The waitress arrived and delivered his breakfast with a surly flourish, which he observed she did with everyone, so he didn’t take it personally. He dug in and tried to think about something besides the damned manuscript. Which was roughly like trying not to think of a zebra after somebody instructs you: “Don’t think about a zebra.”
Oh well. If he was going to contemplate striped animals, might as well do so constructively. He washed down his third cup of coffee, motioned for the bill and thought about his day’s agenda. First, he wanted to get hold of Jim and warn him there could be some storm clouds on the horizon. Next, he wanted to check on Koshi and make sure he’d made it to his cousin’s with no issues. Once he’d completed those two errands…what was the plan? So far he’d been entirely reactive. That ran counter to his nature. He wanted to do something. Take some sort of control.
He’d start by making the calls he could to verify that all was well. Once that was dispensed with, he had the germ of an idea growing in his head. It was a little outlandish, but he couldn’t see much else in terms of moves. It was still just a kernel but it had occurred to him last night at some point and his gut was now spurring it to grow.
Back in the apartment, he logged onto his new e-mail account and checked for a message from Koshi. Nothing. Fucking Koshi. He could be so unreliable sometimes. He probably thought this was a joke of some sort and hadn’t gotten through his head that this was a real threat.
Michael angrily stabbed at the keys on the internet phone. His call went straight to voice mail. Incredible. He had his phone off.
He talked himself down, even though he was fuming. Getting angry wouldn’t do anyone any good. Koshi could be a dick sometimes, that was all. It was just the way things were. Move to something more productive.
Michael next called Jim and got the same response. He tried twice to no avail. Didn’t anyone answer the damned phone anymore?
That reminded him. His cell phone was doing precisely the same thing to callers. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Michael called into his voice mail box, to find two messages. One was from yet another potential client and the other was from Ken, telling him to call immediately when he got the message. The time stamp was from twenty minutes earlier. He dialed Ken’s number.
Ken cut straight to the chase. “No bullshit, Michael. Where are you?”
“Good morning to you, too. What’s up? What’s so important you got me out of bed?” Michael figured he’d try the light approach to diffuse the obvious underlying tension.
“You have no idea what’s going on, do you?”
“Ken. You called me. I’m calling you back. What’s the problem?” Michael asked.
“The problem? The problem is that Jim, your electronics technician, decided to jump out his window last night and splatter himself all over the sidewalk.”
Michael took a few moments to digest the news. “That’s impossible. How do you know?”
“I check the overnight bulletins first thing every morning. Routine. And I saw Jimbo’s name there.”
Jim had been referred to Michael by Ken, years before.
“Ken. This stinks. No way would Jim commit suicide. He wasn’t the type. I saw him just a few days ago…at Abe’s. That was the last contact I had with him. Fuck. I’ve been trying to call him since last night…” Michael rambled.
“Why, Michael? Why were you calling him? Another job?” Ken’s tone was suspiciously even — always a warning, in Michael’s experience.
“All right. Ken. Look. I’ve got reasons to believe that whoever planted the bugs in Abe’s office is working through my security team. Jim was there — his prints were all over the place. Abe is dead, and now Jim goes curb diving…and the bugs are nowhere to be found. It’s too coincidental, Ken. Someone’s rolling up the team.”
“If they are, it’s another good coincidence that you’re out of town, huh?” Ken observed.
“Ken, since last night, I’ve been trying to call Koshi, my computer guy, who was also all over Abe’s office. I keep getting the same non-response as on Jim’s phone. Nothing. Dead.” Michael suddenly had a very bad feeling.
“Jesus, Michael. What have you gotten into here? Seriously.”
“I told you. Abe got an e-mail with a damaging document that implicated the government in a whole bunch of really nasty shit. If this is related, and it sure is starting to seem that way, somebody’s trying to tie up all the loose ends that could have come across it. That’s how it looks to me,” Michael said.
“Does this have anything to do with you being AWOL?”
“Ken, if I said I had a premonition something ugly was going down once you told me Abe was murdered, would you believe me? Or more importantly, does that even matter right now? Please — just do me a favor and check on Koshi. He was going to leave town last night, but he wasn’t taking this seriously. I’m worried. I last talked to him at ten p.m. and he was out at some restaurant, and then he went dark.”
“All right. Give me his number and his address and I’ll send a car by to check on him. I hope to God you’re wrong about all this, but I guess I don’t blame you for making yourself scarce under the circumstances. At least you’re still answering your phone…and returning calls.”
Michael gave him the info.
“Is there a number I can reach you at?” Ken asked.
“For now, let me just call you again in a few hours to confirm he’s okay. I’m working on getting a new phone. My old one’s on the blink,” Michael said, feeling lame even as the words left his mouth.
“I should know something by one o’clock on Koshi. Call me then at this number — or better yet, on my cell,” Ken instructed before giving Michael the number.
“Will do. Thanks, man, I owe you a big one. And I can guarantee Jim isn’t a jumper. This is the second murder in this string,” Michael emphasized.
“If you’re right, I have a feeling he won’t be the last. Watch your back. I’ll talk to you in a few,” Ken said, and hung up.
This was far worse than anything Michael could have predicted. Jim was just hired hands who knew absolutely nothing about anything. If someone was taking out even the peripheral players, they were going scorched earth and it was a one hundred percent certainty Michael and Koshi were targets. He just hoped Ken could reach him in time or that Koshi was asleep at his cousin’s after a late night drinking session with the family.
Somehow, Michael found that unlikely. It would be nice, but so would winning the lottery. Hope was a poor investment strategy and an even poorer survival tactic. And Michael wasn’t feeling particularly lucky at the moment.
So what to do? People were dying, so his decision to go to ground had been a sound one, but what now? He couldn’t stay holed up in his friend’s condo indefinitely. Michael suddenly had an overwhelming urge to move, to get out. He long ago had learned to go with these impulses so he began assembling his gear for departure. But where was he going? Where could you run when the entire machine was looking for you?
New Jersey seemed like as good a place as any to start. That way, if Koshi was still in one piece, they could hook up and formulate a strategy. If he wasn’t, then he was further from New York, which was where the search was localized at this point. They had no reason to believe he had left town so the natural play was to stake out his apartment and known haunts — and wait. Because targets inevitably made mistakes.
But they hadn’t banked on Michael being their quarry. That slim edge would disappear soon enough, but he needed to use every advantage in his grasp while he could. And right now, he had first-mover advantage.