Die Twice (26 page)

“Are they sure? Can we use it?”

“They think so. We’ve just planted our first seed. We’re waiting for a response, now.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed, then.”

“I’m keeping everything crossed. And I’ll keep you posted. I just wanted you know where we were up to. Things could break in a hurry, so keep your boots on and stay by the phone. I’ll be in touch.”

Scratch the surface of a corporation, and you might be surprised what lies beneath.

Even organizations that appear similar on the outside can have dramatically different cultures. That makes infiltrating them all the more interesting. But also more difficult. The last thing you want to do is stand out, and it’s the little behavioral quirks that can so easily trip you up. Birds of a feather flock together, so you have to gauge very quickly how competitive your new colleagues are likely to be. Or how secretive. How helpful. Or in one place I went—a semiconductor manufacturer—how nice.

It’s not quite true to say that everyone at that company was nice, actually. The majority was. But one person definitely was not. One of the secretaries. She wasn’t to me, anyway. She went out of her way to make my life miserable. So when it was revealed that she had some horrible disease, I had mixed feelings. I wouldn’t have wished it on her. If there was anything I could have done to make her better, I would have. But I wasn’t about to shed any tears,
either. So I had to be careful about that. It could have driven a wedge between me and the others in the office. And I found that annoying.

A horrible person who’s sick is still a horrible person.

Just like an evil person who’s no longer inconvenient is still evil.

Having a computer that wasn’t bursting with navy spyware was a novelty for me. It had the potential to be a real luxury, especially with all this time to kill. I could use it to watch movies. Play games. Contact people I’d fallen out of touch with. Do all the things on the Internet that civilians take for granted. There were endless possibilities, but the memory of watching the Spektra gas tests had killed my appetite for all of them. Stone dead. I was tempted to just close the machine down and wait for the phone to ring, but I forced myself to check another couple of Web sites instead. I looked for more information about the Myenese, but nothing new or significant came to light. Then I moved on to dysprosium. The miracle mineral. It may have been rare, and it may have generated untold wealth, but it didn’t make for interesting reading. It didn’t fill me with enthusiasm. And that meant I was only half way through the first article I’d found when Fothergill called me back.

“Good news,” he said. “Time to move. Got a pen and paper?”

“I don’t need one,” I said. “Go ahead.”

“OK. They took the bait. The meeting is on. Two o’clock at a hotel called the Drake. It’s a little farther up Michigan than the Ritz-Carlton, where we were the other day. They have several bars, but you need to find one called the Coq d’Or. It’ll appear closed when you get there, but the left-hand door will be unlocked. You should have no trouble getting in. You won’t even have to break anything.”

“McIntyre’s contacts will meet me there?”

“They will.”

“Good. How many will there be?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t say. And I couldn’t really push them. It would look too hokey.”

“Agreed. And it’s not a problem. Just a nice-to-know.”

“I understand. The IT guys are still digging, so if they come up with anything that could throw any light, I’ll get straight back to you.”

“Thanks. So that just leaves our unwelcome guests. Where are we up to with them?”

“All done. They’re lined up and waiting. I just need to call them with the green light as soon as we’re finished. I’m really happy, actually. I managed to get the best two under-the-counter operators in Chicago. They’re going to do an excellent job. I know it.”

“They better. There’s a lot hanging on this. What’s the setup?”

“Nothing fancy. I believe in keeping it simple with deals like this. Both guys will be wearing White Sox gear. They’ll stagger into the bar, pretending to be drunk and belligerent. Then they’ll act like they recognize the Myenese as opposing fans from some recent game and come over all nasty. And that’s where you step in.”

“Do you think that will work? Do they have baseball hooliganism here? This isn’t England, you know.”

“I’m sure they do. Sports are sports. And anyway, who cares? The Myenese aren’t going to know the difference. And they only have to buy it for about ten seconds before you ride in and save the day.”

I still wasn’t convinced.

“It’ll work,” he said. “Trust me. And besides, have you got a better idea?”

I didn’t reply.

“OK. I’ll text you when I’ve spoken to them. In the meantime, any questions, call me.”

The conversation with Fothergill had blunted my interest in research, so I closed the computer and put on my coat. The rendezvous point was within walking distance if I left in enough time. The need to set off wasn’t urgent yet, but it never hurts to get to a place first. Especially when the people you’re meeting have a habit of carrying knives and guns.

Fothergill’s text arrived when I was halfway across the hotel lobby. It confirmed we were all set for two o’clock. That was all I needed to know, so I didn’t expect to hear from him again until after the setup had either succeeded or failed. But in the event, he did call me. Just as I was passing the Wrigley Building.

“Got any sandwiches up there?” I said.

“Why would I have sandwiches?” he said. “Up where? What are you talking about?”

“I’m right outside the office. I thought you’d maybe seen me out of the window and were going to invite me upstairs for a snack. Save me having to stop and buy something on the way to this Drake place.”

“Oh. I see. No. No food. And I’m not in my office. I’m with the IT boys. We’ve got some news. It’s hot off the press. We haven’t even had the chance to think through what it means, yet. But I thought you should hear about it straightaway. Before you reach the Drake.”

“OK. That sounds serious. What’s up?”

“Well, remember how we figured that Tony was communicating through a dating service?”

“Right. That’s how you set up the meeting I’m heading for right now.”

“Exactly. So, we found that out via historical information on the Myenese guys’ computer. Now what we’ve done is work back the other way. We’ve managed to track down Tony’s live dating account. And we’ve found it’s become active again.”

“I guess it would have. How else would he have set up his own rendezvous with them, later? The one I’m supposed to crash?”

“That’s logical. But it’s only part of the story.”

“So can we find out when McIntyre’s meeting them? And where? ’Cause then we could cut out this whole charade at the Drake. Avoid the chance it all blows up in our face. Sidestep that, and go straight for the throat.”

“I don’t think so. And this is where things get a little strange. What we’ve found out is, Tony’s been using a new set of addresses. And his messages seem to be using a completely new version of the code.”

“So he’s suspicious? He’s picked up that his meeting tonight’s been blown?”

“No. I don’t think that’s it at all. The code changed before we even started looking. We think it means that he’s in touch with someone new. He’s ditched the Myenese, and he’s selling to someone else.”

“OK. That could be. Remember how he texted me something about meeting friends? On the pretense of hooking back up with Young? When he was setting up to ambush you? We took that to mean the Myenese. That must have been a red herring.”

“Right. And it nearly worked. But the question is, what next? How do you think we should play this? Your meeting with the Myenese is probably irrelevant in the circumstances.”

“It may be. Figuring out when and where McIntyre’s seeing these new buyers has to be top of the list, now. And that’s down to the code they’re using. How do the IT guys feel about it? Have they got enough to work with?”

“They think so. It might take a little while to break it, though. They’re on it as we speak.”

“Have they got any idea how long?”

“All they can go on is the last one, that led to us contacting the Myenese. Based on that experience, they reckon four hours, minimum.”

“Four hours. Is there any way they could go any faster?”

“No. I’m here with them, and I can tell you they’re pulling out all the stops.”

“That’s fine. I have every faith. I just wanted to know how much time I have to play with.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as we have anything. You’ll be at your hotel?”

“I might be back by then. Depends how it goes.”

“How what goes? Where?”

“This thing at the Drake.”

“But that’s irrelevant now. Tony’s not selling to the Myenese. He’s not seeing them later. You don’t need to infiltrate, anymore.”

“He may not be selling to them. But doesn’t make them irrelevant.”

“For today, it does.”

“Child killers are never irrelevant. They may not be getting any gas today, but it won’t stop them looking elsewhere. Or trying to use it when they do get their hands on some.”

“So what are you going to do, when you see them?”

“Persuade them to change their plans. Think of it as my public service for the day.”

“How will you do that?”

“Some things, you’re better off not asking about. And it might be an idea to cancel your White Sox guys, as well. We may not want people seeing what happens. Or talking about it, afterward.”

The farther north I walked on Michigan Avenue, the stronger the wind became until by the time I turned into Walton Place the flags on the angled poles above the Drake’s entrance canopy were blowing out sideways like solid boards. Three uniformed doormen stood in a huddle near the valet stand, clearly hoping I was going to walk past the hotel and not bother them. The youngest of the group finally peeled away and approached me when it became obvious that a trip to the far end of the street was not a part of my immediate plans. He held the door for me, and looked longingly toward the warmth of the foyer as I went inside.

The reception area was a festival of red and gold and crystal and flowers. It made me wish I’d brought my sunglasses as I made my way up a short of flight of stairs and looked around, taking my bearings. I saw seven people in line at the check-in desk, away to the right. Twelve people waiting for the elevators, straight ahead. Double doors leading to one of the bars to the left. And next to them, I spotted a sign for the Coq d’Or. It was pointing to the entrance to another corridor, tucked away in the corner, dark, and uninviting.

Progress at the check-in counter seemed very sedate, so I joined the end of the line and focused on the opposite corner of the foyer. It took twelve minutes to get within two places of being served, and in that time no one entered or left the far corridor. When the person in front of me stepped forward I peeled away and headed for the elevators. That bought me another five minutes of observation. Still I saw no one, so I decided it was finally time for a closer look.

There were no lights in the narrow corridor so I took two steps—just far enough to be out of sight of anyone watching from the foyer—and pressed back against the wall until my eyes had adjusted to the meager glow from the emergency signs. When I could see again I moved forward and found myself at the top of a flight of
stairs. I made my way down and followed the next corridor around to the left, which I figured brought me back underneath the main foyer area.

The corridor continued into the distance, eventually disappearing into the gloom, but I had no reason to follow it any farther. The wall to my left gave way to a row of double doors. There were eight. They were made of wood at the bottom, and frosted glass at the top. A gilded, fowl-shaped motif stretched the entire length, and interlaced within its long exaggerated feathers I could make out the words
COQ D
’
OR
—
CHICAGO
’
S FINEST
.

I moved to the side, took out my Beretta, crouched down, and tried the first door. Fothergill was right. It opened easily. I swung it back around forty-five degrees and paused. There was no response from the other side. I waited another minute. The inside of the room was even darker than the corridor, which put me at a disadvantage. I listened carefully, straining for the sound of breathing or movement or the rustle of clothing. There was only silence, so I dived through the gap and rolled away to the right.

“Hello?” I said.

There was no response.

“Anyone there?” I said.

No response.

“Get your coat,” I said. “You’ve scored. Whoever said online dating doesn’t work?”

There was still no answer, so I took out my phone. I placed it on the ground as far to my left as I could reach, pressed a key so that the screen lit up, and snatched my hand away again as quickly as I could move it. The little square was surprisingly bright in the surrounding darkness, but it drew no reaction. The light faded to nothing after thirty seconds, but I didn’t move for another five minutes. I remained still, crouching in the dark, listening intently. Again, I came up empty. As far as I could make out, I was alone in the room.
So, cautiously, I picked up the phone, reactivated the screen to serve as a flashlight, and began to explore.