He started to wonder if he'd blown the whole thing out of proportion. Was it so hard to believe Hilzoy had been dealing drugs? And Hank-sad as it was, young people did have heart attacks from time to time. And the police certainly seemed to think the break-in at his house was a random thing. Maybe it all had been just a giant coincidence. Add a big case of the nervousness it all induced, and it was no wonder everything had started to smell like a conspiracy.
On his second evening there, he was having a solitary dinner in the hotel's restaurant when he looked up to see Ben walking toward him. He knew it was Ben from the walk even before he saw the face. It was a wrestler's walk, slightly bowlegged, but more than anything else it was confident, relaxed, the kind of walk you see on someone who not only thinks he owns the place but is probably right about it. Alex had always been jealous of that walk. When they were kids, he'd secretly tried to imitate it.
He stood and tried to think of something to say, but all that came out was, “Ben.”
Ben was wearing jeans, boots, a dark shirt, a wool jacket. A leather bag was slung over a shoulder. His brother didn't look much older. He still had the linebacker's physique, that air of readiness and Don't mess with me. His hair was longer and he had a stubble of beard; that was new. He was looking around the restaurant as though assessing it, and Alex realized from what he'd read on the nononsenseselfdefense Web site that Ben was evaluating the environment tactically. So people really did this stuff. Up until that moment, Alex had half believed it was all a game.
Ben turned his eyes on Alex and looked him up and down. “How you doing, Alex?”
Alex wanted to hold out his hand but didn't. “All right. You?”
Ben nodded. “You were sitting with your back to the wall. You went to the Web site?”
“How did you know how to find me here?”
“I told you I'd find you.”
“How?”
Ben glanced around again. “There are, what, three good hotels in Palo Alto and Menlo Park? And this is the newest and the best. It was the first one I called. You're checked in under your own name. I told you not to do that.”
“I'd already checked in-”
“And your car's parked in the general parking lot.”
“So?”
“You should use the valet. Waiting for you in a car parked near yours would be the best way to get to you here.”
“How did you even know which car is mine?”
“All it takes is access to the DMV. Whoever you're having a problem with wouldn't even need that, they might have just watched you getting in and out of it elsewhere. Circle the parking lot checking plates… bam. Nice little M3, by the way.”
The way Ben said it, it all sounded obvious. But how was he supposed to know? He wished he could catch Ben trying to figure out what prior art to use in a patent application, or how to code in C++, or a dozen other things. He could make him feel stupid, too.
“Another thing,” Ben said. “You're parked way down at that slope, at the exterior of the parking garage. It's deserted down there. How easy are you trying to make things for the bad guys? You could have at least parked at the top, near the office complex, where people are coming and going.”
“The parking lot was full when I got here,” Alex said, seriously beginning to resent the lectures. “Top to bottom. It was business hours. It must empty out at night.”
He thought, Now he's going to tell me I should have thought of that. Instead, Ben said, “I could use something to eat. Mind if we switch seats?”
Alex got up and Ben took his seat. Ben picked up Alex's plate of half-eaten food and moved it across the table. Alex said, “You want to get a menu?”
“Nah, I'll just have what you're having.”
A waiter came over. Alex said, “Another wild mushroom ravioli with Taleggio. And another glass of the Sophie's Rows.”
“No, no wine,” Ben said.
“Very good,” the waiter said, and moved off.
“You don't like wine?” Alex said, knowing it was stupid but feeling it was a personal rebuff all the same.
“Not really, no. Especially not after a long trip.”
“Where are you coming in from?”
“ Europe.”
“Did you not know Europe is a continent?” Alex asked, letting the full sarcastic Hello? into his tone.
Ben looked at him and didn't say anything, and Alex felt a wave of satisfaction.
“I mean, you might as well say, ‘I came from somewhere on earth.’“
Ben was still looking at him. “If I want you to know more,” he said, “I'll tell you.”
“Yeah, I won't hold my breath.”
“That's the smartest thing you've said tonight.”
Alex turned away, pissed. At Ben, for being such an asshole. And even more so at himself, for having called him in the first place. God, was he really that desperate?
Unfortunately, he really was.
After they ate, they went up to Alex's room. Alex noted that Ben had a certain way of walking. He moved slowly, as though he was just taking his time, and his head seemed always to be sweeping back and forth. And he left a large margin when he went around corners, as though to give himself more time and space to see what was on the other side of them. There was nothing ostentatious in any of this; in fact, it was subtle, and Alex realized he wouldn't have noticed at all if Ben hadn't told him to read about it.
Alex unlocked the door and went in first. Ben hung back, and for a moment, Alex was a little thrown by his deference in waiting. But then he came in and checked out the room-closet, bathroom, under the bed-and Alex realized the wait had only been tactical, a way to let Alex run into trouble first, if there was any. And before Alex had a chance to digest what all that might mean, Ben was back to his usual ways. He plopped into the sleek upholstered chair overlooking Highway 101 as if Alex were visiting him, and said, “All right. Any additional incidents?”
Alex swallowed his confusion and irritation and pulled over the desk chair so they were facing each other. “No.”
“How are you feeling?”
“How do you mean?”
Ben shrugged. “An intruder in the house in the middle of the night… even if it was random, that's unsettling.”
“Well, I feel unsettled.”
There was a moment of quiet. Ben said, “That was pretty good presence of mind you showed there, improvising a weapon.”
Alex nodded, looking at him.
“Tomorrow, I'll want to see the house and your office. For now-”
“I thought you said I had to stay away from the usual places?”
“You do. I'll be with you tomorrow, that's different. For now, I want you to tell me more about the technology. Obsidian, it's called?”
Alex told him. When he was done, Ben said, “So, why would someone not just buy this thing? Why would someone kill the inventor, the patent examiner, and the lawyer who applied for the patent?”
“Because… they don't want anyone to even know about Obsidian?”
Ben yawned. “Sounds like it, from what you've told me.”
“It still doesn't make sense. This isn't the kind of stuff that's dual use, nuclear capable, whatever. It's a security algorithm. It's just a better way of protecting networks. It's like someone trying to kill a guy for inventing, I don't know, a better door lock.”
“Well, who's against better door locks?”
Alex thought for a moment, then said, “Burglars.”
“There you go. Maybe you're dealing with someone who's able to break into houses just fine the way it is. He doesn't want better locks. Or he wants to be the only home owner with a lock as good as this one, so burglars will be someone else's problem. Or maybe there's a use you don't know about, something someone else spotted.”
“So you think there could be something to this?”
Ben rotated his head, cracking the neck joints. “Maybe, maybe not. The inventor seemed to be dealing heroin. That's a high-risk profession. The patent examiner had a heart condition-”