The Navigators (16 page)

“Well, this would be a little different.”

“I bet. What all would you want?”

Anderson knew what he wanted; he just didn’t know how to ask. “I probably want maybe five or six officers, two or three squad cars…” He cleared his throat again. “We’re looking for a handful of students with a big machine, that they've, you know—it belongs to the university—and they stole it. And, well, we . . . we'd like to find them as quickly as possible. And to keep a lid on this as much as possible.”

“Avoid any further embarrassment.”

Anderson sighed with relief. “Exactly.”

“You can hire my guys. Basically, they go for $50 per hour plus vehicles and overtime. It’s going to run about twelve hundred dollars a day.”

Jesus.

“Good grief, captain. Twelve hundred dollars a day
plus
cars?”

“And overtime. Then there will need to be shifts coordinated – a single cop can’t work 24 hours straight for two or three days. That’s a hundred bucks an hour. So… you’re staring right at $16,800 a day for however many days. Gratuity not included. Dean, this is usually the place where I ask if your problem is worth spending more than $50,000 over three days to solve.”

Remember: millions of dollars in finder’s fees and consulting contracts.

Anderson swallowed hard. “That's not a problem.” He took a moment to calm himself, trying to balance the millions of possible dollars against a very real bill he wouldn’t normally be able to pay. “Now, they’re going to be working for me directly, right? So there's not a direct link to the university?”

“No link.”

“Privately, so I can kind of protect the department—you know, everybody's looking at me now, about embarrassing us.”

“That's not a problem.”

“Will they still be able to carry their guns and everything?”

“Absolutely. That’s why you hire us and not security guards. But you’re not planning on having us kill anybody, are you?”

“No, no, no! But the students we’re looking for, I don't want them to know that.” He gripped the pen, his hand shaking as he squeezed. “I want them to be scared shitless. I want them to feel like the foot of God Almighty is coming down to crush them like a grape. But don't actually harm them.” Anderson set the broken pen down. “Unless it's absolutely necessary.”

“Got it: scared shitless, foot of God. Check.”

“Captain, I'll trust your discretion to tell your officers whatever you need to tell them, but rest assured there's going to be a nice bonus coming your way for making this happen quickly and quietly.” Anderson rubbed his sweaty brow. He hadn’t expected that. “Once we get the machine back and get everything under control, well, it's worth a lot of money to the university. And containing the embarrassment is worth a lot to me personally.”

“Not a problem. I'm on it. What all can you tell me about these students, so we can get started?”

“I'm going to have my associate, Chris Findlay, call you with that. He'll be able to give you all the information you need.”

“Okay. I’ll expect his call.”

“Uh, there’s just one more thing.” Anderson lowered his voice to a whisper. “If the shit hits the fan, I don't want the University connected too directly. But let's face it, captain, I don't really want to be connected directly myself, either. If we can avoid that…”

“That's gonna cost extra, Herb. But I can make it happen. You just sit back and relax. Prepare to watch the foot of the Almighty quietly and quickly start kicking some pesky grad student ass.”

* * * * *

“I don’t believe it. You’re back.”

The voice of Dr. Harper rang out like a gunshot over the din of the emergency room lobby. He folded his arms over his metal clipboard and smiled.

Barry closed his eyes.
Of all the fucking luck.
“Hello, sir.”

“It’s Barry, right?” Harper wagged his finger. “What is it this time? A dead body?” He approached, smiling. “Here to finish off your friend upstairs? Because you’re too late.”

Barry’s jaw dropped.
Roger’s dead?

“We already moved him to Tampa General.”

The panic went away and the relief and the leg pain returned. Barry groaned and sat down.

“And what happened to you?” Harper squatted down to inspect.

Barry sucked in and winced. “I think I broke it. I have a constant stabbing pain right here.” He pointed.

The doctor placed his hands gently around it. “I’d ask how you did it, but I’m sure I don’t want to know.”

Barry decided to set Harper straight when he realized the doctor was right. Barry didn’t want Harper to know, either. Not the real truth about what was happening. That would get the cops called.

Harper tested the leg. “Does this hurt?”

“Yep.”

“And this?”

Barry flinched. “Yes! Damn, are you enjoying yourself?”

Harper grinned. “A little.” He stood up. “Okay, hot shot. Looks like you cracked your leg bone. How about we schedule for an x-ray and see how bad it is?” He pointed his pen at a candy bowl on the admitting desk. “Then we’ll get you a cast and a lollipop and get you out of here before you hurt anybody else.” He scanned the lobby. “By the way, where’s that girlfriend of yours?”

“She’s not -”

“Hold on, there’s my training intern. Gina!” The doctor waved to a young Asian woman across the lobby. “Gina. Over here, please.”

“– she’s not my girlfriend.”

“No?” Harper squatted down again. “Why not?”

“Can you just fix my leg, please?”

The intern appeared.

“Gina, this young man has some lower leg pain concentrated around the upper ankle. Sharp pain when he applies pressure. And no girlfriend.”

Barry’s mouth hung open. The intern just smiled and shook her head, making notes on her clipboard.

“Note the swelling and bruising.” Harper stood up. “Let’s get him into x-ray.” He handed her a note and walked off.

That was quick
.

Gina retrieved a nearby wheelchair as Dr. Harper headed down the hallway. A nurse came over to start Barry’s paperwork.

“Here we go.” Gina pushed the wheelchair toward Barry. “Do you need help getting in?”

“No, I can do it.” Barry lifted himself and glanced at the intern’s clipboard.

Isolation, now. Dangerous.

Barry looked up to see that Dr. Harper was gone.

I’m not getting an x-ray, they’re putting me in some sort of holding area until Harper can call the cops.

Fuck
.

He took a deep breath and lowered himself into the wheelchair. The intern began pushing him.

“Which way is x-ray?” Barry asked, spying the overhead signs. It was to the right.

“Just down this hallway straight ahead,” Gina replied. “We’ll get you in right away. Do you need assistance with your paperwork?”

“Pretty smooth.”

“Excuse me?”

As the intern wheeled Barry down the hallway, he noticed Dr. Harper in a side office dialing a phone.

Barry jumped up, hopping on his good leg.

“Sir, you need to sit down, please!”

Barry made his way to the office door. “Dr. Harper, stop!”

Harper looked up, shocked. Barry hobbled his way into the office.

“Sir, please get back in the wheelchair,” Gina said.

Barry pushed the office door shut behind him, his eyes never leaving Harper’s. He leaned on the back of a chair and eased his leg.

Harper held the phone in his hand, frozen. “I think you should listen to my intern. Get back in that wheelchair. You need an x-ray.”

Barry nodded. “I know.”

“But?”

“But I need you to put that phone down, sir. Please.”

Harper remained still.

“I can’t do anything to hurt you. I need your help. Please. Put the phone down.”

Harper lowered the phone into its cradle.

“You’re in a lot of trouble, son.”

“I know.”

“You’re all over the news.” Harper moved slowly, positioning the desk between himself and Barry. “Look at you. You’re hurt, you’re tired. How did you think this was going to play out?”

Barry leaned on the chair for support. “I thought I could get my leg in a cast and disappear.”

“You know I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?”

“That’s not how it works.” Harper looked Barry over. “Sit down.”

“I think it’s better if I stand.”

Gina talked through the door. “Dr. Harper, is everything okay?”

“Suit yourself.” The doctor spoke to the closed door. “Everything’s okay, Gina. We’re just going to talk for a minute. Go get some coffee.”

Barry bristled. “Do you guys have a code word that you say when there’s a hostile situation going on but you don’t want people to know what’s up?”

“Yes,” Harper said. “But that’s not it.”

Gina spoke through the door. “Dr. Harper?”

“Yes, Gina?”

“Should I leave the wheelchair?”

Harper glared at Barry.

“Leave the wheelchair, Gina,” Barry shouted.

Harper smiled. “May I sit?”

“I’m not holding you hostage, sir. I’m asking for your help.”

“May I sit?”

“Sure.” Barry nodded. “Please.”

Harper lowered himself into the chair and arranged the papers on the desk. Clasping his hands, he looked at Barry. “Well, what shall we talk about?”

* * * * *

Officer Bolton was driving his cruiser when he got the update. Captain Ferguson was looking for some volunteers to pull some special security duty for a few days. The hours would be good and the pay would be great.

“What do I have to do, captain?” Bolton asked.

“Not much, Jim. Round up a few stray cats and knock heads a little so they learn how to stay home from now on.”

“Hell, I can do that.” Bolton rounded a corner and sped up.

“Welcome to the team. I’ll send the information over to the cruiser’s computer.”

“How many cats are we looking at, sir?”

“There were four, but one’s in Tampa General Hospital now. That leaves three strays, a female and two males, all with brown hair. One of the guys is an exchange student from India.”

“Got it, chief. Any descriptions of clothes or anything? Vehicles?”

“They’ll be tired from lack of sleep. I’ll send over what they were last seen wearing, but they may have changed clothes by now. And you’ll get their student ID pictures with the other stuff I’m sending.”

“These are the ones on the news, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Then they’re probably still in what they were wearing when they attacked the news conference. We have those images already.”

“Then you’re good to go, Jim. You can start right after lunch.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, captain.”

As the on board computer started pinging with incoming messages, Officer Bolton pulled his cruiser into the Chick-Fil-A for an early lunch.

Chapter Nineteen

“M
otherfucker.”

Officer Bolton was completely surprised. And delighted.

No sooner had he received the descriptions of the so-called campus felons than he spotted the first one right in front of him.

He put his hand on the butt of his gun and chuckled. “Everybody loves Chick-Fil-A.” Squaring himself, the big man pressed the button on his shoulder mic. "Bolton to base. I'm about to acquire Tomàs Pequant.”

* * * * *

Barry rubbed his sweaty hands on his thighs. Things needed to get resolved with Dr. Harper in a hurry. Right now he might be able to pass himself off as an overly excited college kid, but in a few minutes, he’d seem like a hostage taker. Then there wouldn’t be any options left.

Maybe I should just haul ass
. The throbbing from Barry’s ankle increased. When he moved, pain shot up his leg. Leaving without medical attention was out of the question. “Uh, any chance I can just get a cast on my leg and sneak on out of here? Maybe with a few pain killers?”

Harper snorted, folding his arms over his belly.

“You're stalling.” Barry narrowed his eyes. “You're buying time while the cops come, right? That’s what the phone call was.”

Dr. Harper drummed his fingers on the desk. “It definitely seems like you're running out of time, son. Looks like you're running out of choices, too.” He leaned back in the chair. “Why are you here?”

Barry shifted his weight and pointed at his foot, wincing. “Broken leg, remember?”

“No, why are you
here
, in this office? Why aren’t you sitting over at x-ray?”

“Your intern was sticking me in a holding tank while you called the cops. That’s why.”

“And now that's probably what I
will
do. Come on.” Harper motioned to the chair. “Sit down.”

Barry lowered himself onto a chair, keeping his leg stretched out. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face.

“The pain is making you sweat. That’s your body’s reaction to the stress.” Harper tapped the desk again. “So, like I asked you, what do you want to try to accomplish here today?”

Barry sighed. “I don't know anymore. I need to get my leg fixed. Then we figure out something from there.”

“Not much of a plan.”

“None of this was planned.” He waved his hand, searching the floor for answers. “It just all kind of exploded on us.”

“Hmm. Welcome to my world.” Harper grinned. “That's what I do here in the ER. Seven or eight hours of complete boredom followed by three or four hours of sheer panic and terror.” He wagged a finger. “But during that time we might save some lives.”

“Well, you can save one right now.”

“How's that?”

Keeping the leg stretched, Barry adjusted on his seat. Nothing helped alleviate the pressure building in his ankle. He glanced at the doctor. “How about ‘First do no harm’?”

Harper frowned. “Don’t play games with me, son. I take my job seriously.”

“I know you do, sir. Anybody can see that. I just need some help. I need my leg fixed so I can get out of here.”

“You need a little more than that. You might need a lawyer.”

“I shouldn't. We didn't really do anything wrong.”

“That's not what the news reports are saying.” Harper dropped his hands onto the leather armrests. “With each update they're making you and your classmates out to be a psychotic band of thieves and arsonists.”

Barry slouched, biting his fingernail. “I bet they are.”

“I was going let you get your leg fixed. Then the police would have taken you into custody. That’s how we do that.”

“That's the whole problem, sir.”

“Why? If you didn't do anything wrong, what do you have to fear from the police?”

“To be honest with you, it's not the police I'm worried about. It's whoever is pulling the strings behind the police.”

Harper narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Barry pushed himself up straight in the chair, glancing around. “Are the police on the way?”

“You need to calm down.”

“Are they? Were you calling them when I came in here?”

Harper raised his hands, spreading his fingers. “I ordered some lunch. Chinese food from the carryout across the street, okay? You need to relax. Trust somebody for a minute. Tell me what happened.”

Barry sighed, shaking his head. “All we did was find this machine on the mining site. You saw us that night—when we brought Riff in. That's it. That’s all we did. We wanted to try it out, and then suddenly there's a press conference and the police are after us and buildings are being burned down.” He rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at his outstretched leg.

“That's… not entirely true.”

Barry thought about it. Rules were broken. Big rules. “I'd say, in the grand scheme of things, we-”

“In the grand scheme of things you feel like you did the least wrong of everyone? Is that about right?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“The grand scheme of things, indeed. Funny how that scheme looks a little less grand, depending on who’s doing the looking. So what would you like from me?”

“Some help.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because…” Barry looked Dr. Harper in the eyes. “Because even when I first met you, I knew you were a little different from the average bear. A cut above. Because you didn’t call the police on us even when you said we were psychos. You knew better.” Gambling, Barry went all in on a long shot. “It’s your training. Your time being an ER doctor told you there was a ring of truth to my story. And if you were going to call the police on me, you’d have done it by now. Or given the code word to the nurse. You didn’t.”

Barry watched Dr. Harper. Harper watched him right back.

“You know I’m telling you the truth.” Barry swallowed. “Help me, please.”

Observing the dirty, tired young man in front of him, Dr. Harper drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. What do you need?”

Barry smiled. “How about a cast for my ankle and a three hour head start before you call the cops?”

* * * * *

“Peeky, Peeky, Peeky, you have been just as busy as a beaver, haven’t you?”

The holding cell at the campus police station was hardly like a jail. It was mostly used for drunken college students that overdid it at a basketball game. It was meant to let kids sleep it off or get a dose of reality before turning them loose or handing them over to the City of Tampa police. There were no iron bars, just the thick wire screen over the windows and doors like the kind on an indoor high school gymnasium. That, and the presence of a lot of uniformed cops was usually enough to sober up a rowdy college kid. Nobody wants to go to real jail.

Findlay sat at the duty desk and chuckled at his good luck. “Peeky, it’s so good to see you. I can’t believe we found you first.”

“What’s going on, Findlay? You can’t just keep me here.” I was scared, but I didn’t expect to see him here. That was unnerving.

“Oh, but I can!” He cackled. “All these nice police officers work for me. Well, Dean Anderson hired them, but I get to call the shots. Can you believe it?”

I had no idea what to say to that. Sitting on the metal cot in the holding cell, Findlay and I could talk, but he was definitely holding all the cards.

“Wanna know what I’ve been up to since you saw me last?” He couldn’t contain himself. “You’ll love this. I hacked Barry’s computer.”

“So? That’s hardly a challenge for a computer science graduate student.”

“I know, right? And he was dumb enough to show me this really cool machine you guys found, and then try to cut me out of the deal. What bullshit. You don’t think that was right, do you?”

I was too scared and confused to answer, but it didn’t matter. Findlay wasn’t listening.

“I really outdid myself this time. Even a bunch of rock busters like you guys can appreciate that.” He bounced up and down in the chair. “I got pictures of course, that first night, when Barry went to take a shower. The guys at MIT loved those.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Oh, yeah. Then, on my next visit – when all of you dust busters were there patting yourselves on the back—I planted a tracker on the machine and a recorder on Barry’s computer. Right under your noses.”

I tried to appear brave. “So you broke your word right from the get-go, then, didn’t you? Before we figured it out the next day.”

“So what?” Findlay stood up. “I was going to get pushed aside all along. You knew that.” He wagged a finger at me, walking up to the door. “Don’t tell me you wanted me as a partner. I know you guys too well.” His tone changed to anger. “I was in that room, Peeky! Getting punched in the gut.”

He leaned in and sneered, a little saliva hanging from his mouth as he yelled. “Remember? While you sat by and did
nothing
?”

The door held him at bay. I tried not to show my fear, but my hands were shaking. Findlay was getting out of control and the officers had guns.

Bolton stepped in. “Hey, back it down a couple of notches.” He put his hands on Findlay’s shoulder and guided him away from the holding room door.

Findlay took a breath and collected himself, wiping his chin. “Actually, you didn’t exactly do nothing, did you, Tomàs? Busy little beaver?”

He sat back down at the desk. Officer Bolton positioned himself behind Findlay, maybe as much to be imposing as to intervene again if necessary.

“He dreamed about getting rich.” Findlay sneered. “Didn’t you, Peeky?”

I felt a hollowness shoot through my stomach, like a bolt of fear and lightning.

What did he know?

“I hacked Barry’s computer—that was easy using the recorder. But from there I was able to access all of your computers. Roger’s, Riff’s, Melissa’s and yours. There was almost no security.”

My stomach ached.

“Wanna know what I found?” He chuckled. “Well, a lot of porn on Roger’s computer. No surprise there. Not much of anything on Riff’s.” He turned to me. “You know, I’m not sure that boy’s completely right in the head. He plays a lot of video games and not much else.” Findlay laughed. “I’d say it’s a waste, but is it really? With a bozo like him?”

He stood up and started to pace. “Let’s see. Oh, and Melissa’s computer. That was nice. Hey, did you know a lot of girls take pictures of themselves to see how they look in a new outfit they’re trying on at the store?”

I stared at the floor. Poor Melissa.

“A whole folder of her trying on dresses and jeans. That Missy, she’s a knockout.” He looked at me. “Oh, don’t worry. Nothing explicit. The girl’s too smart for that. She kept it strictly rated G, even when she was trying on bathing suits.” Then he laughed. “Except for the pictures she took with Roger last summer!”

He fell down behind the desk, delirious with laughter. He was drunk on his own power and handling it badly. The wrong person was in the holding cell.

“Hey, I sent some of them to my cell phone. Wanna see?” He stood up, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Check it out.”

The first image was a topless Melissa in her dorm room, wearing only black panties. Her hands covered her breasts – but just barely.

I averted my eyes.

“Aw, what’s the matter? I thought you had a thing for her.” He shoved the phone at me through a slot in the door. It fell on the cot.

“You’re an animal, Findlay,” I said, pressing a button to take Melissa off the screen.

“Oh, Peeky, you have no idea.”

* * * * *

Melissa drove past the Chick-Fil-A. There was nobody in sight. The pre-arranged pickup spot at the pancake house proved fruitless—it was almost empty—so she doubled back to the last place Peeky had mentioned. This was nearly empty, too; unusual for a fast food restaurant near campus.

She drove into the parking lot and glanced around. On the far side was a City of Tampa police cruiser and an officer talking to somebody who appeared to be a manager. Inside, she could see employees but no customers.

Strange
.

Melissa slipped on a pair of sunglasses from the truck’s glove box and proceeded to the parking lot of the bank next door. Her cell phone screen brought her the latest news update.

Missing USF Mystery Machine Found.

She already knew that. Did the story have any new information? She scrolled through, reading. The new stories still weren’t publicly naming the suspects.

Charges were now to include arson.

She glanced over her shoulder. The police cruiser was still at Chick-Fil-A.

Near the end of the news story, a mention that the machine would be taken into custody of the U.S. Military. Representatives from MacDill Air Force Base in south Tampa were being scheduled to take the machine into federal custody and move it to the base until further notice.

The air force base? We’ll never get it back once it goes there.

Military officials had not yet determined whether to store it at the old Tampa armory or on site at the base. It would be transferred to the USF Sun Dome for safekeeping and kept under armed guard until morning.