Dire Means (33 page)

“They’re in boxes on the top rack in the back, ma’am.” Frank pointed toward the space through which Mark peered out from behind the shelving racks. “What happened here?” Frank asked, pointing to the mess on the floor.

“Never mind that. Get back there and bring me two large t-shirts.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And make it fast. I can’t wait all night for you. Bring my shirts out to the dining room and present them to me while I am training the dinner servers.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And then make sure you clean up this mess. This room shall be spotless before you go home tonight—is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Neva left the storage room.

Frank hurried toward the rack behind which Mark and Tory hid. He accidentally kicked a plastic cup that went toppling end over end to the wall. When he saw Mark and Tory squatting in the narrow space between racks they both put their fingers over their lips and then Tory put her hands together in a praying sign.

“What the hell are you two doing in here?” Frank said.

“Never mind that. Are they here yet?” Tory asked.

Frank nodded. “They just got here. They’re standing in the back.”

“Who?” Mark said.

“Neva told us to keep an eye out for you. She asked me again this afternoon if I thought you were coming in tonight. I told her what you said—that you wanted to verify the computers. She was happy about it.”

“Why?” Mark said.

“Mark, I think she’s trying to get you arrested,” Tory said. Frank nodded in agreement.

“Arrested! For what?”

“The missing people on the news.”

“What? That’s ridiculous!”

“She’s up to something,” Frank said. “I saw two guys parked in our reserved parking places this afternoon and when I told them they had to move, they flashed FBI badges and then went in to talk to Neva. She spent an hour with them in her office, and when they left she asked us again if we knew anything about you coming in today.”

“I tried to call you a half hour ago, but you didn’t answer,” Tory said. Mark felt his pocket and realized that he had left his personal phone at home. The only phone in his pocket was the one supplied by Trail Bladers.

Frank climbed the side of the storage rack, using the lower shelves as rungs and reached up to pull down a large brown box labeled “t-shirts.”

Tory tugged on Mark’s arm and said, “This woman is vicious, Mark. There’s no telling how she may have set you up. You better leave. We can get you out the back, but we have to be quick. She’ll be breaking for food service soon.”

“I hope you are wrong,” Mark said.

Frank peered out of the storage room door. He held a stack of folded t-shirts out in front of him with both hands as though he would present them to Neva as a peace offering. He took a deep breath and walked to the dining area to present the shirts to Neva.

Mark stayed behind with the storage room door cracked open while Tory walked to the end of the hallway to make sure this path was clear. She turned and then motioned for Mark to come out.

“There they are,” she whispered. Mark peered around the corner. In the rear of the dining hall on either side of the exit door, he saw two men in dark suits and sunglasses. They each had white earpieces that coiled down their necks and disappeared under their collars.

Neva stood with them, whispering. When she motioned toward the hallway where Tory and Mark were, they ducked.

“You have to leave now,” Tory said. “Hurry! This way!”

She held the kitchen door open while Mark ran through it. The opposite door leading to the executive office was already open and he ran for it. The kitchen staff stopped their food preparation as Mark sprinted by them.

He ran down the executive hallway, through the open back door, and into alley. He was glad he hadn’t found easy parking in front. He hoped he could get a decent lead before the agents and Neva realized he wasn’t coming back from the restroom.

He checked over his shoulder as he ran. Closing in on his car, he worked to remove his keys from his pocket. He unlocked his car after several failed attempts at inserting the key. He slammed the door shut and locked it. He checked his rearview mirror as he tried to jab his key into the ignition. He saw no one.

He drove two extra blocks out of his way to avoid passing directly in front of the shelter. His heart still pounded. He rolled down the window for some fresh air. He wasn’t afraid of Neva, but the FBI was more than he had bargained for. Had law enforcement somehow found out about his visit to the Trail Bladers bunker? Was the FBI looking to implicate him as an accessory to Pop’s killings?

“
What’s going on?
” Mark yelled at the top of his lungs.

As Mark turned on Abbott Kinney and neared Bonfiglio Café, he heard sirens from behind him. His heart pounded harder and he squeezed his eyes shut in a moment of frustrated disbelief. He pulled to the side of the road and watched his rearview mirror. He rolled down his window just as the police cars raced by him. A small measure of relief swept over him and his shoulders slumped.

Up ahead, he saw the police speed by a few people standing outside Bonfiglio Café. A few of the people stepped into the street to see where the police might turn. A man near the group who was walking his dog pointed up to the sky. Above, Mark saw two helicopters hovering a few blocks away in the direction of his apartment.

Mark recognized Todd in the group. He rolled the window down and yelled for him.

Todd approached, walking at first and then sped to a jog as he neared. “Buddy, what the hell is going on?” he said.

“You tell
me
.”

“There was a shooting. There are cops crawling all over my building and now it’s taped off—they won’t let us go back. Police broke into your unit.”

“My unit? Do they think it’s me?”

“You try to go home and you’re gonna be arrested.”

“But I’ve been gone all day!”

Todd looked up at the helicopter and then back to Mark. “I knew it couldn’t have been you. Buddy, you gotta come clean with me. Are you in trouble? Did you get into something deeper than you’re telling me with those gas station thugs? I mean, I’ve heard of revenge, but this is ridiculous. You gotta unhook those guys.”

“Listen, Todd, did you see any unusual people in our complex today? Anyone?”

Todd waited for another police siren to scream by before answering. “There was a guy in a suit hanging out by your door. Sometimes you have clients pick up laptops or software at your place. When I asked him what he was doing, he just said he was waiting for you and that he was early for an appointment. I thought nothing of it. Well, at least I didn’t let him in this time,” Todd said, laughing and going for a high-five that Mark ignored.

A strange electronic beeping began somewhere in his car. It sounded like a cheap clock radio and it startled him.

“What’s that sound?” Todd said.

“I don’t know.” Mark glanced over his shoulder to check the rear seats and then swept his hands under his seat. Maybe it was a bugging device gone haywire—set by Pop—or the FBI.

Then he remembered the Trail Bladers phone Morana had given him. It was in his pocket. “Listen, Todd, I’ve got to go.”

“Where? What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

As Mark rolled the window up and pulled away, Todd said, “Good luck, buddy. Don’t let them get you—you’ll be hosed.”

Mark drove far enough up the street to lose sight of Todd and pulled over again. He fished out and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Mark, it’s Morana. Don’t go home.”

“Apparently, I can’t! What’s going on?”

“You are being followed by the FBI. If they catch you, you’ll face detainment and criminal prosecution. We can help you evade them quickly and without a trace. Will you accept our help?”

“What happened?”

“Will you accept our help?”

Mark was confused, scared and emotionally exhausted. “Yes,” he said.

“Begin driving straight ahead and do not turn onto your street. Timing is key, so do not question my instructions—do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Mark pulled back onto the road. When he passed by his street he slowed to look down it. He saw his apartment building lit up with spotlights and police tape around the entire complex. A cluster of police cars parked up on the lawn near the bottom of the staircase that led to his unit, and the street was blocked with police cars and news vans.

“Do you see a white car following you?”

In his rearview mirror, Mark saw a car following him about ten car lengths back. The car passed under a streetlight and Mark could see that it was white.

“Yes, I see it.”

“It is following you. Do not try to lose the car. Do not stop driving and do not get out of your car until I tell you to. Say yes if you understand.”

“Yes.”

“You are approaching Venice Boulevard. Turn right at the signal.”

“How do you know that? Can you see me?”

“Comply with my directions without question or you will cause your own capture. Do you understand?”

“I’m sorry. Yes… I’m turning now.”

Mark checked his rearview mirror again. The car turned after him. He pulled to a stop sign beside a convenience store. The store’s bright parking lot lights spilled onto the street and helped Mark make out the silhouettes of two heads sitting in the white car.

“Turn right at the next intersection,” Morana said.

“Okay.”

“Do you see the car behind you?”

“Yes.”

“We have your car tracked, and while you were in the shelter, your friends that are following you placed their own GPS transmitter on your car. That’s how they found you after you fled the shelter.”

“
What the hell is going on?
” Mark shouted into the phone. “If you and Pop want me, then why don’t you just abduct me like you have the others? If these bozos want me, then why haven’t they just arrested me?”

“Mark, get a grip. The men following you haven’t arrested you because they think you will lead them to us. Now turn right at the next intersection. It will be Pacific Avenue.”

Mark signaled and turned his car northbound toward Santa Monica. The car behind him followed. As he approached a checkpoint, his panic grew. He knew they would inspect his car before entering Santa Monica.

“They’re gonna search me up here.
What am I supposed to do?
” he yelled.

“You have to calm down!” Morana said. “You will be fine if you follow my instructions. They should let your car pass through without a problem. However, if the checkpoint officer asks you to exit your vehicle, you will need to run as fast as you can three blocks east to Third Street. Turn left and you’ll soon see the nose of a Trail Bladers truck protruding from an alley. Its rear doors will be open. Duck into the alley, enter the open doors at the rear of the truck, and you will be safe.”

Mark’s heart raced as his car neared the checkpoint. He slowed to a stop behind a line of cars waiting for inspection and clearance to enter Santa Monica. He checked the rearview mirror every few seconds to see if he could make out the faces of his two pursuers. On either side of the road, orange traffic cones funneled his car toward an inspection checkpoint that was loaded with spotlights, mirrors, and personnel.

If police had swarmed his apartment in search of him, then they surely had an APB out on his car. Perhaps they didn’t yet have the description of his rental car, he hoped.

While he inched forward toward the checkpoint Mark kept his eyes glued to the men in the car behind him. “Can you tell me again why I’m fleeing?” he asked.

“Papa told you that this would happen. You should have heeded his warning.”

“So you’re strong-arming me to join your mission?”

“Actually, your favorite shelter director arranged for the federal shadows that are rolling behind you. She’s quite a piece of work. How many more cars until you are checked?”

Mark craned his neck and counted. “Six more and then it is my turn. The white car is right on my bumper now. I want to turn my car around—”

“No!” Morana shouted. “Do not turn around. An officer in a chase car is parked around the corner and will have you pulled over in less than a block. Follow my instructions or you will spend the night in jail. Keep going and keep the phone line open as you pass through the checkpoint. I want to hear what is happening.”

“Three more cars. They’re searching trunks and they just asked a guy to get out of his pickup. Oh, dear God help me,” he said.

“What is it?” Morana said.

“One of the feds just got out of their car and… he’s walking past me.”

“Don’t panic. Remember to run two blocks east if you are asked to get out of the car. Keep the phone line open so I can hold our truck for you. What’s happening?”

“The agent is talking to the officer doing the inspections.” Mark felt sweat soaking into the back of his shirt and he tucked his hand under his thigh to keep it steady.