Branson stood up on the roof deck at Oracle. “Maybe we should drive around too,” he said restlessly. “Check out Rome’s apartment or something.”
“He’d be crazy to go back there,” Jupe said.
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Slowly Branson sat down again.
“How’s Oracle supposed to get the antidote? Maybe that’ll give us a clue about where he’s headed,” Jupe reasoned.
“Nort’s got to phone Silas with it at exactly fifteen minutes after midnight,” Branson recalled. “Silas insisted he get the antidote pronto. See, if Nort doesn’t come through, all bets are off. Silas will call the cops, cover the airports, and go after Nort with everything he’s got.”
Jupe checked his watch. “It’s eleven thirty. Forty-five minutes before Rome delivers. But what’s to stop Ek from going after Rome then?”
Branson grinned. “Nothing. And knowing Silas, he probably will. But my guess is Nort has some sure-fire scheme to slip past Silas as soon as he gives up the antidote.”
“One more reason to find Rome ASAP!”
Branson nodded. “You know, now that I think about it… Nort’s been getting weirder and weirder. His brain seems sharp as ever, but his personality’s got out of whack somehow.”
“When he came after us on the bridge with his pickup,” Jupe remembered, “he had a strange look. Really intense and staring, but somehow not all there.”
“Know what you mean. I noticed that, too, the last week or so. And he was really keyed up. All the time.”
Just then the growl of an engine sounded in the distance. At first Jupe paid no attention to it. Then he spotted car lights bouncing across the plowed field on the other side of Oracle’s back fence.
“What do you suppose that is?” Jupe stood up and stared.
“Whatever it is, it’s coming toward Oracle.”
“You have a back gate?”
“No.”
Jupe and Branson ran down the stairs. As the two guys raced toward the back fence, the engine grew louder.
“That’s some heavy-duty motor!” Jupe said, remembering the engines he’d heard in Pete’s grease pit.
“It couldn’t be Nort’s pickup,” Branson said in a disbelieving voice. “Could it? I remember Nort had some kind of superpowerful engine installed in his pickup. But still… ”
“What’s he doing at Oracle? ” Jupe wondered.
“Delivering the antidote? No. He’s supposed to phone Silas with that.”
The pair stopped at the back fence. “Does anyone ever come back here?” Jupe wondered. Lumber, old cars, building blocks, and large assorted junk formed a dark, hilly landscape.
“Not very often. It’s long-term storage.”
The engine grew louder and the headlights fixed on the back fence.
“It’s headed straight at us,” Branson said. “But how’s it going to get inside?”
“We’d better get out of the way in case he comes through the fence!”
Jupe and Branson raced back behind a tarpaulin-covered mound of what looked like fake marble slabs. Just then the vehicle stopped, its motor still running. Slowly a section of the fence swung open, the barbed wire with it. Jupe caught a glimpse of the driver as he was climbing back into his pickup.
“Amazing,” Jupe whispered. “It is Rome!”
“Looks like Nort’s built himself a secret gate! You can’t see this area from the front of the complex where most of us work. Just goes to show how smart he is!”
“That gate’s got to be how Rome came and went yesterday without being spotted,” Jupe reported to Pete and Bob on the walkie-talkie.
“Way to go!” Bob exclaimed. “You found him!”
“I can’t wait to nail the creep!” Pete said.
“Hey, don’t start anything until we get there.”
“And don’t forget, the guy’s got a gun!” Pete added.
As Jupe signed off, Rome’s pickup rolled through the gate and parked behind a long storage shed. Rome got out and closed the gate. It clicked into place so perfectly that you couldn’t tell it was there in the fence. Rome took a small black parcel from the front seat and stuffed it in his jacket.
“There’s the money!” Jupe said in a husky whisper.
Now Rome tossed a tarp over the pickup. Rome was about five foot nine and weighed a good two hundred pounds. His soft, pudgy face and overbright eyes glistened in the moonlight.
“He looks like a crazed Pillsbury Doughboy,” Jupe whispered.
“He’s fat because of all the junk food and the years behind a computer,” Branson whispered back. “I tried to get him to work out with me or go to karate class, but he wouldn’t. He claims to be a lot tougher than he looks.”
“He doesn’t need karate. He’s got a gun. Remember, he shot at us yesterday.”
Rome circled the pickup, carefully tying down the tarp as if he expected to be at Oracle for quite a while. “Wonder why he’s hiding the pickup if he’s planning to skip town,” Jupe went on. “Something really weird’s going on.”
“At least he’s giving Pete and Bob time to get here,” said Branson. “They can help us take him.”
As Rome meticulously worked, Jupe decided that he might as well sit down and take a load off his feet. He saw a granite boulder next to their hiding spot.
Just as Jupe lowered himself, Branson said in an alarmed whisper, “Don’t!”
But Branson was too late. Jupe crashed through the papier-mâché rock and landed with a grunt.
Rome lifted his head and stared suspiciously in their direction. He took a step toward them.
While Branson looked frantically around for something to blame the noise on, Jupiter closed his eyes and transported himself back to his acting days.
“Meow!” he cried, chin raised. “Me-o-ow!”
Rome listened for a moment, but Jupiter’s imitation was so good that the pudgy blackmailer soon grinned and picked up a hefty rock. He heaved it in their direction.
Instantly Jupiter gave an angry yowl, letting the noise trail off as if the cat were running away.
Rome laughed and nodded, satisfied. He went back to tying down the tarp.
Branson stifled a chuckle. “Nice going!”
Jupe smiled modestly. Then he asked Branson, “How could Rome cut a hole in the fence and install that gate without anyone’s noticing? That’s a big project.”
Branson sighed. “In our business, when you’re stumped with a programming or design problem, you wander around, thinking. And nobody bothers you. For instance, the guy who invented the famous Cray supercomputers — Seymour Cray — used to dig a tunnel in his backyard to help him think. So I wasn’t suspicious when Nort was gone more and more each night. But I wish I’d figured out he was up to something… I gave him plenty of time to put together this whole scam.”
Rome finished tying the last knot on the tarp. He stood up and grinned wolfishly. This is a dude convinced he’s a big winner, Jupe decided.
Jupe and Branson melted back among the shadows as Rome walked toward them. He passed quietly by and moved on toward the warehouse. Jupe let out his breath. Rome disappeared inside.
“Where’s he going?” Jupe asked as they ran after. “Back to his desk?”
“Doesn’t make any sense,” Branson agreed. The guys stopped at the door that led into the section of offices. They listened. Silence inside. They opened the door. The lights were spaced far apart on the wood-paneled walls, leaving spooky black pits in between. The guys stepped onto the hardwood floor, and Jupe closed the door, which creaked. It startled them.
“Where would he have gone?” Jupe whispered nervously. Was Rome waiting for them around some blind corner? “Wish I knew!”
They padded down the hall, their steps muffled by their rubber-soled athletic shoes.
“What about Club Dead,” Jupe suggested. “It’d be a great place to hide.”
“Yeah!”
They pressed their ears to the door of Club Dead and listened.
“Zero sound,” Branson whispered.
Jupe turned the knob and pushed open the door a few inches. When nothing happened, he opened it all the way. It creaked. Jupe shook his head in disgust.