The odor was heavier in the kitchen. The computer was on the table along with an assortment of empty files and casebooks. She examined the mainframe with her dinky little light. The power switch was on the front. She pushed it, and the monochrome screen slowly warmed up. It emitted a greenish light that covered the table but did not escape the kitchen.
Alice sat down in front of the keyboard and began pecking. She found Menu, then List, then Files. The Directory covered the screen. She studied it closely. There were supposed to be somewhere around forty entries, but she saw no more than ten. Most of the hard-drive memory was gone. She turned on the laser printer, and within seconds the Directory was on paper. She tore it off and stuffed it in the purse.
She stood with her flashlight and inspected the clutter around the computer. Darby estimated the number of floppy disks at twenty, but they were all gone. Not a single floppy. The casebooks were for con law and civil procedure, and so dull and generic no one would want them. The red expandable files were stacked neatly together, but empty.
It was a clean, patient job. He or they had spent a couple of hours erasing and gathering, then left with no more than one briefcase or bag of goods.
In the den by the television, Alice peeked out the side window. The red Accord was still there, not four feet from the window. It looked fine.
She twisted the bulb in the nightlight, and quickly flicked the switch on, then off. Worked perfectly. She unscrewed it just as he or they had left it.
Her eyes had focused—she could see the outlines of doors and furniture. She turned the computer off, and eased through the den to the hall.
Mrs. Chen was waiting exactly where she’d left her. “Okay?” she asked.
“Everything’s fine,” Alice said. “Just watch it real close. I’ll call you in a day or two to see if anyone has been by. And please, don’t tell anyone I was here.”
Mrs. Chen listened intently as she moved the table in front of the door. “What about her car?”
“It’ll be fine. Just watch it.”
“Is she all right?”
They were in the den, almost to the front door. “She’s gonna be fine. I think she’ll be back in a few days. Thank you, Mrs. Chen.”
Mrs. Chen closed the door, bolted it, and watched from the small window. The lady was on the sidewalk, then gone in the darkness.
Alice walked three blocks to her car.
Friday night in the Quarter! Tulane played in the Dome tomorrow, then the Saints on Sunday, and the rowdies were out by the thousands, parking everywhere, blocking streets, roaming in noisy mobs, drinking from go cups, crowding bars, just having a delightful time raising hell and enjoying themselves. The Inner Quarter was gridlocked by nine.
Alice parked on Poydras, far away from where she wanted to park, and was an hour late when she arrived at the crowded oyster bar on St. Peter, deep in the Quarter. There were no tables. They were packed three deep at the bar. She retreated to a corner with a cigarette machine, and surveyed the people. Most were students in town for the game.
A waiter walked directly to her. “Are you looking for another female?” he asked.
She hesitated. “Well, yes.”
He pointed beyond the bar. “Around the corner, first room on the right, there’s some small tables. I think your friend is there.”
Darby was in a tiny booth, crouched over a beer bottle, with sunglasses and a hat. Alice squeezed her hand. “It’s good to see you.” She studied the hairdo, and was amused by it. Darby removed the sunglasses. The eyes were red and tired.
“I didn’t know who else to call.”
Alice listened with a blank face, unable to think of something appropriate and unable to take her eyes off the hair. “Who did the hair?” she asked.
“Nice, huh? It’s sort of the punk look, which I think is making a comeback and will certainly impress folks when I start interviewing for a job.”
“Why?”
“Someone tried to kill me, Alice. My name’s on a list that some very nasty people are holding. I think they’re following me.”
“Kill? Did you say ‘kill’? Who would want to kill you, Darby?”
“I’m not sure. What about my apartment?”
Alice stopped looking at the hair, and handed her the printout of the Directory. Darby studied it. It was real. This was not a dream or a mistake. The bomb had found the right car. Rupert and the cowboy had had their hands on her. The face she had seen was looking for her. They had gone to her apartment and erased what they wanted to erase. They were out there.
“What about floppies?”
“None. Not a single one. The expandable files on the kitchen table were placed together real neat and are real empty. Everything else appears to be in order. They unscrewed the bulb in the nightlight, so there’s total darkness. I checked it. Works fine. These are very patient people.”
“What about Mrs. Chen?”
“She’s seen nothing.”
Darby stuffed the printout into a pocket. “Look, Alice, suddenly I’m very scared. You don’t need to be seen with me. Maybe this was not a good idea.”
“Who are these people?”
“I don’t know. They killed Thomas, and they tried to kill me. I got lucky, and now they’re after me.”
“But why, Darby?”
“You don’t want to know, and I’m not going to tell. The more you know, the more danger you’re in. Trust me, Alice. I can’t tell you what I know.”
“But I won’t tell. I swear.”
“What if they make you tell?”
Alice glanced around as if all was fine. She studied her friend. They had been close since freshman orientation. They had studied hours together, shared notes, sweated exams, teamed up for mock trials, gossiped about men. Alice was hopefully the only student who knew about Darby and Callahan. “I want to help, Darby. I’m not afraid.”
Darby had not touched the beer. She slowly spun the bottle. “Well, I’m terrified. I was there when he died, Alice. The ground shook. He was blown to pieces and I was supposed to be with him. It was intended for me.”
“Then go to the cops.”
“Not yet. Maybe later. I’m afraid to. Thomas went to the FBI, and two days later we were supposed to be dead.”
“So the FBI is after you?”
“I don’t think so. They started talking, and someone was listening very closely, and it found the wrong ears.”
“Talked about what? Come on, Darby. It’s me. Your best friend. Stop playing games.”
Darby took the first tiny swallow from the bottle. Eye contact was avoided. She stared at the table. “Please, Alice. Allow me to wait. There’s no sense telling you something that could get you killed.” A long pause. “If you want to help, go to the memorial service tomorrow. Watch everything. Spread the word that I called you from Denver where I’m staying with an aunt with a name you don’t know, and that I’ve dropped out this semester but I’ll be back in the spring. Make sure that rumor gets started. I think some people will be listening carefully.”
“Okay. The paper mentioned a white female near the scene when he was killed, as if she might be a suspect or something.”
“Or something. I was there and I was supposed to be a victim. I’m reading the papers with a magnifying glass. The cops are clueless.”
