Forty minutes passed without anything special to report, then my phone rang. It was Fothergill. He was still at his desk in the consulate.
“You’re not going to like this,” he said. “But London still aren’t willing to send anyone to help.”
“Why not?” I said. “You told me you could swing this.”
“I thought I could. I thought it was a stitched-on certainty. But there’s something fishy going on. Something someone’s not telling me.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know. It’s a little awkward, actually. But I was wondering, exactly how many people have you upset over there?”
“You’re blaming me?”
“Not blaming. No. Nothing like that, David. I’m just trying to make sense of this. They’ve never denied a request as watertight as this one, before.”
“Then find another way to convince them.”
“I’ve tried everything. And talked to everyone I can get hold of. I’m not a magician, you know. I’m sorry.”
“I am, too. ’Cause that’s going to make things a whole lot harder.”
“No. Not harder. Impossible. Be realistic. It’s time to rethink this. Get yourself back to Chicago. Get some sleep. Start again tomorrow.”
“No. We’ll be shorthanded, but that’s no reason to walk away. We can work around it.”
“David, you’re pushing yourself too hard. You’ve had a hell of a day. Get back to your hotel. Rest. We can hook up in the morning. At the office. Get breakfast. Pull an alternative plan together then.”
I took a moment to think.
“Have you picked up any word on McIntyre?” I said. “Any new ideas about where he might be?”
“No,” he said.
“Or the gas they took?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Then there’s no alternative plan to make. I’ll stay here. We’ll carry on as agreed.”
“That’s crazy. You can’t do this on your own.”
I took another moment.
“We’ll need another vehicle,” I said. “One with Indiana plates. Could you get hold of something?”
“I should think so,” he said. “If it’s important. What kind?”
“Nothing too fancy. A regular sedan. Or a pickup. Anything like that would be fine.”
“When?”
“First thing in the morning.”
“OK. Leave it with me. Where do you want it delivered?”
“I don’t. I want you to drive over here in it. I’ll text you the GPS coordinates.”
“Me? Why?”
“So you don’t attract attention when you get here.”
“That’s not what I meant. Why do you want me there at all?”
“To take a spell watching this place. London won’t send anyone else, and I’ll be tired by morning. I’ll need some rest, ready for later on.”
“Is it even worth watching it? Are you sure anyone’s even there? Have you seen anyone?”
“No. Not yet. But that’s going to change. By three P.M. tomorrow at the latest.”
“Why?”
“Remember the guys you were following? They were heading this way. The only lead we have says they’re here. And by four fif-teen tomorrow, they need to be back at the Commissariat.”
“Why?”
“To meet me. To buy the gas we told them I had.”
“If we know where they’re going, why not just snatch them up there? At the club? Why waste time making me travel to Gary, Indiana?”
“Because we don’t want to pick them up.”
“We don’t?”
“No. Not yet. We just want them out of the way. So we can have a nosey round inside the building. Maybe lay our hands on our missing friend. Maybe his canister. Maybe both. Or at least find out more about what’s going on.”
“But hold on a minute. Wait. The rendezvous with you at the Commissariat isn’t going to happen. The missing guys won’t show.”
“They will.”
“They won’t. Not once they hear about the Ritz-Carlton bloodbath.”
“They will. Think about it. If they don’t realize the events are connected, they’ll show up with a sack full of cash. If they do join the dots, they’ll break out a fresh carving knife and invite me into the women’s bathroom. Either way, they’ll be at the club tomorrow afternoon.”
Fothergill didn’t reply.
“Have you got a better idea?” I said.
He didn’t respond.
“Something more than just hoping for divine inspiration over coffee and waffles?”
He remained silent.
“Seven o’clock sound about right?” I said.
“Make it eight,” he said. “Talking about waffles, I’m not leaving before I eat. I spent enough years doing that.”
“Eight it is, then. Bring coffee for me. And one other thing. Could you get your hands on a frequency grabber, as well?”
“Probably. I suppose. What for? Are we planning a hijack?”
“No. Getting into the building.”
“Then why do we need a grabber? Wouldn’t a key be more useful? Or a crowbar? Or maybe a brick to throw through a window? Wouldn’t that be more your style?”
“Hey. whatever gets the job done. And this place has roll-up doors. No handles on the outside. So, I’m guessing they have wireless openers. Spoof the signal, and in we go. No forced entry. No huge racket. No worried civvies swarming around, poking their noses in. Unless you want to stay outside and deal with them?”
“Members of the general public?” he said, after a moment’s pause. “No thanks. Count me out of that. I’ll get the grabber. But it’ll take me a while to finesse the quartermaster. Shall we make it eight thirty, instead?”
“Yeah, you take your time to finesse the QM,” I said. “And there’s me, thinking waffles take a while to cook.”
I’d never been to Indiana before, but when Fothergill hung up the phone he left me in a state I was all too familiar with. One I’ve been in hundreds of times over the years. Suspended animation. The target building lay in front of me, almost close enough to touch, but there was nothing tangible to bridge the hours between now and morning. Nothing at all, aside from waiting and watching. Two of the most common activities in my line of work. If the circumstances were right, they weren’t too great a trial. And things were pretty reasonable that night. I started with the same five questions I always ask myself. Am I in danger? Am I hungry? Thirsty? Too hot? Or too cold? The answer to all of them was no, so the only potential problem was boredom. And that should never be an issue, either. Because whatever kind of job you’re on, you can always find plenty to think about.
Fothergill called to check in with me at just after eight, by which time we figured he was only about twenty minutes away. We stayed on the phone till he arrived, me confirming that no one had come or gone during the night, him confirming that he had the coffee and the frequency grabber. Other than that I just talked him through the directions, and endured the running commentary he kept up on all the unsavory aspects of the area. He was still reeling off ideas for reforming the droves of local vandals and graffiti artists when I saw him pull into the parking lot. He was driving a Ford Edge—a kind of small SUV they don’t sell in England. It was silver, with a large dent in the driver’s door. There were still plenty of spaces to pick from, so he backed into a slot on the far side of the truck to my left. I gave it another ten minutes so that no one would connect my departure with his arrival, then told him to get out, fiddle with something in his trunk, and keep an eye open for me while I wriggled my way back into the driver’s seat.
We sketched out the day between us and agreed to split the time into blocks of four hours, with fifteen-minute overlaps. Fothergill didn’t object to covering the next shift, which was lucky since I was already on the road, but I was well past the ruined warehouses before I realized I’d forgotten the most important thing. To collect my coffee from him. After that I couldn’t shake the craving for caffeine, so I headed back to the highway. I remembered passing a diner on my way over last night. It was about fifteen minutes to the west so I retraced my steps until I found the correct turnoff. I’d missed breakfast so I ordered something more substantial than usual. A cappuccino. Extra large. With two extra shots to counteract the diluting effect of the milk.