Chapter 313

"So what is wrong with it?" Pete asked.

"Don't you think someone standing in a crowd in this weather wearing running shorts is going to be noticed? Or if someone joins the race in long pants and a coat he won't draw attention?"

"So someone in a long coat, who dumps it when the runners come along." Pete suggested. "It won't be at a spot where there is a crowd watching."

"Good, how does our killer plan to escape? Since this isn't a suicide mission, he does plan to get away." I suggested.

"He has clothes stashed, so that after he does the hit, he can dress and blend," Pete replied.

"Feed that into your game. While you are at it ask it how the hitter is going to know when the senator is near enough so that he has time to do all this, and still catch up to the runner he wants."

It is going to take a while to load the route information along with the other factors the game needs to make a workable scenario with probabilities." Pete said.

"Well then you need to get on it," I said.

"I really need to be there," he suggested.

"No you don't," I said flatly.

"You know he is right," Sylvia said. She had been eavesdropping. "Every time he comes up with something, you have more to add to the game. It would be better, if he was right along with us. You start running Saturday morning after a cocktail party. His head will be more clear than either of ours."

She had no idea what I was capable of doing, but she was right my brain was like a shotgun. It threw lots of lead at lots of places. Pete's game was like a really good sniper rifle, it could zero in on a specific item of information. It was all in the programing. I was programed for a different purpose. Also my memory was filled with useless shit from my past. At least the guys at the farm felt it was useless. I didn't agree of course.

"Alright be back here with all the answers at 8AM tomorrow sharp," I demanded, "Now go get everything that you can imagine into your game." Pete left with a huge grin.

"There must not be a lot going on in the Realty business this time of year," Sylvia suggested. "The appraiser said he would have it done by the time we get back from Washington."

"You didn't tell him where we were going?" I asked with a slight edge in my voice I'm sure.

"Of course not, I just told him you needed at least a verbal report for a meeting on Monday afternoon. Also that we were working on an offer to purchase. I also told him that we were miles apart with pricing." she explained.

"Well that all sounds reasonable," I said. "You done good."

"Thanks boss. By the way we are going to be gone on Friday. It is the end of my pay week, do you think I could get paid today?"

"Okay, let's do some work on that now. Call the accountant and get the figures plugged in so that we pay your taxes and all that."

"Okay, what do I tell her to use for a base?" Sylvia asked.

"We agreed on $300 a week for your half days and I figure I owe you a couple of hundred for the weekend work you did. How about five hundred for last week. We can work out this week next Friday.

"Or, we can just call it $500 and I'll work whenever you need me, if I'm not in school." she suggested. "We can call 5PM my normal ending time if nothing is happening, if it is I will stay till we are done with whatever it is."

"I can live with that, but you might be getting the worst of it," I suggested.

"You can always give me a bonus, if you feel you should," she suggested.

"Let's call the green dress your bonus for this job," I said.

"I love that idea. I might never get to wear it again but I'm going to love having it in my closet." She grinned. "I'll get with the accountant and have the tax thing done and then have him set up the money transfer to my account.

That's how I came to make the agreement for a regular transfer of funds from my account to hers. We were getting to be more and more like a real business. One with no real mission, but we were searching for one.

"Well it's five now I suppose you should be headed home. Get a good night's sleep and pack warm clothes just in case you want to watch the race on Saturday." I handed her a twenty dollar bill. "Stop by the Sit Down on the way in and get breakfast. Get me the bagel with cream cheese bag. I am trying to lose a pound or two. Also get whatever you want and what you think the Geek will like."

After she left I spent an hour listening to music with the MP3 player and charging my power module. I was stuck on the music my dad had played in the car when I was a kid. I didn't have many good memories from my childhood, but that was one of them.

Aster was a big time mill village, when I was a kid. My dad worked in the machine shop there. He made parts to keep the Looms and other machines working. Probably why I generally fall for men who work with their hands. Of course, I have daddy issues.

I switched off that train of thought, when I made the phone call to Blevins. I got him on his cell phone. "Hey Blevins have you gotten married yet?" I asked.

"I have been married off and on all my fucking life," he said.

"What do you want Maxine?" he asked.

"So, when are you going to pull the plug?" I answered his question with one of my own.

"Less than a month now, why?" he asked.

"What are you going to do after you are free of the wheel?" I asked. No it wasn't a reference to Conan and his grinding wheel. It was a reference to the rotation system used to assign cases to detectives. When the wheel turned to you, the next case was yours. Detectives were said to be slaves to the wheel. Actually I guess that was a lot like Conan and the wheel in the comic book after all.