But I suppose one's own life always seems more complicated than other people's.
Finally the machine pinged. I had a message. I opened it. It said:
Ward, it's Carl Unger.
Bobby's dead? What the FUCK?
I've come across something strange and it's ringing a bell with a matter Bobby called me about a year back. He mentioned your name in connection with it. It's important. Call me now.
202 555 9733
C
I read the message twice, sat back to think. I didn't remember the name, but that didn't prove anything. It had been a few years since I worked for the CIA and it's not like they send newsletters saying who got married and how the softball team's holding up. I'm also not great with names. To me they always seem tangential to the person, like a favourite jacket they just happen to wear a lot. The email implied I had known this guy. But it could be I'd known him at one remove: the text suggested he'd known Bobby better, and the third sentence was particularly convincing in this regard. Bobby Nygard had been a tough bastard. I too found it hard to believe he was dead, and I'd been there the night it happened.
I checked Bobby's email address book. He had no listing for anyone called Unger. Proved nothing—I wasn't in there either. Bobby was a surveillance professional, specializing in computers and the internet. Who knew what weird ways he had of obfuscating his life? I could find no emails from Unger prior to the recent attempts—either from this address, or from someone of the same name from a different one. A more official-sounding .gov domain, for example. That didn't prove much either. Bobby evidently archived and purged his mail on a regular basis. The earliest here was dated less than a month before the point where our lives had re-entangled: less than a week later, he'd been dead.
I knew Bobby had called some people in those last few days, trying to chase down leads he and I had uncovered. It was certainly possible that Unger was one of these contacts. Was I ready to take that risk? And for what? If you kept re-reading the email, and had an optimistic heart, you could maybe believe this Unger guy might have information that would be of use to me. You could believe otherwise, too. 'Optimist' is not something I have printed on my business card.
'Tell me, Bobby,' I said. 'Is this guy for real?' There was no reply. I'd tried asking him questions before, and he'd never once come back to me. Contrary fucker. He'd been full of advice while he was alive.
I opened the email again and transcribed the phone number into my cell phone. I wasn't going to call Unger. Not yet. First I would ask Nina what she thought. If our lives were connected, which I hoped they were, then she had a say.
•••
I woke to the sound of thumping. Someone was banging on the room door, hard. For a bad, fuzzy moment, something made me think it was Paul, that he'd somehow tracked us down in Virginia. Then I realized he wouldn't knock, however vigorously.
I sat up, back tweaking from the chair. The room was dark but for a parking lot glow through the curtains. I looked across at the bed but Nina wasn't there. Clock said it was just after 11 p.m. Felt a lot later. Like the day after next.
I groggily got to my feet and saw that the door to the bathroom was shut. Slash of light underneath it. I went and stood outside.
'Nina?'
'I'll just be a minute. Who's at the door?'
'Room service with attitude.'
'You ordered this late?'
'No,' I said. 'Joke. Never mind.'
Bang bang bang on the door again. I lurched over, squinted through the security thing. Remembered too late all the movies I'd seen where somebody gets shot in the eye that way. Luckily I recognized the face on the other side, fish-eyed though it was.
'Monroe,' I said, trying to sharpen up. 'And he doesn't look like he's going to go away.'
'Christ. Let him in.'
I yanked the door open, caught the agent about to hammer once more.
'We heard,' I said.
He pushed straight past. 'What are you doing here?' he muttered, though he didn't look very surprised.
'I come free with the deluxe suites,' I said. 'Look under your bed, there's one of me in your room too.'
'Fuck with this investigation and I'll have you arrested.'
'Duly-noted.'
Nina came out of the bathroom. I'd assumed she was showering or something, but she was still dressed. She looked a lot more together than I felt. She always does.
'What's up?' she said. 'We get a hit in one of the bars?'
Monroe grabbed Nina's coat off the bed and handed it to her.
'It's a little bigger than that. Somebody else just turned up dead.'
Chapter 8
It was only a little after eight and the party was happening. It was going on. It was tight and happy and just swinging into the end of the beginning, kind of the best part. There were oldsters due home but on past form the Luchses were mellow hosts. They'd stroll out back, stand around being hearty for fifteen minutes and then retreat to the master suite with the curtains drawn. So long as nothing caught fire, they were cool. Meanwhile the pool was full of hooting boys and laughing girls, and people were dancing to some guy who was mixing songs off his iPod and out through a speaker system over by the keg. That could be a real pain in the ass, some tune-junky levering his taste in people's ears, but this guy had a cool Nu Indie/Alt. Country vibe going on and Brad wished him nothing but the best.
Brad was in a lounger under the big old tree in the centre of the main lawn, and he was feeling fine all round. There had been a sticky moment when the chick from a few nights before had seen Brad and Karen together and looked like she might want to make something of it, but she'd evidently got hold of some powder in the meantime and was already way too cheerful to care. Karen was currently standing by the pool chatting to some friends Brad didn't know. She had talked to her mom and it had been determined that if she really wanted her nose done they would pay for it, not least so they could influence which surgeon she went to: most of Mrs Luchs' pals were bionic one way or another and she had sound intelligence on the subject—though curiously she'd never gone under the knife herself. When Karen first mentioned their offer Brad felt a brief flicker of regret, as if something had been taken from him. Within two seconds he realized it was responsibility and a significant expense, both of which he could live without. Though, Lee having kicked a big chunk of the drug windfall back to the crew, Brad's finances were actually significantly rosier than usual. He was more or less back to zero again now, naturally, but he was wearing new Zpatuula shorts, Penguin shirt and CK briefs, and there was an extra foot of CDs and console games on the shelf at home. He'd bought himself an iMac for…some purpose or other, it would probably come in handy and the store had been, like, right there. And when Karen turned to give him a little wave, the necklace he'd given her glinted in the early evening sun. He was looking forward to watching it sway later on. A little K, swinging back and forth.
He sat and drank his beer, listening to the music, content for the moment to be alone. He sometimes thought that was the truly cool thing about having a lot of friends.
It meant sometimes you felt okay about being alone.
•••
Cut to an hour or two later and he was sitting around the other side of the pool with a bunch of people and Karen was on his lap. She'd had her hair cut for the party and it was mid-length and glossy. They were just talking in general and listening to some dude who was saying how his uncle was going to set him up with cash to start a dotcom telling uncool kids how to be cool and Brad was thinking that sounded like a pretty cool idea and that he should maybe think of something like that for himself. He tried for a few minutes, stroking Karen's neck, but nothing came. Maybe later. He'd scaled back on the beer now because he'd taken one of the new pills—didn't have a name but they were red and had an 'A' on them, so maybe they were called A. Very laid back but you stayed sharp, or at least when you looked at things they had sharp edges, unless you moved your head too fast in which case they kind
of sparkled. It made the fairy lights strung from the trees look fabulous. Lot of people on A tonight. It was proving very popular. Good news for Lee, and good news for Brad. Good news all round.
After another couple of minutes the dotcom dude had talked just a little too long and Brad found his attention wandering. The music guy had either passed out or found a friend and there was something mid-tempo but okay playing. Brad semi-recognized it but couldn't be sure. The Luchses had come and gone already and the party was in that full-on mid-evening mode when it seemed like it would last forever. The best part, for sure, maybe even better than the beginning of the middle. Brad was thinking maybe he'd get up in a while and go find some food or something when he saw someone unexpected the other side of the pool.
It was Lee. Brad hadn't even known he was there. Lee didn't party much. He was actually kind of a serious guy. Case in point, he was on the phone right now. All around him were people laughing and exercising their right to chill the fuck out, and there was Lee looking heavy and frowning like he was dealing in stocks and shares. Buy low! Sell high! Funny guy, really.
As Brad watched, Lee ended the call. He seemed to look off into the distance for a moment. Then he turned his head slowly around, as if looking for someone. Brad wondered who it might be. Lee's head stopped moving, and the A made the halt look robotic. He saw Brad, and nodded.
Brad nodded back, smiled. Lee, his friend.
Lee shook his head to indicate the previous movement had not been a mere greeting, and crooked his finger to make his point.
The person he'd been looking for was Brad.
Brad kissed Karen on the neck. 'Back in a second, babe,' he said. 'Got to go talk to Lee.'
She hopped off and he got up and headed over through the crowd of people. His leg had gone to sleep from having Karen on it and he limped slightly as he made his way around the pool.
'Hey,' he said, when he got there. 'Good party, huh?'
'How fucked up are you?'
Brad blinked. So much for the small talk. 'I'm cool,' he said. 'Couple beers.'
Lee nodded. 'Good. Need you to come with me.'
'You got it. You going for burgers?'
'No. Are Pete and Steve here?'
'Steve, no. He's…I don't know where he is. But Sleepy's around somewhere. I saw him earlier. I think.'
'I'll go around the side, you head through the house. See if you can find them. Meet me at the car. And splash some water over your face.'
'What's up?'
'We have to go do something.'
'Yeah, I'm getting that, but—what?'
'Brad, just get moving.'
Lee peeled away and moved off through the dancing people. Brad shook his head to clear it a little and found he felt largely okay. He headed up around the top of the pool, keeping half an eye out for Pete and a quarter of an eye out for Steve, who he was pretty sure wasn't actually at the party at all. He glanced towards where Karen had been, too, hoping to indicate he was going off for a while, but she wasn't there any more.
The house was pretty much empty for now, quieter than it would be in a few hours when it had cooled down and people were in the mood for being more horizontal. No sign of Pete or Steve. He found his way out the front with only one wrong turn. Forgot about the splashing thing but he felt fine.
The driveway was full of cars, including Karen's new sharp blue BMW, and there were a couple of small groups of people hanging out. Brad located Lee's car and stood by it. He waited a few minutes and then took out a cigarette. Found he'd left his lighter out by the pool. Shit. How annoying was that?
'Looking for this?'
He turned to see that Karen was suddenly there. She was holding out a flame.
He grinned, took it. 'My angel of mercy. Or of fire. Definitely an angel, anyway.'
'You say the nicest things. So, what's up? Doing research for a career in valet parking?'
'Just waiting for Lee.'
On cue, there was the sound of feet on gravel and he turned to see Hudek approaching.
'On his way,' he said, to Brad. 'Hey, Karen. Great party.'
'Why, thank you.' Karen stretched. 'We do our best. So where are you young blades headed?'
'Just out for a ride,' Lee said. 'Pick up some eats.'
'There's stuff out. Enough guacamole to hide a baby in.'
'I know. I had some already. But I got a specific hunger. By the way, there's people over there waving to you?'
Karen turned and saw a red Porsche idling at the front door. Two figures stood by it with the air of people who didn't want to leave without saying goodbye but who really had to go, kind of now. Karen squinted to make them out.
'Right, Sara and Randy. They got to split early. Okay, so, duty calls. Drive carefully,' she said.
'Always do,' Lee said. 'You know that.'
Karen smiled quickly, looking a little uncomfortable. She leaned forward and pecked Brad on the cheek.
'Later,' she said, then ran back towards the house, arms already wide to hug people goodbye.
They waited for a couple of minutes and then Sleepy Pete appeared. He looked quite stoned, but less than you might expect, though he was munching diligently from a sizable bag of Doritos.
'So, what's up, guys?'
'Bit of work. You coming along?'
'Absolutely, dude. I'm all about the work ethic. You know that.'
'My man.' Hudek pressed the blipper and the car let out a quiet squawk. The doors unlocked. 'Brad, come in front with me.'
Lee hit the radio and turned it up loud. Drove out through the gates and then along the winding road through the ranch, past all the other big private gates, to the bigger main gate of the Faircroft Ranch community. Security guys there flipped them a wave without even looking. Point of gated communities is to stop people coming in, not going out, and not a single person in Lee's car was even slightly black.
Hudek stuck to the main drag through Santa Barbara, driving responsibly and well. After ten minutes he switched to 192 bearing north. Brad watched the lights as they passed, headlights and streetlights and signage. Some song came on the radio that he recognized but he didn't know what it was. His head was mainly full of wondering what the 'drive carefully/you know that' exchange between Karen and Lee had meant. If anything. And also, why were they going north?
'Hey—turn it up,' Pete said. 'This rocks.'
Hudek jacked the volume in the back speakers but pulled it down in front.
'Lee, what's up?' Brad said, finally. 'Where are we going?'
'Hernandez called,' Lee said, quietly. 'He has a last-minute thing. His people are unavailable. He needs a couple of guys to stand behind him.'
And that would be us? You're fucking kidding? Lee—last time I saw that fucker he cold-cocked me with a gun.'
Lee nodded, his eyes on the rear-view mirror. 'I hear what you're saying. But this is a good sign, Brad. This is important.'
'Since when are we the hired hands? Jump, do this, whatever?'
'We can't bail first time we're asked a favour. So we're going to do this thing, then we're going to get some serious-sized burgers, go back to the party and do some heavy chilling. You on that?'
Pete was singing along in back, oblivious. Brad shook his head, but not in denial. He took out a cigarette and lit it.
'Dude…'
'Lee, fuck you. The lid's off and we're driving. I want a fucking cigarette, I'm going to have one.'
Hudek smiled. 'That's fine, man. Go nuts. What I wanted was a yes or no.'
'Well, fuck, yes. I guess. Though, you know, I don't know.'
Hudek winked at him and then suddenly swerved over to the kerb. This freaked Brad out until he realized Hernandez was standing on the street corner, a bag over his shoulder.
'Whoa,' Pete said, through a mouth full of potato chips. 'What's he doing here?'
Hernandez walked up to the car, looked down into the back seat. 'Where's the other guy?'
Hudek took his time about answering. It felt good to be
in control. If he decided to, he could just pull away. Leave the asshole standing there.
He killed the music. 'This is short notice, don't you think?'
'Notice for what?' Pete asked. 'And seriously, why are we mixing with this shithead?'
'We're going to help him out,' Lee said. 'Give him a ride somewhere he needs to be. Okay?'
'Yeah, whatever,' Pete said, dubiously. 'I guess.'
'Great.' Hudek looked back up at Hernandez, and smiled. 'You getting in the car, or what?'
•••
Under Hernandez's direction Lee drove up into the hills. Golf courses, more ranch communities. It wasn't an area he knew well. You could make a case for it not being an area at all, except in real estate terms. They drove a little further into the Santa Ynez and then on some more.
'Are we going all the way to Nevada?' Pete asked at one point. Otherwise he and Brad were quiet in the back.
Eventually Hernandez indicated a turning on the left. It didn't seem to be signed for anywhere. Lee drove up it for a couple of miles, into scrubby semi-forest. After a time they crested one of the hills and started a slow descent. By now the road was pretty basic, and after another eight hundred yards it ran out altogether. As it did so it widened into a big gravel-and-dust parking lot surrounded with trees that blended into the inky twilight. It appeared empty.
'This it?'
Hernandez nodded.
'What time are they due? And who are these people?'
'They're just like you,' the man said. 'Nothing to worry about.'
'So how come you need us here holding your hand?'
But then a set of headlights came on at the other end of the lot. Brad felt his heart give a heavy double-thud. Lee just felt good to be in the car with the drugs. People bringing bags of money to you: that was a step in the right direction, for sure.
'That them?'
'Yes.' Hernandez opened his door. 'You, Pete, whatever your name is, you wait in the car.'
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