He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "She's going to get the file on that house." He told me. "Who is this bitch anyway?"
"Maybe I'll tell you someday." I said cryptically.
He shrugged and went back to waiting. A minute or so passed. Finally he began to listen again. "Yes, that's right." He told Anita. "My wife and I would like to take a look at that house as soon as possible. Is there any chance you could show it to us, say today about one o'clock?"
He nodded, completely into the drama he was participating in. "Very good." He said and then listened some more. "No no, we know where it's at. How about we meet you there?" He listened some more. "That's right, one o'clock. See you there. Thank you very much Mrs. Browling."
He hung up the phone and looked at me. "Whatever you're planning." He told me. "You're dialed in."
"Thanks Mike." I told him. "I owe you one. You've been a benefit to oppressed people everywhere."
"Yeah right." He said. "Well I gotta go dude. Catch you this afternoon."
A thought suddenly occurred to me. "Hey Mike?"
"Yeah?" He said, in the middle of turning to leave.
"You got any buds? I've been itching to get stoned."
He looked at me strangely for a second. "I got some at home." He told me. "About enough for a joint, but I don't have any on me. You want to get stoned later?"
"Yeah." I said, hiding the grin that wanted to break out on my face. Mike had pot but he wasn't bringing it to school with him! For Mike, that was an accomplishment. "After we study today. I think we deserve it."
"Cool." He said, nodding. "Well, gotta jet."
"See ya." I replied, watching him go. He really was growing up.
Finally I turned back to business. I picked up the phone and put in another dime. Consulting my list I dialed a number. It rang three times and then a male voice responded.
"North Spoke Reality. This is Jack Valentine, can I help you?"
"Why yes, Mr. Valentine." I said, deepening my own voice. "You certainly can. You see, a friend of mine, Mark Vincent, recently purchased a house on…"
By twelve-thirty I was sequestered in the row of bushes in the park across the street from 2119 Westbrook Lane. Despite my overabundance of clothing I was shivering as the wind cut through my down jacket and snowflakes stuck to my cap. I was reasonably sure that I could not be spotted by anyone from the house even if they WERE looking for me, which they wouldn't be. The snow that was rapidly accumulating on me would do nothing but help with my camoflaugh.
I'd enticed the two real estate agents to this house by offering them dream clients, making my fictional customers almost too good to be true. It was something no agent would ever turn down; people that had apparently already decided upon a house and had large down payments in reserve in order to help finance it. They would show up, visions of large, quick commissions dancing in their heads. I only hoped that one of my suppositions was correct. If I remembered my real estate agents correctly, they always parked in the driveway if they could when meeting someone at the house. This allowed the customer to get the whole view of the house as they stepped out of their vehicle. The driveway was big enough for both Anita and Jack's cars to fit.
It would certainly make things easier and less dangerous to me if they did NOT park in front of the house. If I was wrong, and they did, there were at least the trees to give partial cover.
As it turned out my supposition was a correct one. Anita arrived first at twelve-fifty, fully ten minutes early. She pulled her car into the empty driveway, bringing it to a halt. Before she could even step out of her vehicle Jack pulled in, driving a late model (for that when) Buick. He parked it right next to hers.
They got out of their vehicles and looked at each other in surprise for a moment, holding a quick conversation. I couldn't hear them but I could guess what they were saying. What are you doing here? A client for this house? Oh really? One o'clock? What a coincidence. What's your client's name? Really? Well, I'll try not to step on you. Pretty weird, huh?
They spoke to each other as acquaintances, with no hostility that I could detect. I saw them shake their heads a few times as if wondering at the quirks of fate which brought both of them here at exactly the same time. Finally a comment was passed that had to have amounted to, 'why are we standing out here in the snow?'. They both headed for the front door.
Anita knocked on the door and then rang the doorbell a few times. In my planning stage of this I'd worried obsessively about whether or not the owners of the house would be home before I finally figured out that it really didn't matter. Ideally, they would be gone but if they weren't, the plan would still work. As it turned out, they were gone. Giving up on the doorbell, Anita walked over to the brass lockbox that was attached to the water pipe. She dialed in a combination and opened the box, pulling out a key. With the key, she opened the door. A moment later the both of them stepped inside, closing the door behind them.
My first thoughts that had led to this plan had told me that simply getting Anita and Jack into a house together for twenty to thirty minutes would be enough to push them together. Further reflection upon this, and the consideration that the occupants would be home, therefore breaking the mood, led me to modify that plan somewhat. Just putting them together might not be enough. I had to emmerse them into a situation together. Even that, I reluctantly admitted, might not be enough, but it was better than just throwing them together. An extension to the plan developed. An extension that now needed to be put into effect.
I acted quickly, extricating myself from the bushes and moving west along the perimeter of the park until I was out of view of the house. I crossed the street and began walking along the sidewalk, strolling casually towards the house, doing my best impression of a neighborhood kid out for a walk in the snow. When I reached the driveway, where the two cars were parked, I took a good look around me, searching for any neighbors that happened to be out and paying attention. There were none. It was time.
I dashed between the two cars, both of which were ticking as their engines cooled down, quickly putting myself between the garage door and the front of Anita's Chrysler. A quick look assured me that from here I was unobservable from any angle. I had changed the oil in Anita's car more than ten times, usually as a prelude to sexual activity, and I knew the engine compartment of it well. I knew, for instance, that you did not need to be inside the car in order to open the hood. My hand found the hood release, which was warm, and slowly pulled it until I felt a click.
Carefully, taking another quick glance for unwanted observers, I lifted it, wincing at the squeaking noise it made. When it was about a foot above the engine compartment I peered inside. Though, as I've mentioned before, I am not a mechanical genius, my thirty-four years on two different Earth's had taught me enough to know that an internal combustion engine could be quickly disabled by removing one particular piece of it. I reached in and grasped the coil wire, which led to the distributor cap. Without this wire, electricity could not get to the spark plugs and the cylinders could not fire. I gave a sharp yank and the wire was in my hand. I stuffed it into my jacket pocket and then eased the hood back down, giving it a firm push to latch it and wincing again at the sharp noise that resulted.
One more quick glance around for danger and I dashed back to the sidewalk. I headed back the way I came, crossed the street once again, and moved back into the park. A few minutes after that I was back in the bushes, observing the house. I began to wait.
It was twelve forty-five before they both emerged from the house. In the ensuing fifty minutes I'd seen both of them peer out multiple times, looking for their clients pulling up out front, clients that were figments of my imagination. When they left the house, carefully locking it up and putting the key back in the lock box, they were talking to each other and shrugging.