Mr. And Miss Anonymous (12 page)

J
osh shivered in his wet clothes as he circled the perimeter of the school property. The good thing was he knew exactly where he was. To his left was the stable and to the right was the gymnasium. The school sat smack between the two buildings, with wide expanses of lawn separating them. To the far left of the gym were the pool and the pool house. Behind the pool house was a gardener’s shed. He could make his way to any of the outer buildings and be temporarily safe. But, if he fell asleep, he would wake up to daylight and wouldn’t be able to make his way to the main building, where his room was.

If he decided to stay in one of the outer buildings, the stable would be his best bet. He’d always liked the stable, and so did Tom. Sheila said she could take it or leave it alone. The seven horses were gone. Mr. Dickey had explained that the school was downsizing because of the enormous amount of money it took to feed and care for the horses and the salaries for the groomsmen. Tom said there was something fishy about that explanation. Sheila had agreed.

The gym was another case of downsizing. They had cut back from two gym teachers to one, who wasn’t worth a dime. All he did was talk on his cell phone while he made the students do laps around the gym. Tom said that was fishy, too.

“So what are you waiting for, Josh?”

“Tom! I was just thinking about you.” Josh felt light-headed with relief. He wasn’t alone.

“I know, that’s why I’m here. You need to make your move NOW. Didn’t you see those rent-a-cops patrolling the grounds?”

“I saw them. I’ve been watching them to see how often they patrol the back end of the building. I counted four. How many did you count?”

“Four. Sheila said there’s one who’s way back by the electric gates in the service area. He’s asleep.”

“Yeah, he’s the first one I checked out. He’s pretty fat, so I don’t think he can run very fast. He’s got a gun, though. They all have guns. What is it they’re protecting, Tom? Are they afraid of vandalism or what Miss Carmody called ‘lookie looks’?”

“Probably both. C’mon, let’s go. You have to get inside. Sheila and I are right behind you. Hit the service door on the side. Once you’re inside, let your eyes get accustomed to the dark, then head for the dormitory and the showers. You need to get out of those wet clothes, and you stink, Josh. Okay, buddy, double down and run like the dean is on your ass for stealing the ice cream.”

Josh choked on his laughter as he raced across the lawn. He thanked God for the rain and darkness.

“That was pretty good. You’re almost as good as I was. Sheila said congratulations.”

“Tom, do you think they’ll know if the water is running that someone is inside?”

“No, I don’t think so. Maybe if they were looking at a water meter they would, but the school uses well water. Remember when Mr. Dickey showed us the old cistern and how they’d drilled a new well?”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. You gonna wait for me, Tom?”

“I’m right here, buddy. Anytime you need me, I’ll be by your side.”

“I need to talk to you seriously. I’m getting scared, Tom. Right now, though, I just want to shower and get into some warm clothes and find some food. Please don’t go away.”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you, buddy.”

Josh made his way to the huge open shower area where he stripped down to stand under the steaming spray. He shampooed his hair three times and washed himself four times before he felt clean enough to towel off. A sweat suit from his hurdling days felt warm as toast. Dry socks and clean running shoes were the last to go on as he kept up a running dialogue with Tom.

“I kind of feel like the old me right now, but I need food. Talk to me, Tom. Tell me what to do. Help me out here. And let’s get some input from Sheila.”

“Sheila said no lights. You have to do everything in the dark, Josh. There’s all kinds of stuff in the storage room. Canned stuff, too, crackers, peanut butter. I don’t think you should use the stove or microwave. Some smart-ass might check the utility bill when it comes in and see that kilowatt hours were used after the shooting. I think they can tell stuff like that, so don’t give them the edge. You have to pretend you’re in lockdown mode and still function. You can do it, Josh. You need a plan, and you need to focus.”

“I know, I know,” Josh said as he wolfed down a can of mixed vegetables. When he’d finished, he rinsed out the can, flattened it with his foot, and hid it in one of the cabinets. He cut off a thick wedge of cheese that was wrapped in Saran Wrap and proceeded to gnaw at it as he rummaged for crackers in the storage room. He washed it all down with a quart bottle of apple juice. He hid the plastic bottle. He made sure there were no crumbs and that he’d left no other telltale evidence that he’d been in the kitchen and storage room.

“I’m going to see if I can find Mr. Dickey’s sleeping bag. I think I’ll sleep in that makeshift wine cellar the teachers created that no one knew about. The one John Blane found last year. He also said he thought the dean knew all about it because he kept his wine there, too. I think I’ll be safe there, don’t you, Tom?”

“Yeah. That’s perfect, Josh. Don’t be afraid to fall asleep. I’ll stand guard while Sheila checks around to make sure Mr. Dickey’s computer is still where he kept it hidden. When you wake up, you’re going to have a lot to do. Maybe you’ll dream and think of something.”

Josh’s eyes were half-closed as he made his way to his old teacher’s quarters. He found the L.L.Bean sleeping bag without any trouble.

Holding it in front of him like a buffer, he made his way back to the kitchen and the door that would take him to the basement.

The moment he was snuggled and zipped into the sleeping bag, Tom spoke again.

“The sun will be up in about thirty minutes, Josh. Try to sleep all day, and tonight Sheila and I will help you figure out what’s going on. Remember, I’m right outside this crappy wine cellar. With all the money those people poured into this place, you’d think there would be a decent wine cellar, one that’s climate-controlled.”

Josh was half-asleep when he replied, “This is a school, Tom, alcohol is forbidden. Everything in this damn place was forbidden. After I leave I hope it burns to the grounnnnd.”

Nine forty-five seemed like the perfect time to appear at the academy, Morgan thought as he drove his stolen Toyota Land Cruiser up to the yellow tape the FBI had stretched across the long driveway leading to the California Academy of Higher Learning.

Morgan looked different today, in his Brooks Brothers suit and shoes. A subdued tie and white shirt with monogrammed cuffs completed his outfit. Not showy, not understated. His face was a little puffier, thanks to silicone patties he plastered to the inside of his cheeks. The mustache was neat and trimmed with just a hint of gray. His sideburns were the same speckled shade. An expert application of latex created a little more than a hint of jowls. Wire-rimmed glasses and dark brown contact lenses changed the whole structure of his face. He felt one hundred percent comfortable in his disguise.

An agent who said his name was Drew Warner asked for his ID. Morgan handed it over, watching the agent carefully for any sign that his creds were suspect. “Special task force, huh? Work fast, okay? I’m sick of standing here. Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Anything and everything. Anything you want to share? How’s that guy Robbins who’s in charge? What can you tell me about him?”

“He’s the show horse and the rest of us are the plow horses. He’s full of himself. That help you at all?”

Morgan raised his eyebrows. “That tells me he isn’t popular with the rank and file. Have you come up with anything, anything at all? I just got in on the red-eye, so I’m not a hundred percent up on all that’s been going on. Appreciate any help you can give me.”

“Nah. The guy made a clean getaway. I just want to know what kind of sick, sorry son of a bitch like that can blow kids away.”

“Just like you said, he’s a sick, sorry son of a bitch. No clues on the kid that got away?”

“No. The one who turned himself in is in protective custody. Robbins said Josh Baer took him to the station and waited till he got inside. The other kid’s name is Jesse, and he’s mentally challenged. Says Josh is his brother. Other than that he doesn’t appear to have a clue. Lives in his own little world. They’ve had the best of the best looking and testing him, but so far, nothing. I’m thinking Josh is pretty smart. He’s got to be smart to outwit the FBI. Doncha think?”

“We always get our man, or in this case, kid. You know that, don’t you, Agent Warner?”

“Nine times out of ten. Right now we can’t come up with one good reason for the shooting. At first they thought it was this Josh kid, but it’s someone else. We assume the kid saw the shooter, saw it all go down. Jesse was probably with him. Going on the run, Jesse would have slowed him down so Josh does the next best thing, takes Jesse to headquarters, where he knows he’ll be safe. I’m telling you, the kid is smart. How long you going to be here, Agent Lewis?”

“Till I get the job done. Thanks for the input. So, tell me, where can I find Agent Robbins?”

“Probably in one of the bathrooms admiring himself. He was royally pissed when they put a clamp on this gig. He was all set for photo ops. Even got a haircut, and it looked to me like he took a few shots at a tanning bed to make himself look good.”

Morgan laughed because he knew he was supposed to laugh. “The next guy you see going down this driveway will be Agent Robbins. Call ahead to let him know I’m on his radar screen. We’ll talk again, Agent Warner. By the way, how do I reach you down here if I need to ask you something?”

“There’s a squawk box on the wall by the front door. Just press it and talk.” Agent Warner offered up a snappy salute, grinning from ear to ear.

A four-man welcoming committee walked toward the Land Cruiser. Morgan took his time reaching over to the passenger seat to retrieve his well-worn but expensive briefcase.

Introductions were made at the speed of light. Morgan thought Robbins held his credentials a little too long. “Is there a problem, Agent Robbins?”

“Why didn’t someone notify me you were coming? This is the first I’m hearing about a task force.”

“Maybe you weren’t supposed to know, Agent Robbins. I suppose, if you want to put your ass in a sling, you could call your superiors or my superiors, or, hell, maybe the director of the Bureau to find out why you weren’t told. You want to turn this into a pissing contest, you’re going to be the one doing the pissing. I’m outta here.” Morgan turned toward the Land Cruiser and pressed the
LOCK
button.

“Hold on, hold on. All I said was that procedure is that I’m to be notified about all changes.”

“I just did. Notified you, that is. You’re relieved as of now. All of you except Agent Warner. The rent-a-cops can stay. You all are immediately to go directly to the airport and book flights to New York City. An agent will meet you at the gate on your arrival, and he will take you to the White Plains office. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask them.”

“Where’s the rest of your task force?”

“En route. I was in San Francisco, so I got here first. The others will be here in the next few hours. Is there anything I should know?” Morgan asked.

“My file is on the desk in the main office. I’d like to make a copy.”

“I’ll take care of all that, Agent Robbins. I’ll forward it on to you. Nice meeting you.”

A round of handshakes followed as the stunned agents headed toward their cars.

In the foyer that led down a long hallway, Morgan spotted the squawk box. He pressed the button and listened as Drew Warner identified himself.

“Lionel Lewis, Warner. Agent Robbins and his four agents are leaving the premises. They are not to return under any circumstances. Are we clear on that?”

“Affirmative, Agent Lewis.”

“Good.”

Morgan immediately headed for the office, where he scanned Robbins’s file. It took him all of three minutes to realize there wasn’t one thing in the entire file that could in any way incriminate him. He’d done a clean job. The feebs had squat. He tossed the file back on the desk as he tried to figure out how long it would take him to search the fifty-five-thousand-square-foot building as well as all the outer buildings. The kid was here, he could feel it in his gut.

His gut also told him Robbins was no dumb rookie. Sooner or later he’d get a bug up his ass and call someone to find out why he was being transferred to New York. Morgan would have only a few hours’ leeway while everyone scrambled to figure out what was going on. At best he had six, maybe seven hours to do what he’d come to do: find the kid and kill him. By then it would be dark, and he’d be able to get away unscathed. Hopefully.

“Josh! Josh! Wake up but be real quiet. Someone is in the basement. Listen!”

Josh opened his eyes to total darkness, but he could hear someone moving around.

He bit down on his lower lip as he dug his nails into the palms of his hands. He wanted to talk to Tom, to reach out to him, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Not yet.

He’d been scared the day of the shooting but it had all happened so fast, he’d known the only thing to do was to run. This was different. He knew he couldn’t run if his life depended on it.

“Listen to the sound of his walking. Is it familiar? Is it one of the guards from upstairs or is it the guy with the gun? Are you listening to me, Josh? Pay attention. It might be the guy with the gun, and he killed all the agents up there. He’ll kill you, too. He wants my book. But more than that, he wants you, Josh. Are you listening?”

Of course he was listening. Did Tom think he was nuts? Whoever was out there was moving stuff around. Would he get to the pile of junk in front of Josh? How much time would he spend in the cellar? Wasn’t he taking a chance with agents upstairs? Or was Tom right, and he’d killed them all?

In his cocoon of darkness, Josh strained to hear every little sound. The man was cursing. He sounded angry. It sounded like he was kicking stuff out of the way. Josh could hear things toppling over, perhaps blocking the man’s path. The noise was as loud as thunder to Josh’s ears. Someone from upstairs should have heard what was going on. They should have come down to investigate. For sure they were dead. He wondered if, when he went upstairs, whether he would see the same bloodbath he’d seen the day of the shooting.