The Pandora Directive: A Tex Murphy Novel (30 page)

Several framed photographs were mounted on the walls. In one, I saw the familiar face of Elijah Witt. Standing next to him was a tall, thin man with a gaunt, clean-shaven face. Since he appeared in several of the other pictures, I figured he had to be Edsen.

As a last resort, I checked out the garbage can. Beneath the Styrofoam coffee cups, newspaper, and cigar butts, I found an envelope. It was empty, but there was a sticky note attached to it. On the note was written: LAX Flight #1881, Dep. 4/22, 4:05 p.m., C-16, Arr 4/26, 11:33 p.m. it had to be the itinerary for the trip Edsen was on. I thought back to what I’d heard at Witt’s when they were talking about Edsen: He said he received it, but he doesn’t have it with him… we have to wait until he gets back. He said he can get it as soon as he returns. He’d left the box at the airport! That’s where it had to be!

I turned off the lights and left Edsen’s office. No voices came from the first floor as I descended the stairs. I set the keys on the counter where I found them and peeked out the door. From the end of the alley and around the corner, I could hear the cleaning woman giving Carl an earful. Poor guy. I ran to my speeder and set course for LAX.

Like any other major airport, LAX is a sprawling, bustling, overcrowded Tower of Babel. Apart my speeder and entered the main terminal. After following signs for several miles, I found myself in the vicinity of gate C-16. I looked around and saw six different banks of storage lockers. If my hunch was correct, Edsen had dumped the box into a locker just before getting on his plane. Provided that the NSA hadn’t yet been talking to him, and airport storage locker would be as safe a place as any to keep the box.

Now I only had two small problems to deal with. I had to find out which locker Edsen had used, and then get into it. Such trivialities wouldn’t have slowed down the NSA. The NSA. I still had an NSA badge in my wallet. It was certainly worth a try, seeing as how I had no other reasonable plan.

I found my way to the security office and stepped inside like I owned place. A burly young man, sporting a crew-cut and a bushy moustache, sat at a reception desk reading a comic book. Slowly, he raised his eyes and looked at me. “Yeah?”

He had the look and sound of a high-school drop-out who wasn’t quite bright enough to make the police force. And was probably still pissed off about it. He wasn’t someone I’d want to come to blows with. Hopefully, he’d heard of the NSA.

“Do you have cameras on all the storage locker areas in the airport?”

“That’s restricted information.”

I pulled out the phoney NSA badge and held it up to his face. “Not from me.”

The burly guard studied the badge. I couldn’t tell whether he was trying to decide what to do, or just having had a hard time sounding out all the words. After a few moments, he looked back up at me. Apparently he had heard of the agency.

“What can I do for you, Agent Murphy?”

“A criminal we’ve been after flew out of this airport two days ago. He left a piece of contraband in one of the storage lockers. I need to find out which one, then get it open.”

“What’s a contraband?”

“It’s kind of like a box. I’ll show you when we find it.”

The thought of helping a real government agent seemed to brighten up my stupid friend. He made a call and led me deeper into the security area. After several minutes, I was introduced to a supervisor, Ms Hatch, a woman with biceps bigger than my thighs. “I hate to inconvenience you, Agent Murphy, but I need to take a look your identification. Security procedures, you understand.”

I held up the badge. Ms Hatch looked it over several times. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to call in and check your credentials. Not that I don’t trust you, Agent Murphy. It’s just not as hard as it used to be to get bogus identification badges.”

She was calling my bluff. My pair of threes and I were looking shaky. The only thing I could do now was take a cue from Jackson Cross. I decided to grit my teeth and lie through them. “Look, Ms Hatch. I haven’t got time to dick around with a peon wannabe cop like you. That act may play in Peoria, but not in the big leagues. If you don’t give me the information I’m here for, I’ll have your ass fired so hard, you’ll smell like charcoal for a month.”

Ms Hatch obviously wasn’t accustomed to having such a tone taken with her. Her eyes glared for a moment, then she backed off. If I were on the up and up, I could certainly make my threats good. She seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the risk. “Sorry. I know the NSA doesn’t have to work through procedures like we do here. I’ll clear everything for you. Let me know if I can help.” “Oh, I’ll let you know. All I need is access to video tapes and a technician to assist me.”

“Yes sir. Right this way.”

Ms hatch led me into another room and set me up with an extremely intimidated computer geek. I told him what I needed, and he came back with six video disks, one for each of the storage locker areas around gate C-16. We spent the next hour viewing the disks, checking all the footage between 2:30 and 4:00 p.m.. We were onto the fourth disk when I finally saw what I was looking for. The tall, thin figure of Oliver Edsen approached and opened one of the lockers. He pulled a small duffel bag from under a coat draped over his arm. Looking around nervously, he slid the bag into the locker, inserted several coins, then locked the door and removed key.

I turned to the technician and asked which locker had been used. He checked the disk, then reran the footage. It was locker 164 02. In keeping with my NSA persona, I didn’t thank him and left. I returned to Ms Hatch’s office and informed her that locker number 16402 was to be open for me immediately.

Twenty minutes later, I was outside the airport, a small duffel bag in my hand and a big skip in my step.

Back at my office, I called Fitzpatrick. “It’s good to hear from you, Mr Murphy. You’re a difficult man to pin down. Difficult indeed.”

“That’s what my girlfriends have always said.”

“I’m sure. Incidently, I received your package. I’m sure you have a tale to tell.”

“Frankly, I’d just as soon forget about it. I’ve had more pleasant experiences.”

Fitzpatrick didn’t press the matter. “So, what news have you?”

“I’ve got two of the three remaining boxes. Do you know a man named Oliver Edsen?”

“I know of him. Did he give you one of the boxes?”

“In a manner of speaking. I think we should meet.”

“I agree. Thomas seems to have set things up so that all the boxes must be present in order to assemble the complete picture. Nonetheless, perhaps four boxes will be enough.” the eagerness in his voice was unmistakable.

“Do you want to meet here at my office?”

“No… I think you should come to the Savoy. Perhaps we should invite all those involved. It seems that Thomas wanted everyone to be present. Can you contact them?”

The thought of confronting Witt again didn’t appeal to me, but Fitzpatrick was right. “I’ll see what I can do. I know that Oliver Edsen won’t be able to come.”

“I’d prefer to have Mr Edsen in attendance, but I’m afraid we haven’t the luxury of waiting.”

“I’ll try to reach the others and get back to you.”

Fitzpatrick disconnected. I got out by notebook and found Witt’s number. The limey informed me that Mr Witt was not at home and might not be back for several days. I wondered if he was on my trail. My next call went to Regan.

“How did it go?”

“Fine. I got another box.”

“Wonderful! Is that it? Do we have all of them?”

“No. There’s still the one stolen from Ellis at the Cosmic Connection. I’m hoping that we can work around it.”

“So, now we get the other boxes and open them, right?”

“Yeah, but there’s something you need to know first.”

Regan’s smile faded. “What?”

“Someone else is involved in this.”

“Who?”

“An old friend of your father. Gordon Fitzpatrick. He’s the one who got me mixed up in all this in the first place.”

“I don’t intend on splitting this three ways.”

“Fitzpatrick isn’t in this for the money. He’s in it because he was concerned for your father.”

“I don’t care why he’s in this. The Pandora’s Box, or whatever it is, is mine. It belonged to my father, and now it’s mine. I’m not going to let anyone take it away from me.”

“No one’s taking it away from you. That’s why I called. Fitzpatrick and I are going to meet with all the others who were contacted by your father.”

“Why do the others need to be there? Why don’t you just get the boxes and meet me?”

“Your father set it up so all the boxes had to be opened together. I think the reason he did it was so that everyone involved would be a witness to whatever it is we’re going to see.”

Regan obviously didn’t like the idea.

“C’mon Regan, no one’s going to steal this from you. The only hang-up would come if we find out that your father’s work is too dangerous to let out of the bag. And if that’s the case, I’m sure you’ll agree with everyone else on a course of action.”

Regan seemed to relax a little. “You’re still on my side, aren’t you?”

Her vulnerability felt authentic. I realised once again that she was just a kid, caught up in something way over her head. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was nervous and needed to know she wasn’t alone in the world. “Of course I am.”

Her smile returned. “All right. When are we going to get together?”

“It depends on the others. I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll wait for your call.”

As soon as I was off the phone, I grabbed my hat and hoofed it over to the Fuchsia Flamingo. Gus and Emily had just as much stake in this thing as anyone else and deserved to be there at the unveiling. I walked through the front door and scanned the joint for Gus, but he was nowhere to be seen. A young mutant approached me and asked for my membership card. I told him I’d just come by to talk to Gus and/or Emily. The mutant said that they’d gone out of town two days ago, and he didn’t know when they be back.

Of the eight people mired in this scenario, one was dead, one was out of the country, and three others were unaccounted for. That left me, Regan, and Fitzpatrick. I returned to my office and called to tell Fitzpatrick what had happened. He told me to come over anyway. I then talked to Regan, who said she could be ready by the time I got there.

I picked up Regan at the Imperial Lounge, then flew to the Savoy. We didn’t say much on the way. My gut squirmed like a chump wrestler caught in a stranglehold. Regan was tough to read, but her eyes were bright, which usually meant her mind was running in overdrive.

I landed in front, where the valet service was waiting. Regan and I walked into the lobby and took the elevator up to the eighteenth floor. I leaned against the elevator wall and assessed my companion. She was looking anxiously at the LED display. God, she was beautiful. I hadn’t been close to her for awhile. I’d forgotten how appealing the view was. Her lips were parted slightly. My mouth was suddenly very lonely. It was either kiss her or talk.

“Nervous?”

Her eyes stayed glued to the changing floor numbers. “There’s a better word for it.”

“I didn’t bring my thesaurus.”

Regan didn’t respond immediately. My eyes drifted up to the display. When she spoke, her voice was like velvet. “I feel like I’m about to make love to someone I’ve wanted for a long time.”

“We’ve only known each other a few days.”

The flawless profile smiled. “Not you. Yet.”

The number eighteen flashed in unison with a muffled chime, and the door slid open. We turn to the right and walked down the hall. Reaching the door to 1813, I raised my hand to knock. Regan’s hand went to my cheek and turned my face toward hers. Suddenly her lips were on mine. It was a deep, wet kiss that felt like a rich appetiser, with the promise of a full dinner to follow shortly. She pulled away and slowly opened her eyes. “For luck.” She patted my cheek and stepped back.

I took a moment to compose myself, then knocked. After a few moments, Fitzpatrick opened the door. “Hello, Mr Murphy.”

I doffed my fedora. Fitzpatrick’s gaze turned to Regan. “Please come in.” We stepped into the hotel room.

Across the room, seated in an overstuffed chair, was Elijah Witt. “We meet again, Murphy.” Witt folded his hands over his round stomach and smiled at me like an elementary school principal who’d just caught a truant. I wasn’t sure what to say. Fitzpatrick spoke from behind me.

“Mr Witt tells me that the two of you have already met. I don’t believe, however, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your lovely friend.”

I turned back to Fitzpatrick. “This is Regan Madsen. Thomas Malloy’s daughter.”

Regan smiled pleasantly and extended her hand. Fitzpatrick looked her over as they shook hands. “The plot thickens.” the old man motioned toward Witt. “Ms Madsen, this is Elijah Witt, a long-time friend of your father’s.”

Witt made no move. “I didn’t know Thomas had a daughter.”

Fitzpatrick looked toward Regan, then me, and gestured toward two chairs. We sat down. Fitzpatrick walked toward an end table, and picked up a smouldering Cubana from an ashtray.

“I remember Regan from China. Of course, that was many years ago.” He looked toward Regan, appraising her again.

“I must say, you’ve become a very beautiful woman. Luckily, you took after your mother, though I see some of your father in you. Especially in the eyes.”

Witt shifted in his seat. “How do we know she is who she says she is?”

Regan crossed her legs and responded coolly. “Maybe you’d like to see a copy of a birth certificate.”

“Documents can be faked.”

“Well, then, I guess you just have to take my word for it.”

I interjected. “She’s on the level, Mr Witt. I can vouch for that.”

Witt turned his professional gaze in my direction. “Is that so? I suppose I should blindly believe you, especially after you came into my home under false pretences, then proceeded to rob me. I think not.”

Fitzpatrick turned toward Witt in a cloud of smoke. “Mr Murphy and I have been working together in this situation since the beginning. He has demonstrated his commitment repeatedly. If you cannot trust him in these matters, then you cannot trust me.”