“I will be.”
I reached down and took the handle of the roller bag out of her grasp. Then I turned her toward the exit to the parking garage.
“This way. I already got the car and the hotel.”
“Great.”
We walked silently and I kept my arm around her. Rachel had not told me a lot on the phone, only that she had been forced to quit to avoid prosecution for misuse of government funds—the FBI jet she had taken to Nellis in order to save me. I wasn’t going to push her for more information but eventually I wanted to know the details. And the names. The bottom line was that she had lost her job coming to save me. The only way I was going to be able to live with that was if I somehow tried to set it straight. The only way I knew how to do that was to write about it.
“The hotel’s pretty nice,” I said. “But I only got one room. I didn’t know if you wanted—”
“One room is perfect. I don’t have to worry about things like that anymore.”
I nodded and assumed she meant that she no longer had to worry about sleeping with someone who was part of an investigation. It seemed that no matter what I said or asked, I was going to trigger thoughts about the job and career she had just lost. I tried a new direction.
“So are you hungry? Do you want to get something to eat or go right to the hotel or what?”
“What about Western Data?”
“I called and set up an appointment. They said it had to be tomorrow because the CEO is out today.”
I checked my watch and it was almost six.
“They’re probably closed now, anyway. So tomorrow at ten we go in. We ask for a guy named McGinnis. He apparently runs the place.”
“And they fell for the charade you told me you were going to pull?”
“It’s not a charade. I have the letter from Schifino and that makes me legit.”
“You can convince yourself of anything, can’t you? Doesn’t your paper have some kind of code of ethics that prevents you from misrepresenting yourself?”
“Yeah, we’ve got a code but there are always gray areas. I’m going undercover to get information that cannot be gathered any other way.”
I shrugged as if to say, no big deal. We got to my rental car and I loaded her bag in the trunk.
“Jack, I want to go there now,” Rachel said as we got in the car.
“Where?”
“Western Data.”
“You can’t get in without an appointment and our appointment’s tomorrow.”
“Fine, we don’t go in. But we can still case the joint. I just want to see it.”
“Why?”
“Because I need something to take my mind off what happened today in Washington. Okay?”
“Got it. We’re going.”
I looked up Western Data’s address in my notebook and plugged it into the car’s GPS. Soon we were on a freeway heading east from the airport. Traffic moved smoothly and we were to Mesa after two freeway changes and twenty minutes of driving.
Western Data Consultants loomed small on the horizon on McKellips Road on the east side of Mesa. It was in a sparsely developed area of warehouses and small businesses surrounded by scrub brush and Sonora cacti. It was a one-story, sand-colored building of block construction with only two windows located on either side of the front door. The address number was painted on the top right corner of the building but there was no other sign on the facade or anywhere else on the fenced property.
“Are you sure that’s it?” Rachel asked as I drove by the first time.
“Yeah, the woman I made the appointment with said they had no signs on the property. It’s part of the security—not advertising exactly what they do here.”
“It’s smaller than I thought it would be.”
“You have to remember, most of it is underground.”
“Right, right.”
A few blocks past the target, there was a coffee shop called Hightower Grounds. I pulled in to turn around and then we took another pass at Western Data. This time the property was on Rachel’s side and she turned all the way in her seat to view it.
“They’ve got cameras all over the place,” she said. “I count one, two, three… six cameras on the outside.”
“Cameras inside and out, according to the website,” I responded. “That’s what they sell. Security.”
“Either the real thing or the appearance of it.”
I looked over at her.
“What do you mean by that?”
She shrugged.
“Nothing, really. It’s just that all those cameras look impressive. But if nobody is on the other end looking through them, then what do you have?”
I nodded.
“Do you want me to turn around and go by again?”
“No, I’ve seen enough. I’m hungry now, Jack.”
“Okay. Where do you want to go? We passed a barbecue place when we got off the freeway. Otherwise, that coffee shop back there is the only—”
“I want to go to the hotel. Let’s get room service and raid the minibar.”
I looked over at her and thought I detected a smile on her face.
“That sounds like a plan to me.”
I had already set the address for the Mesa Verde Inn into the car’s GPS device and it took us only ten minutes to get there. I parked in the garage behind the hotel and we went in.
Once we got to the room, we both kicked off our shoes and drank Pyrat rum out of water glasses while sitting side by side and propped against the bed’s multiple pillows.
Finally, Rachel let out a long, loud sigh, which seemed to expel many of the frustrations of the day. She held her almost empty glass up.
“This stuff is good,” she said.
I nodded in agreement.
“I’ve had it before. It comes from the island of Anguilla in the British West Indies. I went there on my honeymoon—a place called Cap Juluca. They had a bottle of this stuff in the room. A whole bottle, not these little minibar servings. We motored through that whole thing in one night. Drinking it straight, just like this.”
“I don’t want to hear about your honeymoon, you know?”
“Sorry. It was more like a vacation, anyway. It was more than a year after we actually got married.”
That killed the conversation for a while and I watched Rachel in the mirror on the wall across from the bed. After a few minutes she shook her head as a bad thought crept in.
“You know what, Rachel? Fuck ’em. It’s the nature of any bureaucracy to eliminate the freethinkers and doers, the people they actually need the most.”
“I don’t really care about the nature of any bureaucracy. I was a god-damn FBI agent! What am I going to do now? What are we going to do now?”
I liked that she had thrown the we in there at the end.
“We’ll think of something. Who knows, maybe we pool our skills and become private eyes. I can see it now. Walling and McEvoy, Discreet Investigations.”
She shook her head again but this time she finally smiled.
“Well, thanks for putting my name first on the door.”
“Oh, don’t worry, you’re the CEO. We’ll use your picture on the billboards, too. That’ll really bring in the business.”
Now she actually laughed. I didn’t know if it was the rum or my words but something was cheering her. I put my glass down on the bed table and turned to her. Our eyes were only inches apart.