The Demon Deception (17 page)

He faced the street. None of the agents came
into the shop behind him. As he flipped through records, a woman
walked into the shop. She was average height, about five foot four,
dressed in a military style jacket, old torn blue jeans, and had
blue hair. Lazarus kept the smile off of his face. There weren’t
too many customers in the record shop, and he didn’t want to give
away the game.

He pulled out two Miles Davis records and
walked up to the counter, “Excuse me, do you take American
Express?”

The man behind the counter shook his head. He
was an older man, mid-forties, balding. The man looked like a
living extension of the record store. He was wearing a gray
sweater, brown corduroy pants, “I’m sorry, we only take MasterCard
or Visa.”

Lazarus shrugged, “Okay, I have a Visa I can
use. Do you ship?”

The man nodded, “Yeah, of course we ship. Not
many people buy records anymore, so we do a lot of business on the
internet. We send records out across the States.”

Lazarus continued to talk to the man, and he
handed him the address that he wanted the records shipped to. As he
did this, Jean stepped up and put an old Dizzy Gilespie record on
the counter and paid for it. The man behind the counter put it into
a bag for her and she walked away from the counter and out the
door. Lazarus put his hands into several pockets, miming looking
for his wallet. He put his hand into the pocket where the envelope
had been stashed, and the envelope was gone. In its place was a
piece of paper. He knew it was a note from Jean. He would wait
until much later before he read it, not wanting to draw
attention.

He paid for the two records and the shipping.
It would arrive at Sam’s house in New York in three days. He walked
out of the record shop and into an art gallery. For the rest of the
day, he spent his time looking at various art exhibitions. At the
end of the day, he stopped in a café and grabbed a latte to go. He
walked down the street, and dropped the last paper onto a bench
outside the hotel. Inside the newspaper was written a number. He
didn’t look back, just kept on walking.

He entered the Ritz Carlton, dodging the
influx of new customers. He walked to the elevator, stepped inside
and hit the number to his floor. As he walked to his room, he
fished out the room key, and slipped it into the electronic lock.
He walked in and dropped the empty latte cup into the garbage can.
He walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the toilet. He
pulled out the paper that Jean had put into his pocket. On it was
written the number four, the same number he had written on the last
section of paper. It had a location and time on it as well. He
smiled. He crumpled the note and dropped it into the toilet. He
flushed the toilet and watched the paper flow into the drain.

He walked back into the bedroom and called
Sam’s room. The phone range and Sam picked it up, “Hello?”

“I’ve been looking forward to Angelo’s
pastrami sandwich all day,” Lazarus said.

“Come on down.”

----------------------------------------------------

“You weren’t entirely straight with me,” Sam
accused Lazarus.

“What do you mean?” Lazarus asked.

The restaurant was bustling, with hotel
guests and others from the surrounding area here for breakfast.
Lazarus loved the coffee here. All in all, it was starting out to
be a busy morning for the hotel.

“Angelo, you didn’t tell me about
Angelo.”

“What about Angelo?”

“You didn’t tell me that Angelo was from
Jersey.”

“And, your point being?”

“The pastrami was very good.”

“I told you it would be. See, you should
trust me when I tell you these things.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t say Angelo was from
Jersey.”

“Is there a point here, Sam?”

“Well, the reason that the pastrami is good,
is because Angelo’s from Jersey.”

“That’s not New York, though. You said the
best pastrami sandwiches come from New York.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, I did, and I still believe
they do. But then you have Jersey, and the Italians in Jersey make
some pretty good food as well.”

“So, what you’re saying, in a very roundabout
way, is that you really like Angelo’s pastrami sandwiches.”

Sam conceded, “Yeah, you could put it that
way.”

“Are you done with the Angelo thing?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Lazarus looked at him, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, I have everything packed, I just need
to go back to the room to get it. Do you have a plan?” Sam
asked.

Lazarus sat back, the plate in front of him
wiped clean of anything that might have nutritional value on it.
Still, he took the last piece of wheat toast and wiped the surface
of the plate to make sure he got the last of it. He popped the
piece of toast into his mouth. Then he picked up the coffee cup and
washed the toast down.

“Of course I do. I always have a plan.”

Sam looked around the restaurant. The ATF
agents were sitting around them, and they weren’t even trying to be
stealthy. Sam was able to spot all eight of them. One of the agents
seemed to take this as a challenge. He got up from the table and
walked over to Lazarus and Sam. Lazarus looked up at the agent, and
took another sip of coffee. He motioned to an empty chair at their
table.

“Good morning, Agent Johnston. Care to have a
seat?”

Agent Johnston was tall and lean, about six
feet, and maybe one hundred and eighty pounds. He had reddish,
blonde hair. He was wearing khakis, a button down blue shirt, and a
nylon jacket. He sat down and began speaking, “You think you’re
smart?”

Lazarus pretended ignorance, “About
what?”

Johnston leaned forward, “You think you can
ditch us? You think you’re going to be able to operate without us
knowing about it?”

Lazarus continued drinking his coffee. It
seemed like the best choice at the moment. Sam picked up his glass
of milk and drank what was left.

Johnston spoke again, “I don’t know what you
were doing yesterday, but it didn’t work.”

Lazarus wasn’t about to let Johnston know
that his operation yesterday, had in fact, been a success. If he
did that, it would give the ATF agent an edge, give him information
that he didn’t currently have. So he led Johnston in a different
direction.

“Not entirely true. I learned a few things
yesterday.”

Johnston sat back against the chair,
listening, hoping to glean information from what Lazarus was about
to say.

“I learned who your team is, all eight of
them. I also learned that your operation isn’t sanctioned by your
superiors. Otherwise, you would have had a lot more than four
agents to throw at each of us. Therefore, you don’t have all the
resources that you would ordinarily have. So, I have to say, that
my operation was fairly successful yesterday.”

Agent Johnston’s eyes narrowed as Lazarus did
his analysis. Johnston didn’t say anything. Now he was playing
Lazarus’ game. They were both trying to elicit information, without
giving any away. Lazarus calmly drank his coffee.

“Still, I want to give your guys kudos for
their capabilities. They aren’t half bad at surveillance. Not as
good as, say, the Stasi secret police before the Berlin wall fell,
but good enough for the people that they hunt in the USA. I doubt
many of the people that your agents hunt have training in
counter-surveillance. So, all in all, not a bad job.”

Johnston’s face was stone. Lazarus just
reminded Johnston that he was the superior adversary, with superior
capabilities. Johnston was doing the calculus in his mind. He knew
that Lazarus had something planned. He waited for more. Lazarus
didn’t say anything, just kept sipping his coffee. Sam finished his
milk and sat the glass down. Johnston looked at him, and then
looked back at Lazarus. He realized that no more information was
forthcoming.

Agent Johnston stood up, “This isn’t over.”
He turned from the table and walked away. Johnston made a circular
motion with his finger pointed up at the ceiling, and the other
agents stood up and followed him to the cash register to pay for
their meals. The restaurant patrons were startled, and a few looked
apprehensive as they watched the seven men and one woman stand in
unison and walk out.

Sam and Lazarus watched them go. Sam spoke
first, “I don’t think that Agent Johnston is too happy with you
right now.”

Lazarus smiled, “I think you’re wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think Agent Johnston isn’t too happy
with
us
, right now.”

Sam thought, and nodded, “Ah, right. Yeah, I
think you’re right.”

They stood and walked over to pay for their
meals. They walked through the lobby to the elevator. Agent
Johnston and two agents were sitting there reading magazines. The
agents watched them as they walked to the elevators. Lazarus knew
that all of the exits were covered. They wouldn’t be able to ditch
the agents at the hotel. That would come later. It was a good thing
that Lazarus had a plan.

----------------------------------------------------

They gathered their meager luggage, a back
pack each, and went to the lobby to check out. Lazarus inquired
about the shuttle to the airport. He was told that it would be back
in about fifteen minutes. Sam was very cautious with his next
question.

“Ah, Eli, I don’t think we can get on a
plane.”

Lazarus knew what he was worried about. They
both had their handguns with them. Lazarus shook his head, “Don’t
worry, Sam, we aren’t going to be flying to our destination.”

Sam thought about it for a moment, then
asked, “Rental car?”

Lazarus nodded, “yeah, rental car.”

They hopped onboard the airport shuttle and
settled in for the quick ride to the airport. Lazarus pointed out
the three cars the ATF agents were using to trail the shuttle.
Twenty minutes later, they were at the counter in front of Dollar
rental cars. Lazarus rented the cheapest car available, which was
also the smallest. They walked out to the parking garage where the
cars were located, and walked down the rows until they found the
numbered parking spot until they found their rental car. As they
walked, Lazarus noticed two shadows following them. Johnston was
making sure that they weren’t going to escape his surveillance.
Lazarus had no doubt that one of the ATF agents was talking to the
rental agent right now.

Sam wasn’t too happy about the comfort
factor. It was a Dodge Dart. He and Lazarus deposited their bags
into the back seat. Sam opened up the door and looked dubiously
into the interior. He had trouble folding his legs so that he could
fit into the front seat. The car listed to one side as his bulk
settled. He was a man built for trucks.

“Eli, please tell me we aren’t going too far
in this rental. If I have to ride all the way to Arizona in this
skateboard, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

Lazarus grinned at his companions discomfort,
“Oh hush, you big baby. Don’t worry, we won’t be going too far in
this car. I told you, I have a plan.”

Sam frowned at the big baby comment.

Lazarus fired up the engine and they drove
out of the parking garage. He drove towards the Interstate. He
drove slowly, so that the ATF agents could keep up with them. He
didn’t want to spook them too soon. He wanted them to think he was
on a short leash. He needed the element of surprise on his
side.

They drove north and west away from the
airport, and then Lazarus took a side street north off of
Interstate 70 called Earth City Expressway North. He passed by an
industrial area called Earth City. He made another turn to a
smaller street, St. Charles Rock Road. He checked and made sure
that he still had all three ATF cars behind him. They were trailing
a little bit behind, but they were still with him.

“So, what’s the plan?” Sam asked, “Are we
just going to drive around the city all day?”

Lazarus smiled and shook his head, “No, we’re
driving to one of the oldest highways in North America. One that’s
been in use for thousands of years.”

“A highway? In use for thousands of years?
What the hell are you talking about?”

Lazarus pointed north through the buildings
with a nod of his head. Off in the distance, the Missouri river
waters rolled through to the Mississippi.

“I’m talking about a taking little cruise. We
have a boat waiting.”

“I didn’t know there were docks around
here.”

Lazarus smiled, “There aren’t. That’s the
point. No docks, no boats for the agents.”

He slowed as he passed a semi-truck and
trailer, and gave a wave. The semi pulled out as he drove past,
blocking the road and the ATF agents. Lazarus hit the accelerator
and drove like a demon down the road, then turned onto a smaller
cut, a spur that headed down to the river.

“Get ready to bail. I’m going to hit the
brakes, and you need to peel out of this car and run down to the
boat waiting for us.”

“Okay, but I’m gonna need a shoe horn to get
my butt out of this car.”

“You’re young, you’re limber. You’ll make
it.”

The boat was there. Jean still had her blue
hair. Lazarus had no doubt that it would be back to the normal
brown before she had to face her parishioners tomorrow. He hit the
brakes, and opened the car door. He turned around and grabbed his
bag off of the back seat and tore out running for the boat. Sam had
to use a different technique, one that wasn’t quite as elegant. He
opened the door, grabbed the roof, and pulled himself up and out of
the car. He grabbed his bag, and was right on the heels of
Lazarus.

The boat couldn’t come all the way in to dry
land, so they ran out into the water. The boat was pointed away
from shore, and there was a ladder on the stern. Lazarus scrambled
up like a monkey, threw his backpack onto the floor, turned around
just in time to keep Sam’s backpack from hitting him in the face.
He caught the backpack, and threw it next to his. He leaned towards
Sam as he was trying to get up the ladder. Lazarus lunged to grab
him as he screamed, “Hit it.”