because you're acting—"

"Weird? Yeah, I know." He searched for
a plausible explanation. "Maybe I've been cooped up on this campus
too long. Maybe I'm getting Ingraham fever. I need a break, need to
get away for awhile."

"Well, you're getting away tonight,
aren't you? We both are."

"Right. To AC. And not a moment too
soon."

"Okay. So hang on."

He gave her a smile. "I will." Then he
sniffed the air. "You smell anything?"

"No. Should I?"

"They just sprayed in here, didn't
they? Shouldn't we be smelling something?"

"The stuff they're using is supposed
to be colorless and odorless."

So's water, Tim thought.

"Can I use your phone a
sec?"

"Sure."

As Quinn dug her notes out of a
drawer, Tim dialed 411. He turned his back to her and he asked in a
low voice for the number of A-Jacks Exterminating. He didn't know
whether to be relieved or disappointed when the operator came up
with a number. When he hung up, Quinn was ready to go.

"All set?" she said.

"Yeah. Let's get out of
here."

Before he closed the door behind them
he took one last look. Something had been done to this room,
something more than bug spraying. But damned if he could figure
what.

MONITORING

Kurt was laughing.

"What's so goddamn funny?" Verran
said.

"This whole thing! Here we spend weeks
combing the whole fucking campus for this bug you lost and all the
time this jerk's been wearing it like a stick pin on his
coat!"

"At least it explains why we could
never track it down," Verran said.

"Oh, God, I wish I'd a-been
there...just to see the look on your face when you saw..." Kurt
dissolved into helpless laughter again.

Even Elliot was grinning like an
idiot.

Verran ground his teeth. Nothing funny
about this, dammit. That Brown kid had been wearing the bug around
campus for all to see. What if somebody had recognized it for what
it was? Christ, what if Alston had spotted it?

Verran didn't want to think about
it.

"Better get a grip on yourself," he
told Kurt, "because it's going to be your job to get it
back."

Kurt stopped laughing. "Why me? I
didn't—"

"Tonight."

"Brown's taking off for Atlantic City
tonight, chief," Elliot said.

"How do you know that?"

"Heard him talking with the Cleary
girl about it. They're going together."

"Awright!" Kurt said. "Boffing the
blonde! Wouldn't mind a piece of that action myself."

Verran motioned him to shut up. "Maybe
our luck is starting to change. We can grab the bug back while he's
out of town."

"What if he's got it with him when he
leaves?" Elliot said.

Kurt snorted. "The way our luck's been
running, that's the way it'll go down."

Verran couldn't argue with that. But
maybe that could be worked to their advantage. What was the old
saying? When somebody hands you a lemon...

"Here's what we'll do," he said.
"We'll watch him leave. If he's wearing the same jacket he had on
this morning, we'll assume he's got the bug on him. You two will
tail him to Atlantic City—"

"And whack him!"

Verran glared at Kurt for the
interruption and started when he saw the .38 in his
hand.

"Put that away!"

Kurt grinned. "Just kidding,
Lou."

He watched Kurt replace the pistol in
the bottom drawer of the center console, then continued. "As I was
saying, tail him to A.C. and look for a chance to rough him up a
little. Make it look like a mugging."

Elliot frowned "What if we see a
chance to get it without any rough stuff?"

"Do it anyway."

Kurt ground a fist into his palm.
"Awright!"

"I don't know about this, Chief,"
Elliot said. "We could get pinched."

"Not if we do it right," Kurt
said.

"I don't know," Elliot muttered. "I
don't know."

Verran knew how twitchy Elliot got at
the thought of winding up in a jail cell again.

"It'll be all right, Elliot," Verran
said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I promise you."

Kurt grinned. "Don't worry, little
buddy. I'll take care of you."

Verran swung on Kurt. This was almost
like being a goddam football coach—push one, restrain the other.
"No permanent damage, Kurt. Just enough to get the cops involved.
And make sure they get involved—even if you have to call them
yourselves."

Elliot's expression was baffled. "How
come?"

"I've got my reasons."

FIFTEEN

"I hope I'm not making a mistake,"
Quinn said as she dropped her overnight bag into Griffin's
trunk.

She watched as Tim settled her bag
next to his own, then slammed the trunk top.

"What do you mean?" he
said.

"I mean that we're traveling as
friends and there isn't going to be any hanky panky."

He laughed. "'Hanky
panky'?"

She felt her cheeks reddening. "One of
my mother's expressions. But you know what I mean. I just don't
want any... misunderstandings. Understand?"

He hung his head. "You mean we're not
going to have the night of wild, Dionysian sexual abandon that will
finally give meaning to my miserable life?" He sniffed.