“Yes,” I tell him. “It is.”
At last the nurse appears in the doorway and it’s time to leave. I promise Tim that I’ll be back. He puts his frail arm around me, and it both breaks my heart and lightens it when he gives me a hug. “And maybe I can teach you some more tricks,” he says.
“I’d like that.”
In the hallway, I meet up with Charlene and Xavier. We thank Ms. Sage-Turner for scheduling the show on such short notice, but she tells us that she’s the one who should be thankful.
“We’ll be back,” Charlene promises her.
“We’ll look forward to it.”
I venture a guess. “I understand there’s some progress being made on the progeria research front.”
“It looks like a sizable anonymous donation is coming in.” She looks very pleased. “We’re working with RixoTray Pharmaceuticals on a joint project.”
“That’s fantastic.”
A nurse flags her down, she excuses herself and steps away.
As my friends and I head for the elevator bay, I tell them about my encounter with Tim. “Emilio promised he would help him to not grow old so fast. How could he make a promise like that?”
“He wouldn’t have,” replies Xavier, “unless he knew for sure something was on the horizon. Some sort of breakthrough.”
“Maybe he learned something from the RixoTray researcher?” Charlene says. “This Dr. Schatzing?”
Is he the one who gave Emilio the RixoTray USB drive?
What about the DoD encrypted files? Why would Schatzing have those?
Well, either he has a connection to Groom Lake, or Emilio did.
It was a lot to chew on.
As we ride the elevator down to the first floor, Charlene continues, “Remember how we were talking about why Emilio might have been interested in all this, and we were thinking it might be because he wanted to find a way to live longer, or he might have wanted someone else to live longer?”
“It looks like we just found that person,” Xavier answers.
“Yes,” I agree. “I think we did.”
Outside the hospital, Charlene surprises me by saying she really does think we should talk with Solomon again.
“About Akinsanya?”
“Yes. I mean, think about it, he’s really the key behind all this, isn’t he? If we can find him and turn him in to the FBI, they’ll be able to dig through all the layers and find out what’s really going on. Besides, as far as we know, he’s the one who hired Tomás to kill Emilio. And somehow, Solomon knows about him. He might be able to lead us to him.”
Even though I’m more than a little hesitant to contact Solomon again, at this point I have to admit that it might actually be worth it.
“If we go this route, I’m talking to him alone this time.”
“Betty and I are coming along,” Xavier says unequivocally. “And no, that’s not up for discussion.”
Rather than argue or ask to come along, Charlene just nods. “I can accept that. As long as you three are careful.”
“Three?”
“Two guys plus one Betty.”
“Gotcha.”
“Call me. Keep me up to speed.”
“I will.” I hand her my keys and she takes the DB9 back home while I ride with Xavier in his RV toward the Hideaway. A very low-profile vehicle. Perfect for searching for clandestine crime lords.
We don’t see Martin when we walk into the bar. There’s a different bartender working today, and when we ask her about Solomon, she tells us she has no idea who that is. She doesn’t know any Martins either.
Even laying a hundred-dollar bill on the table doesn’t jog her memory, and I believe her.
At last we go back to the RV and Xavier says, “Okay. Let’s swing by the alley.”
I have the feeling that we won’t be granted access to see Solomon without Martin’s help, but it’s worth a shot.
Between the two of us we’re able to find the alley without too much trouble. Xavier parks the RV along the street beside it.
No one answers the rusted door when we knock. I try opening it but find that it’s firmly bolted shut. There’s no lock for me to pick on this side of it.
“Well,” Xavier says, “at least we gave it a shot.”
“Back to square one.”
“Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.”
On the way back to the house, Fionna calls. I put her on speakerphone so Xavier, who’s driving, can hear what she has to say.
She tells us that when Charlene was at the front gates of my house waiting for them to open, she saw a sedan with two men sitting in it across the street. “They’re still there,” she informs us. “I can see them from the window in the library.”
“It might not be anything.” But I don’t exactly believe that.
“I had Lonnie and Donnie go outside to play some catch. Football. They got a closer look. One of the men is watching the house through binoculars.”
“Feds,” mumbles Xavier.
“Or cops,” she suggests.
If we’re going to keep looking into all this, I don’t want anyone — not cops or FBI agents — staking out my place.
I think things through and come up with something that should be able to free us up from being watched by whoever’s outside those gates.
“Okay, listen, Fionna. Have everyone stay in the house. I have an idea.”
After ending the call I tell Xavier to turn around. “We need to head to the Strip.”
“Why?”
“There are a couple stops I need you to make on the way to my house.”
Misdirection
We take care of the errands I had in mind and then arrive at the gates to the drive leading to my home.
Sure enough, the black sedan is parked nearby.
Xavier’s driving, so I get out and walk around the RV, punch in the security code, making sure that I’m visible to the men in the car as I do, then climb back in.
I pretend I don’t notice them watching me.
The gates swing open, we drive in, and I put things into play.
Undersecretary Oriana Williamson waited as patiently as she could for Akio Takahashi to finish telling her about the miniature flying robots.
Finally, she just cut in. “Look. We’ve been walking around here since noon and I’ve had enough of this. Here’s what I’m wondering: Have there been any breakthroughs on the bionic forefront?”
“Nothing we haven’t already reported to the oversight committee.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
A pause. “From whom?”
“A friend. I want to see the blueprints for this building.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I want to see the schematics. And I want to see them now so I can make my six o’clock flight.”
Officer Gordon Shepard peered through his binoculars and watched Charlene Antioch and Jevin Banks leave the house and slip into the Aston Martin parked out front.
“Man, we are in the wrong profession,” he said to his partner, Ron Ledger. “Wait till you see this car.”
When it came into view, Ron grunted. “You’re not kidding. That just ain’t right.”
The gates swung open and the Aston Martin turned south, toward the Strip.
“Call Garcia.” Gordon started the engine. “Tell him they’re on the move.”
Derek got the call from Jesús Garcia while he was tying off the sutures closing up one of the longer slits he’d made in Dr. Jeremy Turnisen’s abdomen.