"Huh? How?"
"Think about it." Segasture grinned as he helped Beth claim her bags.
Christ, she must plan on a long stay, Norm thought.
"I give up, Frank."
"Ah, Norm, you never were any fun."
"Taxi drivers," said Tran.
Segasture spat to one side. "Yeah. Norm, your friend is too damned smart. Yeah. What I did was get to the cabbies working the stations. I told them there was a twenty for the guy who spotted her and let us know."
"Isn't that a little cheap?"
"There's guys would cut your throat for that much down in the city. Anyway, they're going to be your bucks. I'll up the ante if you want. Hey, pretty lady, I'll carry them."
"Don't worry, Beth. This old dog is all bark. He's the last of the faithful husbands."
In a tight voice she remarked, "That's what I was afraid of." She wasn't at ease with that kind of banter.
"You're blowing my mystique, Norm. Come on. I've got a car. Hey! You remember the time we booby-trapped old Handley's microscope?"
They relived similar hijinx all the way to the motel, till Cash was sure Beth and Tran were convinced that his FBI course had been waste of the taxpayers' money.
Over breakfast Beth became Miss Business. "Norm, did you forget Dr. Smiley?"
He halted a forkful of pancake halfway along its arc to his mouth. "Damned near," He explained to Segasture.
"Okay. I'll put the word out for the drivers to watch for him. You got any other rats going to come out of the woodwork back here?"
Cash shook his head. "You know, I wish I could get out and prowl around the countryside. My mother came from a place called Johnstown. I think it's around here somewhere."
"Nan. It's almost over to Albany."
"I remember, back in thirty-four, we drove all the way back there in a twenty-six chevy. For my grandfather's funeral. Only time I ever saw the man. Laying in a casket."
Cash's mind drifted into the past. It was hard to believe that he had ever been that young. "He had two wooden legs. That's all I remember about him. He was some kind of mechanic on the railroad. One day he fell asleep under an engine he was working on. Somebody got in and drove it off… You know, the only other thing I remember about that trip is playing on a barge on the Erie Canal."
"Maybe you can go over there after we close this thing up," Segasture suggested.
"No. There won't be time. We've got to get back. Funerals."
And that was the story of his life. Always there was something that had to be done. Twenty-six months in Europe, with Uncle Sam footing the bill, and he hadn't seen a damned thing but the cathedral at Cologne.
Later, in Norm's motel room, Segasture opened a briefcase and passed out weapons. "I hope we don't have to use these. Try not to. Especially you, Major. They're legal, but we might have to do a lot of explaining. So wave them around if the feeling grabs you, but don't shoot. Norm, you want to ride out there? Look the place over?"
What he wanted was to go lay an ambush at the railway station. "What if she comes in while we're gone?"
"Christ! Don't be so damned anxious. We'll find out. If the cabbies can't get ahold of me, they know who to call at the Rochester P.O. They've got to be in on the edges of this thing anyway. It's their turf."
"Sure. You're right. Let's go take a look."
Segasture drove past slowly.
"It's a goddamned mansion," Cash muttered.
"The old boy is worth a mint. And the feeling around here is that he didn't come by all of it legit."
"What do you mean?"
"Koppel… The local cops think he's connected somehow. Little visible means of support. And he has some pretty strange visitors. Mainly foreigners. The couple who work for him are German."
"Who's this Koppel?"
"The guy who owns the place."
"But… the man we want is Fial Groloch."
"Then you're out luck."
"You're sure that's the right house?" All he needed was to have to go back to Hank and admit that he had gone on a wild goose chase.
"That's the address you gave me. Hey! Calm down. It did belong to Fial Groloch. He sold out to this Koppel about forty years ago."
"But she got letters from here!" Cash protested. He shuffled mental files, dredging up everything he had learned about Fial Groloch.
"Perhaps only the name of the owner changed," Tran suggested. "The man in residence might be the same."
"Of course!" Cash jumped on it instantly. "That'd be the perfect way to cover up the fact that you're outliving all your neighbors."
Segasture's expression was dubious. "I vote we go back and party till we get word that she's here."
"What I'd like to know," Beth said, "is why, when we asked you to check the place out, back when, you didn't let us know these things. If Koppel isn't Groloch, then we're out time and money for nothing."
"She always like this, Norm?"
"She doesn't let much get past."
"Yeah. Well. It's like this. I didn't get into it as deep as it might have sounded on the phone."
"I don't think you got into it at all," Beth retorted.
"You faked it?" Cash demanded.
"Well, sort of. I called some people. In the state police, up here…"
"I get the picture. They didn't want to be bothered either. You just wanted me off your back. I'm going to remember this, Frank."
"Hey, I'm sorry, Norm. It just didn't look very important at the time. You know what I mean?"
"I know what I think. But it's too late to cry now. Come on. Let's get back. I need a drink."
Two hours at the motel were all Cash could take. He left the others with the impression that he was going to take a nap, caught a cab to the railway station.
At ten p.m. he finally admitted his folly to himself. He was just working on an ulcer. At the motel, at least, he could share the waiting with friends.
But he had this damned overpowering urge to do something.