“There are only two inside doors. Closet and bathroom. That’s it. Nobody’s fucking home!”
Hall turned and leaned back against the door. It struck him that Geiger had a very nice backyard, and that no one would ever suspect that the house had one-which was very much Geiger. In lying, Geiger had been buying time, and every minute bought was a minute Hall lost. Hall would have to call Dalton and tell him to start in again-he had no other play-but he was beginning to think that Geiger would never talk, and Matheson would win the game, and then there would be hell to pay.
He ended the call with Ray and tapped in Dalton’s number.
“Yes?” Dalton’s voice said.
“Put him on. Put me on speaker, so you can both hear.”
Dalton knew voices. He could read them like a surgeon reads an X-ray, and he was surprised to hear more temperate resignation than fury or resolve in Hall’s words. It was the voice of someone who had become deeply weary of his task, its tone as flat as a mortician’s.
Geiger’s head was at half-mast, a rose-hued bubble at the center of his lips. When Dalton tapped him on the shoulder and he stirred, the bubble popped.
“It’s for you,” said Dalton. He pushed the speaker button and held the cell phone to Geiger’s ear.
“Yes,” Geiger said, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“Dalton is going to go back to work now,” Hall said.
Geiger said nothing. Dalton raised one eyebrow, then pulled a new pair of gloves from his pants pocket.
“Geiger,” Hall continued, “I need to know that you understand what I just said.”
“I understand what you said. Where are you?”
A corrosive chuckle leaked into the session room from Dalton’s cell phone. “Where am I?”
Standing on Geiger’s back stoop, Hall answered his own question: “We’re at your place, but there’s no one here except your cat.” He strolled down into the yard. He wished now that he’d had that Scotch. “Okay. So you bought Harry and the kid some time. I get it.”
“No, Mr. Hall. I don’t think you do.”
A new smoothness in Geiger’s tone surprised Hall, and then he flinched at the sound of Ray’s fist hammering the inside of the back door.
“Hey!” Ray called. “I can’t get out!”
“You’re locked in, Mr. Hall.”
Ray pounded the door again. “Hear me, Richie? The doors won’t open! The fucking code doesn’t work!”
Hall sighed. Another nail in their coffin. “And we need the exit code to get out,” he said.
“That’s right, Mr. Hall.”
Hall watched two squirrels race halfway down the tree, each chasing the other, round and round. Clearly neither wanted to catch the other-it was the chase that gave them pleasure.
“How many times have you entered the code to try and get out?” Geiger asked.
Hall’s mind almost ticked past the obvious-“You’re locked in, Mr. Hall”-and then made a U-turn. Geiger thinks he has all three of us trapped inside the house, Hall thought. Score one for the bad guys.
“Can I ask why?” said Hall.
“Because you can’t leave without putting in the exit code-and if you enter an incorrect code twice, the system becomes armed.”
“Armed,” Hall said. “Go on.”
“There are twenty directional explosive charges behind the drywall, Mr. Hall. If you enter an incorrect exit code a third time, they will detonate-and the house will implode.”
“Implode? Like those old casinos in Vegas?”
“Yes. And Mr. Hall-it’s best you don’t try to remove the window bars, either.”
“Right,” Hall said, looking back toward the house. “Geiger, hold on a sec.” Hall muted the cell. “Ray!” he shouted. “How many times did you enter the code?”
“To get out? Uh… twice!”
“Well, don’t touch the security panel again! You got that?”
“Why?” Ray called.
“Just don’t! Don’t touch anything!”
Hall sat down with his back against the tree. He took out a cigarette and flicked his lighter. But instead of lighting up, he just stared at the flame. He had to start shifting his focus, put on a new lens. If they didn’t get Matheson, he would need to have a way out, because there would be no going back for a sit-down with the man to explain his failure. There would be no favors to call in, and no helping hands, either. That meant Ray and Mitch would be on their own, too. But they’d never been the Three Musketeers, anyway-there’d been no buying into the “all for one and one for all” crap. If need be, Mitch would drive the bus while Ray threw him under it.
Hall lit his cigarette and punched Geiger back up on the cell. “Okay. So you’ve got three fuckups locked in your house.” He allowed himself a sliver of a private grin. “What now?”
“Dalton releases me, and when I’m safely away I’ll call you back and give you the exit code.”
“How about you give me the code now, and when we get out I tell Dalton to let you go?”
“I like my idea better, Mr. Hall.”
Ray began banging on the back door and shouting again.
“Hey, Richie! What the hell is going on?”
Hall rolled his eyes. “Geiger, give me a minute, okay?”
“Sure.”
Hall muted the cell and walked across the yard and back up the stoop. “Ray,” he called through the door, “we’ve got a problem here. The house is one big bomb!”
“What?” Ray said. “Well, maybe we oughta, y’know, call somebody!”
“Yeah? Tell me who we should call and I’ll give them a ring. Want me to call the fire department? Or how about the cops?”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m dealing with this, Ray-just hang on for a few minutes.”
Hall sat back down against the door. With a thumb and forefinger, he pressed on his eyes so firmly that he saw white phantoms crawling on the insides of his lids. When had he slept last-thirty-six hours ago? Probably more.
Something brushed against his arm, and Hall opened his eyes to see a cat coming out the pet door. The cat glanced at him-Hall saw that it was missing an eye-and then walked into the yard.
The encounter gave Hall an idea. “Ray,” he called. “Tell me something about the inside of the place.”
“Huh?”
“Tell me about something in Geiger’s house that caught your eye.”
“Well, he’s got a great CD rack. Custom-made.”
Hall brought the phone back up and turned the mute off.
“Okay, Geiger,” he said, “your way. Dalton-you there?”
“Yes,” said Dalton.
“Let him go.”
“I heard you, Mr. Hall-but just repeat it one more time so we’re clear.”
“Let Geiger go. Release him.”
“All right.”
“How long before we get the code, Geiger?”
“About half an hour,” Geiger answered. “Fifteen minutes to stitch up my thigh and get out of here, and another fifteen minutes after I leave.”
“I’ll be waiting. And by the way, Geiger, this is a real nice CD rack you got here. Can I put on some music without blowing us up?”
“Feel free, Mr. Hall.”
