Chapter 21

It was nearing midnight when Cesar Romero—he never did tell me his name, or Ratty's or Hairy's; nor did I ask—deemed it at last time to go.

We'd been sitting there staring at the walls for hours. Well, I had been, anyhow, in between silently trying to reassure Susan, who was worried sick. Cesar had spent that time staring mostly at me, his gun always in plain view. Even if he hadn't, I still was in no position to try anything at all; Ratty and Hairy were right there. They never sat down the whole time, never spoke either to each other or me, and their posture resonated of latent menace. Cesar could have dozed right off and I'd still have been stuck.

Our order of proceeding was described clearly by Cesar. He would accompany me, one hand (with the gun) in his pocket and the other firmly attached to my elbow, while Ratty and Hairy would bring up the rear close behind. I was warned that any effort by me to disengage, or to signal to others, or to do just about anything at all except exactly what I was told, would bring immediate retaliation in the form of a bullet through his jacket.

"People will not notice the origin of the shot, not immediately," he said. "Rather, they will focus on the one who was shot, which will be you. I will bend over your fallen body solicitously and will administer the coup de grace as I do so. Then, while all hover around you in confusion and uncertainty, I and my associates will quietly vanish. I hope you understand."

I did. I wasn't getting out of this easily.

We took their car, a new-model sedan. Ratty drove, Hairy sat in the front seat glaring back at me, and Cesar and I had the back. The doors were locked; no jumping out at a stop light or even while we were driving, not unless I fumbled first with the lock—and Cesar's gun, which remained in his pocket, was still there. So, probably, was Hairy's, and even Ratty could probably spare enough attention to shoot me; in the hotel room they'd both shown me guns similar to Cesar's at his direction.

About halfway there I cleared my throat ostentatiously; I needed to clue them in about the entry procedures into the building. Well, some of them, anyhow.

"Look, when we get there, I need to tell you, there's going to be a guard at the front. It's OK," I added hastily, "I'll tell him I'm taking some friends to see where I work. It's just routine security, and he'll pass us right through."

Cesar gave me a hard look. "You understand that the same measures apply as in the hotel," he said coldly—urbane had pretty well gone out the window by now. "Any effort by you to enlist this guard's help will be met with the same outcome as there. Remember that there are three of us."

"I know," I said, my heart sinking a little further. My nerves were seriously on edge, and the closer we got the more sure I was that I wasn't going to make it through the next fifteen minutes. But to have any chance at all I needed to keep up the facade. "I'm not going to jeopardize anything now, man," I went on. "I just want to give you that flash drive and get back to living again like you promised."

"Mm," he said ambiguously. I could take it as encouragement if I wanted, I supposed, but I knew that by now he didn't give much of a shit how I took it. In his eyes I was already as good as dead.

Susan was still talking in my head, proposing wild ideas of my suddenly backhanding Cesar, unlocking the door and jumping out of the car. I shushed her firmly. My plan offered at least some chance; with Hairy looking back at me from the front seat and Cesar coiled like a rattlesnake beside me, hers would be as close to suicide as I could get without actually pulling the trigger myself.

We pulled into the office parking lot, which was predictably empty. Nights when we had a blitz on it would have been half full and the building lighted up like a Christmas tree. Tonight the windows were dark. The cleaning crew had other buildings to cover and wouldn't show up until about 2:00 a.m. or so—Cesar had asked me specifically about that—and only the lobby was lit, and even that minimally.

As directed, I waited for Hairy to open the car door for me. He was covering me as I exited, his gun barrel prominent in his jacket pocket as Cesar's never was. It figured that the boss would be cooler about how he carried. Cesar slid across the seat to join me, and Hairy's gun retreated now that he was no longer lead. We went in the same way we'd left the hotel.

It was showtime.

"Evening, Fred," I said easily to the guard as I kept walking briskly. "These are some friends who wanted to see where I worked, OK?" Then on impulse I made a small amendment to my plan. "Oh, today's password is feinde-feuerzeug, OK?" And I kept right on walking.

Cesar and his pals suddenly didn't. There were a few things about getting in that I hadn't shared with them.

To enter our building you had to pass through a metal detector. It was the only way in, the rest of the entrance was blocked off by glass walls and a glass exit door that worked only on the way out.