“Persuade them?”
“Do I need to paint you a picture, Alex? Just drive the rental around. If I'm alone, pick me up. If I'm not, pop the trunk. Ask the right person the right questions in the right way and we can find out where your problems are coming from, and why. Isn't that what you want?”
“Yeah, but-”
“But what?”
“Look, I don't want to get mixed up in-”
“You're already mixed up in it. What you want to do is get out.”
“What are you saying? You want me to help you… kidnap someone? In the parking lot of the Four Seasons Hotel in Palo Alto?”
“No, what are you saying? You expect me to do the dirty work for you? Is that it?”
“I don't…” He stopped, unsure what to say next. This was happening too fast. Ben wasn't really proposing to kidnap someone, was he?
Ben laughed. “You're just like the politicians, Alex. You want something done but you won't let people do it right. You think you can pick up a turd from the clean end? It doesn't work that way.”
“That's not what I'm-”
“Yes, it is. I'm sick of liberals who've never even seen a gun, let alone handled one under adrenal stress, trying to crucify cops for not shooting the knife out of the bad guy's hand. Trying to prosecute soldiers who put an extra bullet into Achmed after he goes down, never even thinking to ask whether it was that extra bullet that stopped the fucker from detonating an explosive vest. You can live in that fantasy world if you want, but how about just a little bit of gratitude for the people who make it possible for you? Who do all that dirty work so you can go on pretending you're clean?”
“What do you want, a shiny gold star?” Alex said, louder than he'd been intending. “You volunteered for what you do, right? You get a salary, don't you? Sure, I'm glad people join the army so I don't have to, but I could say the same for people who mine coal. Why do you deserve special dispensation?”
Ben shook his head. “But you don't tell miners how to mine, do you? You don't tell them to try doing it without getting coal dust under their nails. So where do you get your amazing expertise about my business? I have to put up with that shit on CNN all the time and I'm not going to put up with it from you.”
They stood looking at each other for a moment. Alex thought of a few rejoinders. But they all felt childish, and what was the point, anyway?
Ben glanced at his watch as though longing for some other place to be. “I'm going to walk past your car now,” he said, “just to see if anyone is waiting there to kill you. I'll check the lobby, too. Give me a one-minute head start so we don't get seen together.” He handed the valet ticket to Alex, checked through the peephole, and left.
Alex waited a moment, fighting the urge to pick something up and throw it, then went out. He took the elevator down to the lobby, looking around cautiously as he emerged. It was empty. Christ, was this what it was going to be like from now on? Constantly wondering whether some guy reading a newspaper in a lobby was there to kill him? He didn't think he could live that way.
He gave the valet the ticket. The guy left and was back in two minutes with a gray Taurus. Anonymous looking, Alex thought. This is how Ben lives.
He got in and drove around the corner. Ben was standing near the M3, alone. Alex pulled over and Ben got in. He said, “Drive me to your office. Go south on Page Mill, not the direction you would take from the house.”
Alex almost asked how Ben knew where the office was, but then remembered: he'd checked the Web site. And of course he knew the terrain. He'd grown up here, too.
They drove in silence. When they got to the Sullivan, Greenwald parking lot, Ben said, “Drive past wherever you usually park but don't stop. Let's see what we see.”
Alex did as he asked. It was just after seven, and there weren't many cars in the lot.
“See that one there?” Ben asked. “The Jaguar. See how the hood and the windows are covered with dew? That's been there all night. No one could see out of it. For us that means it's safe.”
“That makes sense.”
“What we're looking for is a car that was driven this morning. Most obviously, one that has the engine running to keep the occupant warm and the windows from fogging up. But I don't see anything that applies.”
“But most of these cars don't have dew on them.”
“Right. They were driven to work this morning, by early risers like you. The point is, they're empty. So far, so good. Now drive around the block a few more times so I can see the perimeter, then park somewhere you don't usually park and use an entrance you don't usually use.”
They parked and went inside. Ben moved cautiously, the way he had in the hotel. He kept pausing and looking around as though gauging something.
“Key card access,” he said, and Alex wasn't sure if he was talking to Alex or himself. “That's an obstacle. Plus, if you don't belong here, where do you set up inside? People coming and going, risk of discovery even early and late, so you can't control the environment. So the parking lot is your best staging area. Multiple entries and exits. But likely the target solves that problem by always using the same one. Yeah, no doubt, I'd go with the parking lot.”
They walked up a set of stairs in the Death Star. Ben said, “Don't say anything inside your office until I tell you it's safe.”
“Safe to-”
“Just don't say anything.”
They walked down the long, green-carpeted corridor. The light was on inside Osborne's office, and as they passed, Alex glanced inside. Damn, Osborne was in there. He looked up at the sound of footsteps.
“Alex!” Osborne called out. “I didn't expect to see you. How are you feeling?”
“Uh, better,” Alex said. “What are you doing here so early? You're back from Thailand?”
“I'm always here early,” Osborne said. He gestured toward Ben. “And this is…”
“My brother, Ben.”
Osborne stood up and strolled over, cowboy-boot slow. “I didn't know Alex had a brother.” He held out his hand. Ben waited a long second, then shook it.
“I don't get out to California much these days,” Ben said.
“No? Where do you live?”
“I do volunteer work with the Missionaries of Africa.”
Osborne looked taken aback. Alex thought, What the hell?
“ Africa,” Osborne said. “Hmm.”
“Yes, we provide food, clothing, shelter, new sources of clean water, medicine, pastoral care, education…”
Osborne looked more nonplussed than Alex had ever seen him. “Really,” he said.
Ben smiled. “ 'suffer the little children… for such is the Kingdom of Heaven.’ Matthew 19:14. Don't you agree?”
“Nothing more important than children,” Osborne said. “Well, don't let me keep you.” He offered a sickly smile and went back to his desk.
Alex and Ben went down the hallway. Alex was steaming. What the hell was that about? Osborne was going to think he had some kind of religious zealot for a brother. He wanted to say something, but they were almost at his office and Ben had told him not to.
They went in. Ben held a finger to his lips, then pointed at the door and rotated his hand as though turning a key. Right. Alex closed the door and locked it. Ben set his bag down on Alex's desk and took out something that looked like a radio. He attached a corded wand to it and started walking around the office, pointing the wand here and there. Alex realized: Damn, he's checking for bugs.
After a few minutes, Ben turned his attention to Alex's phone. He checked the receiver, the line, and the unit itself.
Ben set the detector down on Alex's desk. He looked out the window for a moment, then closed the blinds. “Your office is clean,” he said.