“Spelunking,” I’d said when Jack had expressed some doubts about the wisdom of rafter-crawling. When his look demanded an interpretation, I’d said, “You know. Exploring caverns, caves, natural tunnel systems, that sort of thing.”
His look didn’t change.
“It’s a sport,” I’d said.
He’d shaken his head, as if unable to believe anyone would voluntarily do such a thing.
“What about getting down?” he’d said. “Long jump. You fall? He’ll hear.”
I’d rolled my eyes. “I’m not planning to fall…or jump. I’m going to abseil.”
The look again. When I’d opened my mouth to explain, he’d lifted his hand and shaken his head. “You can do it? Good enough. Just be careful.”
I paused for another compass check, realized I’d veered off at the last turn and backed up a few steps. Then there it was: the final marker-a tangle of wires that snaked the feed of every security camera into Gallagher’s room. He’d be alone. Both Evelyn and Jack had sworn there was little question of that. Seemed Gallagher was antisocial as well as agoraphobic. He spent his nights locked in his control room, watching his money roll in.
Despite their assurances, I wasn’t taking anything on faith. I stretched out across two rafters, grabbed a third with one hand, then lowered my head down as close to the ceiling tiles as I could get without slipping. A moment’s pause, to double-check my balance, then I reached down with my free hand, hooked my fingertips around a tile edge and eased it to the side. It moved less than a half-inch, just enough to open a crack to the room below. And there sat Maurice Gallagher.
“He’s a big guy,” Jack had said.
He wasn’t kidding. Evelyn had called Gallagher a spider, and I couldn’t imagine a better metaphor. Gallagher was obese, at least four hundred pounds, with sticklike arms and legs, and a too-small, round head. He wore his dyed red hair slicked to each side, the part a blazing white stripe of pasty flesh that made his two patches of hair look like giant arachnid eyes. A spider, perched in his lair, watching his prey buzz about in the casino, entangling themselves in his web.
I wriggled back onto my main rafter, being careful not to make any noise, then crawled to the east side, where I’d find the bathroom. Next I took off my belt. It was a blue rope wrapped three times around my jeans, plus a length of chain and a ring clasp. A very practical fashion statement. I wrapped the chain around the rafter, attached the abseil ring, then looped the nylon cord through, and knotted it.
Again I braced myself on three parallel rafters and leaned down, tugging the tile up and out of the way. The whole time, I kept my eyes closed, concentrating on sound-how much I was making, and how much was coming from the adjacent room. One squeak of Gallagher’s chair and I was out of there.
Once the tile was moved aside, I took hold of the cord and lowered myself through the hole. I aimed for the toilet seat, which, thankfully, Gallaher’s mother had taught him to keep down. My sneakers made contact, but I kept rappelling down until my full weight was on the seat and I had my balance. Then I slid to the floor, leaving the rope dangling in case I needed to make an emergency exit.
THIRTY-SEVEN
The bathroom door was closed. I eased it open and used my makeup compact to scout the room, keeping it tilted down so a stray reflection off the mirror wouldn’t give me away. Jack had said the call button for security was on Gallagher’s right. I located it, then turned my attention to Gallagher. He had his back to me as he scanned the bank of screens, his head swiveling from left to right, then back again.
His gaze moved at such a constant rate that if it wasn’t for the measured breathing, I’d have suspected Gallagher had indeed croaked, and I was looking at an automated version of him. I could even time his visual scan. Eleven seconds from one side to the other.
I waited until he began the right to left scan, counted off five seconds and slid forward, moving between him and his call button. Then I waited. It wasn’t until he scanned all the way back from left to right that he saw me
“Hi,” I said.
He didn’t jump. Didn’t dive for the call button. Didn’t even blink. Just looked at me, gaze moving from my head to my feet, as slow and impassive as if I was a row of security screens. Then he eased back in his chair.
“If you’ve come to rob me, young lady, you’ve made a very serious mistake.” His voice was high pitched, almost squeaky. “There is no money here and you will not get anything from me but a one-way ticket to jail.”
“Jail?” I said.
“I was being polite.”
“Ah. Well, if I was here to rob you, I’m very unprepared.” I lifted my hands, stood and turned around. “No money bags, no cans of mace, not even a gun.”
“So I noticed,” he murmured. “Yet you must have a weapon hidden somewhere on that pretty body. I’d bet on it.”
“How much?”
He tilted his head, gaze traveling over me, studying me with a scientist’s eye. “Unarmed. That is most…peculiar.” His gaze lifted to mine, head slanting the other way. “I do hope, my dear, that you didn’t intend to use your body as your weapon because, I assure you, I am quite immune.”
“Well that’s good, because when it comes to the Mata Hari routine…” I shook my head. “Hopeless. Guns are really more my thing, but that just didn’t seem right. You want to talk to someone, you don’t pull a gun on them. Very disrespectful.”
“Quite so.” He leaned back in his chair. “So you wish to talk? And what would a young lady like you want to talk to me about? Employment, perhaps? An interesting way to go about it. Much more…personally revealing than dropping off a résumé.”
“Actually, it’s an employee I want to talk to you about, not employment. A former employee, that is.” I gestured at the row of screens. “Camera number six. Recognize him?”
He looked for a few seconds, then shook his head.
“Try this. Pick up the phone, dial 555- 2978.”
“And say what?”
“Nothing. Just try it. Please.”
He did. The phone in Jack’s pocket vibrated, and he looked straight into the camera, and mouthed something.
“Jack,” Gallagher said, twisting the name into a curse.
“He said you might not be happy to see him. That’s why I’m here doing the talking instead of him. Well, that, and I’m much better at talking.”
“So I noticed. I take it then that you are a…” He let the sentence fall away, as if he couldn’t come up with a “polite” term for what I did.
“Right,” I said. “I’m working something with Jack, and we need something from you.”
He laughed, the sound a nails-on-chalkboard screech. I waited through it, then continued.
“And yes, Jack knows he’s in no position to ask for a favor, which is why he sent me with an offer. An exchange of information. Seems you hired someone a while back to make a hit, and he double-crossed you.”
Gallagher’s eyes narrowed. “No one double-crosses me.”
Gallagher locked gazes with me, but I just sat there, and waited him out.
“Double-crossed me how?” he said finally, mouth barely opening to let the words out.
“He told the mark about the hit, collected a tidy sum for the info, waited until the guy skedaddled to Europe, then came back, told you it was done and collected again.”
“And Jack expects me to pay for the name of this traitor?” A tight laugh. “My dear, all I’d need to do is run a more thorough verification of the hits I’ve called.”
“Sure, but Jack thought this might be faster. A lot faster, considering you’re a high-volume customer.” When Gallagher hesitated, I went on. “How about this? I tell you what we need and you decide if it’s worth it?”
Another hesitation, then he waved for me to continue.