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Page 12
‘What is it?’
Jayne looked past the others to Steelie, her eyes wide, the porch light casting a hazy glow across her face. She spoke through clenched teeth.
‘They’re not here.’
The landing was clean. No pots, no soil, no wire.
THIRTEEN
Scott could feel Jayne start to tremble and knew she wouldn’t be aware that she was trying to back down the stairs even though he was right behind her. As nice as it was to have her moving against him, he would enjoy it more if she intended to do it. He could only see the back of her head, but with his hand firmly on her waist he knew he was reading her right. She was experiencing a fear made more intense because it was brought on by the absence of something.
He slid a hand over hers and moved it to the railing, forcing her fingers to curl around it by using pressure from his own. Then he twisted around to Eric and gestured upwards with his head. Eric nodded and squeezed past them to reach the landing.
Scott then looked at Steelie and saw that her usual wry-tough expression was gone, replaced with something taut and far away, like she was speed-thinking through a million topics. He knew he had to get her to lock down on something. ‘Steelie.’ He watched her focus on him. ‘Keep an eye on her, OK?’
When she spoke, her voice had its usual clip. ‘No intention of doing otherwise.’ She came up the stairs as he let go of Jayne’s hand. Then he stepped on to the landing.
Eric was crouched in front of the door with a flashlight. He ran a gloved finger across the wood siding on the wall just above the floor of the landing and then stopped. Holding his finger in place, he passed the flashlight to Scott who kept it steady on his partner’s hand while Eric selected a tiny metal tool with a curved end from the open toolkit beside him. He dug at the wall gently and a plug of material softer than wood but well camouflaged against the siding came away on the tool and left a small hole.
He glanced up at Scott, who returned the flashlight and turned to Jayne, who was still gripping the handrail. She was looking at the doorway, brows knitted and chewing her bottom lip. Scott wanted to make her stop and kissing her would have been his preferred method.
‘When were you last here?’
Steelie spoke when Jayne didn’t respond. ‘Yesterday. She stayed at my place last night.’
‘Can we open your door?’ He was still directing the questions to Jayne.
She was watching Eric thread a wire into the hole he’d exposed. She nodded.
‘Just need your keys,’ said Scott.
She spoke without taking her eyes off of Eric. ‘Don’t know where they are.’
‘I think they’re in your hand.’
She looked at him then and he saw confusion and fatigue in her eyes. Steelie was the one who took the keys from her and passed them over. Scott unlocked the front door. He opened it but didn’t go in. Instead, he waited for Eric to continue threading his wire through the hole on the outside. When Eric depressed a switch at the other end of the wire, light glowed weakly from under the metal bar over the threshold. After a bit more threading, the wire and its bright headlamp came out through a hole where one of the screws on the threshold plate should have been, but wasn’t.
Eric spoke softly to Scott. ‘No doubt there was something here. Probably audio, though it’s the right size for a fiberscope video package. Whoever set it up has done a nice clean-up job.’
He began pulling out the wire. ‘I don’t think we’ll find anything in here but let’s sweep the place.’
Eric looked back at Steelie and Jayne. ‘We’re going to check the place for bugs and then you should come in and see if anything’s missing or out of place.’
When they entered the apartment, Scott was acutely aware that this was a step beyond the peculiar closeness he and Jayne had maintained over the years. Turning on the lights revealed a large room that seemed like two rooms due to the placement of the living room furniture; two yellow sofas made an L under a beam bisecting the ceiling. Narrow tables backed both sides of the L and were laden with large lamps and neat stacks of Architectural Digest.
When he turned from checking the lock on the sliding glass door to the deck, he pictured Jayne sitting on the sofa, her feet on the glass coffee table, looking at the corner fireplace. Then he realized with a start that the image had turned into one of him lying intertwined with her on that sofa. He tried to get back to the task at hand. Eric was continuing methodically with the bug detection unit, now passing it behind bookshelves and a pine TV cabinet. So far, the unit wasn’t raising any red flags.
Scott crossed the full length of the room, past the glass dining table and the front door where Jayne and Steelie were hovering, and stepped into the kitchen. He checked all the locks on the windows. Nothing had been forced or tampered with so he moved on to the bedroom, knowing Eric would follow him with the detection unit.
Scott was surprised by the femininity of the bedroom compared to the rest of the place. A blanket was draped at the foot of a large bed and numerous pillows of different shapes were ranged at the head under a sizeable window. He went directly to the window to check its lock and had to navigate a complicated set of semitransparent curtains running on different tracks. Leaning in, he jogged the bedside table and looked down to make sure he hadn’t knocked anything to the floor. Along with a small stereo unit, three books-on-tape, and a slim silver pen, there was a pad of paper whose top sheet looked like a list.
He registered a few words and then stooped to take a closer look.
Kigali. Blocked road.
Genocide starting. Ripping shoulder joints.
Driving but no rides. Child with fever.
Embassy. Knowledge of ignorance.
He started to re-read it, hoping it wasn’t what he thought it was and then he heard someone step into the room, their tread soft on the carpet. He turned quickly to see Jayne in the doorway, looking more like herself, if somewhat pale.
‘I was just . . .’ He couldn’t explain why he was reading her private notes.
She walked toward him and looked down at the paper. ‘It was just a dream.’ She flipped the pad over so its cardboard back was uppermost.
He was looking at the top of her down-turned head. ‘You’re dreaming about road blocks in Kigali.’ He couldn’t make it a question.
‘Yep.’ She met his eyes and he was surprised to see a defiant look. He was even more surprised when she jabbed an index finger toward his chest and hissed, ‘And don’t you dare judge me.’ She turned and began walking away.
He couldn’t believe she thought he didn’t know what this dream was about. ‘Jayne, wait.’
She stopped by the door but didn’t turn around.
He continued, ‘I know what the books-on-tape are for.’
She turned toward him but spoke warily. ‘They’re entertainment.’
‘No, they’re not.’ His tone was harsher than he’d meant it to be but he was trying to hold her there with his voice, desperate to stop her from putting up more defenses. He could practically see her throwing up the scaffolding, so he talked, fast. ‘You have them so that when you wake up from a nightmare so real you think you’re there, you can hit “Play” and know that you’re here. Here; not there. And maybe you feel guilty about that.’
He tried to read her expression. He couldn’t be using the right words. She looked stricken. He closed his eyes, mustering all his energy to say the most important thing, the thing he should have said first. ‘You know what, Jayne Hall? You’re not the only one who sometimes needs a reality check to get through the night.’
Saying that out loud made him feel like he’d eaten something bitter and he swallowed before opening his eyes, hoping to see understanding on her face this time. But she wasn’t there and he didn’t know when she’d left. He felt rooted to the spot.
Eric stepped through the doorway. ‘I just told Jayne we’re clear in the other rooms, including the bathroom. So I’ll check this one, then we’ll do the outside.’ He frowned a
t Scott. ‘Everything all right, man? You weren’t shouting at her, were you?’
‘No.’
‘OK, maybe not shouting, but that thing you do that sounds like shouting to everyone else.’ Eric started to sweep the bug detection unit around the walls and closets but he kept an eye on Scott, who sat down on the edge of the bed.
‘OK, maybe my voice was raised.’
Eric stopped in mid-sweep and looked him over.
Now Scott felt defensive. ‘I just don’t want to be misunderstood on any of the stuff that matters.’
Eric turned back to the sweeping. ‘Houston, I have never known you to care what other people think about you.’
‘Yeah. Well, I care what Jayne thinks about me.’
Eric came to the end of his circuit around the room and rested a hand on his shoulder. ‘My friend, you will be lucky if that woman thinks about you, at all. Ever.’
Scott knew exactly what Eric was doing and it had worked: he wanted to punch him. His blood was flowing again, the bitter taste gone.
He exchanged an amused look with his partner and said, ‘Get your hand off my shoulder.’
Steelie stood next to Jayne in the front doorway, watching Scott and Eric’s flashlight beams moving around the garden as they checked the exterior of Jayne’s apartment. They came closer to the building and then went under the stairs that led to the front door. Jayne turned back inside and dropped on to the sofa. Then she kicked off her shoes and turned to lie down.
Steelie came to perch on the arm of the sofa. She tried to see Jayne’s expression but her hair was obscuring her face. Steelie pushed it back from her forehead and noticed Jayne’s freckles were standing out. Usually they were almost invisible against her skin but she was decidedly pale this evening. Steelie pulled up her shirtsleeve and pressed the inside of her wrist to her friend’s forehead. ‘You’re warm. How do you feel?’
‘Kind of cold.’
‘Hm. I think you need a hot shower and a hot drink.’
‘My shower’s probably bugged.’
‘They said the place is clean.’
‘Feels dirty.’
Steelie recognized the stubborn tone and got up. She went to the kitchen, put on the electric kettle, and started rummaging in the cupboard that held tea and coffee. She pulled a few things out and straightened up just as Scott and Eric walked in through the front door. Eric was using a surgical glove to hold a small box. He came over to the kitchen while Scott walked to the living room and sat on the sofa next to Jayne.
Eric put the item on the counter, resting it on another glove.
‘What is that?’ Steelie was curious.
‘A radio frequency transmitter. It’s a type of wiretap.’ He was keeping his voice low.
‘Where was it? I mean, is it something to do with Jayne?’
He nodded. ‘It was on the exterior part of her phone line.’
‘Jesus. But who . . .’
He shrugged and looked over to the living room. Steelie followed his gaze and saw that Jayne had sat up. She was shaking her head, as though responding in the negative to something Scott was saying.
Eric said, ‘He’ll be asking her some questions about her phone before we say anything about the tap. Listen, you said she stayed with you last night? Can you keep her over there for a couple more days?’
The kettle’s on/off switch popped up and Steelie turned to pick it up. ‘Yeah, I can, but she’s already complaining about the sofa bed.’ She emptied packets of powder into four mugs, then poured water over them. She pulled out a drawer to find a small whisk, which she used to vigorously stir the drinks.
She pushed a mug toward him and indicated the wiretap. ‘How serious is this?’
‘I don’t know but we’re in “better safe than sorry” territory.’ He took a sip of the steaming, frothy drink. ‘What the hell is this?’
‘Matcha au lait.’
He just raised his eyebrows, apparently expecting further explanation.
‘Instant green tea with milk. Chinese,’ Steelie said.
‘Got anything stronger?’
‘Jayne doesn’t drink so, no, we don’t got anything stronger.’
She took a sip from her own mug and made exaggerated noises of satisfaction. ‘Think Scott’ll dig it?’
‘I think you’ll be lucky if he put the safety back on his gun. That’ll buy you some time to get away.’
They carried the drinks to the living room, leaving the transmitter on the counter. Jayne looked like she’d been in a wind tunnel, hair pushed this way and that, her eyes watery. One of Scott’s sleeves was rolled up, the other down, and he looked like he’d come in contact with some dust. Same wind tunnel, Steelie thought.
‘So, what’s your professional opinion?’ Steelie asked.
Eric put his mug down. ‘We clearly found a place where a wire could have been inserted into the floor of the apartment. That’s not to say a wire was inserted there, but I gotta say that the location makes it likely. It’s common practice to install a listening or video device in a threshold segment because it can be easy to access without entering the premises.’
Jayne covered her face with both hands.
Scott compressed his lips and shook his head at Eric, who got the message and rushed on. ‘As I said, this is only an indication. There may never have been any device. But the reason I mentioned video is that we found a tap on the phone line—’
Jayne splayed her fingers so she could see Eric with one eye.
He spread his hands. ‘All I’m saying is that whoever put on the tap could already hear you. No need for another audio bug in the threshold, which just leaves video.’
‘Sounds like Big Brother to me,’ Steelie said, crossing her arms. ‘How do we know it’s not some other arm of your office that put this in?’
Scott sounded impatient. ‘Why, because that racketeering thing Jayne’s been developing has finally taken off?’ He shook his head. ‘Look, this stuff wasn’t Government and it wasn’t sophisticated. The person who did it had some knowledge but no experience.’ He turned to Jayne. ‘Do you use your landline for work-related calls?’
She dropped her hands but looked unhappy. ‘No. I mean, occasionally Steelie and I might mention something while on the phone.’
‘How many people have the number? Are you listed?’
‘I’m listed. Last name, first initial.’ She paused. ‘What are you getting at?’
‘Well, one interpretation of what we’ve found is that the person who planted this stuff may know you but not well enough to get invited in. Doesn’t stop him from wanting to get closer to you and maybe he doesn’t mean any harm. You’d probably never even notice the guy. And he’d have to be nearby to pick up the low signal this transmitter would’ve given out. Who lives downstairs?’
Jayne answered. ‘Alex, but you’re not seriously suggesting—’
‘How well do you know him?’
‘Like, Hi/Bye.’
‘What does he do? Do you know?’
Jayne stood up and went to look out the sliding door. ‘Something to do with computers . . .’
Scott and Eric exchanged a glance.
Steelie noticed it. ‘This is crazy!’
Eric put his hands out in a calming gesture. ‘You won’t know what it is until you get more information. And until you do, Jayne, you might want to stay somewhere else.’ He twisted to look at her. ‘Your place is fine; we’ve checked everything and disabled the tap outside but that could also draw him back, to see why his transmitter’s not transmitting. And you should have what we found tonight evaluated by professionals.’
He faced Steelie again. ‘Get the Agency premises checked, including your phones, in case this isn’t just a Peeping Tom.’ He pulled his BlackBerry from a shirt pocket. ‘I’ll give you some names of people. Reputable sweeping companies, ex-Bureau guys. Tell ’em we told you to call.’
Steelie eyed him. ‘What, so they’ll charge us double?’
Jayne opened the slidin
g door and stepped on to the deck. Her table looked bereft without its white cloth. The tea light holders’ glassy surfaces were dulled by dried wax drips. She walked to the railing and looked down into the driveway. Her neighbor’s car wasn’t parked in its spot. She was trying to recall what kind of car he drove – a white Subaru, she thought – when she realized that Scott had joined her.
He said, ‘Steelie thinks you should go to your mother’s until you know what’s going on.’
She looked at him in exasperation. ‘But why can’t I just go to Steelie’s?’
‘Because she’ll be at your mother’s.’
She saw his mouth twitch and she smiled reflexively. The movement broke the surface tension that had kept her face taut since she’d hissed at him in the bedroom.
And then he was walking away from her, moving on, pushing through, going forward.
DAYS FIVE AND SIX
Saturday and Sunday
FOURTEEN
Scott caught the mayonnaise just in time as it squirted out the bottom of the sandwich. He looked to see how his partner was doing. Eric had the Suburban’s steering wheel in one hand and his sandwich in the other. On his first bite, barbeque sauce dripped out in a fat droplet. Part landed on his pant leg and part on the fabric seat, but, to his credit, the vehicle’s speed remained steady as it hurtled east along Interstate 10 towards Arizona.
‘Shit,’ Eric mumbled while he chewed, then noticed Scott. ‘What’s so funny? Turner’s not going to be laughing when you bring his vehicle back looking like a minivan after a trip to Disneyland.’
‘I got the impression from Turner that he couldn’t care less if we brought it back at all, so long as we secured a suspect.’
He leaned across and balanced a paper napkin on Eric’s thigh. ‘I’m not wiping it up, even if you ask me nice.’ But he forgot to keep an eye on his own food and mayo got on his shirt. ‘Dammit.’