Just like home, Jack thought.
Over the years he'd put a lot of his money into gold coins—bad investment, yeah, but how else could he store his savings without getting a bank involved? He hid them in his apartment by taping them to the water pipes. That way the coins were safe from anybody who boosted his place, even if they brought a metal detector: The detector was expected to beep when it passed over the water pipes.
Jack slipped his hand inside and found the pipes running to and from the bathroom. It took less than a minute for his searching, fingers to locate the object taped to one of them.
"Hello."
Jack stripped off the tape and pulled it out.
He couldn't see the thing here in the darkness, but it felt hard and flat, encased in vinyl. He crawled from the closet to get a look at it in better light.
A wedge-shaped red vinyl case. He lifted the flap and pulled out a key with "#137" stamped on the bow.
Jack smiled. "Am I good, or am I good?"
The Arab and his wrecking crew would have found it eventually, especially if they were planning to take the place apart brick by brick. But now they wouldn't find squat. Served 'em right.
A safety deposit box key, from the look of it. Or maybe to a storage locker. But where?
Worry about that later, when they didn't have to watch the clock.
He went to find Alicia.
6.
Curiosity was devouring Yoshio.
He'd seen the Clayton woman's ronin wash the guards' windshield, then lean inside the driver door. After that, no one had interfered when he and the Clayton woman entered the house.
What had he done?
Yoshio couldn't resist a quick walk by the car. As he passed he saw two still forms in the front seat… so still that he thought they were dead. But then one of them stirred, lifting his head briefly, then slumped back into unconsciousness.
How had the ronin done this? A gas, or something in their coffee, perhaps?
Very clever, Yoshio thought. Very "smooth," as the Americans said.
But it appeared that whatever he'd used was beginning to wear off.
Yoshio kept moving, glancing at the house as he passed. He wished the Clayton woman and her ronin well in their search. Yoshio wanted whatever was in that house found and brought into the light.
For then he could move from mere observer to player. True, he would much prefer to contend with someone as predictable as the Arab's Sam Baker than this quick, tough, innovative stranger, but Yoshio had not the slightest doubt that he could handle either. He had many years of experience in these matters. And he would take whatever steps necessary to succeed. Kaze Group would expect that and would not accept anything less.
But you and your ronin had better hurry, Miss Clayton. Or I fear you will soon have some unwelcome company in your house.
7.
" 'This house holds the key that points the way to all you wish to achieve,' " Jack said, holding the key out to Alicia. "This could be that key. Ever seen it before?" She was still kneeling on the floor, not far from where he'd left her. She looked at the key but didn't take it.
"No. Where'd you find it?"
"Hidden in your father's closet. You wouldn't happen to know what bank he used."
She shook her head. "Not a clue." She held up the undercarriage of a toy car. "Look what I found. I replaced the wheel."
Was she cracking up? What was she doing fooling around with a toy car?
"Swell. Look, we've got to get—"
"And it still runs," she said. "Watch this."
She flicked a tiny switch and the wheels began spinning. She set the toy down on the floor. It zoomed across the boards and ran into the wall. It stayed there with its nose against the wall and its wheels spinning.
"We'll take it with us," Jack said. He was worried about the two beef jerkies snoozing outside in their car. They could be waking up now. "You can play with it the rest of the night."
"Don't patronize me, Jack. I may be a little jumpy and twitchy, but I haven't lost my mind. I can still think." She crawled across the floor and retrieved the car, then returned to her original spot. "This toy does not belong here. That man never played with toys, and this one is completely out of place in my room. That's why I searched for the rest of it. And I think I'm glad I did. Watch."
She put the car down again, this time facing away from the wall. As soon as its wheels hit the floor, it turned a one-hundred-eighty-degree arc and headed toward the wall, butting its nose three inches or so to the left of where it had ended up a minute ago.
Jack was about to tell her they didn't have time to play with toys, whether they belonged in her room or not, but something about the little car's persistence in running up against that wall made him hesitate.
"That's the seventh—no, eighth time it's ended against that wall," she said. "No matter which way it's pointing when I set it down, eight out of eight times that's where it ends up."
"No kidding?"
Jack bent and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. Nothing speciaclass="underline" a remote control toy car stripped down to its a metal undercarriage, with four wheels, a motor, steering mechanism, battery compartment, and an aerial.
The wheels were still spinning, so he put it down and pointed it toward Alicia. It zipped around and once again wound up against the wall.
"That's nine out of nine," she said.
Jack was interested now. "Where's the rest of it?"
"Here." She handed him the black plastic body.
"No," he said. "Where's the remote, the little box that controls the steering?"
"Never saw anything like that."
He checked out the plastic body. Apparently someone had torn it off the chassis, probably looking to see if anything was hidden inside. He snapped the two pieces back together.
"Looks more like some sort of jeep than a car," Alicia said.
Jack checked out the tiny logo across the rear hatch.
"A 'Sports Utility Vehicle,' as they're known. But this is a real upscale Jeep. This here's a Land Rover."
"A what?"
Jack looked up and saw Alicia on her feet, staring wide-eyed at the toy.
"A Land Rover. They're British and—"
"The will," she said. "It mentions a rover—twice… in those crazy poetry quotes." She snapped her fingers and looked at the ceiling. "What were they? 'Clay(ton) lies still, but blood's a rover' was one. And the other… the other went, 'Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest?'"
Jack felt a tingle of excitement as he sensed pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. Maybe "the key that points the way" wasn't a key at all. Maybe it was something that simply pointed the way.
He placed the toy on the floor again and watched it do its thing, winding up nose-on against the wall in that same spot.
This little "rover" was sure as hell pointing the way to something.
"What thy quest indeed," he said. "Wait here."
He trotted back to the bedroom, grabbed the sledgehammer and one of the crowbars. For a moment he considered hammering a hole in one of the pieces of plywood blocking the windows to allow him a peek at the guard car out front, but thought better of it. The racket might attract too much attention.