Playing A Losing Game, Page 3

  Chapter Fifty Eight

  Earlier the morning that Bobby met Marilyn, all was quiet elegance inside Enterprise Magnetics. The fire in the fireplace threw a warm glow across the dim, cool reception room. Sitting in an expensive and comfortable chair, Helen held a tall, cold drink and watched Gunnar operate a computer attached to a large screen display. Classical music played softly in the background. Helen's musical tastes ran to country and western, but still, this was the life.

  Howard sat in a large easy chair on her right. "Now, my dear," he purred, "we will examine the identities of our two aggressive and mysterious adversaries. Proceed, Gunnar."

  Gunnar clicked the mouse. A full length picture appeared on the screen, of a man in an Army blue dress uniform. He looked uncomfortable. The picture zoomed in on the face. Gunnar looked at Helen. "Is that him?" He asked.

  "Oh, gosh, yes, that's him, the asshole." Helen caught herself and blushed. "Um, excuse me, Howard, but that is him, I'm sure."

  Howard held up his hand. "Quite all right, my dear Helen. I understand your vehemence. Continue, Gunnar, if you please."

  The picture shrank to one corner of the screen. The facts of Bobby's life scrolled down the display, as the computer read out the text in a clear female voice. "Major Robert Edward Lee Britton, born August 15, 1961 in Spartanburg, South Carolina. Attended Stanford University, Palo Alto, California from 1979 through 1985, earning a B.S. in electrical engineering and an M.S. in computer science. Worked for IBM and Digital Research Incorporated. Joined the United States Army Computer Intelligence Agency in 1991."

  "Wow," Helen breathed, "a spy, a computer spy. What about the woman?"

  Robert Britton disappeared, replaced by face shots of eight different women. "We think its one of these," Gunnar said. "All are women in Federal law enforcement or the military located in the DC area, all are tall, all are trained fighters. All have, ah, forceful reputations."

  Helen laughed. Gunnar had actually made an attempt at humor. "Forceful, yeah, Gunnar, that's the word."

  Howard stood up. "We will give you a copy of these photos. You may spot one of these women shadowing you." He took Helen's hand and gallantly helped her up from her chair.

  Chapter Fifty Nine

  Alexa was in a hell-for-leather mood. Speeding down the potholed streets, she threw the battered Geo around corners and swerved madly to miss potholes and slower cars.

  "A trip to the scenic Northeast," she laughed, "What a way to spend a beautiful Saturday morning. We should have packed a lunch."

  "Slow down Alexa, dammit, I think I'm getting car sick." Bobby's grip on the dashboard left dents in the padded surface. "We're almost there - two more blocks."

  "Maybe you should've had something besides three burritos and an egg roll for breakfast." But Alexa slowed the car to a crawl. They passed the front of the old apartment building. It was after nine, but the little grocery store across the street was closed and the street was empty.

  "Go around the block," Bobby directed. "Hm, there's a sign by the front door. 'Enterprise Magnetics', whatever that means."

  "Looks like armor plate on that door. And a gun slit. Probably a guard behind it." Alexa guided the car around the corner.

  Bobby pointed to a basement window partly hidden by scraggly bushes. "That's where I got in. The same as I left it."

  "So what are we looking for?"

  "I'm not sure. Maybe for the ground line to those computers and microwave dishes. All those bits have to come from somewhere." He rolled down the window and craned his neck to see the top of the building. "There, up there! Christ on a crutch! See, see that cable!" Leaning out, Bobby waved his arms excitedly as his long legs thrashed around in the tiny car.

  "Ow! Bobby, stop it! You're beating me to death in here." Alexa stopped the car and got out. "Now, what're you raving about?"

  Chapter Sixty

  The computer printed the pictures of the female spy suspects on a color Hewlett-Packard laser printer sitting by the reception desk. Helen and Howard followed Gunnar across the room as the pictures rolled out of the machine.

  "Where'd you get this information, anyway?" Helen asked.

  "Our dear friend Mr. Halloran may not be officially part of the FBI any more, but he still has contacts and influence in the Bureau." Howard smiled and handed Helen the photos. "But please remember, my dear, if you do see any of these individuals, do contact us." He patted her arm. "They are likely to be armed and dangerous."

  "Well, thanks to you, I'm armed and dangerous too. But I'll be careful." Helen felt grateful to Howard and yes, even Gunnar, cold and hard as he was.

  As always, Howard walked her to her car and stood in the courtyard until she pulled away.

  Helen was thinking about the pictures and about Chuck Halloran, still so powerful even after being fired. She noticed the small car on the side street only because people were standing next to it. She slowed and looked at them. There were two, a man and a woman. Standing with their backs to her, they peered up at the top of the building. They looked tall next to the small car. Helen realized the woman had red hair.

  "Oh my god," Helen breathed, "its them, I just know it is." She rolled slowly through the intersection and out of sight behind an abandoned service station, then stopped and pulled the pictures out of her purse. Her memory was correct; one of the women had bright red hair. "Oh, my god," Helen said again. She turned the car around, back toward Enterprise Magnetics and Howard and Gunnar.

  Chapter Sixty One

  Alexa looked where Bobby pointed. A thick black cable looped high above the street and over the top of the crumbling stucco wall of the old apartment building. Neither of them noticed the car crossing the intersection half a block away.

  "There!" Bobby said. "There, there! They've strung the line from the light poles. And it goes west, toward Georgetown and Omniac! Come on!" Bobby started down the street.

  Alexa grabbed his sleeve. "Hold on, Bobby, just wait a second."

  "What?" He pulled impatiently away from her.

  "Shouldn't we take the car?"

  "Oh, oh, yeah. I guess we should." He turned back reluctantly. "Drive slow, Ok, I'll direct you."

  "Just remember," Alexa said, "kick me again and I'll break your leg." They drove slowly, Alexa watching for traffic and Bobby watching the cable swinging loosely from pole to pole.

 

  Chapter Sixty Two

  Helen didn't go into the courtyard. Instead, she stopped her car in the street and ran up the steps to the front door. There was no bell, but she knew a guard always sat behind the door, either dozing or playing endless games of solitaire. She beat on the steel plate, calling for Howard.

  "Go around to the back." The voice was muffled but clear.

  If she could hear him, he could hear her. "Open the damn door," she screamed, kicking at it. "Get Howard down here! Hurry, hurry."

  After a moment of silence, the bolts were drawn back and the door opened with a rusty squeal. The guard was a stooped, middle aged man with a permanent scowl. He wore a shoulder holster over a stained white shirt. "Now, whaddaya want...," he started to bluster, but Helen pushed past him.

  "Shut up. Get out of my way. Call Howard. Hurry up, dammit!" She stamped her foot and snarled, stifling the impulse to shoot the dumb shit.

  The guard sighed and punched the intercom button. Howard and Gunnar both came to the lobby. It took only a moment to shout out her discovery.

  Howard was calm and decisive. "This is our turf, as the locals say," he smiled. "Go after them, Gunnar. I will call in reinforcements." Without a word, Gunnar headed for the courtyard.

  "I'm coming with you," Helen said. She expected Gunnar to tell her to stay, but he said nothing. She ran to catch up, scrambling into the passenger seat of one of the Lincolns. Gunnar backed it through the tunnel into the street.

  The big car
leaned hard as Gunnar pushed it around the corner. The street was empty, the couple gone. Gunnar slowed down. "Where did you see them?" he asked.

  "There, right there, standing in the street pointing at the top of the building." Helen's heart was still pounding.

  Opening the sun roof, Gunnar looked up. "Ah," he said, and punched the accelerator.

  Helen was thrown back in her seat. "What, what was it?"

  "The data line," he said grimly, "they're following the data line. Have you your gun?"

  Helen pulled her gun from her purse. She envisioned the red headed woman in the sights, and smiled. The small blue car appeared less than two blocks ahead. "There," she called, "there, that's them." The Lincoln surged forward.

  "Brace yourself," Gunnar said, and steered straight for the Geo.

  Chapter Sixty Three

  Alexa concentrated on the road, such as it was, and followed Bobby's directions. There were a number of people on the streets, although many of the buildings were either gutted ruins or boarded up. Where does everyone live, she thought.

  "Looks like it goes straight for a few blocks," Bobby commented as he pulled his head back inside the car.

  "Then roll up your window and give the air conditioning a chance to work. It's damn hot...oh, shit!" The image of a huge car moving fast filled her rear view mirror. It hit a large pothole and swerved away, then back toward them. Alexa screamed and threw the Geo hard to the right. The other car smashed into the left rear of the Geo, rode up over the corner of the small car and crashed down along the driver's side. The deafening screech of metal grinding against metal was followed by complete silence.

  "Christ on a crutch," Bobby said, "what was that?"

  The Geo tilted against the curb with the Lincoln crunched into its side. Alexa shook her head. Through the cracked glass of the side window, she saw that the person in the passenger seat of the other car was only a few inches away. A woman. With a gun. The window on the other car was also up, so there were two layers of glass between them. The woman's mouth twisted as she struggled with her window.

  "Oh, shit," Alexa said. She pushed against Bobby. "Get out, quick. It's Holtzman. She's got a gun."

  "Ow," Bobby protested, "I'm pretty banged up, I think."

  Alexa pushed him again. Her own gun was in her purse, and she couldn't find her purse. "Run or die, man. Out! Out!"

  The passenger door fell onto the sidewalk. They stumbled out. The front doors of the Lincoln were jammed and the woman and her companion were crawling over the back of the seat to reach the rear doors.

  Alexa searched frantically, but couldn't find her purse. She pushed Bobby again. He was staring at the Lincoln.

  "Christ on a crutch," he said softly. "It's Gunnar. We're dead meat."

  "We are if we don't get out of here," Alexa yelled. "Run, dammit!" They ran.

  Behind them, Helen remembered the sunroof. She poked her head and arm through and got off one shot, then climbed down to the street. Gunnar got out a rear door and joined her. They both fired another round, then ran after the fleeing couple.

  Alexa heard the bullets ricochet and looked back. They had a good start on their pursuers. "Come on, Bobby," she said. "Faster. We can outrun them."

  But Bobby was limping. "I'm hurt, Alexa, I can't go any faster."

  She took his hand and pulled him along. "Yes, you can. You've got to." The sounds of the crash and the gunfire brought a crowd into the street, but everyone stood well back from the action. The population here seemed to be mostly black. There was the flat crack of a shot followed by the scream of the bullet bouncing off stone or concrete. People scattered and cried out.

  Bobby and Alexa came to a corner. Another bullet whizzed past, sounding only inches away. Bobby gasped and staggered. "Oh, god, they're gaining," he groaned. "Oh, god. Around the corner. Maybe we can hide."

  Around the corner, Rolls Royce stood at the curb. It was yellow, with light blue leather upholstery. The front doors were open, and the engine was running. The car's sound system played rap music at ear-splitting volume. A small group of black men and women stood about fifty feet away. The owner must be the one in the blue leather suit, Alexa thought. For a frozen instant, no one moved. Then the men in the group started toward them. Alexa pushed Bobby into the car and ran around to the driver's side.

  The music was too loud to hear the shouts of the crowd as the Rolls purred smoothly away from the curb. In the rear view mirror, Alexa watched Helen and Gunnar round the corner and literally run into the group standing on the sidewalk shaking their fists. Alexa looked ahead and floored the accelerator, but not before she saw the man in the blue suit turn angrily toward Gunnar.

  Bobby found the volume control and adjusted the music down just a little. His sigh of relief turned into a yelp of surprise as Alexa swung the car to the right at the end of the block.

  "Hey, not this way," he shouted, "you're going back toward them."

  "Damn right," Alexa snarled and drove as fast as the ruts and trash in the street allowed.

  "Why, why? We've got to get out of here!" Bobby pulled frantically at her sleeve. "Everybody is mad at us."

  After three blocks Alexa made another right turn, the tires squealing around the corner. "I'm not leaving my purse," she said, "And especially I'm not leaving my gun."

  "Oh, lord, they're probably already gone. This is damn silly, Alexa."

  "I don't care. It's only been a few minutes, and I think I know where the purse is."

  They came to the intersection. The two smashed cars were less than one hundred feet away. There were a few people around the wreck, but standing well back. Another car was parked in the street. It held several men. As Alexa and Bobby watched, the car roared away.

  "Look down there," Bobby said. Two blocks away, Gunnar and Helen backed into view, closely followed by an angry crowd.

  "Ok," Alexa said, "that car must be friends coming to help." She parked behind the wreck. "Get my purse. It was on the floor behind you, so I bet it slid under your seat."

  Bobby clutched the door handle. "Me? Me get out? Me?"

  "Yes, you, dammit! Stop stammering and get out there before that gang comes back."

  Bobby reluctantly exited the Rolls. The dozen or so onlookers gave him room. He ran to the Geo and stepped over the door lying on the sidewalk. Reaching under the seat, he could feel the the purse, but couldn't get his hand in far enough to grab it.

  Someone behind him said "I don't think this fool has a gun." Another voice disagreed, but without conviction. They argued for a moment, first one and then the other.

  They're deciding to jump me, Bobby thought as he frantically tried to worm his hand under the seat. He began to panic. Do something, do something! He seized the back of the seat, and with the strength of desperation, jerked it forward. It popped out of the rails, smashing his hands against the windshield.

  There was the purse. Snatching it up, he turned to run. But several men crowded him, yelling obscenities. He tried to reach the gun, but the damn clasp on the purse wouldn't open.

  The Rolls climbed the curb and nosed down the sidewalk, horn blaring. His attackers scattered and Bobby fell through the door behind Alexa. She bumped the car back into the street and turned away from Gunnar, Helen and company.

  Bobby heard the distant crack of a pistol and his heart sank. But when he looked back he could see that Gunnar had fired into the air. None of that bunch had noticed them, they were so busy with their new friends. Helen directed the Rolls toward downtown.

  Bobby gasped and sagged back in the seat. He tossed the purse up beside Alexa.

  "Gee, thanks, Bobby, you're a sweetie." She smiled over her shoulder.

  "Glad I could help," he croaked.

  Alexa abandoned the Rolls on K Street, just north of Franklin Square. "This thing is too conspicuous," she announced, "time to f
ade back into the crowd."

  "But I like it," Bobby protested. He ran his hand across the smooth blue upholstery. "Blue is one of my favorite colors. And yellow. I like yellow, too."

  "It's not ours, and it attracts too much attention. Look, we've only been parked for a minute and we've already drawn a gaggle of tourists. Let's go before they start asking for autographs." Alexa opened the door and shooed away a family of six, all dressed in golf shirts and Bermuda shorts.

  After pushing his way through the crowd, Bobby stopped and leaned against a building. "Ow, Alexa, not so fast. My knee hurts even more. Ow, ow." "Oh, you poor baby. Here, you can lean on me. Which one is it?" Alexa felt little sympathy for people in pain. She regarded pain as an opportunity to build character.

  "It's the one I'm limping on, dammit, the right one. Ow, don't touch it." Bobby pulled away, but Alexa caught him and ignored his pitiful cries.

  "Hm. It is swollen, actually. Maybe you are hurt. I know a sports doctor in Langley Park. We can tell him you were injured playing tennis."

  Bobby laughed. "Ow. It hurts when I laugh. Those two did have a fast serve, didn't they." Then his face grew serious. "Christ on a crutch. I forgot about Jack. He's going to be really pissed."

  "Jack?"

  "Jack of DC Rent-a-Ride. The owner of what used to be a Geo, now a heap of crushed tin." Bobby looked genuinely distressed. "I may have to pay for that thing."

  "Nah." Alexa dismissed Jack with a wave of her hand. "I'll go with you. No problem. Now, let's get you over to my truck and then to the doctor."