The Bricklayer, стр. 23
“Hi,” she said. “Came to see if you’re all right.”
“I’m good. How’d you know?”
“The pickup truck that was used to lead your surveillance crew away. They needed a search warrant.”
“I’m sorry, come on in.” He opened the door wide and stepped back.
She gave the room a quick look and said, “Thought maybe you could use a drink.” She pulled a silver flask out of her purse and held it up with ceremony. “I’ve brought bourbon. The shopkeeper told me it is the traditional celebratory for a near-death experience.”
“So we’re celebrating?”
“Actually he said it was good for calming the nerves, but if I thought you were that kind of man, I probably wouldn’t be here.”
“Let me get some glasses.” He opened a drawer and pulled on a T-shirt.
“How many stitches?” she asked when she saw his back.
“It felt like seven or eight.” He walked over to a side table and picked up two glasses. “Do you want ice or water?”
“This is twelve-year-old Kentucky sipping whiskey. The clerk insisted that it not be defiled with California groundwater.” Vail came back, and she poured a couple of ounces for each of them. Then she took out a pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind?”
“It won’t be the first time I smelled smoke tonight.”
After she lit one, she held up her glass and said, “To surviving.” They both took a healthy swallow. “So how bad was it down there? In the tunnel.”
“It wasn’t the best of times; it wasn’t the worst of times.”
“How very non-Dickensian. From what they told me, it sounded pretty bad. They don’t know how you weren’t killed.”
Vail studied her for a moment, trying to figure out why she was there. The first time they had met, she admitted liking to hang out with agents, but this seemed more than that. She was wearing a dark workout suit that, unlike the long, loose dresses he had seen her in at the office, revealed an amply feminine figure. Was he a curiosity to her, someone who seemed so uncontrolled by the Bureau, yet the person called when there was a problem? “Is this a California thing, where the AUSAs make house calls?”
“No,” she said mischievously, inviting more questions.
“Then why?”
“Just to make sure you’re okay. Sort of.”
“Sort of what?”
She took a long drag on her cigarette to make him wait for an answer. “You know, to see what you’re like away from work. You’re interesting. No, that’s a little overused. You’re enigmatic. I don’t get much of that.”
“Funny, I seem to be getting too much of it lately.”
She pulled a piece of tobacco from her lip. “How do you and Kate get along?”
“She’s been a good boss on this.”
“I don’t know you real well, but from what I’ve seen, you’re not the kind of person who allows himself to have a boss. Is that what happened before? Why you used to be an agent?”
“That observation would hardly qualify you as clairvoyant. So that’s it, I’m enigmatic? That’s why you’re here?”
She stared at him for a moment searching for any hidden motive and then laughed. “You really don’t have any idea of the effect you’re having on people around here, do you? You’ve been here—what—two days, and you’ve already found all that evidence in Bertok’s apartment, virtually solving the case, and then tonight, you survived death, apparently with great casualness. You’re becoming quite the celebrity, so I thought I should try to get here before the crowds get too large.” She took another sip of her drink. “I was hoping you might need some company. You know, all that testosterone stirred up and looking for an outlet.” She brought the cigarette up to her mouth and used her tongue to slowly moisten the entire circumference of the unfiltered tip before taking another deep drag, her eyes never leaving his.
“I’ve heard of picking off the weak and wounded from the herd, but never the overstimulated.”
“Sooner or later overstimulation leaves a man weak.”
“Is that something you picked up from Stan Bertok?”
Tye laughed. “I can honestly say I never had the pleasure, or displeasure, depending on your point of view,” she said. “Oh, I see. You’re wondering if I’m some sort of Bureau camp follower. Well, I’m not. This is a very limited offer.”
She drank the rest of her drink and poured another ounce into her glass, holding up the flask to him. “No, I’m good.”
“On the drink or my offer?”
“I know in the not too distant future, I’ll regret this, but both.”
Vail could see a sadness flood through her, not one of rejection, but of having to be alone.
She threw back the remaining bourbon and swallowed it. “That’s very diplomatic, but please don’t take that tack. I doubt I would find you nearly as interesting if I thought you were the kind of man who was capable of regret.”
TWELVE
WHEN VAIL GOT TO THE OFFICE THE NEXT MORNING, HE FOUND KATE busy at her computer. He sat down across the desk from her while she continued to type. She looked up briefly and nodded, a little too casually, he thought. Maybe she was trying to undo any feelings exposed the night before. He smiled to himself and then became lost in the efficiency of her hands. Like her, they were athletic, quick but unhurried. When she finally pushed away from the keyboard and looked up, she said, “How’d you sleep?”
“On my stomach.”
“I meant, did you sleep?”
“I think so.”
“How’s the back?”
“Actually a little less sore than my shoulders and arms.”
“Your little ceiling walk was pretty impressive. A lot of people around here are talking about it.”
He laughed a single grunt. “When the director calls, I’m going to make a suggestion that the next drop we use million-dollar bills.”
“Do compliments embarrass you or are you just annoyingly modest?”
“I’ve found people who have their heads turned by compliments have them turned by criticism.”
“So you don’t want anyone to say anything to you.”
“I’m sorry, I meant annoyingly modest.”
Kate laughed. “Do you need some coffee?”
“I’m good,” Vail said. “On the way up here, I checked the pen on Bertok’s phone. Nothing. What’s going on out at the tunnel?”
“LAPD did find explosives at the entry hatch. And on a photocell trigger. C-4 packed with some of those two-inch nails they used to make the punji boards.”
“That’s probably why it didn’t detonate when I set off the Claymore at the other end. Too far away. I don’t suppose they were considerate enough to leave any evidence.”
“No latents, but we’re working on the boards and nails, trying the lumberyards around to see if someone ordered the pieces cut to those lengths. We’re also checking to see if there have been any recent thefts of Claymores or C-4.”
“That would be a little too easy.”
“They are an inconsiderate bunch,” Kate said. “I didn’t want to ask you last night, but what was it like in the tunnel?”
“Dark, but enlightening.”
“How very paradoxical,” she said playfully.
“I was just going for cute.”
“Enlightening, how?”
“It’s interesting how much you can learn about an adversary when your life depends on anticipating his—or her—next move.”
“Now, that’s cute.”
Don Kaulcrick walked in, followed by the SAC and Allen Sabine, Bertok’s supervisor. Kaulcrick said, “The director hasn’t called yet?”
“No,” Kate said.
“I’m sorry, Steve, how are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. How are you doing?”
Kaulcrick forced a smile. “Other than being three million short for the week, I’m okay.”
The phone rang and Kate pushed the speakerphone button. “Kate Bannon.”
“Good morning, Kate,” Bob Lasker said.
“I’ve got you on speakerphone, sir.”
“Please tell me who else is in the room.”
There was something insistent in the director’s voice that told her he wasn’t simply taking roll. She started with Vail and then listed everyone present in descending order of rank.