Tony was half asleep when Jack called.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” he groaned. “I got training in the morning. I’m trying to get some shut-eye.”
“Sorry, man, but is Eddie up there with you?”
“Up here?” Tony said groggily. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would I bring him up here?”
“You two seem to be attached at the hip lately, so I was hoping you took him along for the ride.”
The grogginess in Tony’s voice abruptly disappeared. “Jack, what’s going on?”
“Someone broke into the boat and Eddie’s gone. And I’m not sure I want to tell you what I found in the head.”
“You think they took him?”
“Or worse. He’s nowhere around.” The dread Jack had felt earlier was rolling around in his belly like a bad stew. “I’ve tried calling him but he doesn’t come.”
“Wait a minute,” Tony told him. “Hold on-”
“What-?”
“Go into your stateroom.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do what I tell you. This is something me and Eddie wanted to surprise you with.”
“What the hell are you-”
“Just do it, Jack. Trust me.”
Jack hesitated a moment, still battling his rage, then did as he was told. He had already turned on all the lights, in hopes of spotting the little guy cowering in a corner, but grew more and more alarmed when he couldn’t find him.
“You in there yet?”
“I’m here,” Jack said.
“All right. Now say, ‘FIDO.’”
“What?”
“FIDO,” Tony told him. “It’s an old military acronym. ‘Fuck It and Drive On.’ Trust me, just say it. And say it loud.”
Jack hesitated, wondering what Tony was up to. “All right… FIDO.”
The moment the word was out of his mouth he heard Eddie’s familiar outsized growl coming from somewhere near the bed. The one he normally reserved for strangers. It was muffled, but clear, and Jack moved quickly to a low, narrow cabinet on the port side.
When he opened the cabinet door, he found Eddie lying prone inside the tiny space, stretched out flat like a platypus.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jack said, relief washing through him.
“A little self-preservation measure, in case someone ever broke in. I noticed the door on that cabinet was spring-loaded, so I started working with him about three weeks ago.”
“Thank God you did,” Jack said. He tucked the phone under his chin and pulled Eddie into his arms, letting his friend lick at his face. “I was worried sick about him.”
“No kidding. You ready to tell me what you found in the head now?”
Jack gave the dog a quick back scratch, above the tail, then set him on the bed. “A noose made out of Eddie’s leash.”
“What the hell? Did you call the cops?”
“For what? They’ll just file a report and call it a day.” Jack sighed. “I’m used to death threats but this is a little too close to home. And I’m not entirely convinced it’s the work of one of my garden-variety stalkers.”
“Then who?”
“Good question. Bob Copeland told me I should watch my back, and after what happened to Jamal Thomas tonight-”
“What happened?”
Jack gave him the rundown on the trip to Sunnydale, Jamal’s overdose, and the men in the black Escalade. “The kid’s brother got one of them on his cell camera and Maxine’s gonna see if she can identify the parking sticker on the car.”
“Jesus,” Tony muttered. “Sounds like we got this thing right. You and Eddie better not sleep on that boat tonight.”
“This was just a warning, Tony. If somebody wanted me dead, they would’ve stuck around instead of playing games.”
“Okay, but humor me. Get the hell out of there. Go to a hotel or hit up Maxine. Or your ex. She’s got plenty of room in that big house you left her.”
“I don’t think the tax guy she’s been dating would approve,” Jack said.
“Do you care?”
Tony was right. About all of it.
“Okay. I’ll make sure we get to safer ground. When are you due back?”
“Sometime tomorrow night.”
“Good,” Jack said. “See you then. Now get back to sleep.”
“Keep your powder dry.”
Jack nodded. “I always do.”
13
Jack thought of his apartment on Union Street as his Fortress of Solitude. The only people who knew he owned it were his real estate broker, the bank, and his former wife-and he wanted to keep it that way.
He hadn’t even told Tony. Jack kept it separate from his everyday life, a place where he could seek refuge, to reflect and reminisce.
A twenty-two-story sixties-era complex right off the Embarcadero, it was just a block from the bay. The beauty of the building was that there were four or five entrances and exits on various floors, and he sometimes marveled at how difficult it would be for any of the “progressives” who had threatened him over the years to stalk him here.
You could elude a rampaging army in this place.
He inwardly thought of the complex as a mini-UN. It was populated by a variety of people of various nationalities, and riding the elevator to the twentieth floor was often an education in cultural diversity. One day he’d be smiling and winking at a Norwegian child in a stroller and the next he’d be chatting with a businessman from Tokyo.
The view from his window was spectacular. Facing north, it looked out across the bay. And just beyond the Richmond Bridge, you could see the East Brother Light Station, a small island lighthouse that had been in operation for over a hundred and thirty-three years.
Jack had spent part of his honeymoon on that island, staying at the bed-and-breakfast there. And while he had found the place charming, Rachel had complained that they were too isolated to have any fun-beyond the bedroom, that is. Jack loved and could enjoy the birds, the bay, even the winds. That contrast in their attitudes was one of the many reasons they were no longer married.
As with many marriages, Jack and Rachel stopped sleeping together years before the sex stopped. They had side-by-side separate beds, and later they slept in separate bedrooms.
He liked to watch movies on TV, she liked to read. He went to bed early, she read until after midnight. He got up at first light, she slept until eleven. He was obsessed with politics and TV news, she found this too predictable. “What’s the point of getting excited,” she used to say to him, “they’re all liars and you can’t change a damn thing.”
The sex between them had been great for years, endless and heated. But Jack wasn’t made for marriage. It was a strain on his nature. He couldn’t conform to another person’s needs and wants.
