The Night Crew

'That guy still chasing you?' Catwell's eyes were glassy, and his speech a little slow, but he seemed to be tracking.

'He killed another woman,' Anna said.

'Where're the fucking cops?' Catwell asked. 'Out chasing hippies?'

'They're looking,' Anna said. 'We need to know who Jason was talking to, anything you know, especially the night before he died. Did you see him that night?'

'No, I didn't. I knew he was going out with you, though. He'd been talking about setting the whole thing up, the raid,' Catwell said. He dropped on the couch again, looked at the dead joint in his hand. 'You know, I miss that dickhead. I keep thinking I oughta go see him about something, but then I remember, he's gone.'

'I know how it is,' Harper said soberly.

'You knew he was setting up raid coverage,' Anna said. 'You know who he was talking to about it?'

'Just those guys over there,' Catwell said. 'The animal guy and that other surfer asshole.'

'We know the animal guy,' Anna said. 'He's up in Oregon. Who's the surfer?'

'You know, you had him on TV. The pig guy, the guy knocked down by the pig. I must've seen it fifty times,' Catwell said, gesturing at the television.

Anna was confused. 'Wait a minutehe was the animal guy, right? Steve?'

Now Catwell was confused: 'No, no, the other guy. He was setting it up with the animal guy, the guy who took care of the animals.'

Harper and Anna looked at each other, then Anna got down on her knees so she could look Catwell squarely in the face. 'You're telling me that the whole thing was set upboth sides? That the animal rights raiders and the kid inside the building were all set up by Jason?'

'Sure.' Catwell nodded, then looked from Anna to Harper and back with just a touch of amusement. 'I thought you knew that. The whole thing was like a fuckin' movie. The guy in the building is the guy who left the door unlocked so the animal people could get in.'

Anna said, 'Shit,' and stood up.

Catwell continued: 'I don't know if the raider people knew who left the door open, 'cause Jase was being pretty quiet about the whole thing. I just knew because we were dopin' buddies. But he sort of went over and told the surfer asshole about the animal up there, and the labs, and told them he could get them in. Then he fixed it for the guy inside to leave the door open, and for that guy to fight with them. It looked pretty real on TVthey were pretty rough, so maybe the raider guys didn't know.'

'Why do you keep calling the surfer guy an asshole?' Harper asked.

Catwell shrugged. 'You know, he's one of those fuckin' blond short-hair oh-wow surf's-up pussy-hounds with big fuckin' white teeth and never had to work in his whole fuckin' life.' He looked at the dead joint again. 'How come guys like him don't get killed?'

Anna shrugged: 'Way of the world. But what about the other kid, the one who took care of the animals. What about him?'

'I don't know. He's in theater, or something.'

'Theater? I thought he was some kind of science geek.'

Catwell shook his head: 'Theater, is what Jason said.'

They talked for a few more minutes, but Catwell had nothing more. He lit up again as they were leaving, and Harper said, 'You oughta lock the door.'

'I will,' Catwell said, in the squeaky top-of-the-mouth speech of a man holding his breath. 'Soon as I can afford a lock.'

Outside, on the driveway, Anna said, 'The whole thing was a setup. Christ, I'd hate to have that get around.'

'Screw you with the TV people?'

'I don't knowI mean, it was good tape, so they'd probably use it anyway. But it sorta makes us look like chumps.'

'What do you think about this kid?'

'. Who set us up? I don't know: I talked to him for a couple of minutes, came onto him a little bit, you know, just to cheer him up,' Anna said. They were walking up the hill toward the street. They could hear rock music from one of the frat houses, and a man laughing. 'God, he seemed real. He didn't seem like. he seemed like a nerd, is what I'm saying. Not like somebody who'd be out trying to physically intimidate people.'

'You said this guy was strong, but kind of soft.'

She nodded: 'Yeah. I just don't see him as being strong. But I don't know: he could be. I mean, he completely sucked me in. And if he's really in theater, he probably is in some kind of shape.' She thought about it, then said, 'Let's run him down. Find out.'

'What about Clark?' Harper asked.

'What time is it?' She couldn't see her watch in the dark.

'Time to go, if we're gonna catch him,' Harper said. 'We oughta be there now.'

Anna took the cell phone out of her jacket. 'It's not Clark. And now that this kid has come up, I think we should concentrate on him. I'll talk to Louis, see if he can track the kid down.'

'How long will it take?'

'I don't know, but Louis can usually find people. He's got all the phone directories and he can get into utility records. The utilities have just about everybody.'

'Except maybe some students and illegals.' They came to the end of the driveway. 'So why don't we go catch Clark, while Louis looks for the kid.'

She nodded, reluctantly. It only made sense. 'All right.' she said. 'Where's the car?'

Harper pointed the key down the street and pushed a button, and the car flashed its parking lights at them. 'What's his name?' Harper asked, as they walked toward it. 'The kid?'

Anna shrugged: 'I don't remember. The names never stick for more than a day or two.'

'Strange business, Batory.'

'Strange times, Harper.'

Chapter 25

The two-faced man was dressed in a light Lycra full-length windsurfer's suit, pitch-black from the neckline to the black Nike gym shoes. With a nylon stocking over his head, he was a shadow.

He moved slowly, carefully, letting his body feel the way through the dark. He had a bum bag wrapped around his ribs, a rope wrapped around his waist, and the pistol under his arm.

Moving like a snake, sliding the last few inches toward the unsuspecting mouse.

Anna's house showed a light in a side window, but it was the kind of too-dim light that people left when they were gonea light in a hallway, somewhere. Not a reading light or a TV light or a work light; a waiting light.

He closed on the back porch. He'd been there before, but this time, she wasn't home. There was no one inside to hear him. unless the cops had set something up. Unlikely, but possible, and the possibility added to the intensity of the approach.

He sat in the shadow of the porch for five minutes, listening. And he heard voices, coming down from above, with a little music that he couldn't place. Old music, the kind you hear late at night when you're driving out in the desert. People on a porch, he thought, in the next house. He measured the unexcited voices, then slowly, carefully unhooked the bum bag, unzipped it, took out the screwdriver and the roll of duct tape.

He knew from the last time where the lock was. He planned to break out the glass again, but more carefully. He'd hold the pieces in place with the tape, rather than letting them fall inside.

But when he got to his knees on the porch, he found a piece of plywood covering the window. He tested it with the screwdriver. The plywood moved. Huh. More pressureand when he pried hard enough, he could feel the wood give.

He dropped the duct tape and worked the screwdriver around the perimeter of the plywood plug. After a minute, the top and left edges were free. He worked on the bottom edge, then pushed his hand through the slot and it opened like a little door.

He stopped to listen again, then reached inside. He had to stretch, to go in all the way to his shoulder, but the deadbolt was there and he flipped the handle; the door opened easily.

Inside, he listened again, then pressed the plywood window plug roughly into place. He used the penlight to navigate across the kitchen, followed the light down the hall, around the little office, then up the stairs to the bedroom.

The bedroom smelled of her: her perfume, or just her body.