The Adamas Blueprint

by Boyd Morrison

  “No, I mean when I told you about my family this morning. I think I deserved a little honesty in return.”

  “I didn’t want you to think I was telling you that just so you’d give me money. Besides, your situation was different. Your parents obviously loved you. Why should I tell about how crappy my father was?”

  Erica’s voice was angry. “Why should I bare my soul to you if you aren’t going to do the same with me?”

  “Okay.” Kevin concentrated on the clock in front of them. “You want a little honesty? Here it is. My father was a drunk for the better part of my childhood. He had an accident on a construction site when I was 15 and collected disability for the next ten years, drinking half of it because he didn’t have anything better to do. He never wanted me to go to college, thought it was a waste of time and wouldn’t pay for it. He wanted me to go into construction, be a real man. The only reason I went to college was because of my mother, who is dead. Cancer, five years ago. Her funeral was the last time I talked to my father until today.” He turned to face Erica. “Not like your story, is it?”

  Erica, who had been looking straight ahead instead of at Kevin, raised her eyebrows. She nodded in that direction and tapped Kevin’s arm. “That’s got to be him,” she said.

  Kevin looked up. Next to the front door at the other end of the squad room was Murray Hamilton, and Kevin realized why Erica had been so sure it was him. The figure striding toward them was the same height as Kevin, but his frame, built from years of hard construction work, was massive, clothed in a denim shirt, jeans, and work boots. Although his body differed from Kevin’s wiry sinew, Murray Hamilton’s square-jawed face, Roman nose, and wide hazel eyes would instantly be connected to Kevin’s by all but the most casual observer. Only the stubble-covered wrinkles and thinning hair kept him from looking like Kevin’s older brother.

  Kevin and Erica rose just as Murray reached them, coming to an abrupt stop in front of them. He stood without saying a word, just looking into Kevin’s eyes.

  Finally, Kevin broke the silence. “Hello, dad.”

  “I might have known,” Murray said, “that the only reason you would call me was because you were in trouble.”

  Kevin expected his father to throw the passport at him, turn, and walk out as quickly as he’d come in.

  “But I’m glad you did,” Murray said and grasped Kevin in a tight hug.

  Kevin was flabbergasted. His father had never been an affectionate man; in fact, Kevin could recall only a few times in his life when his father had hugged him, and even then it had been when he was much younger. Now it seemed as if his father would never let go. Still, Kevin couldn’t bring himself to return the affection.

  Murray released him and held his shoulders at arm’s length.

  “You look good,” said Murray. “You’ve lost some weight, haven’t you?”

  “A little.”

  “And putting muscle on those bones, I see,” Murray said, squeezing Kevin’s shoulders.

  “Did you find the passport?” Kevin asked without emotion.

  “I got it right here.” Murray pulled the passport from his hip pocket. Kevin took it, opened it to check, and then called Officer Brady over to them.

  Brady studied the passport carefully. After about thirty seconds, he said, “All right, Mr. Hamilton. It looks like everything is in order.”

  “Does that mean we can go?” Kevin said.

  “Yes, but I’m confiscating the fake ID. Because of all the trouble we’ve caused you and Miss Jensen, I’ve decided to drop the charges against you. Just watch your speed from now on.” He nodded to Erica. “Have a good day, Miss Jensen. Let me know if you have any trouble getting your car.” Brady put on his hat and walked out the front entrance.

  “Now do you mind telling me what this is all about?” Murray said.

  “It’s no big deal. Thanks for the favor. See you later.” Kevin turned as if to walk away.

  “Kevin!” Erica said. “What’s wrong with you?” She turned toward Murray, extending her hand. “Hi, Mr. Hamilton. My name’s Erica Jensen. We really appreciate you going to all this trouble.”

  Murray took her hand and smiled, showing teeth yellowed from years of smoking. “No trouble at all. Pleased to meet you.”

  “It shouldn’t have been any trouble getting off the couch and coming over,” Kevin mumbled.

  “Actually, you’re lucky you caught me at home. I was just about to go back out to my job site when you called.”

  “Grabbing a beer during your break?”

  “No,” Murray said calmly. “When I said my job site, I meant the one my company is contracting. My company is Hamilton Construction.”

  Kevin looked at him in disbelief. This man who he hadn’t spoken to in five years, who’d been a drunk and lousy provider all his life, was now trying to tell Kevin that he had his own company.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Had it three years now. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t return my calls.”

  “Why should I have called you? You never gave me any reason to. You never cared about me or what I was interested in.”

  Murray studied his shoes. “Nick, I know I was an asshole when you were in high school. I was wrong about you going to college, too. You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself. But before she died, your mother made me promise that I’d try to patch things up between us. I’m trying.”

  Kevin said nothing. He wasn’t sure why his dad was acting this way, but he wasn’t going to let him redeem himself that easily, not after what he and his mother had gone through.

  “Nick?” Erica said.

  Murray turned to her and then, realizing she’d been talking to him, a look of understanding crossed his face.

  “I forgot. He’s going by Kevin now. Began using his middle name when he got to college. I don’t think he ever liked being called Nick, though it still fits him in my mind.”

  “My mother called me Nicholas.”

  “I think you hated that just as much. Now, what’s this about your car?”

  Erica tucked her hair behind her right ear. “It seems that the impound lot where my car is won’t be open until tomorrow morning. And we need to be somewhere by seven o’clock tonight.”

  “Well, the least I could do is give you a ride.”

  Erica started to speak, but Kevin interrupted her.

  “Thanks, but we’ll get there just fine.”

  “Kevin,” Erica said, “it’s almost 5:45. We’ll be lucky to make it there as it is.”

  “We can get there ourselves. We don’t need any more help from him.”

  Erica started to protest again, but Murray put his hand on her arm.

  “Miss Jensen, it’s a long story between us. If he doesn’t want my help, that’s the way it is. Like I said, I tried.” He turned back to Kevin. “Good-bye, Nick — I mean, Kevin. Give me a call sometime.” With that, he walked out the front door into the dingy, gray afternoon.

  Erica whirled on Kevin with narrowed eyes. “Kevin, I don’t know what problems your family has had, but in thirty seconds, we’ll see our last chance to get the laser drive away.”

  “We’ll get a cab,” Kevin said, trying to ignore her logic.

  “It will take the cab a half-hour to get here, if it’ll even come out this far.”

  “Then we’ll call the sales rep again. Get him to wait for us a little longer.” He saw the look on Erica’s face and tried to preempt her. “He is a drunken bum who didn’t even tell me that my mother had cancer until a week before she died.”

  “I’m sorry about that. That was a terrible thing to do. You can hate him all you want, but we need his help.”

  Kevin looked at the acoustic tiling in the ceiling and let out a huge sigh. “All right, but as soon as we can get your car, we’re gone.”

  Erica nodded and grabbed Kevin’s hand as she started to run for the door. Kevin began to go with her, then stopped, feeling as if he were missing something. Suddenly, he remembered and ra
n back to Officer Olsen’s desk to pick up his backpack.

  When he turned around, Erica was already running toward the station’s parking lot. He followed her outside, hoping that his father was already gone.

  * * *

  Minutes after completing the first call from Hank Vincent, David Lobec’s planning was interrupted yet again by the contractor. He’d given explicit instructions to Vincent that he was merely to follow Murray Hamilton. Under no circumstances was he to jeopardize his discreet observation by letting the subject know he was being followed. Now the simpleton couldn’t seem to follow even those unsophisticated instructions.

  “Mr. Vincent, I believe I was clear in our last communication. We will call you when we reached the ground to obtain a report regarding the subject’s whereabouts.”

  “Yes, Mr. Gale, I understood your instructions, but I do believe I may have some further information which you may be interested in.”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, I know my job is to just follow this Hamilton fellow, but I did catch the drift that you were looking for someone.”

  “We may be,” Lobec said cautiously. “Why do you ask?”

  “Would this someone actually be two someones comprised of a couple in their twenties, the guy about six two with short dark hair and his girlfriend a tan five-eight brunette.”

  Lobec didn’t want to let the man know any more than he needed to, but he seemed to be leading somewhere. “As a matter of fact, we would be interest in determining the location of two people who fit that description.”

  “I’d say you just determined it. Thirty seconds ago, they walked up to Murray Hamilton’s truck.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Luckily, Murray Hamilton had still been out in the parking lot when Erica ran out, ready to chase down the road after him if she had to. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, talking on a cellular phone.

  The truck was a huge red two-door Chevy double-wide, pervasive in Texas. Erica had seen the pickup, with its distinctive rear fenders covering pairs of wheels on each side, only a few times before coming to the state. Now it seemed like she saw them everywhere.

  The cargo bed liner was empty, but the dings and scratches in the paint testified to hard use in the construction business. A large toolbox straddled the bed directly behind the cab, which was extra long and probably had jump seats to carry two extra people on short trips.

  When she walked toward the dualie, she could overhear a heated conversation through the open driver’s side window. She began to make out Murray’s gruff voice clearly as she got closer.

  “No, goddammit, you tell him that if he doesn’t have the concrete on site by 8:00 tomorrow morning, I’ll have to go with another supplier. This is Dorman’s last chance. I’ve had it up to my ears with that guy.”

  Just then he caught Erica in his peripheral vision and waved for her to approach the truck. Papers were strewn across the front seat, and a Palm Pilot was on his lap.

  “You got that, Charlie? No excuses. Listen, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Mr. Hamilton?” Erica said.

  “Please, call me Murray,” he said, stepping out of the cab.

  “Murray,” she said, looking in Kevin’s direction. He was behind her about twenty feet, studying the traffic going by, obviously trying to ignore her and his father. She lowered her voice slightly. “We really need the ride. It’s very important that we get to a place on the North side of Dallas called LuminOptics by 7:00. With the weather looking the way it is”-she looked up at the darkening sky-”I’m not sure we can make it anyway.”

  “We can make it,” Murray said confidently, even though Erica hadn’t told him where LuminOptics was.

  She stole another glance at Kevin. “I’ve convinced Kevin to let you help us, but he probably isn’t going to be very talkative.”

  Murray considered it for a moment, then said, “I guess there’s not much I can do about that. He’s probably not going to listen to me either, so you’d better tell him to get in. I’ll just clean the seat off for y’all.”

  As he stowed the cellular phone and portable computer under the seat, Erica walked back to Kevin.

  “He said he’ll take us there.

  “Happy happy, joy joy,” Kevin said with no trace of humor.

  “It’ll take an hour to get there. I think you can handle it.”

  “All right, but he can leave as soon as we’re there. We’ll call a cab and find another motel until we can get your car.”

  “Don’t you think it might be better if we stay at his…”

  “No.”

  There didn’t seem to be a point in arguing, so Erica walked around the Chevy and climbed in, knowing that Kevin would want to sit as far away from Murray as possible. She had figured that the truck would reek of smoke, but the cab smelled surprisingly fresh, with just a hint of masculine sweat.

  Murray began to pull a map from the door pocket. “So let’s see where we’re going.”

  “You don’t need that,” Kevin said. “I know where it is.”

  “I see you haven’t lost your sense of direction,” Murray said. Murray was referring to Kevin’s ability to look at a map once and never refer to it again, even on long trips, a gift of photographic memory that Erica envied.

  “But,” Murray continued, “do you know the best way to get there in rush hour traffic? You haven’t driven in Dallas for years.”

  “Fine,” Kevin said. “It’s just off I-635 at Abrams Rd. Taking I-45 to highway 75 should be the quickest way, but you probably know better.”

  “Until we get to downtown it is, but the North Dallas Toll Road will be faster from that point on. I think I can swing a few dollars for such a special occasion.”

  As Murray began driving toward the interstate, an awkward silence pervaded the cab. It was a couple of minutes before the silence was broken.

  Like Erica, Kevin must have noticed the fresh aroma in the pickup. “What’d you do? Quit smoking?”

  “As a matter of fact, it’ll be four years this October.” He lowered his voice slightly, indicating that he was speaking to Erica. “I was a two pack a day smoker since I was a teenager. Except for losing Nick’s mother, it was the hardest thing I ever went through.”

  Erica cringed, waiting for Kevin to correct his name, but he was quiet.

  “So Nick,” Murray said, “what are your hobbies now? I know you don’t shoot anymore.”

  Erica glanced at Kevin, puzzled.

  “Not since high school,” Kevin said.

  “Shooting?” Erica said. “As in guns.”

  “Nick didn’t tell you?”

  “Dad! She isn’t interested.”

  But Murray went on. “I used to take Nick hunting. He was a good shot, so I got him to compete. He did damn well until he dropped it, even won a few trophies. I still have them at home if you ever want them, Nick, but I do get a kick out of showing them to people.”

  “What kind of guns?” Erica asked.

  “Pistol mostly. Rifle and shotgun, too, but all his trophies were for pistol. If he’d practiced like I wanted him to, he would’ve been even better. It was about the only thing he was good at when he was a teenager, that and those damn video games. And thank God he was, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to win awards in any other sports.”

  Kevin let an exasperated sigh, but said nothing.

  Erica kept quiet, not wanting to push it, but Murray didn’t seem to need encouragement.

  “I mean, if he’d started lifting weights like I told him to, he’d have made one hell of a linebacker. But he was never interested, didn’t mind staying an overweight wimp. That’s why I was so surprised when I saw him today. First time he’s looked normal in his whole life.”

  It seemed like the conversation was taking a turn that would upset Kevin, so Erica tried to change the subject.

  “So, Murray, do you live on this side of town?”

  Outbound traffic on the other side of the freeway was jammed,
but luckily the direction they were headed moved along smoothly.

  “No, we live out on the east side actually. Or I should say I do. Nick’s mother died about five years ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” Erica said.

  “Five years may seem like a long time to you since you’re so young. But to me I remember her like it was almost yesterday.”

  At that, Kevin let out a dismissive cluck.

  “What was that for?” said Murray.

  “You could barely remember your name at the time. How could you possibly remember mom?”

  “You mean the drinking? I gave that up when I found out your mother had pancreatic cancer.” Erica winced internally, knowing how vicious pancreatic cancer was. Kevin’s mother probably didn’t live long after the diagnosis. “I didn’t have time after that to sit around drinking beer.”

  “Yeah, I know how busy you were,” Kevin said. “You didn’t even have time to call me and tell me she was sick. You knew for two months, and you didn’t have the decency to tell me. I wouldn’t have known except for that fluke call from the hospital.”

  “I know your mother explained to you why I didn’t tell you.”

  “What? That she didn’t want to disrupt my studies? Bullshit! She said that to cover your ass.”

  “Nick, I tried to come clean at the funeral, but you wouldn’t listen. Jesus, why would I want to keep something like that from you? I begged her to let me tell you, but she never would have forgiven me. She thought your education was too important to screw up.”

  “You thought it wasn’t serious, and you thought I’d overreact when I found out. She told me she didn’t even get chemotherapy, for God’s sake.”

  “And I thought you knew your mother better than that. She read up on pancreatic cancer. She didn’t want to go through all that chemotherapy crap just to live another month. It wasn’t her way.”