Lobec leaned against the wall by the bedroom door. He had moved over there to hear the phone conversation, but the noise of the lawnmower was drowning out Kevin’s voice. No matter. He had heard most of the conversation he had had with his girlfriend, and it didn’t sound as if he had told her anything of importance. Besides, her home was going to be their next stop. So much easier to make their deaths appear as an accident.
He couldn’t hear Kevin hang up the phone, but his voice called from the bedroom.
“I just have to go to the bathroom, and then I’ll be ready to go.”
Lobec heard a door shut. After waiting a minute, he peered into the bedroom. Seeing that it was clear, he walked in. The obese man with the lawnmower turned his machine off. Lobec listened at the door of the bathroom. The fan was on. He heard nothing.
He waited a few seconds. Still nothing.
He knocked on the door and asked if everything was all right. No response. He drew his pistol and tried the knob. Locked. He hit the flimsy door with his shoulder and rushed into the bathroom.
It took him only a second to scan the tiny room. Before his eyes reached it, he could feel the heat flowing through an open window, large enough for a man to fit through easily. He looked through. Hamilton’s car was still in the lot, but the student was nowhere to be seen.
“Something must have tipped him,” Bern said. “He didn’t take the car?”
Lobec turned and saw Bern looking through the window, his pistol already drawn. He slapped Bern’s right cheek, leaving an angry red mark.
“You fool. Of course he was tipped off. You did it by mentioning the word superconductivity before he told it to us.”
“I heard him say superconductivity.”
“He said he was conducting an experiment. He made no mention of the word ‘superconductivity.’”
“But I…”
“This is not a debate. His keys are in the kitchen and his wallet is on the coffee table. Get them in case he decides to come back. He must be in the apartment complex.”
Lobec heard talking coming from the bedroom. He and Bern rushed out of the bathroom to find Hamilton’s greeting playing on the answering machine. When the machine beeped and started recording, Lobec recognized the voice. The girl named Erica.
“Kevin? Kevin, are you there? It’s Erica. We got cut off. Kevin? If you’ve left for the police station, let me know when you get back.” After a few more seconds calling his name, she hung up.
Bern looked at Lobec. “What do we do now? Same plan? Interrogation?”
Lobec gave Bern a cold stare, twisting the silencer onto his pistol. “No. Hamilton obviously didn’t know what the code meant. Therefore, he is of no further use to us. When you find him, kill him.”
CHAPTER 8
As he heard Barnett and Kaplan, or whoever they were, leave the bedroom, Kevin felt the air rush from his lungs. He hadn’t even realized he had been holding his breath. Now he was breathing in huge gulps. His hiding place under the pile of laundry in the bedroom closet was tenuous at best. They would be back as soon as they realized he wasn’t anywhere in the apartment complex. He needed to move.
His hands were shaking as he eased open the closet door. These guys were impersonating police officers and spoke about killing him as if it were nothing more than an inconvenience. Once the lawnmower had stopped, he’d been able to hear everything they said in the bathroom.
When Detective Robley said that he had never heard of Barnett and Kaplan, Kevin had put the phone down without another word, knowing he’d never be able to convince Robley of his situation before the two impostors got suspicious. He also turned off the ringer, so the other line with Erica wouldn’t suddenly start ringing the phone. But in his hurry he’d forgotten about the answering machine. Now Erica might be in just as much danger.
The conversation with Robley made everything suddenly click. There was the misplaced remote control and the incorrectly filed folders. At first glance, those inconsistencies were nothing more than a curiosity. Given what just happened, though, the conclusion was obvious. Someone had been in his apartment last night. They had been very careful, but not perfect.
But the real clincher was Kaplan’s off-hand question about NV117. Kevin had never mentioned to Barnett and Kaplan that the experiment involved superconductivity. He was sure of it. Meaning the phone was tapped and they had heard him talking about it on the phone with Erica. That’s why they had come now. The phone call to the police. They had heard it and were afraid he’d tell them about the message from Ward. And because the phone was tapped, they almost certainly knew who Erica was and where she lived.
When Kevin realized Barnett and Kaplan’s deception, his choices became limited. Overpowering them was out of the question, not when one of them looked liked a linebacker for the Cowboys. And if they had guns, which Kevin was almost sure of, running wouldn’t have done much good either. That’s why he had opened the bathroom window, pushed the button locking the bathroom door, and closed it before hiding in the closet. Sneaking out was the only way. Luckily, the trick seemed to have worked. For now.
Kevin crept out of the closet. The apartment was quiet. He kept his steps soft as he moved into the living room.
As Barnett had ordered, Kaplan had taken Kevin’s wallet and keys. Kevin opened the right desk drawer and flipped through the files he kept in there. Even though he was meticulous with his research files, his personal files were a mess. He didn’t even label all of them. His stomach dropped when he didn’t find what he was looking for on the first pass. As he more carefully went through the files a second time, his hands shook, and several times he glanced at the door. Finally, he found it in the tenth file and breathed a sigh of relief. The valet key he had gotten with the car, but never used.
He snatched the key from the file and ran to the door. He poked his head through. No one was in sight. There was no choice. He had to go for it.
Kevin sprinted to the Mustang, all the while expecting a bullet in the back. He crammed the key into the door, his head swiveling as he quietly opened it. Still no sign of them. He got in and kept his head down as he eased the door shut.
He jammed the key into the ignition and turned it. The Mustang wheezed and coughed, struggling to turn over. It cranked and cranked, but the engine wouldn’t catch. Shit! He let go and tried again. Same result.
“Not now,” he muttered to himself, glancing in the rearview mirror. He opened the window to let out some of the stifling heat. “Come on. Come on.”
He turned the key again.
To the left of the apartment complex entrance, Lobec saw no sign of Hamilton. It was unlikely their target had scaled one of the ten-foot high fences encircling the apartment property. The chain link was topped with razor wire to keep out intruders. That left the front gate as the only route out of the complex.
Lobec returned to the gate, where Bern was waiting.
“I assume there was no sign of him,” Lobec said.
“No. But there’s no way we wouldn’t have seen him. The street’s clear, and there’s nowhere to hide.”
“It’s the same on my side. He must still be in the complex.”
“You want me to wait here in case he tries to get out?” Bern said.
“No, we need to find him immediately. He might try to call someone. We’ll make one pass through the complex. If we can’t find him, we must assume that he found refuge with a neighbor.”
Lobec and Bern skirted the edges of the complex, each taking a side looking under bushes, behind cars, and inside shadowed alcoves. Both of the pool areas were crowded with sun-worshippers. Lobec kept his distance, not wanting to present a face that residents might remember should he have to shoot Hamilton. No sign of their target. As he finished at the last courtyard, the one directly outside Hamilton’s apartment, Bern came towards him.
“No luck. I’ve searched every inch of this place between here and the entrance. If he’s here, I don’t…”
Lobec raised his hand, cutting Bern off. Somewhere nearby an engine was turning over, struggling to start. It
