Part 50 (2/2)
”Now?” Casey said.
”Yeah.” He picked up the phone and dialed a number.
”Nancy? John Rayburn here. We have a policy with you on our cars.” He paused. ”Yeah, that's our number. Bit of an embarra.s.sment really. My car got dinged in the parking lot. I saw it happen. But the guy drove off.” He paused again. ”I have the license plate. ... Yeah, CDDA-92. ... Yeah, Ohio plate. ... Great. ... No, just the rear panel is dented. All cosmetic. ... Great. ... Yeah, that's it.” John seemed poised to set down the phone. ”Oh, one more thing. The police want the guy's name for their report. Can you run that plate through the DMV for me? Great, thanks.”
”What are you doing?” John asked.
”Social engineering,” Casey said.
”Kent Corriander? And the address? In Columbus? That's awesome. Thanks, Nancy.”
”Why would the police need the insurance company to run a plate?” John asked. ”She's going to be suspicious.”
”She's going to remember that she was incredibly helpful,” Prime said. ”She won't remember anything else. People just want to be helpful.”
Prime came out of his parents' house carrying a rifle in its padded wrap. He headed toward the barn then and came out a few minutes later, rifle slung over his shoulder, carrying a bundle in both hands.
”Pop the trunk.”
He piled the gun and the bundle into the trunk. John saw him remove a pistol from his pocket, as well as two boxes of ammo. He felt misgivings about using weapons. It could only end badly for someone.
”What was in the bundle?” John asked as Prime slid into the pa.s.senger seat.
”Let's just say that you'll want to avoid any rear-end collisions,” Prime said.
”Dynamite?” John cried. His father always kept a few sticks for tree stumps.
”Yep.”
”I don't-”
”We're going into battle, John,” Prime said, his smile gone. ”Don't forget it. You asked for my help, and this is how it works.”
John nodded, but he wasn't convinced. ”Now what? Columbus?”
”One stop.”
They drove the eighty miles to Columbus, but instead of the office park where EmVis existed in 7650, they drove to the south side of town, to a run-down apartment complex downwind from the trash-burning power plant.
”Pull in here,” Prime said.
It was a first-floor apartment.
”Here's what you do,” Prime said. ”Give me two minutes, then knock on the door.”
”That's it?”
”Yeah, that's it.”
”What do I say?”
” 'h.e.l.lo,' 'How are you?' 'Remember me?' ”
”Fine.”
Prime slipped out of the car and around the side of the building. John counted to 120 and then trotted up to the door. He pounded on it, ignoring the doorbell.
He heard sounds within and ducked his head away from the peephole.
”What is it?” came a voice through the door.
John pounded again.
The door came open fast. ”G.o.dd.a.m.n it! What-”
The man was shorter than John by a foot. He looked up into John's face, went white, then turned and ran, slamming the door.
John caught it with his foot, pushed it inward, and watched as the man scrambled over his couch to get into the kitchen and through the sliding door there. It must have led to a back patio, but the man stopped short there.
As the sliding door opened and the aluminum blinds clanked against the gla.s.s, he came face-to-face with Prime.
”Corrundrum,” Prime said. ”We have some questions.”
”Christ, you two are so screwed! Doppelgangers? The vig are going to fall on you like bricks.”
Prime motioned John in, grabbed Corrundrum, and steered him toward the couch.
”We need some information,” Prime said. ”You were wrong about me. I don't know what's going on.”
”Then how'd he get here?” Corrundrum cried, pointing at John.
”We have a device,” Prime said. ”We have more than one. We built more.”
Corrundrum choked on a laugh. ”Build them? You're punching unauthorized holes?”
”Holes?” John said.
”You built a device?” Corrundrum said, staring at him. ”Your own device?”
”Yeah. I modeled it on the broken one.”
”They don't break! You two are talking c.r.a.p!”
John shrugged. ”Your understanding is wrong.” He turned to Prime. ”This guy doesn't know anything. Let's get out of here.”
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