Prey for Us

by Geoffrey Neil

  “Where will you get supplies?”

  “Hold on, I wrote it down…” Morana turned the laptop toward her and typed quietly, Googling hardware stores. “I’m going to… Perry’s Hardware on 17th Street,” she said.

  “Be sure the copper wire is at least 20-gauge—do you really plan to attempt this?”

  “Absolutely. It fascinates me. By the way, can you recommend a battery size for magnetizing six half-inch bolts?”

  There was no reply.

  “Thane?” Morana said.

  “Maybe I have extra supplies. Why don’t I help?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t impose…”

  “We’re meeting anyway, so why not?”

  “But that isn’t until tomorrow. I’m so excited about this I had planned to try it right away.”

  “If you can wait, I’ll give you a demonstration using better hardware than you can purchase.”

  “Sounds wonderful. It’s a date!” Morana said. “What time should I arrive?”

  “Seven o’clock.”

  “Can I bring any supplies?”

  “No, don’t. And knock first,” Thane said.

  “I promise. See you then.”

  Morana drove to a local coffee shop with Clay’s laptop and connected to the wireless network before opening her Tor browser. She spent the next hour doing additional research on Edward Leedskalnin’s experiments and writings. She studied his life, interests, and reviewed more of his experiments that had been re-created by fans on YouTube.

  When she drove back to Clay’s street, she heard a news report about the nation’s search for her and an increase of her reward to $1.25 million. She pulled to the side of the road a safe distance from Clay’s apartment building and waited a few minutes, watching for anything suspicious.

  She took out her phone and reviewed a photograph she had taken of the street in front of the apartment building before she had left earlier. Most of the cars were still in position, except for a red Camry that had tinted windows and was parked almost directly across from the walkway to the building. She would have paid little attention to it, except that the tinted driver’s window was open a couple of inches and someone inside flicked out a cigarette. Anyone waiting in a parked car within a hundred feet of anywhere she went was suspect. She made a U-turn and drove away, confirming in her rearview mirror that the car didn’t follow her. To wait out the threat, she worked with a pocket mirror to fine-tune her disguise and then went shopping to purchase several items for her meeting with Thane.

  By the time she returned to Clay’s place, it was almost dark. Although the Camry was gone, she still parked a block away from the apartment building. She climbed from the driver’s seat to the passenger seat and exited the car.

  Instead of taking the front sidewalk to Clay’s apartment, she walked along the edge of the building to the back where a laundry room opened directly into the apartment’s courtyard. This allowed her to get to Clay’s staircase from a rear walkway not visible from the street.

  She pulled a pistol, keeping it hidden, then unlocked the front door. After checking to see if any neighbors were watching, she stepped inside and raised the gun, clearing each room of the apartment.

  There’s no way Clay would send the authorities to Thane’s house. He would know that a raid on Thane’s property would virtually throw away the key to ever learn Thane’s mysteries and Morana was confident that Clay knew that.

  Turning her in from the privacy of his own apartment was a different story. She went to the front window and peered through a crack in the blinds. The red Camry had returned, parked in perfect camera position. If somebody was in the car, their position to view Clay’s apartment was perfect. Her paranoia grew.

  She knew that the guns hidden in the hollowed-out books couldn’t be the only guns Clay had, so she ran to the bedroom and scoured it, lifting all the floor rugs and moving pictures, searching for hidden compartments. She flung his bed linens back and knelt, drawing her hand along the edge of the mattress. She felt a roughly sewn flap on the side of the box spring mattress. She pulled it open and pulled out a metal box. She opened it, revealing a foam lined case that contained four more handguns—one with a suppressor. On the opposite side of the mattress, she reached into another slit and pulled out box after box of ammunition. She emptied a large duffel bag that lay in the corner of the room, full of tour brochures and loaded the weapons and ammunition into it.

  She went to Clay’s office and rifled through his desk drawers, finding a couple of credit cards and some cash that she pocketed. If her hunch was wrong, and Clay had been forthright with her, she’d see to it that this loan was repaid in full—with interest. If he had betrayed her, the money would be the smallest portion of his repayment to her.

  As she slung the duffle bag over her shoulder and stepped into the hallway, a shadow passed by the front window on the walkway out front. The figure slowed near Clay’s door and then continued. She quietly moved back into the bedroom. She set the duffle bag on the floor, pulled the pistol, and took a position in the hallway with a clear view of the front door. If an ambush was imminent, she’d make them sorry. While she waited, something caught her eye. An electrical socket in the wall beside her had unusually large screws. She squatted for a closer look and noticed that the top screw wasn’t a screw it all, it was a lens.

  After waiting a few more minutes, she carefully moved through the apartment’s front room. A cabinet knob in the television console was off-color. She pulled it open. The glass knob was connected to a small camera on the inside. “Bastard,” she said.

  She held her gun in the ready position and crept back to the hallway, keeping her gun aimed at the front door. She sidestepped into the bathroom and found small cameras behind the mirror of the medicine cabinet, inside of the tissue box aimed toward the toilet, and in the shower head.

  She backed into the bedroom and pulled the sheets from the bed. Clay’s land line rang. Caller ID showed his L.A. phone number.

  She slung the duffle over her shoulder and answered. “I’m only answering your call to tell you that I’m about to entertain your guests, and I’m not feeling hospitable.”

  “What are you talking about?” Clay said. “I just landed in LA, and I’m calling to check on you.”

  Morana turned off the bedroom light and opened the sliding balcony door. “Aren’t you watching? I found the cameras, Clay.”

  “Mo, tell me what’s going on?”

  “I gotta go.” She hung up and placed the heavy duffel bag outside on the balcony and then tied the bedsheets together. She connected one end to the balcony railing.

  Someone pounded on Clay’s front door. She tucked the gun into her jeans, slung the duffel over her shoulder and rappelled from the balcony.

  As she neared ground-level, a voice said, “Hey, what are you doing?” Clay’s downstairs neighbor had come out onto her patio.

  “Fire drill,” Morana said as her feet touched down. She ran to the back of the property and disappeared into the darkness.

  Chapter 7

  MORANA TOTED HER heavy bag for a mile and a half to the outskirts of the suburb until she found a highway overpass. Scattered on the ground below were plastic cups, dirty towels, syringes. Today the area was vacant, so she decided to stay here for the night, making herself as comfortable as possible. She laid down after pulling a pistol from her new cache of weapons. Although the ground wasn’t comfortable, she was tired, and the temperature was comfortable. Soon, she fell asleep.

  The next morning, she was up before dawn, using her burner phone to search for a used car. She found some local listings. One of them was a private party that was selling a used 1999 Ford Expedition with nearly 200,000 miles on it. The ad offered it at $1500. Morana took a bus to within a few blocks of the seller’s address, walking the remainder of the way. After a brief negotiation, the seller agreed to her offer of $985 cash.

  Her first stop in her new ride was at a restaurant she
staked out at a distance for an hour before driving into the parking lot. This was ideal because the restroom doors were no more than three steps from the side entrance.

  She entered, washed up and changed clothes before making a couple of other brief stops in preparation for her meeting with Thane. The first was at Better Safe Spy Shop, located in the back of an industrial center. She browsed through their wide selection of security, surveillance, and counter-surveillance equipment, eventually paying cash for some bug detectors, an ambient sound amplifier and a battery-powered micro-video recorder easily modifiable to fit into almost any small device.

  She found some high-resolution photos of Ed Leedskalnin with her phone, setting up an online order for a large poster of one of them from a local copy shop.

  While waiting for the shop to process the poster, she used the password information Clay had obtained to log into Everett Paige’s email. Scrolling his Inbox, she saw email messages from his broker to confirm stock trades, a few real estate marketing, and messages from his assistant. One message, from his wife, caught her eye.

  Honey,

  Ashwell Interiors will stop by to measure our lounge next week. They want to take measurements for the new floor while we settle on a hardwood. Tell me which of the attached samples you like.

  XO

  Morana saved a screenshot of the message on her phone and then made a couple more shopping stops to update her wardrobe with clothing and makeup for disguises. After purchasing a burger at a drive-thru, she headed to Thane’s place.

  Her phone rang. The caller ID read Sykes.

  “Thane?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “We need to reschedule.”

  Morana clapped her hand to her forehead. “Oh, no, what happened?”

  “I don’t have much time to talk. There’s something I have to do. Maybe you could come at 8 o’clock instead of 7 o’clock.”

  Morana sighed with relief. “Yes, I can do that. Are you okay? You sound stressed.”

  “No, it’s fine. I think I can finish by 8 o’clock.”

  “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’ll call you when I get there. If you don’t answer, I will wait in my car until you return, okay?”

  “Yes, that’s good. And don’t park in the driveway.”

  “I promise, I won’t. Is anything wrong?”

  “I have to go.”

  “Thane? Thane?”

  The line was dead.

  †

  When Morana turned onto Thane’s street a half hour early, she parked a couple of blocks away and waited until 8:01 PM before dialing Thane’s number.

  Thane answered, saying, “I’m ready. Where are you?”

  “Great, I’m turning onto your street. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

  “Don’t let yourself in. Be sure to knock so I can open the door for you.”

  “Of course.”

  Morana got out of her Explorer wearing a crimson blouse, black leggings, and a black leather shoulder bag. She pulled a gift bag, and a long cardboard cutout from the back seat and made her way to Thane’s driveway. She passed through the honeysuckle foliage hanging from the pergola and emerged to the rear of the property. She listened for sounds coming from the garage as she passed by Thane’s truck to the entry door but heard only crickets.

  She leaned the cutout against the side of the garage, then came to the entry door and knocked, concealing the gift bag behind her. Unlike her first visit with Clay, Thane answered the door immediately. He wore the same khaki pants and dark green shirt she remembered from her first visit. His afro was combed out and perfectly shaped. He panted, wearing a taut expression.

  “Hi there, Mr. Sykes,” Morana said. She tilted her head and smiled.

  Something moved near her feet, startling her. Gus darted out the open door. He ran to the corner of the yard and leaped to the top of the wooden fence.

  “Hi,” Thane said. While catching his breath, he looked up and down at her, taking in her outfit, avoiding eye contact.

  “Is everything okay?” Morana asked.

  “Why?” Thane said, looking past her to the house.

  “You seem a little frazzled, that’s all.” Morana looked over her shoulder as well. The house lights were off.

  “No, I’m fine.” Thane wiped his forehead on his sleeve. He leaned slightly, trying to see what Morana held behind her back.

  She brought the bag to her front and held it out to him. “I brought gifts for you.”

  Thane pushed his glasses higher onto his nose and slowly took the bags. “Why would you get me gifts?”

  “Uh…” Morana tapped her cheek and looked up smirking. “Because I wanted to.”

  Thane pushed the door wider for her and stepped back inside the garage.

  When she entered, stepping onto the black area rug with golden embroidered locks, Thane closed the door behind her and locked it. He looked down into the bag. “Can I open it now?” he asked.

  “I would love for you to!” Morana clasped her hands.

  “Over here.” Thane walked to the work block on the opposite side of his shop. Before following him, Morana said, “I’m leaving my phone here.” She dropped her phone into the bowl by the door.

  “Thank you,” Thane said, still examining the gifts as he set them on his work block.

  Morana saw a wooden armchair a few feet from her with a windbreaker draped over its back. On the seat was a neat stack of magazines, and a spool of packing tape. She remembered seeing these items on their first visit, and they had remained untouched.

  She pulled a small black clutch from her bag, and while Thane removed a gift from the bag a short distance away, she subtly tucked the clutch on the stack of magazines, aiming its torn seam toward Thane’s work area. Inside the seam, she had inserted the micro-video camera’s lens, concealed in the bottom of a lipstick dial.

  She crossed the shop to join Thane and reverently approached the work block to stand on the opposite side, facing him.

  Thane examined a plain brown box from the gift bag. He held it up high for a better view.

  “Go ahead!” Morana said. “Open it!”

  Thane opened the box flap and pulled out a large brown plastic key the size of a lunchbox tucked in packing shreds. He looked at it, puzzled, examining each side for a clue as to its function. He knocked on it. The plastic sounded hollow. “What is this supposed to be?”

  “May I come around and show you?”

  “Sure,” Thane said, frowning at the key.

  Morana came to him, and when he looked up at her face, she stepped back to lessen the conspicuousness of her six-inch height advantage.

  “There’s one more piece to this gift,” she said, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a tiny door, the size of a cigarette lighter, and handed it to him. “Instead of a key opening a door, this is a door opening a key.”

  Thane slipped the small door into the slot of the key container and opened it, revealing hundreds of paper cutouts of doors of every style. Thane grinned as he shook them out onto the work block. He pawed through them, removing a few to rotate and move them to a row.

  “What is its purpose?” Thane asked, tapping the key container.

  “Fun. It’s just a novelty. I noticed your amazing decorative doors and keys.” Morana pointed to the workshop’s walls. “So, when I saw this key container, I knew you should own it.”

  “That was kind. Thank you,” he said, gathering the cutouts together. He took them to a drawer, then returned to the block. He took the large plastic key to a nearby wall and placed it on a shelf inside a cabinet there. “Ready to begin the experiment?” he asked, coming back to her.

  “Not yet—there’s one more thing…”

  Thane looked at her suspiciously.

  “Wait there,” Morana said. She exited the garage and returned moments later carrying the cardboard piece she had leaned against the side wall. She
brought it to Thane, keeping the face of the display hidden.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Morana put her hand on her chest. “I don’t know what you’ll think of this, so my heart is beating so fast right now.” She rotated it for him to see, revealing a full-scale cutout of Ed Leedskalnin.

  Thane’s eyes widened, and he beamed. “Where did you get this?”

  “I made it for you.” She unfolded a piece of cardboard at the bottom so that it could stand up on its own.

  While Thane marveled at the cutout, Morana pulled a deflated plastic ball from her bag. She blew it up to the size of a small melon, revealing a model wrapped in a high definition photograph of the earth, complete with its bright blue oceans, cloud cover, and land. She connected it to the Leedskalnin cutout’s upraised hand and steadied it. “Do you like it?” She clasped her hands under her chin and held her breath.

  He stepped closer. The cutout was within an inch of Thane’s height. He smiled, reached out and touched Master Leedskalnin’s shoulder. “This is remarkable.”

  Morana exhaled. “Whew! I hoped you would like it,” she said. “Where should we put it?”

  Thane reverently picked it up and carried it to the corner of the shop where stood upright facing his work block. He stepped back and rested his chin on his hand, smiling. “Thank you for this,” he said quietly.

  Morana came to him. “You’re welcome. I didn’t have Master Leedskalnin’s name put on it because I wanted to keep this private. The printer asked me who the man was. I didn’t tell him.”

  “People don’t realize what a great man he was,” Thane replied, stepping away to examine the model from a different angle. “If anyone asks you again, please share his name.”

  “I thought you wouldn’t want that.”

  “Master Leedskalnin kept his methods private. He freely shared his results. He shouldn’t be a secret.”

  “I understand,” Morana said. “But, for now, consider this a private gift between you and me.”

  “Thank you,” Thane opened a cabinet and raised to his toes to reach a key that hung with several others from a nail inside. He pulled it off and tore a piece of clear tape from the dispenser below. He pressed the key to the hand of Ed Leedskalnin, adjusting the angle, so it looked natural and then taped it there.