Barney, too, squinted at the clock but didn’t say anything finishing his corn flakes. Finally, Maggie left them. She went back to her room where she hummed something as she readied herself for work.
Frank didn’t have time to realize what had happened. Strong arms grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. The edge of the table pressed into his stomach, and Barney’s face, distorted with anger, rose before his eyes.
“Let me go,” Frank hissed, pushing with his palms against the table.
“You woke her up!” Barney bared his teeth.
“You idiot! She woke herself up! All I did was introduce myself.”
Maggie’s humming approached. Footsteps resounded behind Frank’s back. Barney let go of him and smiled sweetly to his daughter in the hall. He picked up his spoon and got busy scraping the remaining soggy corn flakes off the bottom of the bowl.
The moment Maggie disappeared in her room, he clenched his fists again and leaned forward.
“I didn’t wake her up!” Frank whispered. “Barney, get some sense. She has no idea why I’m here. She simply gave me something to eat.”
The humming stopped.
“Hey, I’m off!” they heard her voice in the hall.
Frank turned to take a look. Maggie was wearing a stern trouser suit. A thin strip of white satin was tied under her collar in an elegant knot secured with a silvery brooch. Her face was almost devoid of makeup, and her hair was done in an elaborate side wave. No more teddy-bear pajama girclass="underline" in her place, a businesslike corporate staff worker worthy of the name of her worldwide employer.
She turned away to take a coat off the rack, and Frank suppressed a scream, feeling Barney’s toe buried in his shin.
“Daddy? Can your friend see me to the car?”
All three of them were smiling, only Frank did so through the agonizing tears that filled his eyes. His leg hurt like hell now.
“Wait a sec, teddy bear. We need to tell you something.” Barney puffed out his cheeks and gave Frank another glare. “Come here for a sec.”
The girl came closer. He leaned under the table, dragged out a stool and placed it next to his. “Take a seat.”
“Dad. I’ll be late. What is it?”
Frank wiped his tears and gave her a nonchalant smile moving his stool closer to the wall and away from her.
“Can’t it wait till the evening?” Maggie pursed her lips, shifting her gaze from her father to Frank and then back.
“Teddy, please. It won’t take long,” Barney took the girl’s hand stroking it.
“Is it so important?”
“It is.”
“All right then,” she sat on the stool.
Frank surreptitiously rubbed his smarting leg. Barney cast him another glance, took in a lungful of air but didn’t utter a word and let the air out.
“Daddy,” Maggie looked at him accusingly. “Quit your world conspiracy nonsense. When you look so indecisive, it’s always because you and Uncle Max have got something on your minds. Come on, spill the beans. You’ve got ten minutes.”
“Sure,” Barney nodded. “You’re right, of course. Max’s in it, too.” He paused, then reached out to straighten the brooch under her collar and said decisively, “Our guest’s name is Frank Shelby. He’s accused of Kathleen Baker’s murder. He needs help.”
Maggie opened her eyes wide. She leaned back, staring at Frank.
“You’re joking, surely?”
“Not at all. There’s big trouble coming if—”
“Was it Uncle Max who asked you to help him?
“It was.”
“He used to coach me,” Frank butted in.
“Shut up,” Barney snapped.
“No, don’t,” Maggie’s face took on a serious, grownup expression. “Let him speak.”
Frank and Barney looked up at the clock. He recounted the whole story in three minutes, giving her the bare bones thanks to the previous experience in the boxing club.
“Yeah, I see…” For a few seconds, the girl fell silent. Then she asked, “Which of you has the device now?”
Barney raised his hand.
“I’d like to have a look,” Maggie looked at him expectantly.
Reluctantly, Barney produced the hard drive from his inside pocket and handed it to his daughter.
“I’ve seen one like this before,” She fingered the connector. “Mr. Binelli, my boss, sometimes uses it in his office. He hooks it up to his personal workstation.”
Frank exchanged glances with Barney. What a stroke of luck. Binelli’s workstation was one of the corporation server’s data access points. Still, the veteran didn’t look too happy, and Frank himself couldn’t imagine how they were going to access it and copy the data.
Maggie returned the device to her father. A doorbell rang three times in the hall.
“That’s Max,” Barney said.
The girl opened the door. Max kissed the girl on the cheek and started giving her instructions. She had to go to work as usual and do what she always did.
“Just keep your eyes open,” Max dropped a large golf bag from his shoulder and put it down in the middle of the hall. “No fussing about, just listen to what they say and try to remember anything relevant.”
Maggie nodded and gave Frank a wink.
“Also, we might need the plans and layout of the building and the security schedule, especially those surveilling the underground parking. Think you can do it?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Barney’s face darkened.
“Go. And don’t take stupid risks,” the coach said taking off his battered jacket with the Yankees logo.
“I won’t, Uncle Max.”
When the front door closed behind her, the Coach moved the bag into the kitchen and without further ado said,
“Barney, your self-control skills are non-existent. You need to take a leaf out of your daughter’s book. She’s good, is our Maggie. Always has everything clear and businesslike.”
“What took you so long?” Barney chose to ignore the remark.
“I had a tail,” Max dropped his bag onto the floor next to the TV. “Been following me from the club the moment I came back from the stash.”
He wore faded combat trousers, a white T-shirt and black soft-soled shoes. He turned to Frank.
“Not to worry. Those cretins have no idea who they’re playing with.” He pulled up his right sleeve. “No bracelet.”
“Oh,” Frank blinked. “How did you remove it?”
“Later,” Barney rose, leaned across the table and looked out of the window. “You didn’t take the car, I hope?”
“I left it three blocks from here,” the coach dropped his jacket onto the stool.
“Who were they? How many, what kind of car?” Not waiting for Max to answer, Barney went into his bedroom. The flat’s acoustics permitted everything to be heard from everywhere.
“They weren’t police,” Max opened the fridge and stared inside. “Cops are much better undercover. There were three of them in a black Jeep, dressed in black…”
“…no hair,” Frank butted in.
“Exactly,” the coach turned round holding a milk carton; “How do you know?”
“Same people at the post office. Not exactly the same ones, but those too were bald and in black.”
Max took a large swig from the carton and put it back. Frank frowned and buried his chin in his fist. He was trying to remember some detail, something to do with those bald attackers. But he couldn’t remember what it was.
“All clear outside,” Barney walked back into the kitchen. “But if they could suss you out, they can trace you to me.”
“Doubtful,” the coach crouched next to his bag. “When was the last time you came to the club?”
“Today, wasn’t it?” Surprised, Barney stared at the coach.
“That’s not what I mean,” the coach looked up at him. “Do you see me often?”