Sacrifice Fly (30 page)

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Authors: Tim O'Mara

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Amateur Sleuth, #General

BOOK: Sacrifice Fly
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“They changed their pattern, Ray.”

“I see that, Edgar. I’m going to circle back. I want the address of that building.”

“Why’d they change up like that?”

“Playing it safe, probably. Making sure nobody’s doing what we’re doing.”

I drove around the block, and as we passed the apartment building, I read the number
off to Edgar. “Now what?” he asked.

“Now,” I said, driving past the van, “we go back to the travel agency and wait.”

“You think they’re going back there?”

“That’s what I want to find out. They’re collecting something. If they do go back
to Roberts’s, then we can assume whatever they’re picking up belongs to him.”

That, I thought to myself, would tie Ape and Suit even more directly to Roberts and
give me enough strong information to bring to Detective Royce, even if I had to explain
how I came across the connection. I’m sure he’d be real pleased when I told him that
story. It’s not like I had intended to tail these guys. I was on my way home, saw
the van pulling away from Roberts’s, and what was I supposed to do? I’ll just tell
him the truth and let him handle it.

I pulled over alongside the construction fence and looked at the travel agency.

Edgar asked, “How long do we wait?”

“As long as it takes,” I said. “You got plans?”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Hungry, thirsty, gotta pee?”

“Nope.”

“Excellent.”

“What exactly are we going to do if they do come back here?” he asked.

“I’ll call Royce first thing in the morning and hope he gets sufficiently motivated
to drop by and rattle Roberts’s cage. I would have loved to have pushed him more this
morning, but we both knew he was well within his rights to bring charges against me.”

“How come he didn’t, do you think?”

“I thought he didn’t want the extra hassle. Now I’m thinking he’s happy keeping the
cops out of his life as much as he can. I’d like to start making his life a little
more uncomfortable.”

“You’ve done a lot already, Ray.”

“Not enough, Edgar. It’s not going to be enough until Frankie gets home.”

“Hey,” Edgar said, motioning with his head out the windshield, “speaking of coming
home…”

The van was pulling up in front of Roberts’s. Suit and Ape got out, and Ape went to
the security gate, bent over, and unlocked it. As he lifted the gate up, Suit came
around with the briefcase and punched some numbers into the alarm pad located to the
right of the front door. When he was done, Ape unlocked that, and the two men stepped
inside the travel agency.

“There we have it,” said Edgar. “You think that’s enough for the detective?”

“Should be,” I said. “Let’s give it a little more time though, okay?”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Edgar unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Got something in the back that might come in handy. Okay if I get it?”

I thought about it and said, “Yeah, fine. Just be quick about it.”

Less than a minute later, he returned holding a small black case. He placed it on
his lap, opened it, and pulled out a pair of binoculars that looked like they’d just
come out of the factory.

“Got these last week,” he explained. He put the binoculars up to his eyes and adjusted
the lenses. “Freaking beautiful,” he said. “You really do get what you pay for in
surveillance equipment, Ray. These are special night-vision glasses, and they rock.
Here, take a look.”

I took the binoculars and peered through them. They gave the evening a light green
tint and were as good as Edgar had said. So good, even from this distance and in this
low light, I could make out the numbers on the alarm pad. Which gave me an idea.

“Edgar,” I said, “if this place has a back entrance, what are the chances it would
have the same alarm code as the front?”

“Better than excellent. Who wants to bother with two codes? Especially if you don’t
use the back door all that much. Why?”

“Just thinking out loud.”

Before Edgar could respond, the front door reopened and out stepped Ape and Suit.
Suit no longer had the black bag with him. He turned to reset the alarm, and I focused
the binoculars on the pad. “Write this down, Edgar.” I watched Suit’s hand. “Five,
six, four…” Ape stepped in front of Suit as he finished pressing the buttons. “Shit,”
I said. “Five, six, four, what? Dammit.”

Suit went over to the van as Ape pulled down the security gate and relocked it. They
hadn’t been in there for more than two minutes, which meant they had probably just
dropped off the bag. Ape got in the van, and they pulled away.

“We gonna follow them, Ray?”

“No,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Because I want to know what’s in that briefcase.”

“Won’t the cops do that?”

“That case’ll be gone as soon as Roberts knows Royce is coming over. That is,
if
Royce comes over. Even if it were still there, Royce would need a warrant to take
a look at it, and he’s not going to get one because he only has my word to go on,
and that’s thin to begin with.”

“So how are you…?” It came to him before he could finish his question, and he gave
me that big smile he’s got. “You’re thinking about going in there and getting the
case, aren’t you?”

“Shut up a second, Edgar. I’m thinking about it.” I paused for a few seconds and then
said, “Can’t do anything unless we know the last number of that code.”

“Gotta be something zero through nine,” Edgar said, thinking out loud.

“Thanks. What happens if you press the wrong number?”

“Most systems give you a second chance. Like your ATM card. They’re programmed to
allow one mistake. They figure anyone can touch the wrong button. You make a second
one—and
ding ding
—the alarm’s activated.”

“So a one-out-of-five chance of getting it right.”

“And four-out-of-five of not.”

“Fuck,” I said.

I took the time to run the first three numbers through my head. Five, six, four. Too
few numbers to spot a pattern. Maybe it was an important date, but that wasn’t going
to help. I knew next to nothing about Roberts and his family. I looked over at Roberts’s
place again.
AROUND THE HORN TRAVEL AGENCY
. I had seen no posters inside the other day that would make me think they booked
trips like that. And in this location, it didn’t add up. So why name your place after
a destination most of your clients couldn’t find on a map?

“Edgar,” I said to hear my thoughts out loud. “What do you think of when you think
of that name? If you just saw the words, without knowing it was a travel agency?”

He made a face as if someone had just suggested sucking on a lemon. “I don’t know,
Ray. I guess I’d … maybe…”

“Baseball,” I said. “‘Around the horn.’ Third, second, first.”

Edgar—whom I’d seen fill out hundreds of scorecards while watching baseball on TV
at the bar—smiled. “A five-four-three double play. Throw in the shortstop and…”

“Five, six, four,
three
.”

“Pretty clever.”

“If we’re right.”

“Well,” he said quietly, “there’s only one way to find out.”

“I know.” I thought about the two places I’d already entered illegally this week.
“Fuck it,” I said. “Let’s find out.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Edgar said and, once again, slipped out the side door.

 

Chapter 25

THE UPPER HALF OF EDGAR’S BODY
disappeared inside the trunk of his car. When he reemerged, he was holding a beaten-up
brown leather case. “Let’s see what we have in here,” he said, closing the trunk and
putting the case on top.

I had moved the car a few more blocks away from the travel agency, into an area with
a little less light and traffic. After the decision to break in, I realized we needed
more privacy to work out the details, possibly even reconsider the whole thing. The
first thing Edgar pulled out of his case was about the size and shape of a deck of
cards. “Clip this onto your belt.”

I fingered the box, found the clip, and did as he said. “What’s this do?” I asked.

Ignoring me, he began unrolling a black cord, which was wrapped around a headset.
He handed me the jack and, with about three feet of cord between us, said, “Plug that
into your end.” When I did, he stepped over and slipped the headset over my ears.

“Dammit, Edgar. That’s digging into my scalp.”

He gave me a look like that was my fault, removed the headset, and readjusted it.
“Here,” he said, “
you
put it on.”

I did, carefully this time, and it felt better. “That’s good.”

“Now lower the mike.” He waited while I did that. “How’s that feel?”

“Like I’m working the drive-through window at Burger King.”

Edgar has little sense of humor when it comes to his techie stuff. He reached under
his shirt and removed the cell phone from his waist. He punched in some numbers. Five
seconds later there was a ringing in my ears. “Push the button on the side of the
receiver.” When he realized I had no idea what he meant, he said, “The receiver. On
your belt. There’s a button on the side.”

I reached down, found the button, and pressed. The ringing stopped. “Okay.”

“Come here, Watson,” Edgar said. “I need you.”

“Neat,” I said.

“Two thousand dollars’ worth of technology, and all you can say is ‘neat’?”

This from a guy who thinks breaking and entering is “cool.”

“You’re right, Edgar. This is pretty impressive stuff.”

“Thank you,” he said, giving me a slight bow. “You can get cheaper shit these days,
but most of that’s line-of-sight crap or stuff for parents who don’t wanna lose sight
of their rugrats. This”—he tapped the box on my belt—“goes through all sorts of building
materials, and it’ll give you a range of two miles most of the time and won’t drop
out like a cell phone.”

I removed the headset. “Just as long as it goes—what?—a quarter mile?”

“Not a problem.” He reached into his bag of tricks and came out with the flashlight
I had used last night in Rivas’s rented truck. “I put new batteries in,” he said.
“It’s good to go. You remember how to work it?”

“It’s a flashlight.” I took it from him and put it in the front pocket of my pants.

“How you planning on getting that back door opened?” Edgar asked.

I smiled, reached into my other front pocket, and pulled out the lock pick that Deadbolt
had given me. “You got any WD-40 or something to make this work a bit easier?”

“I think I can oblige you there.” He went back to his trunk, practically skipping.
Here I was, about to commit my second felony break-in in two nights, and Edgar was
acting like he’d just won the science fair. When he returned, he was holding a small
can with a three-inch tube coming out of the top. “Stick this end into the lock, or
just spray it on the pick, and it’ll slide in and out quicker than a twelfth grader’s
dick on prom night.”

We spent the next ten minutes going over what was starting to sound like a plan. It
had one central theme: the simpler, the quicker, the better. I would head over to
the alley behind Roberts’s. Edgar would pull up to the alley and drive past slowly,
making sure I got inside.

“If we’re wrong about that code,” I said, “I wanna get out as quickly as we can.”

“Agreed. You think those two are gonna come back?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “They pulled the security gate down.” I thought for a bit and
added, “I want you to keep the car moving once I’m in. Keep an eye out for the van.
Any vehicle or foot traffic, you let me know.”

“Agreed.”

“That includes the cops.”

“Obviously.”

“Also,” I added, “I’m going to need you to keep track of the time for me. I wanna
be in and out of there in five minutes. If Roberts has some sort of secondary alarm
system, I don’t wanna find out the hard way.”

“Gotcha,” Edgar said. “You wanna synchronize watches?”

“Just let me know when two minutes have gone by. Then we’ll go minute by minute.”
I tapped the box attached to my belt. “This thing is charged up?”

“Fully.”

“Good,” I said. “Dial me up.”

He did, I pressed the button, and Edgar said, “You ready?”

“Yeah.” The situation played around inside my head for a few seconds, and I was flooded
with the events of the past week. Frankie was still missing, even though I’d just
seen him and lost him on the bridge. The cops were nowhere finding whoever killed
his father, and I’d been stalked, threatened, and tossed around. I’d had to get my
sister out of town, and I was frustrated, exhausted, and more than a little pissed
off. Was I ready to break into somebody’s business in order to … what? Prove I could
still play with the big boys? Save Frankie?

“Yeah,” I said again. “I’m ready.”

“Then let’s do it,” Edgar said, slapping me on the back. “Let me know when you’re
in position at the back door. I’ll be circling around if you need me.”

“Thanks. Why don’t you go around first? Make sure things look okay.”

“You got it. See ya on the other side.”

Right.

A minute later, I was in the small alley behind the agency. No cars had passed, and
there was nobody walking around. The smell of urine and garbage greeted me as I made
my way to the back exit. I took the lock pick and spray out of my pocket. Sweat was
starting to run down my back. I took a deep breath and realized how hard my heart
was beating. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. Shit, I could almost hear
it, ready to come out of my chest. Still time, I thought. I could call this whole
thing off, face the scornful disappointment of Edgar, but be back home within fifteen
minutes. The alley filled with light from a passing car, and I flattened myself against
the wall. Just my luck. Getting caught behind a place of business with a flashlight,
a can of WD-40, and a lock pick. When the alley went dark again, I let out the breath
I was holding and whispered, “Was that you, Edgar?”

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