“So you’re suggesting — ”
“That we wait until he’s asleep, and we go in and see what we can find.”
I studied him in the dim light. He was serious. “So, that’s not a crime that will put us in prison?”
“Skipper, if the door is open, I consider it an invitation. If someone wakes up while we’re there, we leave. Tell him we were looking for Thomas LeRoy. Tell him we were looking for a rent receipt.”
“On LeRoy’s computer?”
“It makes no difference. Here’s a better idea. Have five hundred bucks on you and tell him you were going to drop it off on the desk for tomorrow’s payment. Hell, he can’t get mad if you were going to give them money.”
He had a point.
Em rolled her eyes. “Boys, you could go to jail for what you’re doing.”
“Could.” Daron smiled at her from under the brim of the hat. “Won’t.”
I realized I was dealing with a guy who walked out of airports with other people’s stuff. Under the eye of Homeland Security, the airport cops, the TSA, and probably two or three other security companies I don’t even know about. If anyone knew how to get away with shit, Daron Styles was the guy.
“I’m going down to play cards.” James dropped the cigarette on the gravel and ground out the hot tobacco with the heel of his shoe. “You guys can handle the rev’s trailer.”
Was everyone crazy except Em and me?
“Skip? You okay with this?”
“No.”
“We’ll get it done. Look at the big picture, amigo.”
“You’ve got money?” I thought I remembered giving him a stake. I still thought they would hand him his ass tonight, but there was no way to convince him. The game was fixed. I was sure of it.
“I’ve got enough, pard. I’ll come back with another five hundred.”
Daron shook his head. “They control the game, James.”
“Last night, I was hot.”
“You only win if they want you to.”
“Bullshit.”
Daron seemed to bristle. “Well, you live your fantasy. I’ve been in their games, and the full-timers don’t ever let you win unless they want you to. Stan does some pretty impressive card tricks.”
For the first time in my life I was impressed with Daron Styles.
James just smiled, flipped him the bird, turned, and walked down the path, whistling some tune. Whistling in the dark. The phrase was never more appropriate.
I wanted to say, “he’s always right.” But I didn’t. The truth is James thinks he’s invincible most of the time. And most of the time he is.
“It’s about ten thirty, Skipper. We’ve got a couple of hours to kill.”
I saw Em smile. I’m sure she was amused that Styles was calling me Skipper.
“So you think we can just walk into this trailer, and — ”
“If we want to get a look at what’s inside, that’s the way to do it”
Em was tapping her fingers on the truck bed. An irritating rhythm.
“Just how are you going to break into this computer? On top of having someone with a gun inside the trailer, it seems highly likely that there’s a code or password to get into the information you want.”
She leaned in like she was trying to read his eyes, which were hidden under the narrow brim of his strange little hat.
“I’ve got it all worked out, little lady.”
She didn’t like that. I could tell by the steam coming from her ears. I don’t think she liked the arrogance or the little lady quip. My turn to smile.
“How’s that?”
He gave her a hard look. “I know the code. Took me a while, but I figured it out.”
“You’ve done this before. What are you — ”
“Skipper, I think it’s important we get this information. Now if you don’t want to know what’s going on, I won’t do it. If you want to find out, then just let me do my thing.”
This guy was as cool and confident as anyone I’d ever met. And everything he did was illegal, immoral, and risky as hell. I was almost starting to see what James admired about him.
“What if we get caught? You haven’t addressed that.”
Styles reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out one of those little brown cigars. He took his time lighting it with a match.
“If we get caught, we cover.”
And, as I pointed out, Daron Styles knew how to cover. He’d been covering ever since I knew him. I pointed to Em.
“Tell him about the car.”
“No. It’s silly.”
“You didn’t think so a couple of minutes ago.”
“What car?” Styles asked.
She shrugged. “Someone’s following me.”
“In a Cadillac.”
“Does that have to do with this situation?”
Styles leaned up against the truck, flicking his cigarette butt into the dark.
“It didn’t happen until I saw Skip this morning.”
“You didn’t recognize anyone?”
“No. I got the license.”
“Give it to me.”
She reached into her pocket and handed him a piece of paper. Without saying a word, Styles walked around the truck and I lost sight of him in a few seconds.
“What good is that going to do?” She looked up at me.
“I just think that everyone needs to put their cards on the table.”
“Speaking of which, is James going to be all right by himself?”
“I’m sure he will be. There are six other guys down there. And when did you start worrying about James?”
“Skip, you told me there was a note that may have threatened your lives.”
“I know. But I don’t really think there’s anything to it. It’s a long way from shooting out someone’s tires to killing someone.”
She sat down on the wooden bench between the donut wagon and our truck. We didn’t speak for a couple of minutes. Then, as quietly as he’d left, Styles reappeared, folding his cell phone and holstering it to his belt.
“FBI.” He sat next to Em on the bench.
“What?”
“It’s an FBI car.”
“Em’s car?”
“The car that’s following her.”
“Daron, why the hell is an FBI car following Em?”
“I have no idea. A guess, maybe. And I’m not supposed to know it’s them, but there’s no question about it. It’s the FBI.”
“As in the Federal Bureau of Investigation?” I wasn’t sure that this made any sense.
“What do I have to do to convince you?”
Em spoke up. “Tell us why the FBI would follow me.”
“I can only guess.”
“Guess.” I stared at him, tired of his games.
Styles pulled the hat down and peered out from under the brim.
“Three years ago, somebody gunned down a senator in Washington,D.C.'
“We’ve been over that. Fred Long from Nebraska. Walking to a favorite lunch spot and somebody shot him.
