“Own volition,” Allerdyce mumbled.
Duhart still looked like a man in the middle of a particularly bad dream. “What the fuck is he on, man?”
“Just drive,” said Reeve.
Reeve cleaned up a bit in the car. They went to Duhart’s apartment, where he cleaned up some more and put on fresh clothes. Allerdyce sat on a chair in a living room probably smaller and less tidy than anywhere he’d ever been in his adult life. Duhart wasn’t comfortable with any of this: here was his idol, his god, sitting in his goddamned apartment-and Reeve kept swearing Allerdyce wouldn’t remember any of it.
“Just go get the stuff,” Reeve said.
Duhart giggled nervously, rubbed his hands over his face.
“Just go get the stuff.” Reeve was beginning to wish he’d given Duhart a dose of birdy, too.
“Okay,” Duhart said at last, but he turned at the door and had another look at the scene within: Reeve in his tourist duds, and old man Allerdyce just sitting there, hands on knees, like a ventriloquist’s dummy waiting for the hand up the back.
While Duhart was away, Reeve asked Allerdyce a few more questions, and tried to work out where they went from here, or rather, how they went from here. Allerdyce wouldn’t remember anything, but the two guards would. Then there was the corpse of the dog to explain. Reeve didn’t reckon Mr. Blue Öyster Cult had heard much, if anything, of his short dialogue with Allerdyce. So all they’d know was that there’d been an intruder-an intruder who’d fucked with Allerdyce’s mind. They’d be wondering what else he’d fucked with.
Duhart was back within the hour, carrying a shoe box. Reeve opened it. Smothered in cotton wool, like a schoolboy’s collection of bird eggs, were listening devices of various shapes, sizes, and ranges.
“They all work?”
“Last time I used them,” Duhart said.
Reeve rooted to the base of the shoe box. “Have you got the recorders to go with these?”
“In the car,” Duhart said. “So what about Dulwater?”
“I want you to keep tabs on him.”
Duhart shook his head. “What am I into here?”
“Eddie, by the time you’ve finished, you’ll have so much dirt on our pal here he’ll have to give you a senior partnership. Swear to God.”
“God, huh?” Duhart said, staring at Allerdyce.
Duhart brought his car to a stop beside the entry / exit ramp of the Alliance Investigative building. Reeve told Eddie Duhart to stay in the car, but not to leave the engine idling. They didn’t want him stopped by nosy cops. It was four in the morning: he’d have some explaining to do.
“Can’t I come with you? Man, I never been in there.”
“You want to be the star of Candid Camera, Eddie?” Reeve turned in the passenger seat. Allerdyce sat so quietly in the back it was easy to forget him. “Mr. Allerdyce, does your building have security cameras?”
“Oh, yes.”
Reeve turned back to Duhart. “I don’t mind them seeing me; Allerdyce is already going to have a grudge against me. Do you want him to have a grudge against you, Eddie?”
“No,” Duhart said sullenly.
“Well, okay,” said Reeve, picking up his large plastic carrier bag and getting out of the car. He opened the back door for Allerdyce.
“Which way would you usually go in?”
“Through the garage and up the elevator.”
“Can you open the garage?”
Allerdyce reached into his coat and produced a chain of about a dozen keys.
“Let’s do it,” Reeve said.
He briefed Allerdyce as they walked the few steps to the garage entrance. “I’m a friend, in from England, if anybody asks. We’ve been up drinking half the night, tried but couldn’t sleep. I asked you to show me the offices. If anyone asks.”
Allerdyce repeated all this.
“The only guard is in the lobby,” Allerdyce said, “and he’s used to me coming in at all hours. I prefer the building when it’s empty; I don’t like my staff.”
“I’m sure the feeling’s mutual. Shall we?”
They stood in front of the garage’s roller door. There was a concrete post to one side with an intercom, a slot for entry cards, and a keyhole to override everything. Allerdyce turned the key, and the door clattered open. They walked down the slope into the Alliance Investigative building.
Allerdyce was right: there was no guard down here, but there were security cameras. Reeve put an arm around Allerdyce and laughed at some joke the old man had just told him.
“The cameras,” he said, “are the screens up in the lobby?”
“Yes,” Allerdyce said. Reeve grinned again for the cameras. “And do they just show or do they record as well?”
“They record.”
Reeve didn’t like that. When the elevator arrived and they got in, Allerdyce slotted another key home.
“What’s that for?”
“Executive levels. There are two of them-offices and penthouse. You need a key to access them.”
“Okay,” Reeve said as the doors slid closed.
Reeve guessed the security man would be watching the elevator lights. At the second story from the top, the elevator opened and they got out. Allerdyce’s office door was locked by a keypad. He pushed in four digits and opened it.
Reeve got to work. There were no security cameras up here-the senior partners obviously didn’t like to be spied on. Reeve placed one bug inside the telephone apparatus and taped another to the underside of the desk. The phone rang suddenly, causing him to jump. He answered it. It was the front desk.
“Good evening,” Reeve said, drawing out each word, like he’d had a few.
“Mr. Allerdyce there?” the man asked, pleasant but suspicious, too.
“Would you like to speak to him? Jeffrey, there’s a man here wants to speak to you.”
Allerdyce took the phone. “Yes?” he said. He listened, Reeve listening right beside him. “No, it’s just an old friend. We’ve been drinking, couldn’t sleep. I’m showing him around.” A pause to listen. “Yes, I know you have to check. It’s what I pay you for. No trouble, good night.”
Reeve took the receiver and put it back in its cradle.
“Nice one, Jeffrey,” he said.
“These security men,” Allerdyce said, yawning. “I pay them too much. They sit on their asses all night and call it working.”
“We’re finished in here,” Reeve said. Then he saw the headed letter paper on the desk. “No, wait-sit down, Mr. Allerdyce. I want you to write something. Will you do that?” He lifted a pen and handed it to Allerdyce, then placed a sheet of the elegant paper in front of him. “Just write what I tell you: ”I invited Mr. Gordon Reeve to my home and took him on a tour of my business premises. I did these things of my own free will and under no restraint or coercion.“ That’s all, just sign it and date it.”
Reeve plucked the paper from him and folded it in four. It wasn’t much-he wasn’t even sure it qualified as insurance-but if the cops ever did come asking, at least he could make things a bit sticky for Allerdyce…
They took the elevator down a couple of floors to where Alfred Dulwater shared an office. The door was locked, but Allerdyce had a key for it.
“Do you have keys to all the offices?” Reeve asked.
“Of course.”
“Do you ever come here at night and rifle everyone’s drawers?”
“Not everyone’s.”
“Jesus, no wonder you’re a PI.”
Reeve opened his bag, took out the shoe box and tool kit, and got to work again. Another bug in the telephone, another under Dulwater’s desk, and one for good measure under his colleague’s desk. There was nothing in the room about either James or Gordon Reeve, nothing about Kosigin or CWC, which was what he’d expected. Like Allerdyce had said, Dulwater reported directly to him. As little in writing as possible.