W Is for Wasted (29 page)

“All worthless,” Dietz said.

“Must have some value or why would you be here?”

“We thought we might take it all off your hands and save you a trip to the dump.”

She stared at him, her eyes narrowing with amusement. “You’d have to have a signed authorization. Otherwise, I can’t be handing over his private papers. I’m sure there’s a law against that.”

Dietz smiled. “Signed authorization. I’m happy you mentioned it.”

He took out his wallet and removed four one-hundred-dollar bills, which he fanned out for her inspection. “These are signed by the secretary of the Treasury, James Baker. Remember him? Reagan’s old chief of staff.”

He held the bills up.

She made no move. She lifted the cigarette to her lips, inhaled, and let the smoke drift upward across her face. She glanced at me. “Where’d you find this guy?”

“I needed a bodyguard.”

“Don’t we all,” she said with a bawdy laugh.

Dietz added two more hundreds. “Last chance,” he said.

She reached out and removed the cash from his hand as daintily as a feral cat accepting a morsel of food.

“In there,” she said, using her cigarette to point toward the room down the hall.

PETE WOLINSKY

August 1988, Two Months Earlier

Pete and the good doctor Reed ran into difficulties deciding where to meet. On the phone, prior to their get-together, the two had settled on a price: four thousand dollars for Pete’s services, which was stunning when you considered it was an hour’s work at best. Pete insisted on half up front and the balance once the job was done. He was surprised at how little argument Linton Reed put up but decided he was unaccustomed to bargaining, especially in touchy matters such as this. Pete’s first thought was to ask for six, but he didn’t want to push. Four was very reasonable for what the man was getting.

Pete had roughed out a plan and he was eager to test the idea. The problem was Linton didn’t want to be seen with him, which meant the university was out. Too great a risk of running into someone who’d recognize Dr. Reed and wonder why he was deep in conversation with a fellow who looked like Ichabod Crane. They couldn’t meet at Pete’s office. He scarcely dared go there himself. The property manager had offices in the same building, and Pete was still kicking himself that he’d bought into the arrangement. They’d talked about connecting up in one of the parking lots at the beach, but again, the setting was too public and Reed had nixed the idea. Pete thought Reed was being melodramatic. He doubted the good doctor’s comings and goings would interest anyone.

They finally agreed to meet on the sea wall that jutted out from the marina. Mid-August and it was late in the day. The sun had faded and the wind was blustery. Lines of spray shot up as each incoming wave crashed against the rocky barrier. This was an unpleasant place for Pete, whose bones often ached with the damp. The only virtue of the location was that the setting was so miserable that no one else was there.

Linton Reed stood with his hands jammed down in the pockets of his dark overcoat, looking out toward the islands, barely visible in the haze. “What’s your proposal?”

“Couple of questions about security measures before I get into it. The lab’s in Southwick Hall, is that correct?”

Linton nodded tersely.

“You have a guard in the lobby?”

Linton focused on him. “I hope you’re not thinking of going into the lab.”

“Just answer my questions and I’ll tell you what I’m thinking when I know what’s up. Guard or no guard?”

“No need for one. Electronic access only. The building and the lab both have swipe-card entry systems. Staff and employees are each assigned an ID badge with a magnetic strip and personal identification number. Every ID has an integrated circuit chip that triggers both locks. You slide the card through a reader and then punch in your code.”

“You use the same swipe card to get out?”

“In this system, yes.”

“What about closed-circuit TV?”

“There was talk of installing cameras but the university doesn’t have the funds. In the end, we decided this is a college campus, not a bank. I’ve seen security stickers on certain doors, but it’s just for show. Lots of signs—No Admittance; Authorized Personnel Only—none of it means anything.”

“How good is the lighting?”

“Campus safety’s a big deal, so there’s good visibility outside, especially along the paths and in the parking lots. Inside, lights are blazing all the time.”

“Lot of people work late?”

“That happens occasionally, but most of us have families. I’ve never seen anybody in the lab after nine. There are people going in and out just about any time of day,” he said. “Now, I’d appreciate an explanation.”

“Fair enough. So here’s the idea. You pick a night when there’s some big shindig going on that you and your wife plan to attend. You go and make sure you’re conspicuous throughout. Cocktails, conversation, dinner. Everybody knows you’re there. Airtight alibi. You have anything like that on the horizon?”

Linton looked off to the left and then said, “Close enough. August 24. That’s a Wednesday night. There’s an advisory board meeting of the local commission on alcohol and drug abuse. Dinner first and then I’ll be closeted for hours with a number of medical types. There’d be no question I was present and accounted for.”

“Sounds good. While you’re tied up, I let myself into the lab using the Bryce woman’s ID and PIN.”

“Her
ID
? How do you propose to do that?”

“My worry, not yours. I figure if I wear a white lab coat and employee badge, no one will pay me any mind. Make sure I have a map and then I’m just some schmo on the premises like anybody else. I go in, I stay a while, and then I come out. Swipe-card entry systems retain an audit trail of events at the door. Anybody checks on it later, it’s all set in stone—what time she went in, how long she stayed, and when she came out again.”

“Then what. I don’t understand. You go in the lab to do what? You don’t know anything about our work.”

“I don’t have to know. You handle that. Sometime the day before you get on your computer and make changes to your data. Nothing outrageous. You want it to look bad but you don’t want to overplay your hand. Elevate a number here and there, downgrade a few. Tamper, but not too radically. Just enough to suggest someone familiar with your work has been in there poking around.”

“Why would I alter my data when that’s what she’s accusing me of in the first place?”

Pete offered Linton a benign smile. “Morning after this event you go into work and discover your computer’s up and running. You’re confused because when you left Wednesday afternoon you remember shutting it down. It looks like someone’s gotten into your database and you’re worried. You can’t imagine what’s going on so you start checking sensitive documents.”

Linton stared at him. “And discover my data has been sabotaged.”

“That’s exactly right. Someone’s falsified your statistics, inflated the test results, and who knows what else? You go straight to your boss. You’re stunned. You’re white-faced with shock. You have no idea what’s going on, but someone’s undermined your work. You know everything was fine the day before because you started a printout of what you’d done to date. You can even show him pages you printed on both days and point to the discrepancies. Someone wants to make you look bad. If you hadn’t picked up on it, you’d have ended up submitting results that were way off. Doctored, if you’ll forgive the pun.”

“Do I mention Mary Lee?”

“You let him do that. You’ve complained about her before, haven’t you?”

“I did when she first came to work. I had to tell him I’d been involved with her in case she started bad-mouthing me.”

“Exactly. The woman’s trying to damage your reputation because you resisted her attempts to rekindle the flame. You rebuffed her and now look what she’s done.”

Linton thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. “Don’t like it. Too risky.”

“That’s my lookout.”

“What if somebody’s in the building and wants to know what you’re doing?”

“Won’t happen. Look like me and nobody wants to stop and chat about anything.”

“But why would she give you her ID?”

“She won’t know I have it.”

“You can’t pull it off. There’s no way.”

“Let’s don’t argue the point. Give it some thought. If you decide we have a deal, we’ll meet again.”

“And if I don’t call you, the deal is off?”

“That’s correct.”

Linton stood for a moment, debating with himself.

Pete said, “Don’t decide right now. Let it sit. If I can’t deliver my end, I’ll let you know.”

Linton shook his head and backed up a step before he turned away. Pete watched as he retraced his steps, hands in his coat pockets. Wind blew spray, like a fine mist, across the breakwater, wetting the concrete so that Linton left a brief set of shoe prints in his wake.

•   •   •

The real hurdle Pete faced was talking Willard Bryce into playing his part, which was critical to the overall success of his scheme. Pete called Willard the next morning as soon as he calculated Mary Lee had left for work. They agreed on a time and Pete swung by and picked him up at the designated corner like a couple of spies. As with Linton Reed, Willard was a man who loved to self-dramatize. Why else go to such lengths when they were the only ones who gave a shit? Small talk back and forth on their way to the beach, where they parked and sat in the car.

Willard said, “I don’t understand why we had to meet. I thought our business was done. I have your report and I’ve paid you everything I owe.”

“I’ve been thinking it might be a smart move to check Mary Lee’s work space. Maybe there’s information to be picked up in a place she thinks is safe from prying eyes.”

“Stop right now. This has gone far enough.”

“Just listen to what I have to say. She feels comfortable at work, right? She’s relaxed. She assumes you have no access to the lab, so she might leave stuff around. Might be notes back and forth between her and this Pensky fellow.”

“You said there was nothing going on.”

“I said I didn’t
think
there was. I said there might be other explanations. All I’m saying now is it won’t hurt to look.”

“I won’t do it. How the hell would I manage that? I can’t ask for her ID and go off for an hour. Are you insane?”

“You don’t have the stomach for it, I’ll handle it myself. Here’s how I see it. There’ll be a couple of swipe locks—one to get into the building, the other to get into the lab. All you have to do is get me her ID and her PIN. You have any idea what that is?”

“It’s 1956. She uses that for everything. The ID I can’t help you with. She takes it with her when she goes to work. How else would she get in?”

“Then get it when she’s not at work,” Pete said, patiently. Willard was a moron. Did the man have no imagination?

“I never know when she’s going in. Especially lately. It could be any hour.”

“Does she sleep at night?”

“Of course she sleeps at night. What kind of question is that?”

“Where’s her ID badge when she’s asleep?”

“On top of the chest of drawers.”

“Why don’t you take it then and leave it outside your front door. I’ll pick it up, go into the lab, have a look around, and then return it when I’m done. Won’t take an hour and I’ll put it back where I found it. All you have to do is pick it up off the welcome mat and return it to the chest of drawers. She’ll never know it was gone. I’ll contact you first chance I get and tell you what I found.”

“When would you do this? Go into the lab.”

“Haven’t decided yet. I’ll pick a date and let you know.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do. You have a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”

“I don’t need a better idea. I never asked for any of this in the first place.”

Pete lapsed into silence. He knew from past experience that once you persuaded somebody to cross the line the first time, it didn’t take much to talk ’em into doing it again. Willard wasn’t nearly as scrupulous as he pretended.

Willard’s face had darkened to that brooding look, triggered by his insecurities. “Actually, anything she has at work, I’d never know about.”

“Exactly. And you can’t go there yourself because if she woke up she’d know you were gone. Aside from that, you’d be too conspicuous thumping across campus on that one leg of yours.”

For some reason, Willard laughed at that and Pete knew he’d won.

•   •   •

Pete’s next meeting with Linton Reed took place in the parking lot at Ludlow Beach, roughly across the street from the Santa Teresa City College running track. It had taken some arguing, but the good doctor had finally agreed to the spot. Pete arrived first and got out of his Ford Fairlane, crossing a patch of grass to one of the picnic tables. Beyond the wide expanse of lawn, the beach extended for another five or six hundred yards. Beyond, the Pacific Ocean stretched for twenty-six miles until the islands peeked up at the horizon.

By way of a prop, Pete had bought himself an oversize container of coffee, still too hot to sip. He heard a car and turned as the doctor pulled in, driving a turquoise Thunderbird. For a man worried about being seen, the car couldn’t be more conspicuous. Linton locked his car and approached casually with a copy of the
Santa Teresa Dispatch
under his arm.

Pete waited until he sat down on the far side of the table, neither of them making eye contact. Linton made a show of opening the paper as though he’d arrived solely for this purpose.

“Let me know when you have a minute,” Pete said.

“I’m listening.”

Pete said, “Somebody’s going to think we’re sweet on each other. Why else would you come over to my table and sit down?”

“Don’t mock me. Let’s just get on with it.”

“I take it we’re on or you wouldn’t have called again.”

“What do you think?” Linton said, snappishly.

Pete noticed that he’d neatly sidestepped consent. If Pete were caught, he could honestly say he hadn’t agreed to anything.

Pete said, “If we’re on, I want what was promised. The map for starters.”

Linton took a folded sheet of typing paper from his pocket and handed it to Pete. Pete opened it and made a quick study of the drawing Linton had done, showing the location of the building that housed the research lab in relation to the campus parking lots, some of which were designated for staff or employees only. There was apparently no restriction on vehicular ingress and egress.

Linton had marked the first point at which a card needed to be swiped. He’d also drawn the layout of the lobby with a series of directional arrows from the door to the elevators. Nice. If Pete were passing himself off as someone who knew his way around, he couldn’t be blundering down the wrong hall. The lab occupied the entire second floor. Linton had also roughed out the interior offices, marking his desk, the desk where Mary Lee Bryce worked, and a few other significant landmarks.

“Looks good,” Pete said. “You have the other business?”

Linton took out a thick envelope and placed it on the table without making visual reference to it. Then he got up and walked away.

Pete took the envelope and slid it into the inner pocket of his sport coat. He’d count the cash later to make sure it was all there before he tucked it away for safekeeping. Linton was right about the risk. Pete wasn’t nearly as sanguine as he appeared to be. The very notion of what he had to do made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He had no confidence the plan would work, but with the two grand in his pocket and two more on tap, what choice did he have?