David Dun - Overfall

“He’s probably right, as far as I can tell,” John said. “Based on what little we know of Jason’s work, that is. If this is about the modeling Jason’s doing with the neurology people-trying to model consciousness-I don’t think anybody understands it.”

“Well, whatever my brother is working on,” Anna said, “he insisted I take this disk. I have no idea what’s on it.”

“Well, we can take a look and see what’s there, at least generally. Now why is it he gave this to you?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m sure it’s highly confidential.”

“I will say nothing. This will be a personal matter, just between us.”

Anna removed the CD from her purse, now in a Bob Dylan jewel box, and handed it to Dr. Weissman.

At that moment Shohei came in unannounced.

When Jill and Spring went to town to shop, Grady was too savvy to use the phone in the beach house. They had taken her cell phone.

As she considered how she might call Guy, she spied two young men walking onto the back patio of the neighboring beach house, obviously contemplating the barbecue and carrying a large piece of red meat.

She would ask for a quick ride to the nearest store, use the phone booth.

“Hi, guys,” she said easily with a good solid smile.

“Hi. I’m Clint. This is Seth.”

“I wondered if I could impose on you to give me a ride to that store down the road. I want to get some orange juice.”

“Yeah.”

“Sure,” Seth followed up.

“Who is the guy who brought you here?” Clint asked on the way to the store.

“You were watching?”

“We just got here ourselves and saw the Porsche.”

“You should see his other car.” In some detail she described the Vette.

“Who is this guy?”

“I don’t know. He was hired by Anna Wade, my aunt.”

“You don’t mean the Anna Wade? Not the movie star Anna Wade?”

“That would be who I mean.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Relax, fellas. I don’t even speak to her.”

When they got to the store she managed to send Clint and Seth to find a patio hummingbird feeder, a marvelous excuse that came to her as they were driving. She went to the phone booth with her enthusiasm mysteriously drained.

“I’m still in the program. I’m doing great. Still can’t talk long.”

“Where the hell are you?” asked Guy.

“I told you, California coast somewhere.” It amazed her that she was lying and she wasn’t certain why.

“I want to see you.”

“Keep your shirt on and you will. Right now you have to give me a little space to do the program, that’s all.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you that a little snort won’t fix.” His voice was strong with an edge and quite different.

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Yeah, well, you’re probably right. Hey, I miss you. I love you. I’d just feel so much better if I knew where you were.”

“I know. I’ll call soon.”

“They are now two floors below. Temporarily confused, I’m sure. And not too subtle in their searching,” Shohei said.

“Go,” Sam said.

“What’s happening?” Anna said.

“This is the part where you were to have kept on the hat and the sunglasses and let me do the talking so May wouldn’t have a clue that the Anna Wade was here.”

“Well, I didn’t do that. So how about plan B?”

Sam took out a radio. “Grubb in, Scott in,” he said.

Sam looked at her, then at John. “If you want to escape what might conceivably be a serious risk of death or injury, you should do exactly as I say.”

Seconds later one of her escorts from downstairs, a large black man in a suit looking like a linebacker on steroids, came through the door, followed by a leaner fellow nearly as tall and sporting a platinum-blond crew cut. Even in the loose-fitting suits it must have been an effort for the men’s tailors to contain the muscle.

“One in. One out. Anybody strange comes that May doesn’t know, stop them-whatever it takes, exclusive of shooting, unless they use heat first. Then kill them. Grubb,” he said, addressing the black man, “why don’t you stand out front? You make a good red flag.

“Anna and John, come with me.”

Anna and John followed Sam out the door and down the hall, away from reception. Sam was watching May, as if to make sure that she didn’t see which way they were headed. Glancing back, Anna saw Grubb take a position outside the conference room door with one hand in his suit jacket.

Offices lined the outer wall, each simple and fairly small. To their left were cubicles with four-foot dividers and the usual array of baby and spouse pictures, grade-school artwork, and the typical postings of office humor.

People were moving past them through the hall, looking busy and distracted.

They stopped at an empty office with the placard announcing Norman Rawles and went inside.

Sam closed the door. “I told you I hoped this wouldn’t happen, John, and I’m sorry. But it’s probably a little safer for you on the roof with us. On the other hand they will expect that you are there. What’s best for the safety of this data is for you to use the computer in this office to upload it to your computer at the university.”

“I can do that. Hopefully they have a fast pipe here to the Internet.”

“It’s a couple of T-ones,” Sam said.

“I’ll do it.”

Sam called a woman named Olivia and got a password that would access the computer. “John, you are Norman Rawles until I call and tell you otherwise. Close and lock the door. Leave the blinds open. Start the download, put your feet on the desk, and call the police. Tell them that you have reason to believe a robbery is in progress. If you hear shooting call them again and let them know about the guns. Don’t come out for anything. After the download is complete, hide that CD in a drawer or the computer. Don’t take it out until you leave. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Look natural and absentminded, like you haven’t a care in the world. Come on, Anna.”

At the end of the hall a placard announced the offices of one Oscar Feldman, obviously an executive.

Sam and Anna walked in. “Head down, hat on, and stay behind me,” he said.

Oscar, a balding man with black bushy brows, barely had time to open his mouth in surprise. Sam bee-lined for a back door that led to a hallway with rest rooms and janitorial and utility rooms. They came to a plainly marked door with a green sign that said ROOF-HELIPORT. Through this door they came to another hall, which led to a set of stairs.

“You’ve been here before.”

“Yes.”

“I thought it was illegal to land helicopters on rooftops in Manhattan.”

“It is. But this building has always had one and if you know the right Feds you can get a permit. Cost me a big favor, though.”

As they climbed the stairs, Shohei fell in behind them. On the roof waited a large, white Bell jet ranger helicopter.

Sam paused, turned to Shohei. “It was supposed to be a twin engine.”

Shohei shrugged. “I don’t know how they screwed it up.”

“I never put my clients in a single-engine anything. We’re not going.”

Shohei appeared surprised but nodded agreement.

“Tell the pilots to leave or stay; their choice. Tell them there is danger.”

Shohei ran to the chopper. Anna studied Sam, who frowned and studied the roof.

She let her eyes follow his. Well out of rotor range, the roof accommodated the house over the stairwell, an elevator room, a storage room, and beyond these a lounging area complete with a planter box garden. The patio furniture was bolted down.

The helicopter began to make a loud whining.

“Now what?” she said above the din. “How do we get out of here?”