“That would get us in more trouble here than if we killed someone,” said Lia. “They don’t like thieves.”
“So what do you suggest? Hire a cab?”
She didn’t answer, instead turning the PDA toward him. “How are you going to get into the window? There’s nothing to climb on.”
“It’s only one story up. There are some crates behind the building in that alley there,” he said, pointing at his napkin. “We can bring them over.”
“They’ll hold you?”
“I hope so.”
“I should be the one who climbs in.”
“You can’t have all the fun,” he told her.
Something flashed in her eye — relief? But if so, it turned into a scowl.
“I should go,” she said.
“If the crates won’t hold me, OK. Otherwise, this was my idea; I get to take the shot.”
“All right. Listen, did the Art Room tell you I puked?”
“No.”
“Yeah, well, I got sick in the women’s room. I threw up. I think it was the solvent, because it smelled wretched.”
“You all right now?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, I’m OK.”
Dean stared into her face. “You told them back in the Art Room?”
“I didn’t have to. They could hear me. I spilled solvent all over the place. Junk.”
“That’s what did it?”
“I’m
“Yeah, all right.”
“I’m fine.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.”
41
Karr steadied himself in a crouch as the two men approached. They were talking, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.
There was another sound — a cat, mewing.
Something creaked in the room. The cat mewed again.
The man without the gun appeared in the opening. Karr didn’t have a shot on anything but his chest, which was protected by a vest.
The cat screeched. Something fell across the room as it ran off.
The man started laughing and cursed. The two men went back to the office.
“He’s got an Arabic accent,” said the Art Room translator. “He’s saying he would have killed the stupid cat if he’d seen it. The other one said maybe it was the cat that caused the explosion. They were laughing.”
“They’re going under the desk — looks like there’s a strongbox there,” said Rockman.
One of the men used his gun to get it open. They started exclaiming happily; Karr didn’t need the translator to tell him that they had found a whole wad of cash.
“Tommy, we’re having trouble with the Crow and the satellite system that’s controlling it,” said Rubens, cutting in. “We’re going to lose its feed and the ability to control it in a little under two minutes. We can either fly it down the road and have you recover it later or self-destruct it as a diversion. I can see you. If you want me to self- destruct the Crow, move your left hand. Otherwise, move your right. You have ten seconds to decide.”
Karr thought about it. The problem with using it as a diversion was that he couldn’t predict what the men might do. An unexplained explosion might give them more reason to hang around.
“Very well,” said Rubens when Karr moved his right hand. “We’ll have it land in a field and we’ll give you the GPS point.”
“They have the strongbox — they must have wanted the money,” said Rockman. “Looks like that’s all they got from there, money. It’s — ah — feed from the Crow’s gone. Hang tight, Tommy.”
The two men started back toward the front of the house but stopped as the car lights flashed on and off. A truck passed by; as soon as it was gone they left, the car quickly driving off.
“Where’d the cat come from?” Karr asked LaFoote as soon as he was sure they were gone.
“Meow,” said LaFoote. He put his hand to his mouth and this time the mewing seemed to come from the other side of the house. Then he picked up a small piece of debris from the floor and tossed it across the room, timing his screech perfectly so it sounded as if the cat had been startled and run off.
Tommy laughed.
“I learned a few things in my day,” said the Frenchman.
On the third slap at the wall with the little crowbar enough of the plaster gave way so that LaFoote could reach inside and take out the small box Vefoures had hidden there. The box contained three CD-ROMs with information Vefoures had copied from his work computers. Vefoures had hidden them there soon after he had begun work. He’d had a bad premonition of what would happen to him.
Or perhaps a guilty conscience.
“Let me take a look at them,” said the American.
“How do I know I can trust you?” LaFoote asked.
“Heck of a time to start worrying about trusting me,” Karr said with a grin.
“Are you going to help me find my friend?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
The American reached out his hand. It was an easy, self-serving lie, LaFoote knew; he had told similar ones many times in his own career.
“I’ll give you one disk,” he told him. “And then you do something for me.”
“Like what?”
“You find my friend. Then you get both.”
“What happens if I find him and he doesn’t want to see you? Or if he’s dead?”
“He may be dead, yes,” said LaFoote. He felt his voice tremble slightly, but he knew it was probable, if not certain. “If he is dead, you will get the disks. No matter what he says, you will get the disks.”
“What about that bank statement?”
“I’ll get that, too.”
“Where is it?”
“With an acquaintance.”
The American was huge — he could grab the disks from LaFoote without much of a fuss — but LaFoote knew he wouldn’t attack him.
“All right. I trust you, even if you don’t trust me,” said Karr. “One disk tonight. The rest when?”
“When you find my friend.”
“Having all the disks might make that easier.”
“No. This is just about the explosive he was working on.”
“All right. One now. Two later.” The American smiled and put his hand out for the CD-ROM. “But I need that account number. Right?”
“That I will get. It can’t be done right away. The papers are not in my possession.”
“Let’s go where they are.”
“No. They’re safe. Don’t worry. I’ll retrieve them tomorrow.”
“I never worry,” said the American.
