18 Explosive Eighteen (28 page)

I squelched a grimace. I suspected I knew who’d done the hacking.

“How sophisticated are these hackers?” I asked him. “Suppose the photograph everyone was looking for had a code hidden in it? Like, could the photo look like Ashton Kutcher, but when you fed it into a computer it would break down into digital components? And those digital components could be a code a hacker could use to start a car? Is that possible or is it just fiction?”

“The technology is real. And it’s an increasing threat to my business. They’re not so much codes as messages that instruct another computer to perform a function, like starting a car or disabling a security system.”

• • •

I woke up the next morning thinking about Razzle Dazzle. I had my phone in my hand to cal Morel i, and a text message buzzed in from him.

I’m in meetings until noon. I’ll call later. Raz
slipped away last night. Be careful
.

My equipment was loaded and charged and positioned in my bag for easy access. I stayed vigilant when I crossed the parking lot to my truck, and I drove watching my rear.

By the time I got to the bonds office, everyone else wa s already there. Connie was behind her desk.

Lula was perched on a folding chair, doing the day’s Jumble. Vinnie was pacing, checking messages on his smartphone.

“News of the day?” I asked.

“Vinnie just wrote a bond on Brenda,” Connie said. “There was an explosion at her brother’s warehouse, and she was arrested on the scene.”

“They arrested her for just being there?” I asked.

“Did they think she was responsible for the explosion?”

“No, a defective propane tank apparently exploded,” Connie said. “I’ve been listening to police chatter.”

Lula looked up from the Jumble, rol ed her eyes, and made the sign of the cross.

“Brenda was there when the police arrived, one thing led to another, and she punched out a cop.” Connie looked up at the ceiling. “Hey, something just dripped on my desk.”

We al looked at the ceiling. There were big wet splotches, and it looked like it was buckling.

Lula sniffed. “It’s the rats. They’re relievin’

themselves, and it’s soakin’ through. There must be a lot of them. When I was a ’ho, I used to do business out of a Chinese restaurant, and they had this problem. It used to drip into the hot-and-sour soup.”

“There’s no rats,” Vinnie said. “There’s probably a busted pipe. Somebody cal the landlord.”

“I know rats when I smel them,” Lula said. “And there’s rats.” She got a broom from the corner and poked the ceiling. “Shoo!”

The minute the broom made contact with the ceiling, a piece of the ceiling broke loose and fel onto Connie’s desk. A crack opened up above us, and there were some smooshy, groaning sounds.

The crack stretched the length of the room, the ceiling sagged, the crack gaped open, and about a thousand rats poured down on us. Big rats, smal rats, fat rats, startled rats. Bug-eyed and squealing.

Nasty little rat feet treading air. Tails stiff as a stick.

They thudded onto Connie’s desk and the floor, stunned for a second and then up and running.

“
RATS
!” Lula shrieked. “It’s raining rats.” She climbed onto her chair and covered her head with the Jumble.

Connie was on her desk, punting rats across the room like they were footbal s. “Someone open the door so they can get out!” she yel ed.

I was afraid to move for fear of stepping on a rat and pissing him off. I think I was screaming, but I don’t remember hearing myself.

Vinnie lunged for the door, bolted out, and the rats rushed after him.

Minutes later, we were on the sidewalk, looking in at the office. Most of the rats had departed for parts unknown. A few rats, too dumb to find the door, were hunkered down in corners.

“I feel like I got rat cooties,” Lula said. “I bet I got fleas. And I think one of them bit me on the ankle.” I examined Lula’s ankles. No bite marks.

“It must have been one of those bites that don’t show,” Lula said, “on account of I’m coming down with something. I can feel it. Lord, I hope it’s not the plague. I don’t want the plague. You break out in them booboos when you got the plague.”

“I don’t see any booboos on you,” I told her.

“Wel , it’s stil early,” Lula said.

Better booboos than Buggy, I thought, hiking my bag onto my shoulder. “I’m heading out. I’m going to look for Magpie.”

“I’l go with you,” Lula said. “Only I gotta get something to settle my stomach. I gotta keep my strength up in case I get the plague. I need chicken.”

• • •

I cruised into the Cluck-in-a-Bucket drive-thru and Lula got a bucket of extra-crispy, a bag of biscuits with dipping gravy, an apple pie, and a large diet root beer. I helped myself to a piece of chicken, and I got a text message from Brenda.

Thanks for everything. I’ll send you the formula
for your hair
.

I texted her back and asked if she was at the salon and could she do my hair.

Negative
, she texted.
Arrivederci
.

“Change of plans,” I said to Lula. “Brenda’s running.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know. I’m going to see if I can talk her out of it.”

Forty minutes later, I was about to turn off Route 1

into Brenda’s neighborhood when her toaster zipped out in front of me. There were four cars between us, but I knew it was Brenda.

“You want me to cal her?” Lula asked.

“No. Let’s see where she’s going.”

She took Route 1 to Route 18, and got onto the Turnpike heading north. It was clear where she was going. She was going to the airport, and Jason was in the car with her.

“Maybe she’s just taking her kid,” Lula said. “He’s stil hiding, right?”

“It’s possible.”

I fol owed her to the short-term parking garage and watched from a distance while she took suitcases out of the Scion. They walked toward the terminal, dragging their luggage. It didn’t look to me like she even bothered to lock the car. I knew she was jumping bail.

I found a parking place, and Lula and I hustled to catch up with Brenda. A man was a short distance away, walking toward us. He was carrying a suiter, looking very tanned.

It was The Rug. Simon Ruguzzi. The skip responsible for al my problems in Hawaii. Our eyes met, and he dropped the suiter and took off.

Brenda was worth loose change to Vinnie. The Rug was worth big bucks.

I changed course in the middle of the parking garage and ran for Ruguzzi. I could hear Lula clattering in her heels behind me, and I was gaining on the guy in front of me. I got to within a couple feet of him, took a flying leap, and grabbed his pants cuffs. He went to the ground, and Lula rushed over and sat on him. I cuffed him and dragged him to his feet.

“How’d you know to run?” I asked him.

“You’re famous,” he said. “I saw you on the side of a bus, in an ad for the bonds office.” Vinnie’s bril iant idea, and not a highlight in my life.

I loaded The Rug into the backseat and headed back to Trenton. I cal ed Ranger from the road.

“I just captured The Rug,” I told him. “I had a feeling Brenda was going to skip, so I fol owed her to the airport. I ran into Ruguzzi in the parking garage, and Lula and I took him down.”

“Babe,” Ranger said.

• • •

It was late afternoon by the time I met Vinnie at the coffee shop.

“Sorry about Brenda,” I said. “I’m pretty sure she skipped.”

“I was counting on it,” Vinnie said. “She put her Ferrari up for bond. Now I can give it to DeAngelo.”

“It’s hot,” I told him. “And it doesn’t come with keys.”

“Don’t care,” Vinnie said. “That’s DeAngelo’s problem. I’l send it to him on a flatbed.” I got a Frappuccino and got into my truck. Magpie would wait for another day. Truth is, I was rol ing in money from my Ruguzzi capture. I stopped at my parents’ house on the way home.

“Looks like you tore the knees out of your jeans,” Grandma said.

I fol owed her into the kitchen. “Occupational hazard.”

“Are you staying for dinner?” my mom asked.

“No. I need to go home and take a shower and change my clothes.”

I’d been pelted by rats, plus I’d skidded across about five feet of cement when I tackled The Rug. I didn’t think she wanted to know the details.

“I was hoping I could mooch some sandwich stuff from you. I need to go shopping, but I didn’t want to go into Giovichinni’s with this hair and the skinned knees, and my black eye is turning green.”

“Green is good,” Grandma said. “That’s one of the last colors.”

My mom fixed a bag of food for me and handed it over. She went to the cupboard where she kept her liquor stash, pul ed out a photograph, and held it up.

It was the photograph from the plane!

“Your grandmother had this in her room,” she said.

“I know you were looking for it. I found it when I went in to change the linens today.”

“The guy in the photo is a hottie,” Grandma said. “I pul ed it out of the garbage. I didn’t know you wanted it.”

I tucked the photo into the food bag. I’d give it to Ranger for safekeeping. Or maybe for giggles I’d give it to Berger. He’d think he final y had a picture of the hacker he’d been after. As far as I knew, Berger and Razzle Dazzle didn’t know the photo was a composite that hid a computer message.

“Gotta go,” I said. “Thanks for the food and the photo. I’l find a hot replacement for you, Grandma.” Grandma took a little bottle fil ed with pink stuff off the counter. “Annie dropped this off for you.”

“More Pepto-Bismol?”

“No. She said this is the real thing.”

• • •

I’d picked Morel i’s SUV out in my parking lot, so I wasn’t surprised when I opened my door and Bob bounced up to me. I scratched behind his ears and gave him a kiss on the top of his head. Morel i strol ed in from the living room. The television was on.

“Suppose I came home with some hot guy, and you were here in your socks, watching television,” I said.

“It would be awkward.”

I set the bag on the counter and unpacked.

“Looks like you stopped off at your mom’s house,” Morel i said. “Oh man, is that chocolate cake?”

“Yes. And I have some sandwich stuff. Are you hungry?”

“Starved.” He opened a plastic baggie and snitched a piece of ham. “I have good news for you.

Berger got Raz.”

“Get out!”

“Actual y, he was dead by the time he got him, but he got him al the same.” Morel i opened another baggie. “Corned beef. This is the mother lode.”

“How did Raz get dead?”

“He escaped from the cemetery, but he stole a car sometime during the night, and this morning one of Trenton’s finest spotted him. There was a chase, and Raz lost control of his car and hit a bridge abutment.”

“Jeez.”

He looked down at my knees. “I heard you brought The Rug in. Looks like you tackled him.”

“Yeah, I should take a shower. The blood’s caking.”

“I could help with the shower.” He put the corned beef down and picked up Annie’s little bottle. “Your mom thinks of everything. I’ve had heartburn al day.” He unscrewed the bottle and drank it before I could stop him.

I stared at him. “Um, how do you feel?” I asked.

He thought for a moment. “Better,” he final y said.

“Warm.” His eyes got dark and soft, and the corners of his mouth tipped into a smile. “Very friendly.” He reached out for me and pul ed me into him. “Come here, Cupcake.”

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