The Pandora Directive: A Tex Murphy Novel (29 page)

“I’ll stay right here.”Vasha shut the door, then put her ear to it, waiting for her uncle to leave. She then turned to me and smiled.

“So, you’re a friend of my uncles? Or a not particularly dangerous burglar?”

“Neither, actually.” for the first time since I’d come into the bathroom, I remembered I was carrying the box. Vasha looked down at it, then up at me.

“I suppose you brought this box with you?”

“No… not really.”

Vasha seemed to be a lot more comfortable than I was. I wasn’t altogether sure why she had covered for me, but it appeared to make her feel like she was in control the situation — which she was.

“So what happens now?”

Her smile made me even more uncomfortable. I was unsure whether she was coming onto me or just wanted to mess with my head. Either way, my antiperspirant was failing me.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you get back your after-bath activities.”

“I don’t think so. The way I see it, you owe me a favour.”

I took a step back. “Uh… I think I know what you’re talking about and usually I’d be more than happy to do you a favour. Maybe even two or three. Unfortunately, I really am pressed for time.”

Vasha looked repulsed. “I don’t know what kind of Adonis you think you are, but, for the record, I don’t find you very attractive.

I’d heard this kind of talk before, but it still takes me by surprise. Now I really was confused. “So why didn’t you tell your Uncle I was in here?”

“I don’t tell my uncle much of anything. The only thing I really want to tell him is ‘ It’s been nice knowing you.’ That’s where you can repay the favour you owe me.”

“What do you mean? You want me to take you out of here?”

“You catch on quickly.”

I thought it over for about a second and a half. No way. The last thing I needed was a kidnapping charge. If Vasha wanted to get away from her uncle, she was going to have to do it without my help. “Sorry kid. I appreciate your help, but you’re asking too much. Now, I’d really like to stick around and chat, but I have to be running along.” I moved toward the door.

“Take one step out of this bathroom and I’ll scream.”

“OK, fine.” I grabbed the doorknob and flung the door open as she screamed. I turned to my right and sprinted for the foyer. I reached the front door without being accosted, threw it open, and raced toward my speeder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man I hadn’t seen before moving to intercept me. He was younger and larger than either Witt or the limey. I got my speeder, pulled up, and turned just as he reached me.

“OK, I give up. Here’s the box.” I thrust it into the man’s chest. Momentarily stunned that I wasn’t putting up a fight, he instinctively took it. With both hands full, he left himself wide open. I decked him full across the chin and dropped him like a bad habit. I bent down, picked up the box, and climbed into my speeder. Within minutes, I was miles away, headed for the border.

On the flight back to San Francisco, I replayed in my mind the conversation I’d overheard between Witt and the mystery caller. Who was Witt in cahoots with? NSA? Unlikely Everything I’d heard about him indicated that he’d always been a poster child for unorthodoxy and non-conformist ideology. A man like that could never be coerced with the threat of death or violence into abetting forces he knew to be against his own beliefs. Malloy had talked about factions in the private sector wanting to obtain his information, probably for purely financial gain. Maybe Witt needed to raise a large amount of capital to finance a pet project. It was a stretch, but people did worse things for less money every day.

There was another thing I’d ever heard there was even more suggestive — the name Oliver. I thought back to the O E reference from Malloy’s notebook. Oliver E — . I wondered what part he was playing in this whole scheme. From what Witt had said, this Oliver apparently had one of the boxes — with any luck, one of the two boxes still missing. I still had no idea where our was going to find the box there had been stolen from Archie Ellis. My gut told me that there was securely in the possession of the NSA. If that was the case, I could only hope that its contents were not essential to completing our task. My one optimistic angle was that, knowing Ellis, Malloy I would have sent him the least important piece of the puzzle. For now, I had to concentrate my efforts on tracking down Oliver E — .

I arrived back at my office and check my messages. Regan, Fitzpatrick, Rook, and Purnell had all caught. Rook was in a tizzy because I hadn’t returned his 0.38. That blackmailer Pernell was eager to get his compensation for having bailed me out. Unfortunately for him, I hadn’t specified exactly when I pay him back. Both he and Rook he half her hoof Sheehy would just have to wait.

Regan, on the other hand, I wanted to get hold of. I had a few questions to put to her. One that I’d hesitated asking myself concerned Archie Ellis. As far as I knew, she could have been the last person to see him alive. I could see no reason why she would want him dead, but I knew that she was determined to claim her father’s inheritance and wasn’t going to let anyone stand in her way. I had to find out what had happened.

“Hello, Tex. What have you been up to?”

“I tracked down another box. I don’t suppose you stumbled onto the one stolen from Ellis.”

Regan smiled. “Oh, I’m good, but not as good as you. No, I didn’t have any luck with Ellis.”

“So you did go see him.”

“Of course. You told me to, darling.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“There’s not much to tell. I chatted with him, turned the charm setting up to eleven, batted my eyelashes, the usual. He made you look like a pushover. I’m fairly certain he doesn’t like women very much. Maybe you should go talk to him and try a different approach.”

“I’m afraid I’d do all the talking.”

“I don’t know. He strikes me as a rambler.” nothing in her conduct or appearance cast doubt on her story.

“I went to see Ellis after you did. He had a brand-new bullet hole in his forehead.”

Regan paused, not knowing what to say. She didn’t appear to be shaken by the news, but then, she’d only met Ellis the one time. After a moment, she shrugged her shoulders. “It’s too bad, but I didn’t know him. Who do you think did it?”

“I’m guessing the NSA, but I’m not sure why they’d rub him out if they had the box.”

“Maybe they don’t have the box.”

“That’s certainly a possibility,” I said, although I had no idea who else might have it.

“So what we do now?”

I thought it over. My PI instincts were a flat line. My head told me that Regan was on the level, but the business with Ellis left a bad taste in my mouth. I felt better about tracking down Oliver E. on my own. “For now, I think you should just sit tight. Unless you’ve got an idea on how we can follow up on Ellis’ s missing box.”

“Sorry, my dear. I only work miracles in more intimate settings.” I had no desire to indulge Regan’s invitation for sexy banter. Even if I’d been in the mood, there just wasn’t enough time.

“I’ve got a lead to look into. By the way, do you remember anyone your father knew named Oliver?” Regan thought it over.

“Sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“If you remember anything, call me.”

“Why don’t you come pick me up? Let me help you with this new lead.”

I didn’t want to put her off, but things were coming to a head, and I always preferred to work alone in crunch time. When it came right down to it, I was the only person I really trusted. “Sorry, Regan. I’ve got to handle this one on my own. You just stay where I can reach you, and I’ll get in touch later.”

“You’d better mean that literally.”

I disconnected the call and lit a smoke. Fitzpatrick should know what had happened. I punched in his number and let it ring. With luck, he would know something about the enigmatic Oliver E. and save me some time. Unfortunately, the Savoy switchboard operator told me he wasn’t in. I left a message, then hung up. I was going to have to do my investigating the hard way.

I pulled my notebook from my pocket and opened it to the page where I had written down the numbers from Witt’s phone bill. I started with the number in Los Angeles. After two beeps, a young man’s face appeared on the video screen.

“Mulder Memorial Museum. How can I help you?”

“Is Oliver in today?”

“I’m sorry. Mr Edsen won’t be in for several days. Can I do something for you?”

Oliver Edsen. By the way the young man referred to him, he was probably the museum director or had some other important position. I asked the young man for the address and business hours. After I disconnected, if I checked my watch. If I topped out my speeder, I might just get to the museum before it closed. Within five minutes, I was headed south.

I flew like a man possessed and reached the museum in record time. As I made my approach, I got a good look at the building. It was impressively designed and appeared to have been recently constructed. Three storeys of gleaming glass and steel. I jumped out of my speeder and hurried to the front door. I was only seconds late, but the door was locked. Pressing my face the glass, I peered inside, but there was no one in sight. These people took closing time seriously.

I considered my options. First, I could try to get inside, but it would probably be better to attempt a breakin later, when normal people would be in bed. Second, I could just get a room somewhere and start over tomorrow.

After some quick contemplation, I decided I didn’t feel like waiting that long. I’d come back in a few hours and practice my burgling skills.

Not far from the museum, I found a reputable looking cafe. I hadn’t eaten all day and suddenly realised I was famished. Breakfast being the most important meal of the day, I ordered blueberry pancakes with a side of bacon and coffee. After I ate, I spent the next couple hours exploiting the restaurant’s free-refill policy and reading the LA Times.

Eventually, the traffic slowed down, and I figured it was probably late enough for criminal activity. I flew my speeder to a used-speeder lot, about half a block from the museum, then walked the rest of the way. From the front door, I could see lights on in the back. A cleaning woman emerged and flipped on the lights in the front. I moved quickly away from the door and walked around to the right side of the building, into a narrow alley. A Van with the words Carl’s a Cleaning Service stencilled on the side was parked here. Maybe twenty-five feet down the alley, a short, mustachioed man was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Just behind him, I saw a door slightly ajar, with a thin beam of light streaming out. Suddenly, a smoky, drinky voice spoke from behind me. I turned to see two working girls giving me the eye.

“Hello, sailor. Lookin’ for a date?”

The woman who’d spoken looked at me with bleary eyes under a wig coloured in a way God never intended. Her face was made up to the point of disguise. For all I knew, it could have been J Edgar Hoover under there, and he’d been dead for decades. Her companion looked younger, though, of course, I was just guessing. The younger woman’s eyes were still moderately clear, contrasting disturbingly with a painted face.

“How’re you girls tonight?”

“We’re doing all right. Why don’t you let us show you a little piece of heaven?”

“You’re not Jehovah’s witnesses, are you?”

The older woman look to the younger one and smirked. “We can be if you want us to. You wouldn’t be the first.”

“No thanks. Actually, I’m not looking for any company right now.”

The older woman shrugged indifferently. “Your loss.”

The working girls turned and started sauntering back the way they came. I peeked around the corner and saw my little swarthy friend was still there. I turned and caught up to the women. “Tell you what. My friend’s taking a smoke break just around the corner over there. It’s his birthday, and I’d kind of like to give him a surprise. How much do surprises cost in this part of town?”

The older woman didn’t blink. “Two hundred. Each.”

“I only need one of you.”

They looked at each other. The younger woman spoke for the first time. She wasn’t as young as I’d thought she was. “What the hell? It’s a slow night.” I shelled out the cash and sent them around the corner. After a minute, I peeked around and saw my little friend flanked by the women, heading toward the dark end of the alley. I crept toward the door and slipped inside.

“Carl? Get in here, Carl!”

Off to my left, I could hear the cleaning woman yelling. I ducked to my right and hurried out of sight. Behind me, I could hear the woman stomping toward the side door. I took cover behind a table and looked up as she appeared. She was holding a mop and looked pretty upset. Then she stuck her head out the door and yelled for Carl again. Setting down the mop, she went outside. As she moved through the doorway, I caught a glint of something on a counter by the door. I walked over and saw a ring of keys. Snatching them up, I turned and moved away from the door.

I figured Oliver Edsen would have had an office somewhere in the mu-seum, probably on one of the upper floors. I ran up a flight of stairs to the second floor, moving as quickly as possible and keeping my eyes and ears wide open. If there were other cleaning people in the building, I at least wanted to see them before they saw me. Luckily, the second floor seemed to be deserted. It didn’t take long to find Edsen’s office. According to the nameplate on the door, he was the museum’s director. I tried the door knob, but the Office was locked. Pulling out the keys, I began trying each one. On the eighth key, the door unlocked. I threw it open and stepped inside.

I thought for a minute before flipping on the light. Maybe a light would attract attention — but the cleaning people were here, and they were turning lights on and off all over the place. It would probably be OK. Unless, of course, the cleaning people saw the light. Maybe the cleaning woman had found Carl. If she had, I doubt they’d notice much of anything for a few minutes.

Turning on the light, I went to Edsen’s desk. All the drawers were locked. I glanced at the key ring, but Edsen would certainly keep his own desk keys. The one bookcase had nothing much that I could see. A filing cabinet was also locked tight. I look through the things on Edsen’s desk, but he seemed to be annoyingly organised.