I nodded. “End of story?”
“End of story.”
“And the lesson, O wise one?”
“The lesson is, people and institutions can plan for a lot, but they often fail to plan for the unexpected. Like a grumpy landscaper. You’re the unexpected piece in this little tale, Lewis. Curt Chesak and whoever’s behind him, they expected to do what they wanted to do, and when things got a bit messy, the right word or the right phone call was made to tamp down the investigation. So in their world, Curt would be able to skate off to whatever next dark assignment waits for him. All is covered, all is contained, and whoever’s paying the checks and pulling the strings, they get to remain unscathed and untouched. Then someone like you, a crazy Irishman who has this funny old-fashioned concept concerning loyalty, pops up.”
I smiled. “Gee, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day.”
“You need to get out more.”
“I am getting out,” I protested. “Didn’t you hear me? Just came back from a trip to our nation’s capital.”
“Point taken.” He took a napkin, wiped at his fingers. “What now?”
“Keep on keeping on being the crazy Irishman. Why stop now? You know my original plan, Felix. I don’t intend to give up.”
“They burned down your house.”
“Gee, thanks, I forgot all about that.”
He drummed his fingers on the white tablecloth. “Okay, then. Anything else?”
From my coat I took out a small pad of paper and wrote a list for Felix. I passed it over to him. “I need what’s here.”
He read it and said, “Interesting. Looks like you intend to sail into harm’s way.”
“And then some.”
He folded the list, made it disappear. “No problem. Can probably get it to you by later today.”
“That’d be great.”
“And where do we go from there?”
“Sorry, I thought I just heard you say the word ‘we.’”
Felix said, “Lewis, please, you have vim, vigor, and a healthy sense of righteousness on your side. The guys you’re going up against have just one thing on their side: bloody experience. I want to come along, even up the odds.”
“No.”
“Lewis… ”
The waiter came over, dropped off the bill. I picked it up and left enough cash to cover the tab and the tip. Still no credit card traces, thank you very much.
“Here’s the deal,” I said. “You’ve been with me on some very edgy outings in the past, for which I owe you so very much. But this one is different. This one is personal. And trust me, this isn’t a comment on your skills and talents, but by being with me already on this little quest, you’ve been shot at, you’ve had to smuggle your aunt out of Boston, and you needed to find her new digs in Florida. I don’t want them upping the ante on you, by either burning down Aunt Teresa’s new condo or by putting a bomb in your Mercedes.”
His eyes darkened and narrowed, and I suddenly felt sorry for all of those in the past who had crossed him. “Still don’t like it.”
“My apologies,” I said. I took a large swig from my water glass, and I said, “And my apologies once again. I need to visit the head.”
I slid my chair out and Felix said, “One of these days you’ll tell me why you insist on calling the men’s room the head.”
“Old habit,” I said. “One of my bosses back at the Pentagon was ex-Navy. So the walls were bulkheads, the floors were decks, and the bathrooms were the head. So I adopted his lingo.”
“Bet you became Employee of the Year for that suck-up.”
“Not even close,” I said.
On the way back from my brief absence, there was a small crowd of diners waiting for their seats by the hostess station, and I took a moment to spare a glance outside at the parking lot. A steady rain was falling, and I saw a black GMC van slowly go by. It had a side window at the rear that was low to the ground, and which was blacked out.
I got back to the table, sat down, and said, “The bad guys have arrived.”
Felix was sipping from a small white cappuccino cup. “Do go on.”
“Just saw a surveillance van prowl the parking lot. Has one-way glass on the side that hides a specialized camera that scans license plates and runs background checks on the owners. Might be the State Police or Manchester Police, but I doubt it.”
He took another sip. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
Felix moved as fast and as silently as he always did, while I shifted my seat so I could see the entranceway and the far windows. I touched my Beretta and, oddly enough, felt fine. Around me were couples and groups of friends, dining, drinking, and laughing. No one seemed to notice the little drama occurring here in my corner of the universe.
Waited some more.
Felix strolled back, sat down with urgency. “There’s another way out of here.”
“I hope it’s more than just the rear door out of the kitchen area. You have to give these guys credit.”
“You have to give me credit,” he said sharply. “There’s a back set of stairs, leads down to an old access tunnel used when this place was one big happy mill complex. That’s where you’re going.”
“And you?”
“I have my ways. Most important thing is to get you out of here, so let’s get a move on.”
I stood up with him and we strolled out past the hostess station, where the young lady gave Felix a wide smile. He led me to a function room, past an alcove that was used to store dishes and glassware. Felix opened a plain wooden door, flicked on a light. Old oak steps led down into the darkness.
Felix said, “The place is lit up now. Go down, take a left. At the third door on the right, go out, wait for me. I’ll be along presently.”
“How in God’s name did you find this?”
“The nice hostess let me in on the secret.”
“Really? In exchange for what?”
A slight smile. “A meal.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a trade.”
The smile grew wider. “The meal’s breakfast. Now get going.”
I got.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The stairway descended quite a way before it ended in a dirt cellar. To the right were wood pallets piled high with paper towels, napkins, and toilet paper. To the left was a brick archway. A series of overhead lightbulbs went off into the distance. I ducked my head and started walking. The dirt was well packed. It smelled of dirt and dampness and old things not disturbed in a long, long time. I moved the best I could. Other stairways went up to the left, no doubt to other parts of the old mill complex. I passed one door, bolted and locked. Another door, also bolted and locked.
Third door was the charm. It said FIRE ESCAPE on a sign up above, and there was a push bar to gain access. I pushed the door and stepped out on a narrow sidewalk. Rain was coming down. The door slammed behind me. I turned too late to get back inside. There was no door handle to get me back in. I pulled my coat tighter. I was at the other end of the brick building. The road was lined with parked cars. There were no entrances to other businesses over here. Just blank doors like the one I had just left.
The rain was coming down harder. I shivered, stamped my feet. All around me were the old mill buildings, full of memories and dust and old stories of immigrants speaking French, German, Italian, and Gaelic, working long hours, getting bodies bloodied and broken. It was getting dark with the thick rain clouds overhead.
Felix was nowhere about.
What now?
I pulled my coat around myself tighter. A wind came up, cutting through me. A car splashed by, headlights on against the heavy rain.
Where to go?
Felix had told me to wait.