Part 10 (2/2)
”Good. Then you can make yourself useful,” said Stillman, with no surprise or hesitation. He swerved suddenly to the white curb. ”Go in there while I return this car. Go to the American Airlines desk. They have your name.”
Walker stopped at the counter and the airline woman produced two tickets, one in Stillman's name and the other in Walker's. They were for Chicago. He looked at the date of purchase. It was yesterday. Again he tried to retrace Stillman's movements, and again Stillman had left tracks in all directions. Had he really made a reservation for Walker to fly to San Francisco on United this morning? If he didn't want Walker to go to Chicago with him, he would not have reserved a ticket to Chicago for him. He had said ”Good” when Walker had told him he was not going home. So he had wanted Walker to go to Chicago with him. Maybe at the last minute, Stillman had been planning to offer him some inducement that had not been necessary. And maybe he had sent Serena to provide the inducement.
When Stillman came into the terminal with his little suitcase, Walker fell into step with him. Walker said, ”How did she know we were staying at that hotel?”
”That's what she does for a living. She traces people.”
”Did you call her and ask her to come?”
Stillman raised an eyebrow. ”Did you get the impression that if I had, she would have done it?”
”No,” he admitted.
”Then what made you think I called her?”
”She told me if I wanted to see her again I had to go with you and find Ellen first.”
Stillman stared ahead as he walked on. ”Interesting.”
They waited to get through the metal detectors, then walked to their gate and waited some more. When they were in the plane at last, Walker leaned back and closed his eyes. The noise and vibration of the plane's engines relaxed his muscles and put him into a dreamless sleep.
He did not wake until the plane jolted his spine and rattled down the runway to a stop. As the plane turned ponderously, and then b.u.mped along toward the terminal, he slowly came to full awareness and looked out at a huge field striped with runways. O'Hare Airport, he reminded himself: Chicago.
”You okay?” asked Stillman.
Walker said, ”I guess so.” He came to himself. ”What are we doing here?”
”I'll tell you on the way.”
Walker was getting used to Stillman's routine now. He stayed at Stillman's shoulder while they shuffled down the long, narrow aisle, then walked with him along the concourse to the escalators and down to the rental counters. He knew that the process would take fifteen minutes, and when the time had elapsed, they were on the road again.
Walker said, ”Are we in a hurry?”
”Not really,” Stillman answered.
”Can we stop at this plaza up here?”
Stillman swung the car into the parking lot and stopped in front of a florist's shop. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and produced a business card. ”Here,” he said. ”You'll need the address.”
Walker accepted the card. He walked into the shop and ordered a dozen long-stemmed roses to be sent to Mary Catherine Casey. When the girl at the counter handed him the form to fill in the address, he looked at the business card. It was Stillman's, not Gochay's. He flipped it over and saw that Stillman had used the back as a scratch pad. Walker copied the handwritten address onto the form, then put the card back in his pocket and handed the girl his credit card.
When he was back in the car he said, ”Thanks,” and held the business card out.
”Keep it. It's worth the printing cost to know I've salvaged your disordered personal life.”
Walker looked at the card again. ”Who are the a.s.sociates?”
”What a.s.sociates?”
”It says, 'Max Stillman and a.s.sociates, Security.'”
Stillman started the car and backed out of the parking s.p.a.ce. ”That's just so new clients don't get the erroneous impression that when they hire me, all they get is a middle-aged, balding man with rubber-soled shoes.”
”So it's a lie.”
Stillman shook his head. ”No. Stillman and Company would be a lie. Stillman, Fozzengraf, Pinckney and Wong would be a lie. Stillman and a.s.sociates is the truth.”
”Except that the a.s.sociates are imaginary.”
Stillman turned out of the lot and accelerated onto a freeway ramp. ”No, you're not.”
13.
Walker stared at the facade of the big hotel as Stillman drove past it. There were doormen wearing green comic-opera general's uniforms with gold braid and s.h.i.+ny-brimmed hats. Cars were pulling up and letting off pa.s.sengers, then being driven away by other men wearing different, short-coated green uniforms that seemed to be patterned after some kind of cavalry. Stillman turned onto a side street and into a parking ramp. ”If you're sure this person is in there, and you know the name she used to register, why not just call the police?” He hoped Stillman had noticed he had not conceded it was Ellen Snyder.
”I have,” said Stillman. ”In their infinite wisdom, they have determined that we don't have enough evidence to give them the right to raid a hotel room and roust the guests.”
”Just using a false credit card would seem to me to be enough,” said Walker. ”What's the problem?”
Stillman shook his head. ”It's how we know it's a false credit card. They've sniffed our story, and smelled the fine hand of someone like Constantine Gochay. This makes them nervous. They can't be told exactly who he is, because that would force them to pursue the issue of what felonies he's committed to find out what he knows.”
”Are you kidding?”
”You can't blame them. All this has zip to do with the public safety of the citizens of Chicago. Ellen Snyder-guilty or innocent-is the problem of an insurance company in San Francisco, and the abuse of computer security systems is the problem of a well-known but distant government in Was.h.i.+ngton.”
Stillman found a parking s.p.a.ce with the car's nose against the wall in the first level of the garage, and turned off the engine. They got out of the car, but Stillman said, ”So now we investigate. Get in the driver's seat.”
Walker moved around the back of the car to the driver's side and got in.
”Adjust the mirrors so you can see the doors of the elevator.”
”Okay,” said Walker. ”Now what?”
”Now I go upstairs to the lobby. I call the room of Mrs. Daniel Bourgosian. If I get her on the phone, I tell her I'm waiting for her downstairs, ready to help her. If she's innocent, she'll come see me. If she's a thief, she'll come out that elevator on this level and head for her car, or come out on a lower level and drive right past you to get to the exit.”
”What if she's being held against her will?”
Stillman shrugged. ”Then she won't be the one to answer the phone. They'll still have to come down that elevator to get out. They won't want to have to bulls.h.i.+t their way through the lobby, because I've just told them that's where I'll be.”
”What if they come? What am I supposed to do about it?”
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