"Campus security is there."
Tim was tempted to say that might be the problem, but resisted.
"Yeah, but even The Ingraham's crack SWAT team can't be everywhere. One of the bug men could be a nut case. All the rooms are unlocked. He could catch you when you step into yours and...well, who knows."
"My hero," she said. Then she touched his arm. "Thanks for the thought, but I—"
"No arguments," he said. "I'm going with you and we haven't got much time. Besides, I'm not letting some creep who's been sniffing too much bug spray ruin my weekend in AC."
"Some hero!" she said and laughed.
Tim loved the sound.
It took them less than five minutes to make it back to Women's Country. As Quinn pushed through the stairwell door ahead of him, she stopped and pointed down the hall.
"See? Nothing to worry about. You could have saved yourself the trip. There's the Chief of Security himself standing in my doorway."
I knew it!
Tim squeezed past her into the hall. He saw Verran, but the security man was no longer in the doorway to Quinn's room. He had just pulled it closed and was bustling toward them, his jowls jiggling, an anxious look straining his features.
"What are you two doing here?" he said. "You're supposed to be in class now."
"We're going right back," Quinn said.
"Didn't you read the notice? Rooms are to be vacated between eight and twelve."
"I'll only be a second," Quinn said, starting toward her room. "I just have to pick up some—"
Verran stepped in front of her, blocking her way.
"You can't go in there right now. He's right in the middle of spraying."
"Bullshit," Tim said.
He stepped around Verran and headed for Quinn's door. He'd had enough. Too many screwy coincidences here: Fifty-two rooms on the floor and they just happen to be spraying 252 when he and Quinn arrive unannounced, Verran obviously upset at their surprise return, and the unsettling fact that Verran didn't have to ask Quinn who she was and which room was hers.
Something was going on.
"Hey! Come back here!"
Tim heard Verran hurrying after him but didn't slow. He had a good lead. He'd be in Quinn's room well ahead of him. But as he was reaching for the knob, the door opened.
A tall, dark-haired man in his early thirties stood there. He wore gray coveralls with an oval patch on the left breast that said A-Jacks Exterminating. He carried a toolbox in one hand and a two-gallon spray canister in the other.
He smiled easily at Tim. "Hey. How's it going?" then looked past him. "All set in here, Mr. Verran. Where to next?"
Verran hauled up next to Tim, puffing. "What? Oh, yeah. Good. We'll go to 251 next." He glared at Tim. "What's the idea of taking off like that? You got a problem or something?"
Tim saw Quinn come up behind Verran. She was giving him a funny look. What could he say? Something wasn't right but he hadn't the vaguest idea what.
He turned back to the exterminator and saw that he, too, was staring at him. Not at him, exactly—at his lapel.
"That's a neat-looking pin you got there," the bug man said. "Where'd you get it?"
"Found it," Tim said.
Tim wasn't in the mood for small talk, but the bug man seemed completely taken by the pin.
"Take a look at this, Mr. Verran," he said, pointing to Tim's lapel. "You ever seen anything like that?"
Verran came around and looked. Tim thought he saw him stiffen, but couldn't be sure. What was so fascinating about a little black hockey puck?
"No," Verran said slowly. "Never." His voice sounded strained. "You want to sell that?"
"No."
Tim was irritated with the attention. He didn't want to buy or sell anything. He just wanted Quinn to get her notes and get out of here.
"You sure?" Verran said.
"Very sure. Is it okay if she gets her notes now?"
The bug man seemed surprised by the question. "Hmmm? Oh, uh, yeah. Sure."
Tim waved Quinn into the room, followed her in, then closed the door behind them.
"How's the room look?" he said.
Quinn glanced around. "Fine."
"Just as you left it?"
"I think so. The bedspread looks a little wrinkled, but otherwise—"
"Nothing missing?
"Not that I can see." She looked at him closely. "Tim, are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Why?"
"Because you're acting—"
"Weird? Yeah, I know." He searched for a plausible explanation. "Maybe I've been cooped up on this campus too long. Maybe I'm getting Ingraham fever. I need a break, need to get away for awhile."
"Well, you're getting away tonight, aren't you? We both are."
"Right. To AC. And not a moment too soon."
"Okay. So hang on."
He gave her a smile. "I will." Then he sniffed the air. "You smell anything?"
"No. Should I?"
"They just sprayed in here, didn't they? Shouldn't we be smelling something?"
"The stuff they're using is supposed to be colorless and odorless."
So's water, Tim thought.
"Can I use your phone a sec?"
"Sure."
As Quinn dug her notes out of a drawer, Tim dialed 411. He turned his back to her and he asked in a low voice for the number of A-Jacks Exterminating. He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when the operator came up with a number. When he hung up, Quinn was ready to go.
"All set?" she said.
"Yeah. Let's get out of here."
Before he closed the door behind them he took one last look. Something had been done to this room, something more than bug spraying. But damned if he could figure what.
MONITORING
Kurt was laughing.
"What's so goddamn funny?" Verran said.
"This whole thing! Here we spend weeks combing the whole fucking campus for this bug you lost and all the time this jerk's been wearing it like a stick pin on his coat!"
"At least it explains why we could never track it down," Verran said.
"Oh, God, I wish I'd a-been there...just to see the look on your face when you saw..." Kurt dissolved into helpless laughter again.
Even Elliot was grinning like an idiot.
Verran ground his teeth. Nothing funny about this, dammit. That Brown kid had been wearing the bug around campus for all to see. What if somebody had recognized it for what it was? Christ, what if Alston had spotted it?
Verran didn't want to think about it.
"Better get a grip on yourself," he told Kurt, "because it's going to be your job to get it back."
Kurt stopped laughing. "Why me? I didn't—"
"Tonight."
"Brown's taking off for Atlantic City tonight, chief," Elliot said.
"How do you know that?"
"Heard him talking with the Cleary girl about it. They're going together."
"Awright!" Kurt said. "Boffing the blonde! Wouldn't mind a piece of that action myself."
Verran motioned him to shut up. "Maybe our luck is starting to change. We can grab the bug back while he's out of town."
"What if he's got it with him when he leaves?" Elliot said.
Kurt snorted. "The way our luck's been running, that's the way it'll go down."
Verran couldn't argue with that. But maybe that could be worked to their advantage. What was the old saying? When somebody hands you a lemon...
"Here's what we'll do," he said. "We'll watch him leave. If he's wearing the same jacket he had on this morning, we'll assume he's got the bug on him. You two will tail him to Atlantic City—"
"And whack him!"
Verran glared at Kurt for the interruption and started when he saw the .38 in his hand.
"Put that away!"
Kurt grinned. "Just kidding, Lou."
He watched Kurt replace the pistol in the bottom drawer of the center console, then continued. "As I was saying, tail him to A.C. and look for a chance to rough him up a little. Make it look like a mugging."